#every night and every day this is what we do: that's their work. they're on stage together every day every night. and ofc spending time tgt

[aelfgiure]

From the moment I was coherent, I knew my family was different. Off, somehow, not normal. It was something in the way my parents looked at me when they thought I was distracted, the way they treated me like I didn't belong. Like I was an inconvenience.

My brother and sisters? So, so spoiled. Between mom's modeling and dad's business stuff, there was MONEY, and my siblings had it lavished on them. Toys, designer clothes - whatever they wanted. They were hugged, cosseted, taken on trips, given actual attention! They had a fabulous childhood.

Not like mine.

There was this undercurrent of resentment towards me that I never understood. I never had birthday parties, the folks were always "too busy", tossing some money my way so I could get a present. It never mattered what my grades were, I handed over the report cards to get signed and that was it. Unlike my siblings - they got pizza parties for not failing classes! but my damn near perfect marks were shrugged off. It was a lonely, confusing life, especially for a little kid.

My solace was in books. (Yep, I nerd.) If it was in print, I'd read it. That empty feeling inside me was soothed when I filled myself with words, stories, information, music. Yes, I taught myself how to read music, too, and how to build and play instruments. The early ones were crap, but I got better at it.

Anyways. I read everything, which led me to the 'occult/spiritual' section of the library and book stores. Right next to the fairy tales and legends, of course, so I read those too because why the heck not? It was ... it was educational. Upsetting. I wandered around the house and saw all the cold iron and silver on every window, every door. The weird herbs growing at every entrance. Keep in mind that I was TEN. Ten years old, trying to understand what was going on with my life, and suddenly figuring out that my parents were keeping something out. Of course, the next thing I did was check my clothes and, surprise surprise, everything had odd things sewn into the hems. Not only was something kept out, I was warded against being Taken.

So, I did what any angsty pre-adolescent would do, and plotted. Come hell or high water, I was going to find out what was going on. For the first time in my life, being ignored worked in my favor. Using the books and stories as a guide, I bought things, ingredients and materials, and worked quietly. Waiting for the night of the full moon.

I was as thorough as only an angry child could be. Opened doors, front and back. Walked around the house widdershins, sweeping away the protective ring of salt and runes. Did I mention I was naked? Yeah, I took a bath and washed myself with a bar of Ivory soap, getting rid of even the smallest trace of binding or charm. Since I didn't trust any of my clothes, or any in the house really, it made sense for me to go naked. To be sure.

The results were impressive. Also terrifying. Two powerful, ancient beings stormed into the house and dragged my parents out of bed, starting a three-way screaming match about contracts, oaths, stuff I didn't understand.

That was when I learned why I was conceived. It hurt, honestly. Learning that I was just a bargaining chip, chattel to be bartered or sold, broke my heart. They kept me warded to avoid issues, they said. They didn't know which being had the first claim on me, and neither one wanted to give up the wealth and beauty they bought with my life.

I was ten years old, and heartbroken, and oh so angry, and I interrupted with a suggestion. The witch and the faerie exchanged a look, before turning to my parents with the same smile on both their faces, one with extra teeth and mischief.

To this day, I have no idea what happened to them. I've lived with my dads for ten years now. Not full time anymore, university is a beeyotch and I live off campus, but every break, I go home.

My family is still kinda off, and different, but my dads love me. They're proud of me, they encourage me to be awesome, and we celebrate birthdays and holidays together. They keep saying that they have to make up for lost time, but knowing they were trying to find me, knowing they never gave up hope - well. They wanted a child to love, and i needed parents to love me. It all worked out in the end.

Your mother sold her firstborn to a witch in exchange for beauty and your father sold his firstborn to a fairy for wealth. Today you are born.

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[xerotiny99]

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our Precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day (Our Precious #6)

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Pairing(s): main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning: smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you’re uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags.

Gist: it’s the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your “boyfriends”.

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13 @solisyeah

Total Word Count: n/a

Part Three [6.3]: That's a Long Stretch

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (ft. Choi San, Jung Wooyoung, Song Mingi)

Warning: dom!yunho, sub!reader, fingering, size training, spit play, degradation, dirty talk, frottage (non-penetrative sex), etc.

Song Rec: Cloud9 by Alex Lustig ft. Makk Mikkael, Night After Night by Black Atlass

Gist: Yunho's and Mingi's blow up ruins the peace of your evening, what's even more disturbing is that they're feuding over you. The aftermath of their altercation leads to Yunho fucking out his frustration on you.

Word Count: 12,347

           "Fuck, marry, kill," you drag your words to the point of slurring them with enthusiasm and tease.

"Alright, but what are my options?" San mumbles.

"Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho," you mutter the bits, clasping your teeth on your lower lip to prevent any further noises slipping off your tongue.

"What in the fuck—these options are skewed," San whines, narrowing his eyes on you. "But gun to my head, fuck Jongho, marry Yeosang, and kill Wooyoung."

You mimic a pesky gasp, "you'd kill your boyfriend?"

"We're not dating," San deadpans, fingers pressing along your calves. "In the current times, we would probably go by some silly term—oh, like fuck buddies."

"Does he know that?" you pace your words slow, taking in the slightly twitch on his face as you mention it.

San begins with a little shrug, "One might argue that I may—okay, you're so irrelevant right now. I thought we were playing twenty-one questions." as his voice raises at you, he rolls his eyes and lets a curl tug at his lips. "It's my turn now, isn't it?"

"I guess," you shrug your shoulders and lean back onto the armrest of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You hear San musing in mere mumbles before he speaks up, "who in our loft, given the opportunity, would you be interested in dating or getting serious with?"

"We're not in middle school, San," you joke, slightly raising your head to meet his eyes, which were fixed on you. "You already know it, don't you?" you mutter monotonously, groaning, "geez, you just want me to say it out loud." 

"Accept it, Angel," he gushes, his dimples popping on his cheeks, "you like him. You turn into a sixteen-year-old when he's around you."

"I so do not."

You pout and look away; the alluring haze of sunset shines over every surface in the living room, including your phone kept on the coffee table. Spending your evening with San was never on your bingo card, but when every other person in the house had gone out to carry on with their nightly plans, you had no choice. San worked as a bartender at a local bar, he had no where to be until the dawn of the night. So, he was the only one keeping you company. Though, you weren't exactly alone with him; Wooyoung was cooped up in his room, his and San's room, but whatever, he had locked himself in and no one knew what he was doing.

To tally your thoughts, it was you, San and Wooyoung in the loft. Touché. You weren't familiar with San, and him suggesting a game of twenty one questions, wasn't a bad idea. It was actually helping you two to bond with each other. In much more sterner perspective, you couldn't really get Yeosang and your's session out of your mind; you weren't sure if it was his personality which was unforgettable or the fact that he never really got those orbs out of you. He'd be a jerk if he did it on purpose. Maybe he left them in because that was his way of punishing you. Oh, he really was a dick if that was his intention.

Every time you moved on the couch, you could feel the balls rub against each other and your walls, clenching your cunt around them to stimulate a plodding orgasm. You laid on the couch with your legs sprawled onto San's lap. Your phone buzzed with a melodic song — some random song which started playing from your liked songs playlist. The sinking sun, a much euphonic melody in the background, and San's causal touches which drifted along your calves and legs, you were living the best of your evening. Until San teased you with the question you had been dreading to answer.

"There's no harm in admitting it, Angel." San's chortle grows a notch louder, "you're not the first one to have a crush on him. Besides, he definitely likes you back."

You grow eager listening to him, almost as much as to sit up straight and wiggle your legs in his lap. "You think so?"

"He really does," he emphasises and rolls his eyes, "between us, he didn't agree to our proposition at first. You know, the whole sharing thing."

"He didn't?" you gawk, "I thought it was his own suggestion."

San's brows draw in together on his forehead and he mumbles, "just to be on the same page, we're talking about Jongho, right?"

"I mean," you look away, twirling a tendril of your hair around your finger, "Jongho is a great guy. I admire him. But..."

"I'm kidding, I know you were thinking Yunho in your head," he leans back on the couch, smirking at you. "I was talking about him anyway."

"It's just—it's something about him, you know. He drives me insane," you purr, "he'd be doing nothing, and I'd still drool over him. He will be drinking his morning coffee, and I'll be getting wet just watching him drink it."

"T-M-I Angel," San spells out, eyeing you with an amused gaze, "and on an honest note, you, my friend, are dickmatised." his lips flip into a frown, "you got dicked down by him once, and now you're obsessed. Like, his dick was so good it permanently altered your brain chemistry, forcing you to worship him."

"I hate you for being so right," you grumble, "you're absolutely right. It all makes sense, whatever you're stating. Have I really been turned into a ditz who likes to suck dicks?"

San nods, his lips casing into a soft pout, "yet I've never gotten mine sucked from you."

You roll your eyes, slumping back down on the couch, "don't ask me. After getting viciously throat fucked by Yeosang, I don't have the energy to."

"Did not asked for it, though," he mutters, sliding his fingertips along your exposed thighs; his soft touch sends shivers through your cunt, especially since you were still being tortured by the two metallic spheres snugged in there.

"How was your first time with Yeosang, by the way?" genuine curiosity crosses over his face, eyes twinkling into thin lines as his lips curve.

"Surprising, bewildering, insanely unexpected," you muse, rolling out your shoulders; you stare at the ceiling and ponder, "don't mind me, he seems very closed off, reticent even to be into those kinks. No one, not a single soul, in their wildest dreams, would imagine him as someone who dabbles in sadomasochism."

"The quiet ones are always freaky."

You retort, "Wooyoung is freaky. And he's not even quiet."

"My theory can be flawed." He shrugs and slides his hands further up on your inner thighs.

It was not a good idea to wear a skirt. After your "little" session with Yeosang, you got back to your room and changed into your clothes; Yeosang's sweatshirt was kept in your closet, with neat folds and the whiff of his scent mixed with yours. You grabbed whatever you could from your closet, and it turned out to be this outfit: a simple oversized graphic tee, and a plaid skirt. Laziness got the worst of you, so you didn't bother diving back in for better clothing options. Besides, you were beyond lethargic, feeling spent and tired after your affair with Yeosang, to plan your outfit.

When the lunchtime rolled around, Jongho invited you over to his room with the promise of Chinese takeout. So, you spent the lunchtime in his room, the one he shared with Mingi; you ate, watched a random chick-flick movie and halfway through it you started making out with him. Things did not escalate further as Seonghwa barged in and asked Jongho to accompany him to the gym. And so, your boredom drenched evening kicked off. Eventually, it was only you, San and Wooyoung in the apartment. Everyone else had gone out to do their usual routine of a weekend night; Hongjoong was busy at his boutique, Seonghwa went to meet his work colleagues at a restaurant, Jongho was forced outdoors to a frat party by his college friends, and Yeosang said he had to meet a prospect client for some design work. You had no idea where Mingi and Yunho were, though. And their absence was too loud in the loft. Besides, you were even bewildered to know Yeosang, the man who never really left the loft, had gone out to a buzzing cafe at night.

Pouting, you sulked on the couch, with a random book in your hand from your reading heap, and waited around to catch anyone's attention. And you caught San's attention. He found you listlessly lying on the couch, the book in your hand strewn across the coffee table and your phone blasting some songs he had never heard of before. Looking at him and taking a note of his outfit, which by the way, was a simple sweatshirt and joggers, you could tell he had no plans of leaving the apartment any sooner. So, as time ran past its end, you and San got together on the couch and played the very austere game of twenty questions to get to know each other better.

"Well, but I agree. Looks can be deceiving—what are you doing?" you whimper, noticing the warmth of his fingers ascend along your inner thigh and closer to your dripping cunt. 

San simply offers you a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders and continues with his ministrations; his fingers trace in straight lines, dipping into your flesh as they tickle your skin. Sitting up straight to your own desperate whims, you catch him with a mischievous smirk across his face. You want to squirm away from his touch but being pushed to your utmost limit on your satisfaction, you stay in place and let him do as he pleases. Some part of you was eager to know how it would unfold. Untamed by your avidity, you wrap one of your hands around his wrist and give him a nudge. A gentle push to have his fingertips graze your wet cunt; you whimper at the soft caress which soon delves into an aggressive stroke of all his fingers.

"You're really wet, sunshine," he mutters under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face. "Let me guess, Yeosang?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, nodding your head lightly, "he—he kept them in..."

San hauls a gentle titter before shifting himself in his place to turn himself around, facing you with an absolute haughty grin. "And you did not take them out because?"

Your body shudders, "because I know he'd punish me for it. And that he's a jerk—he's a jerk behind the whole innocent facade."

A wrinkle in time bubbles out your desperation and San pulls you close to him by your waist; his other hand stays in between your legs, drawling out delicate brushes of his fingers. Halfway propped up against his lap, your legs are folded from your knees while you angle your back in a way to give him better access. He has you trembling under his touch. Willing to the oncoming consequences, you spread your legs wider. The sight in front of him was a sheer delicacy to feast on; your wet panties, showing off the dark patch in the centre and how flimsy material was to wrap around your folds, defining them. Your skirt furls around your waist, fluttering down as San continues to palm your mound through your wet panties.

Tears well in your eyes, ready to pour out any given minute as it becomes too much for you to handle; it reels you back to Yeosang's room, how desperately you were getting aroused, courtesy to the balls he had stuffed in you. You peek at San, lower lip lolling on your chin, and wrap your hand around his neck to pull him in. He hesitates a little when your lips meet his, lapping up and teeth tugging at his lower lip. San continues to rub you through your panties, grumbling into the kiss as his other hand rests gentle on the side of your waist. Starved in lust, you devour his lips, pressing the kiss further into a hot and heavy make out. You pull back only a little to drag your tongue along his chin and up into his parted mouth; his warmth forces you into a frenzy of desperation, your tongue slithering with his and lapping up against every cranny in his mouth.

You start rolling your hips into his hand, wanting more of the heavenly friction his fingers offered. "Fuck, San. Your fingers feel so good."

"Hmmm," he moans softly, and paces the grinds of his fingertips in a placid manner, teasing out your arousal.

Too bothered by his warm tongue wrapping yours, you let him continue with the gentle fidgeting he drawls on to move your panties to the side. You straighten your back and withdraw your tongue from of his mouth; spit glimmers against his tanned skin, it covers up an inch till his chin, more of it dribbling down his lips. Tightening your fingers in the tuft of his hair which sits neatly on the nape of his neck, you push yourself back into the kiss. This time you roll out your tongue over his lips, prompting him to do the same. Both of your tongues tangle into each other, spit drooling down your chins and lips. San pushes the tips of his fingers along your slit, having finally gotten your panties to the side. Your gummy walls clench around the balls, while his forefinger brushes against the nifty chain dangling from your hole. Pulling back and disentangling your tongues, you peer at him with your teary eyes. You wanted to guilt trip him into taking the balls out of you; it was starting to get painful, teasingly painful. For once and for all, you wanted to achieve the high of your release without having been put through the torment.

"Take—take it out, San. Please." you plead with sheer despair, inching your hips forward for his finger to slide up and down your slit.

San grunts through his chest, "I can't—I can't help you, sunshine. Yeosang might discipline both of us, if I do, and he won't be gentle, not at all."

"But—"

"—I know, sunshine. I know," he smiles pitifully and leans in with his tongue sticking out; you pout and roll yours out as well, lapping it up with his until you wrap your lips around his tongue and give it a good suck.

Amidst the heated pleasure, San's forefinger and middle finger prod at your hole, slipping in with ease because you were beyond aroused; your wetness had coated every inch of your folds, making it convenient for him to slide his digits in. When his fingers curl inside you, alongside the snug little orbs, you hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself straight. Nails digging into his skin through his sweatshirt, make you realise how riled you were. Your lips are still wrapped around his tongue and eventually the kiss dwindles to soft suckles of each other's tongues. Squeezing San's shoulders in between your hands, you throw your head back and arch your neck. San takes it as an opportunity to dip his head in and trace light kisses up your throat and then gradually under your jaw. His fingers pushed and pulled, the tips grazing against the balls to stuff them deep in you.

"San, don't stop. Go deep—"

Thud!

"How many times have I asked you not to go there?" a loud voice booms through the vestibule after the door is slammed shut. The mere vibrations echo out to you, startling you and San with the sudden intrusion.

Flinching away from each other, you and San exchange wide eyed gaze before another voice yells back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't take your permission before going to meet my girlfriend!"

At this point, you both knew the row between the friends had gotten heated, both sounding too frustrated for any good. You always took Yunho for a soft-spoken guy, the kind who would never raise his voice at anyone; although, you couldn't say the same for Mingi, you always assumed he'd be loud enough in arguments. Unfortunately, you couldn't have been more wrong about your baseless judgements. Yunho's voice was the most prominent one, a little high pitch underlining his coarse and raspy baritone. On the other hand, Mingi muffled his words because of his sonorous voice.

"Are you being fucking serious right now, Mingi?!" Yunho yells, the sound too boisterous for you two.

San ceases the movement of his fingers and pulls his hand away from you; footsteps get heavy, ascending your way. You're shushed by San, his finger on pressing your lips before you could vocalise your concerns. The pair shuffles in, however lost in their own squabble to notice your presence in the living room. Eyes wide and mind in the state of bemusement, you watch Yunho bite down on his lower lip as he storms into the kitchen, Mingi following right behind.

San brings his hand around yours from your lips, tugging on it gently to get your attention, "you do not want to be in this crossfire."

Prompting you by your hand, San drags you from the couch and you willingly follow him upstairs; the two of you hadn't been under the light for Mingi or Yunho to realise you were there. Maybe, they were too fixated on their fiendish disputation to notice anything around them. Your feet are soft on the stairs, preventing any creaking or sounds to usher the two of your presence; San halts himself at the top of the stairs and so do you. There had been an undying urge in you to listen to their stentorian argument, so you acted on your curiosity and leaned against San, both peering into the living room to catch a glimpse of the two hotheads.

"And what, you don't get to derogate me while being a fucking hypocrite!" Mingi squalls.

Yunho retorts with a belittling laugh, "at least that's better than fucking around with a bitch who has no affection for me."

"Keep Lani out of this," Mingi lowers his voice, but it's almost threatening, "I haven't dragged Angel into this. Not yet."

"And dare if you do," Yunho replies, "unlike Lani, Angel has some standards."

"Yeah, I'm sure that whore does."

"What did you say?" Yunho retaliates, his voice booming loud against the four walls.

"Nothing," Mingi sternly replies.

Silence befalls, taking you off guard; you turn to San and whisper with a pout, "what is happening?"

You wanted to voice your concerns you still had the chance to.

"It's one of those times," he mumbles, "they both get too worked up over minor matters. And I don't need to tell you bout this one, do I?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from their colourful language, but why me?"

San shrugs, "you know, they both can be really stubborn when it comes to someone..." He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around your waist, "someone they, ummm, care for."

"Oh..." you trail off, latching yourself onto San's arm and leaning forward to get a good listen to what was happening downstairs, "but it's not like I'm purposely trying to wedge a fight between them."

San takes a deep breath, heaving it out with partial unease as you push your chest into his arms; your tits smush up against his bicep, the fleshy sensation flustering him to the point where you peek up at him unknowingly and find his cheeks in the prettiest shade of red. He's timid and shy, probably not the kind of guy to initiate anything; even if he does, he will weigh all the consequences in his mind and hesitate to act on his feelings. Though, you're disgruntled by Yunho's and Mingi's argument. It was clear you were the centre topic of their altercation. You had no such intentions however.

"Right—right, you are not. But—"

"—fucking watch your mouth, Mingi" Yunho grunts, disrupting San's sleek words. "Agreed, you and Angel don't get along, though that doesn't mean you'd talk about her in such a vile manner."

"Weren't you talking shit bout Lani before I brought her into this?" Mingi's words reverberate densely in the air, percolating within the dead space, "so it's okay for you to run your mouth but I can't? And the validity of your opinions and judgments is only biased towards me, isn't it? I can't talk about Angel to you because you like—"

"—It doesn't matter. And you're wrong, so wrong. If you're going with that theory, shouldn't I question your affection for Lani too? I'm sure I'm justifying myself well." you could hear Yunho scoff, the disbelief clearly evident. "I don't know what it is that makes my gut twist this way, but I do not trust Lani one bit. Every time I hear about her from you, or from anyone else for that matter, my stomach does a wretched flip, and I don't feel good in my bones. Not at all." There's a pause between his words, as if he was measuring the degree of anguish his speech could cause to Mingi...

In a complete distraught segment of your mind, you were focused on the way San's arm was slotted between your tits and his palm was profusely ghosting its touch along your cunt through the skirt. This might be an off putting notion to many, but the slightly raised voices of Yunho and Mingi were turning you on; had you always have had such kink? Or did it come alive after listening to Yunho defend you with his coarse and rugged vocals? Probably yeah.

You heave out a hot breath, fanning it against San's shoulder when you lean in, almost throwing yourself onto his side. San is taken back, surprised to find you riled over the insistent bickering between the two best friends. Still, as his cock strains in his sweatpants a little tighter, he goes along with it. The nifty touches his fingers cascade through the hem of your skirt and trace under. His fingertips prod against your drenched folds, the flimsy material of panties clinging too close to your skin; he rubs his finger pads along the slit, pressing them harder with each rub.

"San," you mewl, desperate for him to yank out the balls snug in your cunt. "Please, please, please. Take them out."

San breathes in sharp, succumbing to your whines and desperation; but he knows better than to act on his commiseration. "Angel..."

He spells out your name in a delicate haze, almost rupturing every syllable with a yearning of his own. You look up at him, tears swelling in the corners and lower lip jutting out. It could be possible that you were really close to crying. Only if Yeosang was there to see it, after all he finds it pleasurable and delightful when he sees a pretty woman cry. Regardless of your sentiments having affixed on Yeosang, you couldn't resist whining under your breath again, teary eyes glimmering at the man in front of you.

"Please—"

Crash!

The twinkling noise of glass shattering fills up the space between you and San. Perhaps you were on edge when you flinched away from San and grappled holding onto him. To your knowledge, the latter had been taken off guard as well, it was clearly etched on his face and raised eyebrows. Before the two of you could speak up, a door swings open and a high pitched voice comes booming out.

"What's happening...." Wooyoung's eyes go wide for a mere second as his attention rakes over you two and his words die in his throat, "downstairs? If you two are here...who's downstairs?" he whispers, stepping out from behind the door and into the hallway. 

You take a minute to notice him; wet hair (almost), and a silk robe around his body. He must've taken a shower. You thought. With gradual steps ahead, he comes to stand in front of you, arms folded over his chest. The robe slips from his shoulder, only enough to give you a glimpse of his chest and the left pec; besides, a swirl of black peeks from underneath. A tattoo? Perhaps.

"Mingi and Yunho," San spells out in his hushed voice, "they're—arguing. A feud. Or whatever. Lani and Angel are involved."

"Oh, I get it." Wooyoung nods in acknowledgment, focus shifting on you, "are you two eavesdropping on them? Cause if my memory serves me right, weren't you two in the living room as well?"

You clear your throat, scuttling away from San by a step, "your memory is sharp. We had to get out of there before the place blew up. That is all."

"That is all?" his lips curve into a smirk, gaze following a straight line to San's pants, "it seems to me, by me I mean by an outside perspective, that you two had your minds set on fucking each other in this very hallway."

"No—"

Your heart drops into your gut; not because Wooyoung had spoken your mind but because you could hear ascending footsteps speeding up the stairs. All of three of you split in a fraction of second, scurrying into your respective rooms. Wooyoung and San were in theirs and you were in yours, back pressed up against the door the moment you closed it behind you. The same heavy and lurking footsteps follow, paddling further down the hallway. You held your breath till you heard a door close thud. It was Mingi. Doesn't require a lot of thought to know who it was. And guessing from Mingi's deliberate storm off, you are sure Yunho would follow him to his room.

That's what you thought.

When you take a minute to compose yourself and step away from the door, you hear the doorknob rattle ever so gently before the door flings open inside and in marches Yunho. Your head spins in its place, wondering how you were pushed up against the door while being entangled in his arms. Time doesn't know its bounds; trapped by his body, you're pushed back into the hard door, and his arms are around your waist, his lips on yours.

How did it happen? Everything's a blur.

The kiss isn't gentle or passionate as it should be, it is rather aggressive and impatient; this isn't how you know Yunho kisses, he's typically slow and likes it sloppy. His kisses give you enough time to adjust to his roughness and warmth. You couldn't say it for this one. Not when he had already shoved his tongue down your throat. Easing yourself against the door, you slant your body along his and grab onto his shoulders to support yourself. He already has his tight grasp on your waist to keep you steady to his ministrations; how sternly he prodded his tongue beyond yours and suffocated you with it.

You want to shove him off. But at the same time, you want to pull him closer to you. You want to feel every inch of his body against yours. Yunho grunts, the mellowed out vibrations strumming through your mouth and heading straight to your pussy; as if the metal orbs weren't enough to stimulate your release. Your arousal drips through your panties, drenching them fully. Hearing little crinkles of his beaded bracelets and necklace, you're left to take a breath of fresh air when he pulls back, his tongue slithers out of your mouth, spit coating every bit of his lips and yours too. Translucent strings of saliva connect your lips to his, falling out in perfect curves till he's leaning back in to abuse your mouth. It took one snap in the dense air between you, for his eyes to lose their light before he began sucking your lips. His tongue is back in your mouth and you don't hesitate, you let him in instead, letting him use his tongue to rile you up.

The warmth of his hands cups your face, chilling up every bone in your body when he bucks his hips into yours; there it was, the warning ache in your lower belly. You were close. So close. The stimulation was overbearing at this point. First, Yeosang's sadistic little sex toy bothered you, then it was San who couldn't ease out his temptation to rub you out, and now it's Yunho, eventually grinding his hips into yours. You have your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoping he'd let go of you. He doesn't. His tongue drags across every corner in your mouth, over and under your teeth, before plunging deep in your throat; your moans and whimpers are muffled, purposely by him. You were voicing out your protests, but there was no use, was there?

Shushed by his lips on yours, a meagre second breaks apart the littlest serenity in your body; weak and feeble, the astonishment of being weightless catches up with you. Your back slams against the wall where the futon is situated and he is all over you, pushing you into it, trapping you under him. His hands sear their touch on your waist, keeping you confined in one place as he continues to do what he had been doing. The ache dissipates almost immediately due to Yunho's warmth enclosing your face and body, rapturing your senses beyond your perception of pain. Your hands slide up his shoulders, fingertips tickling the sides of his neck, as soft as they could, before tangling them in his seemingly frail faded blue locks. Earning a grunt, reviving from the back of his throat, you moan and he pulls you into his body. The push and pull was inexplicably agonising; you were all into the roughness Yunho had to offer, but wasn't this too much?

And perhaps, your desperation to feel every ounce of pleasure slashed out your rationality, but you were definitely aware of Yunho's aggressiveness slipping up every limit your body could endure. Even if it was only kissing, and toying with your body as if you were a mere puppet on strings for him, you had your spine bracing with perturbation.

You're out of breath, yet choose to make no effort to push him off you. His lips are devouring yours, as if he were made to starve for the entire day; though, all the noises of your mind are silenced by his tongue, rubbing in the farthest corner of your mouth, almost touching your hanging uvula. It triggers your gag reflex, and when he find you twitching because of it, he pulls his tongue back to yours, toying with it to satisfy himself. You were struggling beneath him, preventing yourself from crying because your desires were getting pent up in your chest. It'd be one thing to get teased, but it's another when you're overly stimulated by him and the sex toy Yeosang chose to keep in you. His breath tangles with yours when he breaks off the hungry kiss and wrings his tongue of your mouth; he seemed absolutely ethereal, a little maniacal with the red in his eyes, but besides that, he appeared too fuckable to you. Red and plump lips, a sheer coat of spit covering them and chin, and the drool which dribbled down. You were tempted to act on your inhibitions, wanting to touch him in ways you had only imagined before.

"Oh fuck," he grumbles under his breath, watching your pant and have your chest collide into his. "Fuck, princess..." the probable incoherence is due to him having his chest convulse the way you do, yet he scours his sound and smirks lightly, "I am—I am sorry in advance. But I'm not going—I'm not going easy on you."

With that, he's reeling back in to taste your lips on his. The kiss wild, manic-frantic, almost too devious for you to keep up with him. He drops his hands from your waist and slides one them under your skirt, skipping across your thighs to your drenched panties. You didn't think he'd be gentle with you, and he really wasn't; you gasp into his mouth when his fingertips nudge against your dripping cunt. The pads of his long and sleek fingers rub you off, going up and down your drenched panties. He heaves a guttural moan, rumbling deep within his chest when he finds how wet you were. He knows there had to be a catch.

"Princess, why the fuck are you so wet?" he mumbles against your lips, "my little whore of a princess likes it when I get rough, doesn't she? Prefers to be manhandled." He chuckles softly, "and a little body like hers can't tolerate my strength, can it? Hmm, such a good little slut, taking everything without protesting."

You had no sense for self; responding to him felt like a task, and nodding wasn't possible since his lips had trapped yours again, constricting any movement of your head. He wasn't partly wrong however. Ever since he barged into your room and began afflicting himself on you, your body had reacted differently—you liked being tossed around like a mere toy, you liked how rough his lips were getting every passing second, you fucking loved it when he pushed you on the futon and trapped you there. Nonetheless, you were losing your mind when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and slithered right in.

"Ah, is this why..." his words are caught in his throat you clasp down on his lower lip, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.

He had just touched the dainty chain dangling out of your cunt, the one which adhered the orbs together. Yunho's fingers curl around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it out, alongside the orbs. Your walls clench around nothing, leaving you empty. Odd. You felt discomfort creeping up your spine without having anything in your cunt to keep you bulged out, or even to stimulate your release anymore. Yunho lets a dark titter pass his lips, pulling back from the kiss and resting his forehead on yours; he brings his hand out of your skirt, holding the balls in a pinch, swaying them in front of your face.

"Fucking hell, my princess is such a naughty little whore," he states, lips structuring into a mischievous curve, "wanted to cum without having a cock inside that tight little thing of hers, did she?"

You shake your head lightly, nibbling on your lower lip; you were unable to make a sound, or utter what had been clouding your mind.

"Too speechless are we?" he breathes out.

Without thinking much, he tosses the chain of balls to the side and the sound of them rolling down breaks him out of his head. He dives back into the kiss, ferociously devouring your lips, sating his inner thirst; you go along with it, giving yourself to him completely. Yunho's aggression was only pleasant till you were stimulated by the kegel balls Yeosang had left in you. By the time his lips were back on yours, an unknown discomfort started settling deep within your gut. So far, you were bearing Yunho's bellicose attention. It was all fun and games until he shoves one finger into your puckering cunt; your hole eagerly invites his forefinger in, all the slick helping it to delve deeper inside.

You mewl, breathing hard and screwing your eyes shut. "Fuck—fuck too much, Yun..."

The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but your gut kept twisting and knotting in itself to indicate you something was off-putting. He increases his pace, exerting pressure on your clenching walls, causing a sharp ache to run down your spine. You throw your head back, hitting the wall in the process as his body pushes into you; with his head buried in the crook of your neck, he starts sucking and biting on your flesh, creating purple bruises across your skin. Tremors spread throughout your body, making you spasm as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to stable yourself. He didn't pace the thrust of his fingers steadily, regardless, he even added another one; his middle finger and forefinger plunged in and out of you, curling and brushing against your sensitive spot.

Yunho's far gone. He's too distrait to perceive your pained groans, or even your feeble attempts to push him off. The pique of arguing with his best friend was clearly evident in the way his fingers moved inside of you. You let out a gasp when his teeth sink in that one particular spot on your neck and your hands reach into his hair to nudge his head away from you.

"Yunho!" you scream, "stop."

And maybe it was for your amplified voice that he pulled himself back into his senses, snapping cruelly against the reality. Realisation settles deep within his gut, straying him off the spiteful ire and aggression he was caught in. His movements are dawdling thereafter.

"I'm so sorry..." he tries to reason with himself, his conscience breaking down his pugnacity.

Guilt plucks at his heart strings and he pushes himself off of you, eventually dragging himself away from to the edge of the futon. He sits slouched, head hanging low and his breathing ragged. You take a moment to compose yourself, conflicted on your thoughts. Do you comfort him? Do you ask him what's wrong? Do you nullify his behaviour and pretend everything was normal between you two?

Silence consumes every wrinkle of time, dragging both of you down with it, down into your unnecessary inhibitions and sentiments. Still stuck in a dilemma, you kept glancing at him, unsure and hesitant to approach him. It must've been more than an hour since you two had dwindled past the incident. Yunho sat still, rethinking, overthinking, letting everything overwhelm him. There must be a reason why he hadn't uttered anything for the past hour. Maybe his guilt wasn't letting him speak. Maybe he's self aware to realise his mistakes. You couldn't put your finger on it. Leaning back against the wall, your arms wrapped around your chest, and your eyes stuck to him like glue, you really pondered whether you should be the first one to make a sound or not. Maybe you should.

"Hey—"

"—don't," you squeak only to be interrupted by him with a growl. "Don't try to make me feel better about what I did."

You press your lips together, "I don't know what to say, to be honest."

"You don't have to say anything," his head falls further down, his shoulders rolling up, "don't worry, I'll leave."

"Stay," you mumble, crawling towards him by the edge, "please stay."

"Angel, don't let me guilt trip you into doing something you don't want to," he states, as firmly as he could, his voice deep with certain degree of crack at the end.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his chest from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder; you peek over, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sullen man. "You're not guilt tripping me into comforting you."

Yunho sighs, tracing his hands onto yours and given them a light squeeze. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

You nod, "I did."

His eyes lurk onto yours, lower lip puckering out. "We're not—I can't justify myself. Or even that argument."

"You really don't have to." You reply, "I'm not asking for a reason." Biting your tongue, you sigh, "you should confide in me, Yunho. Get it out of your head. I'm here to listen."

A quiet minute drags on, forcing you to take the matters in your hand. You slip away from behind him, carefully pulling yourself into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. Softly tugging his chin up with your dainty fingers, you make him face you, your other hand on his shoulder. There's meagre light in his eyes, shrouded by dense dark of his brown specks. You're not sure what he hides beneath it, what he was thinking, what he had been thinking. His lips push out to a pout, hands instinctively wrapping on either side of your waist.

"Angel, you don't have to do this." His voice is delicate and bleak as he groans.

"I feel like I have to," you bring both of your hands to cup his cheeks, staring deep into his eyes to decipher the lost meaning in them. "It's not an obligation, I don't feel obligated to. Though, I believe we should talk about it rather than sweeping it under the rug."

Yunho heaves out a heavy breath, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and lips trembling to speak. "Fine," he mutters, clearing his throat to speak much firmer than before, "I lost control. Couldn't tame the frustration in my head and it all had to come out on you instead."

You hear the guilt in his tone, watch it flash across his face when he looks away from you. He continues, "we have an arrangement, I'm aware. Should it compel you to do something you're not comfortable with? No. You don't have to. You could've shoved me off the moment I pinned you against that door. You should've hit me, punched me, slapped me even..." he trails off, catching up on the murmurs of your sniffle, "...hey, I'm not trying to blame it on you. I'm trying to tell you what you could've done instead of going along with me."

You let his words sink in; the farthest corner of your mind replayed the moment where you could've pushed him off of you, but you didn't. Why didn't you? Did a sick part of you enjoy it a little too much to act on it? Had you pushed him off, would he have not felt as guilty as he is now? Were you blaming yourself? You sure were. Was there any point in it? Nope. Not at all.

"Talk to me," he coaxes you with a soft voice, hands tugging on your waist, "it scares me how quiet you are. Please, say something."

You hadn't realised how long were you quiet for, but the desperation in his eyes told you were biting your tongue for quite a while. You shake your head, and let your hands drop to his shoulders, clinging onto him.

"Yunho," you speak up, yet your voice barely reaches him, "I don't..."

"What is it, hmm?" he hums, resting his forehead on yours.

"I think I know why you were so angry," you mumble, sliding your hands on his chest, "but hearing you and Mingi argue over me, kind of turned me on."

You blurted out the one thing you never wanted to. Now, you were terrified to know how he'd react to the piece of information you just passed on. Maybe he'd be disgusted? He'd think you are a freak who...or maybe he'll just want to stop seeing you. Okay, we should put an end to your overthinking state of mind at the moment.

"What?" he chuckles, "oh princess. You did not just say that."

"It's the truth," you retort, "when you were growling at Mingi, trying to defend me, that was hot."

"Really?" he teases you, his hands falling down to your ass, caressing it in his big palms. "And here I was silly to think you wouldn't like that part of me. Tell me princess, do you like it when I get angry?"

Your cheeks turn red at the malicious tone he was using, stressing his words with a seductive voice.

"Yeah, I do." Senses clouded by lust, you give into your inhibitions, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him in the exact moment. Though, this time, a tinge of rationality clutches your dubious desires and makes you squeak, "but, why were you so mad for? What did Mingi do?"

Yunho snickers, sighing out adamantly, "don't act coy, princess. You heard him, didn't you? He called you a whore."

"So?" he cocks his brow at you, "would I let his judgement ruin my mood? Not really. Perhaps, not at all."

Yunho sighs yet again, "are you implying I overreacted to his comment?"

"I'm sure he only wanted to get a reaction out of you," you shrug, tightening your arms around his shoulders and pushing yourself into his chest, "honestly, you two were being hotheads for nothing."

"You don't know that!" Yunho retaliates with a half-hearted whine, his eyes meet yours and he sighs, "look, Mingi's girlfriend and I don't get along. Never have, in fact. And I don't see any brighter lights for the future too."

You ponder on his words and hum, "well, your resentment has to start somewhere, right? You can't just up and hate someone without a reason."

"I think I have a pretty damn good reason to not like her," he murmurs, squeezing your asscheeks, "well, it started when Mingi pitched the idea of going on a double date. We had just started dating these girls from our school and I thought why not?" he licks his lower lip, "I met Lani for the first time then, she was bearable at the least, for the time being. Then as days passed, certain qualities about her began to strike me as insufferable."

"Insufferable?" you repeat, emphasising on your astonishment.

"In a way, yes." He breathes out, seemingly frustrated at the thought, "she only acts affectionate towards Mingi when she needs his help or money. Other times she's surly and distant from him. Wouldn't that annoy anyone?" sighing, he channels his ire out through a breath and peeks up at you, his eyes darker than before, "it annoys me. A relationship is a two way street. You can't expect—well never mind."

You press your lips together and suppress your voice, not understanding what to speak of in this situation. You obviously did not want to add fuel to the already burning and scorching flames; it really does seem that Yunho despises his friend's girlfriend more than anyone else.

"Yes, relationship is a two way street," you agree, gently cupping his face with your hands. The soft touch, he leans in to, causes for your heart to skip a beat. "I'm not saying it just for the sake, but come to think about it. Mingi is a grown up, he surely knows what's going on with him and his girlfriend. Maybe he chooses to not believe it because it's better that way. We all tend to blur out the truth when the lie seems sweet enough to be true."

"But do you not think..." Yunho trails off, his gaze lowering to your thighs wrapped around his waist. "You know, I'm not so fond of this position; I may be fixated on thinking about Mingi's situation but you're not helping with all this. You're really not a good distraction."

You click your tongue, "actually, I'm a very reliable distraction."

"Oh please," he subtly rolls his eyes, a smile stretching his lips. "Prove it."

"Right now?" you ask him wide eyed. "I thought we were setting out for a heart-to-heart talk about your problems with your boyfriend."

Yunho scoffs, "he's one of the major reasons why I need a distraction." He peers up at you, lips lolling out to a pout and his eyes glossing over show an innocent ruse. Though, after a long second, he shrugs and dismisses it off. "But it's fine if you don't want to. Your consent matters."

Not uttering a single word, you lean in and press your lips against his, your arms tightening themselves around his neck. You push yourself further into him, getting the much needed friction of your chest with his; an insatiable desire erupts from the pit of your stomach, gradually rising up until your chest. In the past, the whole of three moments you've had with Yunho, can't be compared to this one. The more your lips stayed on his, the more ravenous your desires were turning out to be. If there was any doubt in your mind, you'd have acted on it. You hadn't yet. Given the few prior instances where you were actually terrified of his demeanour.

Rolling your hips into his, you could feel his cock starting to stiffen up against your stomach as you continue to grind on him. If there's anything you know better, it's riling Yunho up; you don't even have to do much, just turn off your rationality and let your lecherous desires consume you. It doesn't come to you as a surprise, but when you do, it's like staring into a mirror. You're both very alike when it comes to expressing your sexual preferences; maybe a little too similar.

The kiss continues to dwell on both of you, rapturing your senses to the havoc it was creating in your chest and stomach. You could almost feel your guts knotting themselves through, and your stomach grumbling with an unquenchable want. Regardless of how addicted you are to his lips, and likewise, you pull back when your thoughts are rumpled away into forcing you to breathe. Though, he doesn't see it as a stop sign; Yunho buries his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your sweet spot, just right below your ear. He knows it too well now, you can't help yourself when he toys with that spot—he's too accustomed to your needs and body.

"Fuck," you whimper, pushing out the air from your lungs. "Please—please, I need you. Really—really bad."

Closing your eyes shut, and letting your lips tremble, it was one of the best things Yunho had ever experienced; your face scrunched in an uncontrolled desperation while he carried on with teasing you. His teeth sink deep into your flesh, his tongue swiping and sucking, creating those noises which sound awfully loud and blissful.

"Patience princess," he mumbles against your neck, a smirk twisting on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you like the last time."

The recollection of "that" particular moment makes your stomach flip inside out. Your first time with Yunho, as much as it was pleasant and 'fucking amazing' it was also painful. Meagrely painful. Even though there was involvement of proper aftercare, you were still bleeding for a few days after. Ever since, Yunho had been careful with you, not initiating anything with you until you said otherwise; when you had recovered though, Jongho had taken out and that was a whole thing you didn't want to reminisce about now.

"You won't, I can take you..." you whisper, tracing your fingers on his back while suddenly clutching on his leather jacket when his teeth sink further into your neck. "Hmmm, fuck..." you let out a soft moan, screwing your eyes close even tighter than before.

"There's no way you can take me without bleeding again," Yunho says, "that night, I was way over in my head and I couldn't think straight—and blame it on Seonghwa for making me jealous." He pulls back, slightly smirking with pride as he catches a faint glimpse of your skin dented with his teeth. "This time, or maybe from now on, I won't do anything unless I'm sure you can. I don't want to hurt you again."

You peer down at him through your half lidded eyes and nod your head, speaking of nothing because you know he's stubborn and won't agree to whatever you suggest.

"Fine," you breathe out, "whatever you want."

"Don't be disappointed, princess," he pouts, pinching your nose. "This will be equally...fun."

"Huh, what do you mean?" you gawp, as he starts looking around till his eyes narrow down on the full body mirror next to your futon.

"It's the same mirror, isn't it?" he asks, lips twisting to a devious smirk and it continues growing in his cheek. "I should thank this mirror, honestly. Everything started with it, after all."

You're beyond flustered as the memories come back rushing in; it was never on your list to send a very risqué photo to the stranger you had just made that day, but something made you and now here you were. Did you ever find yourself thinking you'd be living with eight men, with seven of them being so interested in you—sexually? You'd rather be caught dead than caught wondering about these things; this is what your past attitude would've made you feel.

Though in current times, it's all you can think about. Think about these men ruining you to their desires, to their own needs—this can't be healthy, but it sure has taken up every fraction of your mind. And while you're at it, there's no harm in indulging.

"Come here." Yunho shifts about on the futon in a way to face the mirror with you on his lap, your back to his chest. "I've had to do this with some of the women I had entertained. It's a standard practice. And as much as I like a tight little cunt, it is really uneasy to fuck without proper preparation first."

Listening to him, your stomach does that little flip again; you're brought to your senses when his hands slide down your waist, his fingertips grazing along your exposed skin under your skirt till your ankles. He wraps his hands around them and rubs his thumbs against the bone to keep you composed before pulling them up on his lap. The position wasn't awkward, you were resting on his chest with your legs propped on his thighs.

"Look at you," he grumbles, diving his head back into the crook of your neck and leaving gentle flutters of his lips. "So beautiful..."

You're about to close your eyes when you glance at the mirror and find yourself staring at your reflection; you were indeed beautiful—propped steady on his lap, with legs spread as he continues to abuse your neck. Soft caresses send shivers down your spine, making your body shudder when his hands slide on your knees and push your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Yes, just like that..." he grumbles again, keeping his head buried in your neck. His warm breath tickles you, causing you to fall deep within the darkness of your body and mind. "What, cat got your tongue?"

You shake your head lightly, "no, I'm trying to figure out what all this is about."

"Oh princess," he lets out a silly chuckle, "you'll see."

"Hmmm, okay," you suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes when you feel his teeth biting and nipping your skin again.

He doesn't make a sound and rather brings one of his hands up to your mouth; his fingers nudge against your lower lip and you let them part, opening your eyes to his ministrations. His forefinger and middle finger rest heavy on your lip till you slack your jaw and open your mouth wide for him; without any hesitation, he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth. Those long and sleek fingers reach to the back of your throat, even without much effort or having to slide them down. You start gaging on them the moment his fingertips hit your uvula, but holding your ground, you let him do as he pleases—coating his fingers in your spit. Thrusting his fingers inside your mouth, he gets a good amount before pulling them out and glancing over at them. They glisten under the dim lights of the room, your spit dribbles down from the top to the knuckles; making you wonder how deep he was in your mouth and how deep his fingers had managed to thrust into your throat. You let out a whimper and throw your head back, eyes still on the mirror as you catch him smirking at you. Your chest heaves erratically to what he had done, trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, you're over dramatic." He whispers as he uses his other hand to pulls your panties out of the way. In a swift motion, he slides them off your legs and keeps them next to him on the futon. "Fuck princess, look at you, dripping already."

The same hand starts tracing up your thigh and eventually rests on your mound; two of his fingers rest perfectly against your folds and he spreads them apart, peering down at your exposed self and your pretty little clit. You breathe heavily, keeping your hands to the side and clutching the sheets tightly in them.

A moan breaks out of your chest, making you cry, "too sensitive—hmmm, fuck Yun—hmmm." You bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up, because nothing coherent would make out after this point.

Without giving you a prior warning, he had already stuffed two of his spit-covered fingers into your cunt; plumbing them deep, he curls them inside, making them brush against your fleshy walls. The squelching sounds grow loud as he thrusts them in and out at a manageable pace. You watch with your lip caught between your teeth, the reflection in the mirror showing how your cunt swallowed his fingers; it was a sight for your eyes, and also for Yunho's.

"Keep watching, princess. Dare if you let your eyes stray..." he warns you with a low grunt, his fingers increasing their pace.

That was it. The moment you fixated your eyes on the mirror, you found him staring back at you, the sleazy smile on his face helping you perceive his intentions more closely and clearly. In the following second, he starts spreading his fingers inside you, scissoring them against your walls and spreading you further apart; the stretch was blissful, so very pleasing for your body to react in this way. He was getting there; he sure was getting there.

Heat rising from your stomach, you start heaving, your chest starts heaving while your mouth parts open and stays like that; there's a scream trapped in the back of your throat, waiting to erupt from your chest with all its might as his fingers now move inside you at an alarming pace. You're so close, so close to having that knot in your stomach come undone. And as you were, his fingers slow down.

"Hmmm, you're not going to cum until I say so," he mumbles in a coarse voice, taking his fingers out of your soaking wet cunt; instead, he grabs your hands and gently rubs the back. "Keep your hands here, hmm? Give me a squeeze when it hurts."

And he's back to thrusting his two fingers inside you; but now your hands were wrapped around his wrists, tightly to give him the signal when it gets too much for you. He starts slow, only fucking the tips of his fingers in and out. This is way worse than before, the slow and mellowed out thrusts were pushing you to your edge, making your knees go weak as the knot reties itself in your stomach. The warmth starts rising again, making you sweat profusely while you have your head resting on his shoulder.

Yunho isn't staring at you anymore, his attention is focused down, on his fingers and your stretched out folds. Your mind is too lost in the conspicuous sight that you almost don't notice him spit out a wad of his saliva on his other hand. Again, he coats his two fingers in his spit, making sure they are nicely covered before tracing them lightly down to your cunt. A few little strokes of the tips against your folds, while his other fingers slow down thrusting in you, and you're losing it all over again. You had no idea what to anticipate anymore; two fingers were already in while other two toyed and pushed against a side of your folds.

"Ahhh, holy fuck..." you curse out loudly when he starts prodding his other two fingers against your cunt, pushing the tips in very gently as to not hurt you. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck....Yunho..." you mewl out with such pure passion, tightening your hands around his wrist while your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent marks. "You're—ugh—too much..."

Again, without warning, he plunges his other fingers inside as well, not even giving you any time to adjust or even comprehend it properly. His fingers stretch you out so nicely, pulling apart at your walls and squelching inside with your flesh.

You're crying, well, on the verge of crying; you already have a few tears streaming down your cheeks. The way you were being stretched and held down by his weight, was too much to contain in your little head—and the knot becomes too intense in the pit of your stomach. You were indeed close, every muscle in your body twitches to let go of the tightness and you were about to when you're, out of nowhere, made feel empty and loose again. Sensing you clench around his fingers; Yunho had stopped doing whatever he was and had his fervent eyes on you through the reflection in the mirror.

"What did I tell you, princess?" his voice comes out mocking, almost; his breath hitches lightly as he continues, "you're not cumming unless I say so."

If it weren't for you holding onto his hands while his kept you occupied, you would've slipped right off his lap and landed ass first on the floor; you were no longer in the sane state of mind, it was a mush from the crippling pleasure and pain his fingers offered. You've been denied the leisure of your release twice now, and you knew it wasn't going to be the only time you would. This affliction only builds up to your restlessness, the slow paced ticking seconds only mocking you to your pique. To say, Yunho worked his fingers in you, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had nothing better to do.

Would you blame him though? He's trying his hardest not to bust his load at the given moment; he knows he's been driven past the line of his tameable threshold, and what beholds for him beyond it is something he'd rather keep it to himself. Though, unlike the times before, this one seems like a torture to him. Gone were the remnants of his altercation with Mingi, disintegrated almost. Rather, you had replaced them quite adeptly with your murmuring moans and cries. Yunho has a part of his mind fixed on his fingers, while the other domesticated the wild inside of him. The softness he holds for you, is another thing compelling him to be so gentle and lenient with you. In his own way, he too was proven weak against his dilemmas.

Noticing the pace of his fingers slack, you lean back on his shoulder and stare up at him, your eyes tearful and your cheeks tear stained. You read the strained creases between his eyebrows, his shallow breathes brushing with your cheek so lightly, and his lips trembling; his flushed cheeks, reddened ears, and his heaving chest were a sign—he was restraining himself as well. In the heat of the moment, your eyes meet and his heart skips. There's something serene and indistinct in those brown flakes, something so indecipherable. Time wrinkles to a beat of your hearts, both of you leaning in to press your lips against each other. The kiss starts slow, peaceful, almost with a feathery brush of your lips. It's when you both know you could never get enough of each other, it's when you push yourself further into him and taste him fully, from your heart.

The decadent taste of his lips is a magical touch in itself; you're left wanting more, wanting to get everything of him. He's on the same page, pushing his tongue in, thrusting it deep in while he suckles on your mouth. A soft kiss turning to a passionate session of make-out, this wasn't anything new to the either of you. Maybe, the jitteriness of what came before it, was. What exactly was it that made the both of you lean in at the same time? A miscommunication between your eyes, or a direct connection of your hearts? Those questions would remain unanswered for a while.

"Yunho, please..." you whimper against his lips, tipping your head back, pleading with your eyes. "I'm close..."

"Me too, princess." He mutters, letting his fingers slip out of you. His long sleek fingers are coated in a weird concoction of your wetness and his spit. "Fuck..."

"Let's help each other out," you enunciate between your breaths, shifting in his lap to face him while straddling him and pushing him down on the futon by his chest.

"You'll hurt yourself, princess," he mutters again, with concern this time.

You shake your head and press your index finger against his lips. "I'll be fine."

Without giving a second thought, you take your top off, leaving your upper half bare. Yunho's hands rest on the sides of your waist, stabling you while you carried on with your plan; fumbling with the button on his pants, you manage to undo them and then unzip them. From the past hour, you had his cock hard against your ass. You tug his pants down, enough to have his cock out; he was straining in his briefs, twitching lightly when you started stroking him through them.

"My my, what does my princess have in her mind?" he grins up at you, resounding his words with a chuckle.

"Shut up," you heave out in irritation, too riled up by him and too sensitive.

Using your free hand, you lift your skirt up, and keep it pinned against your waist; slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting it grind into your slit. You place both of your hands on his chest, giving yourself the leverage to continue the movements of your hips.

"Fuck, princess," Yunho screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening on your waist. His breathing, once again, becomes shallow and heavy, with your hips rolling onto his, with your cunt sliding profusely and with was on his cock.

The harshness of your sensitivity makes you start out slow, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, you decide to pick it up by a notch. Creases on his forehead, his squinted eyes closed shut, and his lips parting with every moan he lets out; it was all a sight full of his sensuality. That was alone enough to push you to your release, the knot coming back in the pit of your stomach immediately. It was when he mumbles out an incoherent curse, followed by a loud moan, that you lose it all and increase the pace of your movements.

Yunho cracks one of his eye open, watching you intently; you were in the same boat as him, eyes closed shut, breathing hard, and your body shuddering to every touch. He lets his lips sculpt into a small smirk, his eyes fully open and never leaving your figure. He starts to guide you along his cock by pushing and pulling on your waist, helping you; eventually, he bucks his hips up, the tip of his cock thrusting in you. A moan ruptures through your throat and chest, your eyes fluttering open to look down at him with tears welling up in the corners.

"Good god, princess, I'm really close." he whispers, "so close—I can't hold it in anymore."

He throws his head back in the mattress, his eyes closing again; he regulates his breathing through his mouth, his hands continuing to push and pull your waist. His cock was so perfectly aligned with your slit, your folds wrapping around the bulging and veiny shaft and the tip rubbing with your clit every time you rocked your hips. It was enough to take him to paradise, it was enough to get him there; his high comes to him like a big wave crashing down against a giant boulder. His chest heaves up hard, the heat in his stomach rising and pushing through. The sensitivity he was drowning under, pushes him to his edge, making his cock twitch deliriously against your slit and your folds, and his tip ramming into your clit; in few seeming minutes, he comes undone, filling up your slit with his cum. Most of it ends up on his lower abdomen and his chest.

"Fuck, princess," he lets out a guttural moan, swallowing thickly and raising his head back to look at you and then inspecting the cum on his clothes.

You peek down, biting intensely on your lower lip, catching the sight of the white strings painting his shirt; surging in a gentle breath, you continue rolling your hips, continue to keep the pace steady till you're close to your release. This would've been less painful if you weren't so sensitive from before, from your time with Yeosang, to here, to Yunho fingering your tightness out, as if his life depended on it.

"Come on, princess," he praises you, "you can do it. I know how much you love making a mess on my cock."

Moaning, whimpering, shuddering, and crying, you're finally reaching there, with his words kept on a replay in your head. The knot ties in with the hit in your stomach—your legs were almost on the verge of giving out, and so were you. Darkness consumes you, dazed in the thoughts of you pushing your limit and wanting to be tipped off your edge. In the hollowed silence, where only your breaths were echoing, you catch up on the dainty vibrations of his words.

"Make a mess, baby."

And they were enough for you to reach your high; it comes crashing down on you, the sensation of his still-stiff cock and the wetness of your cunt, coming together and pushing your beyond your limit. That was it, the knot unfurls in your stomach and you let go of what had been holding it together; your body shudders and twitches uncontrollably, your lips parting and staying parted as you release a series of curses.

"Fuck, oh god—hmm, Yunho," you mewl his name in a pained voice, your face strained and pulled together with the tension easing slowing in your stomach and your gut.

Yunho snickers, his sound lighthearted and teasing, "oh my, my princess really did make a big mess on my cock."

You didn't have the strength to retort or reply to him, your body going limp and collapsing down on his chest. The ickiness of both of your releases starts settling in afterwards, regardless, for the time being, you were seeking comfort from him, with his arms wrapped tightly around you. His warmth is a meagre thought of ecstasy, a sacred feeling you never had experienced before. Resting yourself with him, with his fingers running through your hair and his soft voice humming a song to you, it was your paradise.

The two of you decide to stay in bed for the rest of the evening and the night. Yunho suggested watching a movie while you were both cleaning yourself and taking a well needed shower, but you turned the idea down and asked him if he was okay with just cuddling and talking. And he was. He could never go against your words; there was no way he'd actually disagree to anything you say. But of course, he'd there to correct you with his own opinions and thoughts if he deems you to be wrong.

So there you were, delighting yourself in the post aftercare with Yunho, cuddling and talking to each other, narrating stories from your past. He kept one arm slung around your waist from under you, while his other was draped around your chest with his fingers tracing patterns on your exposed shoulder. A soft blanket covered you both; he got you one of his oversized hoodies to wear while he only slipped on his shorts. 

"It's silly, I know." Yunho's chuckle reverberates in your ear, his smile widening. "But trust me, he's never confessed. He always has this elaborated ideas about confessing, but he never goes through with them."

"And you just toy with him?" you snicker, "if you know he likes you, then why not just end it? I'm pretty sure he'd be out of his misery."

"Nah," he presses his lips on the top of your head, "I'm too used to this game of cat and mouse. I wouldn't mind pulling his strings a little. Besides, he can be a real jerk at times."

"Like today?"

"There have been more difficult times." He sighs, "hey, let's not talk about it anymore."

You nod your head, deciding with it; Yunho had been telling you about his and Mingi's relationship—how those two became friends, how they got along, how they both liked each other in ways more than friends. Neither of them said anything about it though, and that really confused you. But it wasn't your place to say anything.

"So, how are you feeling now?" he asks you, bursting your bubble of thought

"Much better," you mutter, "I feel so sleepy."

"Of course you do," he chuckles. "Sure that little body can handle only so much from us, and considering you were with Seonghwa and Yeosang in the morning, that's—that's completely understandable."

"Shut up," you whine, teasing him. "Did you forget to include yourself? You were a jerk."

"Thank you so much for reminding me again," he clicks his tongue and slurs his words. "Come on, I said I'll make it up to you, I promise." You watch him pout.

"You better."

"Yes ma'am."

And the teasing and mocking continues on through the dwelling night until you find yourself sound asleep in his arms; he's no better than you of course, you had caught him snoring before you could even get yourself to drift off. Though, he looked really cute as he slept, a soft pout stayed on his lips as he did. When you were dozing off, you had many thoughts on your mind, but only one of them stood out. Did you actually like him? So, San was right. You really did dream of having a proper relationship with him.

Oh boy, this little arrangement of yours might leave you heartbroken.

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[laswells-ashtray]

Your writings are so good that I’m entrusting you with this simple prompt: Dragon Hybrid Price and (Any Hybrid) Nikolai.

Do what you will dear wizard writer.

For the sheer sake of you never implied how silly I could get with this, I'm sillying it up:

Bear hybrid Nikolai [because it's too fucking good] and dragon hybrid Price standing about one day, the two sergeants and the lieutenant are training together while the older two men watch. They're on someone else's base, a hybrid-less base but they're making do with what the have.

John's leaning back against the wall, wings pressed up against the brick in a way that has to be uncomfortable or at least that's what everyone assumes. He's rubbing at the base of one of his horns as if trying to soothe a headache and he looks quite frankly exhausted when another Captain appraoches.

John decides that in comparison to this man, he looks like Marilyn fucking Monroe.

"Captain Givens, you look about as good as I feel." John is at least trying to keep a good relationship with the other team even if they have a habit of pissing off each of them.

"Too fuckin' right. Just got off the phone with the Missus and had to help her convince my little boy not to shove his Batman figure up his nose. It's exhausting." The man complains, running a hand over his face tiredly.

John makes a sympathetic noise but doesn't hide his amused look. "Oh, I'm all too familiar with that feeling." The other day he'd had to convince a group of rookies that Soap is indeed a liar and that oil paint is in fact not edible just because it has oil in the name.

"You have kids?"

"Yes." John should've been smarter than to think that Nikolai's silence was a good thing, he doesn't get a chance to correct the bear hybrid before the other Captain asks:

"How many?"

"Three." Nikolai tells him while watching the boys train in the distance.

For a brief moment, John wants to tug on one of his fluffy ears and tell him to quit it. On the other hand, fuck it, why not?

"Yeah, three over there are mine. Different mums but I was a bit of a tart back in the day." He's reliant on the fact the human knows nothing about hybrids, specifically dragon hybrids for it to work. It's no secret that dragon hybrids can live a lot longer than the average human if they're careful about it but to those types of hybrids, John is still a toddler, horns still in one piece with wings that are still vibrant and healthy.

He can see the amusement in Nik's big brown eyes, he likes it when John sinks down to his level of teasing humans. The only one exempt was Kate, they respected her too much and she wasn't an idiot, she'd never believe half of the stupid shit they've all told people throughout the years. Besides, Kate is family. She has five hybrids protecting her back and the average CIA agent is still more scared of her.

"Riley, MacTavish and Garrick? They're yours?" The human asks in disbelief. Simon was going to kill him for this later, Kyle and Johnny would inevitably laugh themselves hoarse.

"Aye. Didn't find out about Riley until he was a teenager and his Mum got in contact. Looks fuck all like me but he's certainly mine. Lad certainly wasn't a chipper wee thing but I managed to win him over, SAS was his choice, I just put him on the task force because I owed it to his Mum to keep an eye out." He's talking out of his arse now and he knows it but the captain seems to be hanging on his every word. Nikolai is making the conscious decision to look away from him but he can see the faint shaking of the bastard's shoulders, he's laughing.

"MacTavish was from an eventful night up in Glasgow one evening, we didn't know if he was mine or Nik's until we saw the little blighter's eyes."

Good on Nik for how quickly he sorts himself, turning around and nodding approvingly. "Ah, but young MacTavish has always favoured me. Would've been a good bear cub, very grizzly."

The captain looks over to the three men training with wide eyes, tilting his head as he stares at them all, surveying them before he looks back to John.

"And Garrick is yours too?"

Kyle had been ripping on him for being old earlier so maybe he plays it up just that little bit more.

He nods, looking over at Gaz with the most proud look he can muster, it's real but he can pretend it isn't just for the bit. "He was an angel when he was a tot, good sleeper and learned to talk quick. Was always a little grumpy that he didn't have horns too but he got over it eventually. Got him a blanket with a dragon on it when he was two and he didn't get rid of the thing until he was fifteen. Big Mumma's boy though, spitting image of his mother and more than proud of it."

It almost saddens him that the interaction ends when a sergeant whose name he can't remember calls over the captain about something but the sound of Nik's deep, gruff laughter is anything to soothe his short-lived annoyance.

Truthfully, he forgets about the entire interaction within a few hours until Soap barges into his temporary room on the base with a positively gleeful look.

"Price, I don't know what the fuck you did but Gaz is due to kick yer heed in."

"Excuse me?"

"Givens won't stop asking him about his dragon blankie."

Shit.

"And what's this about you and Nik playing who's the daddy when I was born?"

Shit.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c33. Liquid dinner.

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT AT THE END, LOVE YOU!!

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Like it tends to do, Lizzy McAlpine

abstract: This is a very sad chapter honestly. Close to the end also, don't get your hopes up cause I'm telling you, it's not ending well. I should know, I'm from the literal future. So yeah, messed up things. Jude's a liar man, I've always told ya. She might seem all confident, smart, sexy, funny… whatever...

'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. It was three in the afternoon, the day after her chat with Simon. She was at the listening post, they had lunch together, her, Roman and Honey after working at the code all morning. She had to reveal she had a look at it the night before, they argued for the first ten minutes asking why she got to see it before the others. 'It's because I'm privileged, let it go.' She admitted, a small smirk on her lips. 'No seriously, why didn't we know you had it, how did you get it?' Honey asked. She bit her lip, thinking of what to say to make the matter sound somewhat legal. 'You know the guy with the mask?' She said.

'Yes, unfortunately I have seen him.' Honey.

'Scary dude, what about him?' Roman.

She crossed her arms in front of her. She was wearing a comfy sweater under her very elegant blazer jacket. 'He gave it to me yesterday.' She explained. 'We worked together before, we're friends.' She said. All true, no? They're friends.

Honey mumbled something under his breath. 'That's not fair!' argued Roman, he went on some more saying how unfair it was she could see evidence before them just because she was friends with that scary soldier. They resumed their tasks, trying their best at cracking the code. It took longer than anticipated. They removed all the letters from the paper and examined the back, what would have been at the back of the newspaper page. They moved them around in the large table that once was Roman's desk, trying to make out a message. After lunch, she felt tired, she wanted and deserved a nap. Her contact lenses burned her eyes, plastic wrappers and boxes of Chinese takeout were scattered all over the place. Roman was yawning from his side of the room. That was when Honey figured it out. 'I fucking hate you so much'.

She spun in her chair, covering her face with her hands, while Honey giggled from his seat. She approached his desk. 'I found it I think', he said. 'I divided the letters in diagonal like this…' He drew a line with his finger and parted two sections of the original code. 'And I switched them…' She helped him move the letters, until she started to see it too. Words were starting to form. They found a pattern in the setting of the letters, which resembled the choice of cutting capital letters and lowercase letters. They found some of the words were already in English, some needed translation. They were written in English letters, but were Serbian words. 'Novo…' she mumbled while setting the four letters aside. It meant 'New'. It was Roman who was sent to call Price this time. He ran through the corridors of the base, saying sorry to every person he bumped into while trying to get to Price's office.

Unfortunately for him, he found Ghost first. 'Oi!' He called out, making Roman stop in his tracks and turn around. 'You in a rush?' He asked, taking a few steps in his direction. The young linguist looked up at Ghost, his eyes piercing through his soul through the skull plate mask. He mumbled something about the listening post, which clearly interested Ghost in the conversation. Listening post meant Alba. 'We need Price, we figured it out. The code, you know...' He was able to breathe out while regaining his composure. 'She with you?' The other man asked, before starting to walk towards Price's office. 'What…' Roman struggled to follow Ghost's fast walking pace, 'Oh Jude? Yeah, why?' He was given no answer. They both urged Price to follow them and, once in the listening post room, they found Honey and Alba at the desk, hunched over looking at the characters scattered around.

'It makes total fucking sense!' Alba shouted at the door, before awkwardly covering her mouth with her hands, realising Price and Simon were there. Roman let out a loud laugh, joining his two colleagues, even Honey seemed happy and joyful more than Simon ever saw him. He watched Alba smile at her friends, moving one more letter on the table, writing the message on paper. 'S… T, E and R…' Honey whispered. Once they were done, Price and Ghost were allowed to look at it and read it. Alba's eyes encountered Ghost's. Just for a second. She was happy, she was proud. She was gorgeous, he liked how the blazer jacket fell gently on her hips, he liked the strands of hair that were covering the sides of her cheeks, rosy cheeks. He liked the fuzzy sweater she was wearing, a warm beige sweater. He could touch it, feeling the softness.

The message made, indeed, total fucking sense. It said Novo Groblje, which meant new cemetery, it said 'twenty one, one, two two three', which they supposed meant 21st of January of that year. Novo Groblje was a cemetery complex in Belgrade. She stood by the table while Price and Simon examined their work. She patiently waited for them to read the message and ensure they were satisfied with what they saw. It was Simon's look that gave it away. His eyes, his gaze immediately rose to meet hers, he looked at her with dilated pupils, his kind, chocolate brown eyes. He was amused. Price told them they did a good job and to keep up with the listening post for a few more days, just in case they needed any more information about the trafficking, but other than that, they were done.

She went out that night. She put on a dress for the first time in ages. There weren't many bars open too late, Honey suggested drinks to celebrate, Roman said yes, Gaz overheard and took it as the best opportunity to ask her to go out with them. She said yes, she went home and went on a run with Jinx. She was so happy she could't even manage to sit still. She was ecstatic, she had a drink before going out, she had gin hidden somewhere in her kitchen. She wore a dress, just below the knee, it was cold out. It was tight around the waist but fell gently on her hips. Black lace adorned her ribcage, a pattern that looked like flowers on the skin of her breasts. She curled her hair, she put on earrings that looked like pearly rain drops. She wore heels, and got a cab, she didn't want to drive. She intentionally arrived twenty minutes late, she found Roman and Honey at a table in the corner, they were drinking beer. Kyle and Soap were at the counter speaking to a man she didn't know. Kyle whistled when he saw her walking in. 'Look who finally decided to stop working…' He gave her a quick side hug, which she reciprocated, then said hi to Soap. 'What are you drinking?' She let Kyle buy her a beer, she didn't bother choosing, whatever he was having was fine. She noticed his eyes travelling on her figure as she leaned on the counter, she allowed it. They sat for an hour at the table with her two other colleagues, she dragged the soldiers towards Honey and Roman so they could be all together. The conversation was simple and easy, anecdotes and funny stories. She was hiding a yawn with her hand and debating on going home when Johnny gasped. 'Look who showed up…' He whispered, causing her to turn around in the booth, looking towards the entrance of the bar. At eleven in the evening on a Saturday, Simon Riley made his way inside the bar, a crowded bar even. Black mask, leather jacket and, something she had never seen before on him, sneakers. He looked in their direction, a nod of the head to signal that he saw them. He approached the counter to order a drink. Alba got up a minute after, trying not to make it seem too obvious. She said she was gonna get another beer, she asked the boys to watch her purse.

Her heart started beating at a much quicker pace upon seeing him. Did the others invite him, was he there by himself? Maybe he didn't want to be bothered. Was he there to see his friends? She approached him, walked behind him and stood at his right. He turned towards her, his eyes not even reaching her face, slowly making their way up from her naked calves to her chest. 'I wasn't expecting you to come', she crossed her arms in front of her chest, forcing him to look her in the eyes. 'I can leave if you don't want me here.' He replied, to that she smiled. 'Can I buy you a drink?' She offered, making his heart skip a beat. 'To thank you for stealing classified evidence for me.' She said. He allowed himself to stare at her for a few more seconds before replying. Her hair was wavy, falling gently on her shoulders, her makeup shiny on her eyelids. She had some kind of eyeliner on that made the emerald green colour of her pupils stand out. Her cheeks were warm from the alcohol. 'How many have you had?' He asked. He realised he was flirting without even trying, he felt like he was giving in this kind of sin. She was the sin. He felt like the setting, the bar, the fact they were surrounded by strangers, dressed differently from their day to day… It made him feel like he could speak to her that way. 'Just one!' She sat on the stool behind her, reaching his eye level. 'Do I look drunk?' He smiled and shook his head. While he ordered their drinks, she gave their friend's table a look, finding Soap and Kyle staring. 'You guys celebrating?' She concentrated back on Simon. 'I told you Honey would figure it out.' She replied. He didn't have a balaclava on, he had a black surgical mask and the hat she gifted him for Christmas. He partly took off the mask, letting it hang on his right ear, so that his uncovered side faced the wall. She watched him take a sip of his drink.

'They know you're Alba' He said. She nearly choked on her beer.

'I told them you're Alba… by accident.' He corrected himself, like he needed to get that off his chest. She went pale under the lights of the bar.

'What…'

'I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking and I let it slip. Johnny and Gaz...' He looked at her, suddenly apologetic, like a lost puppy. She swallowed a lump in her throat, her blood rushing to her ears. What a way to ruin the night. 'It's fine.' She managed to mumble.

She was still recovering from that information when he spoke again. 'How are… hum.. how are rehearsals going?' He tried to change the subject to make her forget about his terrible revelation. She looked at him appalled, her eyes wide. 'Uhm… good.' She replied awkwardly. He was terrified his attempt to change the subject didn't work. His expression made her giggle, that awful silence between them made her facade crumble. 'Sorry, I'm gonna have to stop speaking to you, you're terrible at keeping secrets', she commented. He seemed to relax, his shoulders less tense. He was really afraid he'd upset her for a moment.

'That's not true…'

'Ah, you told everyone my one secret...' She was smiling at this point, dimples forming in her cheeks. Her left canine teeth was chipped. He drank some more. 'So… rehearsals?' He asked again. Her chest tightened, he really wanted to know? 'It's been hard, there's this one lift which is pretty intense with my dance partner', she fidgeted with a napkin on the wooden counter… 'But the hard part is Snow Queen really, there are 16 fuettés at the end of my first entrance which I can't seem to get right, cause I jump a lot during that part and I get tired, I don't think my left foot is strong enough for those many turns, you know, 16 fuettés is kind of a lot…' she rambled, maybe talking more to herself than to him at this point. But he was there, and you best believe he was listening. 'And then I can kinda relax in the second entrance, but still I got very embarrassed the other day cause I could only get five or six before getting dizzy…' she seemed to suddenly realise he was there. She covered her mouth with her hand, almost self conscious she might have said too much.

'What is a fuett��.' asked Simon.

She smiled, she giggled. 'Sorry… it's a turn on pointe, you turn and then you open your leg to spin again, and again…'

'16 times?'

'16 times, yes.'

'Sounds like a lot. Can't you do less?'

Her smile grew bigger, she felt giddy talking about her dance routine with him. 'That's the choreography…' He nodded. 'Are you getting deployed to Serbia?' She asked, her tone soft, he almost didn't ear her over the music and the noise of chatter in the bar. He shook his head. He explained they had soldiers there already and him and his task force were getting ready for another mission, they were going to get briefed the day after. 'Maybe they'll call you for this one as well… help us out.'

'You finally admit I was helpful then', her pure, proud, cheeky expression made him smile a bit.

'I never said you didn't help us numerous times.'

'What's the mission?' She asked. He said he didn't know yet. They heard a whistle coming from the table where their colleagues were sitting. It was Kyle urging them to go sit with them.

'I made it pretty obvious I left them there to come talk to you…'

He felt like the people around them disappeared, the noise, the smell of booze. She sat beside him or rather in front of him, her heels propped up on the stool, her lacy dress flowing, she looked like a lily, the flower. It could not be real, he couldn't even remember the last time he felt like that, drawn to someone, wanting to get close, touch her arm, feel her skin against his own. And be touched, and be hugged by her, he wanted her attention, he wanted her to look at him, acknowledge him at all times, he was special to her and he deserved her special treatment. He got chosen, over all the others, she just said it, there it was on paper. He didn't imagine it. 'You wanted to talk to me?' He asked, a breath. She leaned into the counter, she heard him cause she was closer. She nodded. 'Why?' He asked.

She smiled. Without putting on a show, she let her hand travel on the counter, until the tip or her pointy acrylic nail poked his finger, wrapped around the beer glass. 'Is it so strange that I want to?' It's not? Did she see past it? The mask, his appearance, the scars, the trauma, his attitude? Or was he never really Ghost when he was around her? Of course he was, she was just so strong and clever to just… see Simon as well. 'I'm not really…', he tried. He didn't push away her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. Her hands were cold.

'I don't really do this? I don't know when was the last time I actually… you know…', he didn't need to finish, she nodded. She didn't look pitiful. 'Do you want me to tell you why?' She murmured. He didn't really think she had a reason. When he nodded, she started to speak. She looked down at their hands, her fingers brushing his, not really holding his hand, rather exploring the patterns in his skin, tracing them with her nails. 'I think you're kind. You've always been nice to me, considerate. I can tell you care. You know, after last year and Arash and all…' she stopped to take a deep breath, '...it felt nice to have you.' He felt faint. She wasn't done. 'At Christmas and New Years…I think we're different and there are many things you experienced I can't comprehend and stuff about me that you wouldn't get, but… I don't know, I like spending time with you. And speaking to you.' She looked at him with the end of the sentence. His mouth was dry, he felt a strange ringing in his ear. He debated getting out of there, it all sounded absurd, it sure didn't apply to him. She spoke again. 'Was it too much?' She asked.

He was quick to shake his head, but words were just not coming out of his mouth. She let go of his hand, taking a sip and finishing her half pint. He imitated her. 'I guess…', he began, terrified waiting too long to reply would make her think he didn't somehow feel the same. 'I don't know, would you want to… I…' he stuttered and stopped, like he was checking his surroundings, like he was bracing for impact, '…would you like to go out maybe, to eat…' She had this adorable upside down smile on her face, her eyes glistening. 'Yes, sure.' She said.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, to ensure she wasn't gonna spontaneously combust after saying yes to that date. A date. She looked even more heavenly now, like he saw her under a different light. A date. He heard Gaz's voice behind him, probably coming towards the bar to ruin the moment. There were two women dancing to the music and laughing loudly. He heard the noise fo glass shattering on the floor, as someone dropped his drink. He watched her fix a strand of hair behind her ear, he thought he didn't really care at this point. She was his date.

'Want another beer?'

notes: so so late at night for my standards, apologies if you see any mistakes!! happy chapter, I feel full of love after writing this, too bad I'm gonna start writing the last chapter soon... as I promised hell, hell I will deliver. I feel like now is a good time to announce the follow up series to professional help, THE NIGHT OF THE TARANTULA, which will be posted in the next few months, featuring alba, simon and many others!! can you guess what I will be about?

taglist: @random-fandom-smoothie

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[shannonsketches]

One of my favorite differences in the DBZ manga that makes Vegebul make More Sense To Me, is that because Vegeta never left Earth, he was living at Capsule Corp for over two years before Bulma got pregnant (assuming Trunks is like 3-6mos old when we see him as a baby), but she said she 'wouldn't live with that jerk' afterward, which implies (to me) that he'd been a chill enough housemate up until the pregnancy, which tracks with his generally private and professional behavior as a Lord in the Freeza Force (in the manga).

I like to think it became a compounding factor in learning that he was slated to be killed in a year, and led to him being uncharacteristically overzealous and performative (and so opposed to Trunks getting close to him) in the android saga as opposed to how strategic and cautious he was with serious threats in the Freeza saga.

I am also always thinking about how Something Happened between him losing to Cell and re-entering the time chamber in the manga, because he was back living at Capsule Corp and staying near Trunks and Bulma when the Cell Games were announced.

[ivalice-tifalucis]

With the release of From The Rehearsal Room - Tokyo to Ramin's youtube I finally, finally, continue and finish this side project I'm doing.

Initially, I used AI to mastered it because the first version I got from bilibili were not in good quality but I wasn't satisfied and I found the much better quality. But with Ramin uploaded it to youtube, I re did all the mastering just with audacity for both Part 1 and Part 2. The Part 2 is still from the better version I found from bilibili, by the way.

What you need to do is just download the file and put it on your music player. The metadata is all completed as if it's whole legit album. Enjoy, guys!!

And I'm being weird so all the lyrics that are put there are from my listening although I still use what I found online but I still listened and compared. They made few ad-libs and changes and I notice because for the songs that I wasn't familiar, the lyric that I found online and what they sang was slightly different. Perhaps they sing the newer version of the lyrics or mistakes? Even each Sheytoons songs they sing one in both parts differ from the ones I found online.

Another sample from my favorite:

Source and Credits Part 1 | Part 2 (Ramin's upload) Album cover Photos

Vocal & Guitar: Ramin Karimloo, Hadley Fraser Piano: Ryohei Mori

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris’s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[hedgehog-moss]

Last time I went to the village to buy bread I saw a woman in the street who was dressed like a 19th-century peasant, complete with a thick old-timey accent with dialect words no one uses anymore—she was telling a little group of people to follow her so of course I had to drop everything and follow her too.

And it turned out she was a theatre actress who has read a lot of local archives in libraries and town halls, and offered her services to organise guided tours of various villages to tell people about local history in a fun way, by playing characters who lived here in the Middle Ages, the 19th century, or WWII. It's such a cool idea! I talked to her for a bit after the visit and she said she wasn't sure it'd work / attract enough people, but she had groups of tourists + local families show up for the visit every week, in every village where she did this, so she think she'll be hired again next summer.

When I joined their group she was talking about WWII, and how my & other nearby villages were known by the Nazis and Vichy as a hotbed of terrorists, with some Gestapo officers killed in bomb attacks. (In retaliation the Nazis eventually rounded up 100+ locals and deported them to camps, as well as shooting a few.) I was mostly familiar with WWII anecdotes from the North-East, where my grandparents lived during the war, and I found it funny how different they sounded—my grandfather made Resistance activities sound well-planned and careful (espionage, sabotage, underground presses, infiltrating railway services etc) while oral histories around here make them sound a lot more spontaneous and—handcrafted? like "Emile brought what we needed for the bomb in his wheelbarrow hidden under a layer of straw and we exploded 2 Nazis."

We then went to visit the former girls' school, and I learnt a lot about my country's history of education for girls! Also it was really sweet because there was an old lady in our group who had attended this school as a child and had lots of school memories to share. Most of them were very wholesome, until eventually our tour guide went "Surely you also have some School Mischief to tell us about" and the old woman at first was like no no no no, I was a good girl. And then she conceded that when she had to sort lentils for the nuns' dinner and she resented one of them for berating her in class, she'd do a shit job on purpose and leave some little stones in the lentils.

Then our last step was the fairground where the town fair was (and is still) held, and our tour guide told us little 19th-century anecdotes (in-character, more like acting them out) that she'd found in old postcards and letters in the archives—how the town fair was where you'd go for your dentist appointment (i.e. to have your bad teeth pulled with pliers with no pain medicine) and to get any object repaired, like damaged pans or clogs; how there were dancing bears and performing monkeys; how one year the merchant who sold linen for women's trousseaus had her linen display trampled "by 300 cows" (might have been an exaggeration) and she hit the cow herder and it started a massive brawl.

My favourite anecdote was how back in the 1800s the local innkeeper was frustrated by the fact that the nearest village is just 10km away, and people who came to the fair often decided to go spend the night there so their journey back the next day would be less long, and so he started to tell them about the beast that lives under the bridge between the two villages. Travellers say horses go mad when they see it and just jump into the water. Some say the beast has dug up corpses from the cemetery because it likes human flesh, though of course it prefers it fresh. I'm now convinced half of local legends were single-handedly created by business savvy innkeepers determined to get more customers than the rival inn 10km away.

I'm sad I only learnt about these visits at the end of summer when they're coming to an end, but I'll definitely follow this woman around again if she returns with more stories next year!

[appocalipse]

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day. 

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

+

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 

You're late. 

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  

You laugh.   

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"  

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly. 

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in. 

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out. 

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away. 

What the hell was that?

[xiao-come-home]

Boothill relationship headcanons;

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓

✰ Characters: Boothill x reader.

✰ Words: ~1k.

✰ SFW+N//SFW ; SFW mentions no pronouns or gender of the reader. N//SFW section was written with fem!reader in mind.

Warnings: THIS HAS A NSFW PART. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS skip this section if possible. some of these hc are based on this post, since i wanted to write a little more about it.

A/N: BRAINROT gRR he truly gives me doctor by Miley Cyrus vibes. idk how to explain it but take it

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

Boothill:

SFW

he's such a gentleman! opens doors for you, pulls out a chair, kisses your hand when he sees you first for the day, it doesn't get boring for him at all. if you ignore some of his unhinged behaviors, then he's a perfect man.

like i mentioned in my previous post, he's VERY possessive of you. he does like to go to unknown clubs or bars with you to try out their best drinks in his spare time, though he doesn't have you attached to his hip (even.. if he wouldn't probably mind at all), he does keep a sharp eye on you. if a weird guy approaches you and you're clearly uncomfortable, he tries to intimidate the guy away and clearly let him see that you're his (aka placing his arm around your waist and pushing you into him), if being polite doesn't work, well, they have a rough night. not in a good way.

this man SCREAMS BACK HUGS!! since his body is like 90% metal and machines, he loves to embrace you from behind and wrap his arms around your tummy, while his chin rests on your shoulder. he misses the softness of his own skin, so having you gives him a lot of comfort; the warmth you're radiating makes him reluctant to ever pull away. boothill often finds himself touching his cheeks with his robotic arms, when they get warm enough - the feeling almost long forgotten in his mind.

speaking of back hugs: he's also very big on neck kisses, mostly giving than receiving, depending on how he feels, they're either very innocent and loving - very soft, paired with butterfly kisses, or biting you and then kissing it better, when things get steamy.

boothil finds it funny when his hair tickles you when he hugs you from behind. if he's feeling particularly like a little shit that day, he can annoy you the entire day like that, only to respond with "hmm? what do you mean? I'm not doing anything, baby!" ...don't tell him his smirk gives it away, but honestly, at this point, he probably doesn't try to hide it that well.

he DOES slap your ass when you go past him. EVERY time. it doesn't get boring for him, he likes the sound it makes AND how soft it is, bonus if it jiggles, then he's even more proud. he might offer "an apologetic massage," which you rarely agree to (but he'll try until u say yes).

if someone ever tinkers with his Synesthesia beacon, he cannot swear for his life. you might catch him trying to cook, spilling something, and then hearing loud "YOU LITTLE DAISY FLOWER! CUTIE PIE! CURSED FROG!" it's kinda impressive how colorful they can get...

speaking of his voice, he's probably able to manipulate it so it sounds the best according to your taste. although his flesh heart has been gone for so long, he still feels that familiar, warm feeling and squeeze of his own, mechanical one, when your answer is always the same - to modulate it so it sounds the closest to what it used to be, or that the current one is just as pleasant to hear.

he likes to kiss you. no matter where, or when. if he wants to, he'll get one, pressing you against him, cupping your face with one hand, and kissing your puckered lips. once you give in, he kisses you properly, caressing your cheek ever so slightly to ease any discomfort left, only to hold you tightly on your hips and whimper on purpose just to tease you more (i believe in boothill is a little shit theory).

if we assume his face is the only human part of him left (besides his eyes). In that case, he just truly loves the softness of your lips on his. he kisses you as much as he can, and will get all fussy and whiny if he doesn't get his good morning kiss, we-see-each-other-for-the-first-time-today kiss (note: this is not the same as good morning kiss), goodnight kiss and so on. yes, he could get it by himself, but he wants it from you first. he's just very stubborn.

watch out! he likes to draw blood on your lower lip when his intrusive thoughts win. he licks the blood off later, and gives it a loving kiss.

his hair is genuine, so he loves whenever you play with it, brush it, or take care of it in general. it's probably one of the very few human features of his, so if your boothill lets you carefully pamper it, let alone without flooding his cords, he's not only very impressed, but also very willing to indulge in more sessions.

finds it absolutely adorable when you wear his hat when he isn't looking. or, well, when you think he isn't looking.

N/SFW. minors and ageless blogs shoo!

the council has decided that he has a vibrator in place of his real junk. but if you're into experimenting and want him to feel a bit more, hm, natural - he's more than happy to change his parts. shape, size and pace - everything for his lady.

you can probably guess, but that's an absolute ass man. he sees you in tighter pants that hug you just so nicely and might go feral.

eats pussy like a starved man. he has no shame and licks, sucks, and fucks you with his tongue and THE SOUNDS could put the devil himself to shame. boothill always wants everyone to know that you're his, how you scream and moan for him, so in return - he never lets a drop of your juices go to waste, slurping and moaning into your slit.

he's literally so flexible, that he'll fuck you in every position you want him to. if it means he'll get deeper, he's on board. and probably on top of you too.

likes to grope you through your clothes. sounds very tame, but it really gets him going, and might sometimes cause trouble in public.. unless you WANT that trouble.

adding to the headcanon above - he truly just gets turned on by your skin, especially imperfections. stretch marks? he'll kiss them all, scars? he has them all memorized. when he touches you through your clothes, he already remembers what is where, it's like he's edging himself knowing that soon enough he'll undress you completely and see it clearly; he quite literally worships what truly makes you... you.

he. is. so. SO over when you pull on his hair. when you make out, when he fucks you - doesn't matter. DO IT and he'll go absolutely crazy, hissing in pleasure and grinding into you.

[hairmetal666]

Steve parks at Eddie's, a plastic wrapped bouquet of roses so purple they're almost black carefully buckled into the passenger seat, and a nervous twist to his stomach. He didn't plan to do this. It's just, he was agonizing about his crush to Robin and she goaded him until it seemed like a great fucking idea to ask Eddie out on Valentine's Day, of all days.

The flowers were an accident. He saw them in the front window of the little flower shop in town, and it felt like fate, like they were practically made for Eddie Munson.

With a deep breath and a gritted teeth, he swings out of the car, flowers in hand. He's doing this, he's got this, he can ask Eddie out.

Music rocks from the trailer, drowning out Steve's knock. They didn't exactly have plans tonight, only they hangout every night since Vecna, so he figured...well, Eddie never said they weren't getting together.

He's a little miffed when his knock isn't answered. Even when the music is up, the walls of the trailer vibrating, Eddie always comes to the door. But the minutes tick by with no response until the annoyance turns to anxiety.

He stretches over, up on tiptoe, craning through the window to see if he can spot Eddie, probably distracted by planning for dnd or working on a song.

The kitchen is deserted, pots steaming on the stove. The two-seater table is covered in one of those paper tablecloths they have at Melvald's for a buck, patterned with bright red hearts. The table is set, two plates, two beers, a candle burning in the center of it all.

God, he's stupid. So stupid, with his nearly black flowers and his silly crush. Of course Eddie already had someone to spend Valentine's Day with.

He stumbles down the stairs, stomach fighting up his throat. The loud music makes so much sense now. He has to leave. He can't stand the thought of Eddie finding him here, letting him down easy; can stand even less seeing him with the date he has over.

Steve almost makes it back to the car before he hears the screen door slam, Eddie's voice calling his name. For a second, he considers ignoring him; for a second, he thinks about jumping in the car and driving off and forgetting this ever happened. But he could never do that to Eddie, not even when the consequence is his own heart.

"Oh, uh. Hey, man," Steve says. He runs his fingers through his hair, swallows. "Didn't mean to interrupt, thought we had plans but I guess they weren't set in stone." He's rambling and he knows it, but can't stop. "I didn't realize you--I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie's eyes flicker from Steve to the flowers clutched in his fist, the wrapping now sweaty and rumpled. "Are those for me?" Eddie asks.

Steve's mouth open and closes a few times, thrown off the track of his monologue and trying to think of a plausible lie. "I--they're--it's--"

There's nothing for it. He has to tell the truth and eat the humiliation. "I saw them today and--They're perfect for you. So, I wanted--" he shakes his head, shoves the bouquet into Eddie's arms. "Happy Valentine's Day. I'll let you get back to your date."

Eddie's face scrunches and it would be cute except for all the way Steve's heart is breaking. "Aren't you my date?"

"What?"

"Steve. We hang out every night. I thought--"

"But. For me--" He splutters. "The table?"

"Harrington, it's Valentine's Day! You bought me flowers!"

"Yeah, cause I was going to ask you out!"

This is what breaks Eddie, and he bursts out into helpless giggles.

"Don't laugh at me, Munson." But he's starting to laugh too.

"I'm sorry! I just--you," and Eddie isn't laughing anymore, he's looking at Steve with clear, shining eyes. "You brought me flowers."

Steve sobers too, hands over the bouquet. "I brought you flowers. You made me dinner."

"Yeah." He glances up at Steve from under his eyelashes. "I made you dinner."

"Sorry for--" He gestures broadly around himself.

Eddie shakes his head, soft smile on his lips. "You're something else, Stevie." The words are so fond they make Steve's heart flip. "Now, come inside before the food gets cold."

Steve walks to do the door, pausing before he climbs the stairs.

"What is it?" Eddie's eyebrows lift.

"Nothing. Just--" Steve licks his lips, notices the way Eddie tracks the movement. "I'm really falling for you, is all."

"No duh," Eddie says with a broad, smitten grin. "You bought me flowers."

[messenger-of-babel]

Coloured Red

Summary: He likes you in his colour, just not that like that. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: blood and injury. Hope everyone's having a good week so far! Not my favouriteeeeee Jason piece I have written but please enjoy anyways. xx

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It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Never like this.

He had been working out of the manor for a few days, something he was already reluctant to do. However, you had sent him off to "work" with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek, wishing him well for whatever convention Librarians had. Instead of your boyfriend being the gruff librarian sorting returns every night, he was in fact the red masked vigilante cooped up in the cave, pacing back and forth in front of the Bat computer while Tim tried to trace their latest suspect.

Dick had called him back for some extra firepower in the latest case, and if he hadn't owed him one Jason would be back with you in a heartbeat. "Get anything?" he grunts to Tim, who's fingers are typing strings of code into the keyboard.

"Not yet," he hums, the younger man's face twitching with annoyance as the firewall warning flashes across the screen again.

"Give it time, Jay. we don't want to let them know we're onto them." comes Dick, who’s leaning against a railing and still fully suited up from his earlier patrol. "I've checked all through The Cauldron and Southside, no trace of them there. Penguin must have closed up shop around Cobblepot Steel when he started working with his new friend. Going through great lengths to gatekeep his new buddy from us." he hums.

"Well I want to get this meet and greet over with," Jason grumbles, crossing his arms while he scuffs his boots impatiently.

"Bee in your bonnet, Red?" Dick calls and Jason scoffs.

"You put it there. You wanted me to help take 'em down while the Bat is out of town with Superscout, but you don't even know where they are. I've spent a full night just waiting for boy genius here to get a lock."

Dick puts his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll be done soon, promise. Then you can go home to your sweetheart. Hey, you can even say you came back early just to see them. I'm helping you get brownie points." he grins, nimbly dodging the hand Jason had swung out to slap the back of his head. "Where are they anyways? Their place?"

"Safehouse." Jason grunts back. "Staying at mine while I'm helping you lot. Old Gotham, near the GCPD. Besides, I told them to mark down I'd be back tonight on the calendar anyways."

Dick whistles. "Didn't think you had a place that close to the cops."

Jason just shrugs. "They're not after me, and if they were it would be somewhere they wouldn't look. Plus it's a nice distance from you all." he grumbles.

Dick pushes off the wall coming to lean over a monitor near Tim. "Well if our mystery person is teaming up with Penguin, and he isn't interested in the drug business, what is he here for?" he hums, eyes focused on the map of Gotham that Tim has pulled up. He taps the screen after a second, zooming in. "Here. Dixon Docks. We haven't checked here yet. Penguin used to smuggle through here, but it also became a bit of a meet up spot. He might have gone back to old ground."

"Yeah, but Penguin shifted his focus into drug running. Bruce put him under pretty heavy surveillance, managed to shut down a lot of his operations for a while. You really think he'd be that stupid to start trying to smuggle firearms again?" Tim piped up.

"Maybe. But Maybe its not firearms. This spot used to be a mob meeting spot. He never visited the operation personally unless-"

"Unless he wanted to order a hit." Jason cut off his older counterpart, voice becoming modulated as he fixed his mask to his face. "Seems there's a chance his new play pal is a hitman."

"For who though?" Tim asks.

"Maybe the hit isn't one Penguin is ordering. maybe the Penguin's selling info." Dick calls, testing his in earpiece before giving Jason a nod. "Me and Hood are going in to take a look. Track our location and keep the cameras on."

Tim nods while Jason and Dick head for the bikes, mounting each of their respective vehicles.

"Finally something to do." Jason groans, stretching his arms above his head before catching the cocky grin from Dick speeding past him. "Show-off." he murmurs, his own engine roaring to life as he follows suit.

They had cleared the dock pretty easily, Dick's hunch being correct. Between the two of them the middlemen and thugs were strewn across the floor of the warehouse, and Tim had already called the GCPD to come pick them up for the arrest. "No sign of our flightless friend." Jason grumbled, stepping over an unconscious thug.

"Nor our new mystery visitor." Dick concludes, tucking his escrima under his arm as he goes through the stack of papers at the makeshift desk tucked behind some shipping containers. Jason has known the eldest robin enough to know when he was worried, and the tight way he now held his body was a clear sign. "You find something?" he asks, boots thudding as the come to stand beside him.

"You think Oz was beginning to catch on?" Dick asks quietly, turning the page to show Jason the blurry CCTV photo of Bruce, a crude cowl and ears drawn over the image in sharpie.

"Shit," Jason breathed, taking some of the papers from Dick and beginning to flick through it. "This is all of us." He confirms, worry beginning to gnaw at his bones. There were photos of Tim leaving the city library and entering the Wayne Tower. Photos of Dick back in Bludhaven in a police uniform, photos of him at galas. Photos of Damian at school and meeting with Alfred. The more he flipped through them the more his heart dropped. There was a photo for nearly every 'apprentice' of Batman, surrounded by question marks.

"Whoever is joining the dots isn't fully convinced of it themselves." he murmurs, blood freezing as he sees a photo of himself there. A photo with you on his arm next to him. Dick comes to peer over at it, cursing under his breath.

"Hood, don't panic-" he tries to soothe, but Jason is already pushing past him to tear at more of the documents on the desk. He rifles through the papers, the sound of approaching sirens and Nightwing's urging to leave the scene deafened by the ringing in his ears. In his tightly clenched hands there was a leger, with a list of addresses. In the middle, was his address. The address he had given you, highlighted in yellow.

"We need to go." Dick urges, hurrying him to mount his bike. Jason jaw clenches, and he shoves the piece of paper into his brothers’ hands.

"Yeah. We do." he grits out, but he hopes Dick can't hear the sheer fear held behind his teeth. His bike speeds off, roaring through the side street they came on as he reroutes for Old Gotham. Dick looks down, eyes wandering over the red written date next to the highlighted address, tonight date. "Jesus," he breathes out, quickly following behind his brother before he does something reckless.

Jason doesn't think that he'd ever driven that fast since he'd been on the run from Bruce, throwing the bike into park so violently outside his apartment that the tires burnt as they squealed. Dick wasn't too far behind him, calling out for him to wait in between talking to Tim on the other end of his earpiece. His heart is thudding in his ears, hands feeling cold as he scales the stairs to the fourth floor, knocking on the door rapidly. He didn't care he was in his full suit. He could make some bullshit excuse if you were fine, claiming some noise disturbance or the wrong door.

But if he wasn't?

Then someone was going to fear the fact he was already suited up.

"I told you to wait, Hood-" Dick snaps at him, slightly out of breath from having to run behind him. Jason doesn't listen, shoulder slamming into the door when you don't come to answer.

"Don't you have the key?" Nightwing hisses to him.

"Left it in my civvies." he grunts, stumbling slightly as the door gives way. "I wasn't really expecting to…" he trails off, bile rising in his throat and blood draining from his face. Dick pushes in next to him, still scolding. "You can't just go in like this-" he cuts himself off, catching sight of what Jason was burning into his brain. "Oh no, Jay..." he whispers, but Jason is already moving to your side.

His hands come to your head, softly cradling it in his large palms. Two fingers come to press against your neck, his breathing evening out as he finds a weak pulse. "They're still kicking." He grunts out, other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He closes his eyes trying to scrub the image of you lying there in the living room, sprawled on the carpet surrounded by the shards of the broken window and white rug drinking your blood.

Your eyes flicker weakly and you make a faint cry when he presses down on the wound by your ribs, a sound that tears him up inside. "Shhh," he tries to say softly, but the modulator makes it robotic, stripping the emotion from it. "I gotta put pressure on it. Did you see who did it?" he asks. He can faintly hear Dick calling for Robin on the end of the commlink, calling for paramedics to come to his address.

He hates how warm his hands feel, gloves heating up as if they were stealing the life force from out of you. Blood is flecked across your lips from the spray, faintly mumbling the words, "didn’t see them."

He nods along. "That’s okay, that’s okay." he murmurs, but he wasn't sure who he was telling that to.

"Red Hood…" you groan out, hand coming the grip his wrist as he pushes firmer on the bullet wound. Your fingers are bloody, smearing the crimson across his suit. "You gotta…you gotta find my boyfriend," you cough weakly. "They were here for him. He’s just…he's just a librarian…" your eyes tear up, throat swelling with the weight of your words. "He was just coming back tonight…oh god…you have to find him… what if they-" you sob, causing your face to scrunch up at the pain that ripples through your body. "I wanna…I wanna see him."

Jason's heart is tearing into pieces as Dick kneels to your other side, hands coming to your non-wounded side as he preps the area, Tim faintly heard giving instructions on how to stabilise you until the paramedics arrive. Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears. Despite the side glance he gets from Nightwing, he pulls one hand up to his face, feeling for the latch under his jaw to release his mask.

When he pulls it away his eyes are red, tears already built in the corners. His lips have a tremble that hasn't been felt since he was in the single digits on the streets, and his hairline is beaded with sweat from worry. He offers you a weak smile, unable to stop the shooting pain that wracks his mind watching the hazy confusion on your face.

"Jay?" you whisper, the word more mouth than sound. He nods reluctantly.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Oh god, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

He dreamt of the day that he could tell you his identity, of his real profession. He imagined all the best scenarios of you accepting him, of letting him spin you around the kitchen when he picked you up by the waist like he did so often. Of telling you while you both read together on the couch, your legs pulled across his lap. He never imagined the bad scenarios. He pushed those to the back of his mind. But as you reached up with bloodstained fingers, dragging the sticky red across his cheek in that oh so familiar motion, he knew right then that this was the worst situation imaginable.

He lets his tears wash the red from your fingers, trying to blink them out of his eyes so he could focus on saving you.

"Hold on, sweetheart." he murmured weakly, desperately praying for the wailing of the siren to reach his ears.

He had always said how much he loved red, loved you in the colour. Loved you in his colour.

Now he was thinking he never wanted to see you bathed in this much red ever again.

[deerlino]

Hey hey hey

Can i please request producer!grumpy! Chan x producer! Sunshine! Reader? Enemies-to-lovers?? Like chan has a bad first impression on reader and doesn't like her but like they get put together for work and he falls in love?? Can you make it really fluffy and domestic at the end (like they're in a r/s and like they kiss and cuddle alot????)

thawing the ice.

bang chan x fem!reader / at first, chan really didn’t like you and had a bad first impression of you. but then, you got teamed up for a project. spending time together changed everything, and he found himself falling for you.

additional tags / grumpy producer chan x sunshine producer reader (i mean… i tried. 😭), fluff, domestic fluff, forced proximity, mutual pining, workplace romance, love confessions, love-hate relationship, dislike to lovers — 1.5k words in total.

content warnings / kisses, smooches, and cuddles

authors notes @ anon / hey heyo anon <3, thanks for the awesome request! loved writing this. you asked for enemies to lovers, but the enemies part kinda fizzled out while i was writing—not my strongest trope, lol 😭 still, hope you enjoy it !! <3

You glance at your watch, groaning internally. It’s barely eight in the morning and you’re already heading to the studio for another day of work. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that you were going to be working closely with Chan. Again.

It’s not that you dislike Chan. Honestly, how could you? He’s talented, driven, and ridiculously handsome. But from the moment you met him, he’s been nothing but cold and dismissive. It’s like he’s made it his mission to make your life difficult.

As you walk into the studio, you see him already there, his back to you as he fiddles with some equipment. You take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face. “Morning, Chan!”

He doesn’t turn around. “Morning.”

You suppress a sigh. Another day, another brush-off.

You set your bag down and get to work, trying to ignore the icy atmosphere. The day drags on, the silence between you both filled with nothing but the hum of electronics and the occasional muttered curse from Chan.

Finally, after what feels like hours, you manage to get him to talk. “Hey, Chan, can you listen to this track? I think it needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised. “You want my opinion?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re one of the best producers here,” you say, trying not to sound too sarcastic. He might be a jerk, but you still need his input.

He listens to the track, his expression unreadable. “It needs more bass. And the vocals are too soft. They need to be more upfront.”

You nod, making notes. “Got it. Thanks.”

The rest of the day goes by in much the same way, but you notice something strange. Every time you ask for his help, he gives it without complaint. And every now and then, you catch him watching you, a strange look in his eyes.

***

As the weeks go by, things start to change. It’s subtle at first. He starts offering his help without being asked. He brings you coffee in the mornings, saying it’s just because he’s getting one for himself anyway. He even starts making small talk.

One day, as you’re both working late, he surprises you. “Hey, do you want to grab some dinner after this?”

You blink, taken aback. “Uh, sure. That sounds great!”

You end up at a little diner, talking and laughing like old friends. It’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile, and it takes your breath away.

“You know,” he says, looking down at his plate, “I don’t actually hate you.”

You laugh, but it’s a little shaky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He looks up, his eyes serious. “I’m... I’m not good at this. At feelings. I’ve liked you since the day we met, but I didn’t know how to act around you. I thought being distant would make it easier.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You like me?”

He nods, looking almost shy. “Yeah. A lot.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand. “I like you too, Chan. A lot.”

***

From that night on, things change even more. You’re not just coworkers anymore. You’re friends. And, slowly, you become something more.

There are late nights at the studio where he pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly as you work.

It’s nearly midnight, and you and Chan are the only ones left in the studio. The room is dimly lit, the glow from the computer screens casting a soft light over everything. You’re both exhausted, but there’s still work to be done. You’re hunched over your laptop, tweaking some last-minute details on a track, when you feel his presence behind you.

“Hey, take a break,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky from hours of talking and singing.

“I just need to finish this part,” you reply, not looking up. “Almost done.”

He sighs, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Alright, Miss Perfectionist.”

You hear him move around, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted out of your chair. “Chan!” you yelp, but he just laughs, pulling you into his lap as he sits back down.

“Relax,” he says, his arms wrapping around you. “You’ve been working too hard.”

You lean back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you need to take care of yourself too.”

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “And what about you? You’ve been working just as hard.”

He grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m taking care of myself right now.”

You smile, your heart fluttering. “Okay, fine. Five-minute break.”

“Good,” he says, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I need more of this.”

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his lips on your skin, the warmth of his arms around you. In that moment, all the stress and exhaustion melts away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Then, there are lazy Sundays spent cuddling on the couch, watching movies and stealing kisses.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re both sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. Chan’s arm is draped over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest. The movie is some cheesy rom-com, but neither of you are really paying attention. You’re too busy stealing kisses and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Hey, pay attention,” you say, swatting his hand away as he tries to tickle you. “This is the best part.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, his fingers brushing against your side again. “What happens?”

You laugh, trying to squirm away. “Stop! You’ll see.”

He grins, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

You settle back against him, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it. The late nights, the long hours, all of it. Because at the end of the day, you have this. You have him.

“You know,” he says suddenly, his voice soft, “I could get used to this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “What, lazy Sundays?”

He shakes his head, his eyes serious. “No. Us. Being together like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Me too.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he can’t put into words. And you know, without a doubt, that you feel the same way.

Then, there are also mornings where you wake up tangled together, his arms around you and his breath warm against your neck.

The first rays of sunlight are just starting to filter through the curtains when you wake up. You’re tangled in the sheets, Chan’s arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his body a comforting weight against yours.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to see his face. He looks so peaceful, so different from the grumpy, guarded man you met months ago. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face, and he stirs, his eyes slowly opening.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling. “Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do when you’re here.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Only for you.”

You laugh, rolling over to face him. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “Lucky me.”

You lean in, kissing him softly. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You smile, your heart feeling like it might burst. “I love you too.”

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. With him. Always.

***

One evening, as you’re sitting on a bench at the park together, he turns to you, his expression serious. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You make me want to be better. For you.”

You smile, your heart swelling. “You already are, Chan. You always have been.”

He kisses you, and it’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he’s never been able to say. And you know, without a doubt, that he loves you.

As the months go by, you can see the change in him. He’s still grumpy and a little rough around the edges, but there’s a softness to him now, a warmth that wasn’t there before. And you know that, no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you turn to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we ended up working together. Even if you were a jerk at first.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Me too. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For being a jerk.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You’re forgiven. Just... keep being you. That’s all I need.”

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that you’ve found something special. Something real. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

© deerlino (est. 090624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[luvyeni]

MODERN DAY ROMEO AND JULIET ,, 이희승

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you're becoming such a drug to heeseung ヾ

BADBOY!이희승・ FEM!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎4.1k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️content warning. corruption kink , oral sex ( male & female receiving ) , smoking , unprotected sex

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 after many many many MANY requests , here's part two to the sinner and the sin ... 「 read part one here 」

it was safe to say your parents weren't happy with your little escape — no upset wasn't the word to use; at some point you believed you parents were ready to send you an all girls boarding, you saw the pamphlets on the table; you almost ran away from home again that night.

they took away everything; not like you had much to begin with — but you did have the phone heeseung gave you, they didn't know about it so keeping it hidden was easy; at first , before the bedroom checks , then you resorted in hiding it in between your mattress and box spring.

seeing heeseung was even harder now , since your parents tracked your every move— his parents wouldn't even look at your parents , they were so ashamed of what they thought their son did; and your parents allowed them to believe such; they didn't want the church to find out and think differently of not only you but their parenting.

it was definitely a challenge, but you and heeseung made it work — it took a lot of sneaking around and you learning how to climb out of your bedroom window in ‘one of your cute little dresses’ heeseung liked to call them, just to make you blush.

you remembered the first time you snuck out of your bedroom window; it was after your sister caught heeseung in your room , and told your parents , which resulted in nightly check-ins. so there you were at 1 am in the morning , climbing out of your window , heeseung at the bottom “encouraging you” — more like looking up your dress as you trembled in fear. “baby you got this , just go slow.” he said, which made you scoff , a whimper following. “of course you want me to go slow , so you can see under my dress.”

that made him snicker; holding his arms up. “come on princess, you got this , just jump.” he said. “i'll catch you, i promise.” so you did, jumping off the roof , straight into his arms. “see , i caught you.” he whispered in your ear. “didn't i tell you i was going to.” he held you in his arms. “you sure your parents didn't catch you.” you nodded. “they're sleeping and my sister is sleeping over at a friend's house.” he held your cheek in his hands. “good , let's go!” he held you in his arms, running down the to his car. “heeseung slow down!” you shrieked , giggling as he lowered you on the hood of his car. “maybe we should just do it right here.”

you cheeks heated up at his straight forward and crude language. “we’re in public.” you bit your lip. “oh but princess , that's the best part.” he bit your cheek. “stop it.” you pushed him away, legs shivering from the cold. “im cold.” you said. “oh we definitely can't have that can we?” he helped you off the hood of the car , opening your door. “what a gentleman.” he tipped his head. “only for you.”

“so where are we going?” you asked once he got into the driver's seat. “somewhere safe don't worry.” his hands found your thigh. “just enjoy the ride like always.”

that night you didn't only learn how to jump off the roof of your house — you learned how to do something else , something that only heeseung could teach you. “do you like…” you started gaining the attention of your boyfriend. “like what baby?” the radio low , your window down so you don't inhale the smoke that he was smoking. “you know doing it with me?” you picked at your nails , the man in front of you. “you mean fucking you?”

“yo-you didn't have to say it like that.” he smirked, taking another puff. “that's what it's called, baby.” he said. “but he's , i love it so much , so fucking much that im risking your dad calling the sheriff every time im with you.” he said. “well i just feel like you do so much and i just lay there…” you frowned. “you lay there and take it like a good girl.” you blushed. “just how i want you to be , why are you asking me this?”

“well jake asked me something a few nights ago.” heeseung knew it was a bad idea to have jake pick up , but sunghoon was busy. “what did that dumbass say?” he said. “he asked had i gone down on you.” you said. “and i told him i didn't know what that meant.” you clutched his jacket around your arms. “he told me to ask you.” you looked at him with such confusion , he wanted to punch jake , but secretly buy him all the beer and weed the boy could ask for — because fuck he was waiting for you to ask him this. “so what does it mean?”

“it means when you take those sweet little lips you use to kiss me here.” he reached over , kissing your lips , you smiled as he pulled away , his eyes much darker. “and wrap them around my cock.” he smirked as you pulled away with wide eyes. “an-and that feels good?” he blew a puff of smoke , nodding. “the best feeling in the world , besides you know being inside you.” you slapped his arm , still a little sore from the recent tattoo he had gotten — a butterfly, your favorite. “don't say it like that.”

he laughed , you pouted. “baby you want to learn how to suck me off?” you gulped. “will you teach me?” he nodded , his already hard in his pants. “fuck of course i will baby.” he said. “as long as you don't go around using it for other dudes.” you gasped. “of course not.” you said. “never.” he smiled , throwing the butt of the cigarette out the window into a puddle. “good girl , you should only use anything i teach you for me only.”

you waited for his move. “pretty girl , let's move to back seat, don't want to hurt your pretty tummy.” you obey, quickly climbing in the back seat , flashing the boy. “fuck okay.” he followed behind you. “now you don't have to take all of it this time.” he said , lifting his hips up , pulling his pants down along with his underwear down. “i know it's probably a lot for you to take.” his cock standing tall , mushroom head red and leaking with pre-cum. “fuck you keep staring baby , you're drooling.” you looked at him with wide innocent eyes. “baby I'm gonna burst if you look at me like that.” he gave his cock a few tugs. “fu-fuck , you wanna learn how to please me princess?”

you nodded , your eyes trained on his cock , of course you've taken him before , but it was so much more intimidating knowing he was going into your mouth. “good girl , ready?” you whimpered. “wh-what do i do?’ he brought his free hand to your cheek , running his thumb across your bottom lip. “open up baby.” pushing his finger inside. “now suck.” he groaned , watching you suck his thumb , you've never sucked him off before , but if was anything like that he was sure he wasn't gonna last. “good fuckin girl , now all you have to do is do that to my cock.”

pulling his thumb out of your mouth. “touch it baby , with both hands.” your hands replacing his hand. “now.” he grabbed the back of your head. “follow my lead.” he lowered your head until you were face to face with his cock. “you look so pretty down there baby , open up that pretty mouth.” you obeyed , opening your mouth. “now wrap those sweet lips around the head of my cock.”

the moan he let out when he felt your velvety lips on his tip sent a shock wave of pleasure to your lower region. “suck it baby , like those lollipops you love so much.” groaning when you did exactly that. “oooh fuck , like that.” he hissed. “now try and take more inside.” he let you set the pace , slowly lowering yourself on his cock , he could already feel the back of your throat and he wasn't even fully inside you. “yeah , fuck , now move your head up and down.” he instructed. “don't use your teeth though , yeah good girl.”

his head thrown back in bliss as you got the hang of it , bobbing your head up and down on his length. “oh fuck you seriously haven't done this for anyone?” he was glad he was you first in anything , he could mold you into the perfect slut for him. “all this for me?” you moaned around his cock. “fuck you doing all this just to please me?” you tried to take more of him , only to gag , drooling around the base of his cock. “oh fuck baby , don't do that , gonna cum too soon.”

tears streaming down your face, his hand slowly guiding you. “fuck baby , gonna cum.” he groaned. “i need you to get off of you don't want me to cum down that tiny throat of yours.” you in fact didn't get off of him , you kept sucking him off. “sh-shit baby , you want to cum in your mouth , nasty girl , where's my innocent baby gone.” he hissed. “fuck im cumming.” you tried to take him but he was cumming too much , you pulled off of him with a pop! coughing and teary eyed. “you looks pretty.” he pushed the remnant of his cum off your lips into your mouth. “good girl , you took my cock like a pro.”

you smiled , lips swollen. “did you like it hee?” he tucked himself away , pulling you into his lap. “i fucking loved it baby.” he said. “i definitely can't let you go now.” he said. “can't let anyone know you have these skills , need to only be used for me okay?” you nodded. “okay.”

you looked at the clock. “i have to go back soon , my parents will wake up.” you frowned. “i don't know when the next time i’ll see you again.” he caressed your cheek. “we made a way tonight and before , we'll make a way again i promise.” he kissed you. “okay.” you said. “good girl , now lay down.” he said. “why?” you asked , he didn't say anything , just laying you down in the backseat. “did you really think i was gonna let you go like this , all dripping for me.” you whimpered out his name. “gonna eat then fuck this little pussy before sending you back home.”

safe to say you made it back home and back into your bedroom , and in bed right before your mother came in to check on you.

you pulled out your phone , a message for heeseung already waiting for you , to make you smile before you finally shut your eyes.

that was the last time you saw him; which was about 2 weeks ago , and it was killing you inside. “why are you so depressed?” you sat at the table, eating breakfast; it was sunday, church day. “your mother and father are ruining my life.” you picked at your food. “by not letting you hang around bad influences , sure we're ruining your life.” your mother said. “just be grateful we got you away from him before it was too late.” you rolled your eyes. “i can't wait until i move out of this hell hole.”

the drive to the church was boring and uneventful; that was until you pulled into the church house. “all we want is the best for you.” you dad said. “that lee boy is nothing but trouble , and will lead you down a dangerous path.” your father said. “whatever , im just counting down the days until im free.” you stepped out the car , making sure to slam the door to formally express your anger with your parents.

heeseung no longer came to church , his parents giving up on him , the church no longer welcoming him. “let's sit down.” your mother guided you to the front where you always sat , your parents greeting everyone else. “hey.” you heard a voice behind you , making you turn around. “jay?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “what are you doing here.” he pointed to your where your parents and his parents were talking. “you're not the only one that has to keep up with appearances.”

“have you talked to heeseung?” he asked. “only on the phone , i haven't been able to get out , my parents are really cracking down.” you frowned. “don't worry i got you.” he said. “what do you mean?” he smiled. “just follow my lead.” he sat down , your parents joining you soon after. “this is mrs. and mr. park.”

you bowed politely. “nice to meet you.” you smiled. “oh what a polite girl.” mrs. park complemented. “that is jay.” his mother pointed out. “mother we go to the same school.” he said. “i know who she is.” she chuckled. “i hope she is doing well in school.” your mother said. “she recently went through a rough patch a few weeks ago.” you rolled your eyes. “oh i heard it, so awful what that heeseung boy did to her , you must've been so scared.” you opened your mouth. “actually— we're just glad it's over , now she can focus on her studies.”

“speaking of studies, me and yn have a test coming up.” jay said , you turned to him. “we do?” he looked at you. “oh yeah , it was for history i think , super big test.” you never know how good you were at lying until you met heeseung; after that it seemed like that's all you were doing. “oh there's a nice cafe they can study at.” his mother said. “that's quite fine , just be home by midnight.” so quick to allow you to go with jay when she thought he was a nice church going kid…

you sat through the sermon , so ready for it to be over. “hey try and pay attention, you don't have that long.” jay whispered , you nodded , still unaware about what he was talking about.

soon the sermon was over; you stood up , stretching your stiff body. “yn.” jay came over to you. “you ready to go?” he held his hand out. “huh?” he looked at your parents who was talking to his parents once more. “you wanna go see your boyfriend right?” you smiled. “really?” he nodded, holding his hand out. “let's get you out of here.” he said , you grabbed his hand , making your way over to your parents. “well don't you two look adorable?” your mother said , you rolled your eyes. “we're gonna go now.” your parents nodding. “midnight yn.”

jay let your hand go as soon as you were out of your parents eyesight. “don't tell heeseung , he'll kill me.” he said, opening his car door for you. “where are we going?” you asked. “well my parents are home , so i can't have you two there , luckily sunghoons parents aren't home , his house is just as nice.” he got into the driver's seat. “it's only a few minutes away , your boyfriend is already there , he stays there when my parents are home and his parents are up his ass again.”

the ride to sunghoons was quiet , and short , but your hand shook with anticipation; it was only two weeks , but it felt like eternity to you. “we're here.” jay said. “that was fast.” he nodded, turning the car off. “you know , he really cares about you.” he said. “really?” you blushed. “i’ve never seen him climb into a window for a girl before.” you smiled , getting out of the car. “i really like him.” you said. “yeah i kinda figured that when you ran away from church , we've been going to the same school for years and i've never seen you do something even remotely as bold.” he said opening the door. “go ahead , they're all in there.”

“jay is on his way over.” heeseung sat slumped in his chair. “he had to do something with his parents.” heeseung looked at his phone. “bro she's probably in church , it is sunday.” jake said. “it's been two weeks since i saw her , her fucking parents are so strict.” he hissed. “i can't even see her in class , because her fucking friends keeping her away.” heeseung felt like he was losing his mind , he never felt this way before about someone — it was almost painful that he wasn't near you , you were his new drug and he was going through withdrawals.

“jesus i've never seen you so down bro , give it time , you'll see her real soon.” the door opening. “that must be jay now.” sunghoon said. “we're in here jay.” heeseung looked down at his phone. “oh isn't this a nice surprise?” heeseung looked up , swearing his eyes were deceiving him. “yn?”

you smiled seeing the boys face after two weeks. “heeseung.” he stood up from his chair , running over to you. “oh my god , you're here.” he hugged you. “jay helped me.” you said , heeseung gave the boy a handshake. “thanks bro.” jay nodded. “i have to get her home by midnight.” heeseung was squeezing yours. “that should be enough time to do whatever you want.” before jay could even heeseung was dragging you up the steps. “hey modern day romeo and juliet, the room to the left , please don't use my parents bedroom to fuck.” he yelled. “don't use mines either!” you giggled as heeseung dragged you up the steps. “heeseung slow down.”

he turned , grabbing the sides of your face , kissing you. “i missed you so much.” he said in between kisses. “fuck two weeks is too fucking long without seeing you.” he said. “never gonna let that shit happen again.” he was kicking the bedroom open , pulling you inside. “i-i missed you too.” you stuttered , he sat down on the bed , you standing in between them. “it was so hard not seeing you.” he smirked. “yeah baby , how hard?” you chewed your bottom lip. “come on, pretty talk to me , let me hear that voice.”

“so hard.” you sat down in his lap , wrapped your arms around your waist. “yeah?” he kissed your neck. “he-hee.” you moaned. “you missed me that much baby?” he sighed , his tattooed hand coming up to your boob, squeezing. “you're moaning so prettily for me , i barely even touched you precious.” he chuckled in your ear. “you've been waiting for the next time i fucked you?”

“ye-yes please.” you whimpered, subconsciously grinding against him. “oh fu-fuck baby , lay down.” he said. “need to taste you before i fuck you.” you climbed on the bed , eyes doe like and blown out as he hovered above you. “so cute baby , your little innocent eyes , i know you're not that innocent anymore.” he kissed your neck. “my little sinner aren't you?”

his hands lifting up your dress , revealing your panties. “so pretty baby.” he smiled. “so ready to be eaten , i bet you're real sweet for me.” he spread your legs. “it's so messy in between here baby , just a few touches got you so wet for me.” he pulled your panties down , laying on his stomach. “such a pretty pussy baby.” you gasp feeling his lips on your thighs. “you smell so nice.” your clit swollen. “pl-please heeseung.”

you moaned , feeling him licking up your folds. “so sweet , like candy.” he groaned , pressing his face against your mound , eating you like he had been starving. “oh my god , heeseung please!” you gasped , pulling at his locks. “fe-feels so good.” you moaned , his thumb coming up to your clit , rubbing the neglected bud. “so good baby , so fucking good.” you grinded against his face. “keep doing that baby.” his voice muffled. “keep fucking my face , make yourself cum.”

you gasped , yanking his hair as tight as you could , your legs closed around his head as you came. “oh my god!” he didn't even care about the lack of oxygen , just getting you to your climax. “oh fuck.” he pulled away breathlessly , giving your clit little kisses , watching you twitch. “good girl , good girl cumming so well for me.” he kissed the inside of your thighs. “fuck baby , im so hard right now.”

“bet you that pretty pussy missed me didn't it?” he freed himself from his pants , his cock in need to be touched. “thought about fucking you for two weeks.” he groaned , stroking his cock. “jerking off to the thought of your tiny little cunt wrapped around my cock just isn’t enough.” he pressed his tip against your hole. “need to feel it.” you moaned as he slowly slid himself inside you , both of you moaning. “fuck that's it baby , swallowing my cock like a good girl.”

he pulled out , his tip nestled inside you. “take it all for me.” he slammed back inside you. “hee!” you shrieked , clutching his arm as he began to pound into you. “fuck precious , tiny cunt is so good.” he grunted. “hee-heeseung you're so big.” you moaned out loudly , your hands lifting up his shirt , his toned stomach on display. “yeah baby? you can take it right , you always take my cock so well.”

it felt like he was consuming your every being , his scent sticking to you. “oh baby gonna take of you baby.” he groaned. “gonna take you away from here.” he whispered in your ear. “would you like that?” he said. “leaving this stupid city and going somewhere just me and you?” your brain fuzzy , you nodded to whatever he was saying. “pl-please heeseung , take me away from here.” you moaned. “please.”

his thrust became faster , his hair covering his face , sweat dripping from his body. “not much longer , fuck.” he cursed. “just after graduation,” he said. “gonna give you a good life.” he hit the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “heeseung I'm gonna cum.” you screamed. “cum for me precious , cum all over my cock.” he howled out. “fucking cum.”

your back arched off the bed as you came. “oh my god!” you shrieked. “fuck baby im cumming!” he moaned. “gonna cum.” he thrusted a few more times. “shit!” he pulled out of you , just as he was cumming. “fuck we made such a mess.” he moaned , his white sticky substance , covering your cunt. “fuck this is what falling in love is…” you giggled. “is it?” he leaned in kissing you. “yeah it is.”

you guys spent those sacred few hours in bliss , holding each other , your fingers tracing his tattoos , all alone in your own world — until you had to once again face the inevitable , even then heeseung couldn't let you go. “once you graduate im gonna follow behind you.” he said. “or you could graduate with me.” jay laughed in the front seat. “it's a little too late for that , i have some money saved up , just for a place , i can get a job.” he said , you smiled. “you really thought about this?”

“since the day i saw your little pink bra at the church that day.” you slapped his chest. “stop bringing that up.” you smiled. “i love your plan.” of course it had a lot of kinks and needed a lot of work , but it was a plan. “of course it needs work , but we have time for that , just worry your pretty head about other things.” he said. “with what?” he smirked. “church.”

as you approached your house , he hid in the back seat so your mother wouldn't see him , you giggled. “you look ridiculous hee.” he smiled , you got out of the car , waving goodbye to jay. “bye heeseung.” you couldn't help but laugh at the man crouched down below , blowing him a kiss.

“my precious girl…”

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