#f: hopeless for the holidays

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 8.7k ❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (new year’s eve party) ❧ genre: fluff, new year’s themed, attorney kun, wedding planner reader (i know next to nothing abt wedding planning, sorry!), aged up kun (he’s like mid/late 30s and reader is implied to also be around that age) ❧ extra info: this is the last of my impromptu series of three (and a half) hallmark-esque fics starring kun for the 2023 holiday season. i've made a mini masterlist here for fun ❧ author’s note: i once again wrote this in like 48 hours and had even less time to proof it bc i wanted to get it out before new year’s so im sorry abt any errors! also a happy early birthday to the loml

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” She pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” Eunji pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“So, an excuse to get drunk and mack on a stranger at midnight. Did that enough in my twenties. Pass.”

“Nooo, it’s going to be super classy; I swear! It’s happening at the old courthouse downtown. It’s so nice there. The dress code is literally festive black tie—”

“What does that even mean? Is it festive or is it black tie? And how did you even get invited to this?” You read the domain name of the original sender, then zoomed in on the details of flyer to double, triple check. “It’s being held by the Bar Association?”

“Attorneys aren’t that bad,” she replied, clearly miffed.

“Yeah, you aren’t,” you said pointedly. “Former debate bros are.”

“There’s going to be so many mature, serious, single professionals there for you, I promise.”

“It’s literally called Hopeless for the Holidays.”

“So it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek.”

“If its tongue were any more in its cheek, it would bite it off.”

“See? You’re so witty, these guys are going to be falling over themselves trying to have intellectual conversations with you.”

“If a single one calls my job cute, I’m out of there.”

“That’s a yes! Thank you thank you thank you!”

On December 31st, you stepped into the old courthouse downtown with Eunji, out of the freezing cold and into a bright, glamorous venue. The main entry had been converted into a ballroom of sorts for the occasion, all the original marble flooring and walls, and oak and gold detailing preserved. Round, standing cocktail tables had been set up all around, a bar to the back and the side, waiters coming around with hors d’oeuvres, and even a live band set up on the landing of the grand staircase at the back. It was decorated in festive, New Year’s appropriate gold, silver, and black decorations, tinsel, baubles, stars, miscellaneous firework-adjacent shapes.

“Okay… not bad,” you muttered to Eunji as you took it all in.

“Told you it would be classy!” She whispered victoriously to you. Latching onto your arm, she pulled you into the crowd. “Come on!”

She diverted your course towards a table, and you saw a dark-haired man standing there in a neutral grey suit with a red-and-green plaid tie.

“Y/N, you remember my coworker, Kim Doyoung.” Your friend gestured between the two of you.

“Of course, it’s good to see you again, Doyoung.” You greeted the man brightly.

The few lawyer activities that Eunji had dragged you to before—more casual affairs—you had been introduced to many of her coworkers, but Doyoung must have been the only one that fit the criteria for tonight: single and hopeless on New Year’s Eve.

“You too, Y/N.” He nodded to you politely.

You liked Doyoung and all, he was a nice man, but you could already tell from the few times you’d met him before that he was a workaholic. Now, you were aware that most lawyers were, but Doyoung seemed beyond that. Eunji brought you to their firm’s Holiday Party last year, where he was recognized for putting in the most billable hours out of dozens of attorneys—and he was only a junior partner. You doubted he went anywhere but work, the courthouse, and home, where he presumably did even more work.

“Eunji, I’m so glad you’re here, actually,” Doyoung pulled out his phone, opening up his email app. “I was at the office right before I came here and—”

“No, Doyoung.” Eunji snatched his phone from hands, turned it off, and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. “No work. Don’t make any work calls, take any work calls, check your email, none of that.”

“But we’re surrounded by other lawyers.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can talk about some law stuff, informally. But I want you to actually talk to human people not for the purposes of a file tonight, okay? Sound good?”

“I suppose I can do that for a night.”

“And I want you to find someone to kiss at midnight.”

“What?!”

“That isn’t me or Y/N.”

Doyoung seemed like he was about to pass out. “Eunji, this is very unprofessional—”

“I just said I’m off-limits.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m going to get Eunji and I drinks,” you interrupted their typical bickering.

“Negroni!” She chirped, squeezing your arm before going right back into with her coworker.

With the sounds of their squabbling fading into the din of the crowd, you slowly meandered to the bar on the opposite side of the room. Putting in Eunji’s negroni and your own cocktail order with the bartender, you watched as he got caught by a very insistent older man who clearly thought himself to be very important as he put in what seemed like seven different drink orders as he ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke.

The bartender stopped by you to grab a glass, and you offered, “You can take care of him first, if you need. Seems like he’s in a rush. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go for it.”

And he moved off to do that, you were happy to turn around and people watch for the moment. You’d always known that law was a boys’ club, but this was just… sad. The few women who were here were interspersed, but you were definitely outnumbered at least 10 to 1. That left a lot of the men to group off and chat among themselves. If Eunji didn’t find somebody tonight after dragging you out here, you’d kill her.

A movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you saw three men coming towards you through the crowd on your left, at least one of them already visibly tipsy. You shifted your eyes forward, trying to gauge if you should just abandon your drinks and find Eunji and Doyoung again wherever they ended up.

Then, someone was sliding up to the bar on your right, a pretty, smooth voice, “Hi. Do you have a moment to talk?”

You turned to your right, the voice matched to a rather handsome man, face framed by chestnut brown hair, and lips pulled into a charming, dimpled smile. He wasn’t too close to you that you felt like he was invading your personal space, a polite distance, just near enough so that you knew he was talking to you. Well that, and his piercing, dark eyes focused entirely on you as if there were nothing else he could possibly be looking at in the room. Not unblinking, but not distracted. He was the only man that you’d seen so far who had figured out the festive black-tie dress code, in a traditional tuxedo except in a deep midnight blue color, with several glittering brooches of fine materials on one lapel. Not overdone, and definitely not Christmas, which was a week ago. He already had a drink in his hand, some kind of dark liquor, neat. Whiskey, scotch, or bourbon, presumably.

“Sure.” You offered a small smile in return. “I’m waiting on my drink.”

The man set his drink down on the bar then, and offered his hand that hadn’t been holding it out to you.

“Qian Kun.” He introduced himself. “I haven’t seen you at a Bar Association event before.”

You shook his hand. It was warm. “That’s probably because I’m not a member. I’m a plus-one.”

“Ah, well that makes sense.”

“Y/L/N Y/N, by the way.”

“So what do you do then, Y/N?”

“I’m a wedding planner.”

“Wow, I’ve heard that’s pretty high-stress.” He actually seemed impressed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair for a moment.

“I’ve heard the same about being an attorney,” you pointed out coyly.

“I don’t have bridezillas or in-laws to deal with on a daily basis.”

“I’ll take talking down a bridezilla over why she can’t have those specific orchids she saw on Pinterest because they won’t survive the two-hour outdoor ceremony and four-hour reception at her summer wedding due to how sensitive to heat they are over having to argue with my whole chest some position that I don’t even believe in just because I’m being paid to.”

“You think trial lawyers are sleazy?” He asked, the corner of his lip quirking up as if he found this amusing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend,” you apologized flatly.

He sipped his drink. “Not all attorneys are trial lawyers, you know.”

“You aren’t?”

“Corporate. General counsel for businesses, contracts, that sort of thing.”

“Paper pusher.”

“You were brought here by a litigator,” he said knowingly.

“How’d you know?”

“Us paper pushers don’t really call each other that.”

“Right. She does insurance defense.” You were interrupted by the bartender finally returning with your two drinks, and you thanked him, opening your clutch for whatever cash was in there to hand him as a tip. Turning back to Kun, feeling the need to clarify something. “I don’t think she’s sleazy, exactly. You know, in criminal proceedings, the defendant is entitled to an attorney, right? And the state provides one if they can’t afford it. I think normal people should have competent representation in civil proceedings, too, just to help navigate the legal system. I think she does something good overall. I just… couldn’t do it myself.”

“A lot of time, it’s not about the facts, or what you believe, it’s about the law. Making the better argument.”

“Yeah, which is kind of what I hate about it.”

“That’s more than fair,” Kun agreed. “So what do you like about wedding planning then?”

“The moment that everything finally comes together, and I get to be the one who delivers the couple’s perfect day to them,” you sighed happily. “Every single meltdown, canceled vendor, whatever, is worth it when I get to see it all come together.”

“You love love?”

“Well, that, and I’ve also been told that I’m a bit of a control freak.”

“Playing to your strengths with your choice of career.”

“I’ve long embraced the control freak,” you declared genuinely. “What do you like about corporate law?”

“I’m not a trial attorney, first of all,” he started, making you chuckle. “And I really like contracts. Reviewing them, drafting them, refining them. I’ve been told I have an eye for detail.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of saying of saying control freak?”

“I suppose it is, yes.”

“And you know why that is, right?” You asked pointedly. “Why you ‘have an eye for detail’ and I’m a ‘control freak?’”

Kun didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. You’re a woman, so the same traits that are desirable in men are things that you get shamed for.”

“Huh.” You hid a pleasantly surprised smile behind your glass as you went to take a sip. So far, he had passed every level on your mental flowchart that you used to quickly weed out men who weren’t worth your time. “So you’re responsible for the Terms and Conditions nobody reads?”

“Possibly.”

“And you’ve definitely heard that one before.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I hadn’t?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile.

“It was worth a shot.”

You gathered up both of the drinks you’d been given. “It was nice chatting, Kun, but I do have to get this back to my friend before the ice melts and waters down her drink, unfortunately.”

“By all means; I’m grateful for your time that I did get.” He nodded to you graciously. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I hope we’ll talk again later.”

Taking the two drinks back over to the table that Eunji was standing at, she looked at you with wide eyes and a knowing smirk. Doyoung had disappeared at some point, presumably to get on with his assignment from Eunji.

“Your drink, ma’am.” You handed it to her with mock fanfare.

“So who was that?” She asked lightly.

“Hm?”

“The guy you were talking to at the bar for so long.”

“Oh, uhm, Qian Kun? Have you heard of him?”

“No, I haven’t. He say what firm he works for?”

“Didn’t think to ask. But it makes sense you don’t know him, he’s a paper pusher.”

“Ohh… corporate?”

“Yep. General counsel for businesses, contracts. Guy really loves contracts.”

“Oh boring.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste, then took a sip of her drink. “Ack. Y/N, seriously? You let my cocktail get watered down for a contracts guy?”

“I thought I had excused myself before it got watered down, sorry,” you apologized, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “But he wasn’t talking about contracts the whole time I was over there, really. He was asking me about my job.”

You opted to not mention the part of your conversation about trial attorneys such as your friend.

This detail piqued her interest again. “Oh, okay. You didn’t walk out, so I assume he behaved accordingly?”

“He… was nice.” You conceded.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say about a guy!”

“Eunji, hon, I didn’t come out here expecting to find my soulmate, alright?” You patted her shoulder. “A couple free drinks, hanging out with you, chatting with some nice people, and I’ll consider it a success, alright?”

“Why can’t you be open to something?” She sighed.

“I am. If it happens to find me. I’m just not exactly looking for it right now, okay?”

“Fine.”

“How about we worry about you in the meantime, alright? Since you definitely are searching,” you suggested, looking around the large room with intent. “What about those guys over there? By the Christmas tree?”

“God, no.” She coughed and turned her head, very conspicuously covering her face with her hair. “You see the tall one?”

“Yeah, he’s really good-looking.”

“And we’re going to be avoiding him all night. Johnny Suh.”

“Wait, as in—”

“Yeah.”

“—your ex from law school.”

“That one.”

“Well. I definitely get it now.”

“Could you be more obvious that you’re staring, Y/N? Christ.”

You casually moved around the table so that both of your backs were to that group as you continued talking. “How have you been attending like any Bar Association functions then? If you’re like this?”

“He just moved here. I heard rumors but didn’t want to believe it until I saw him with my own two eyes. Which ended up being tonight.”

“Okay, well…” You looked around again, spotting another group at a nearby table. “How about them? The guys that Doyoung is talking to.”

Eunji peered over at where you were looking. “I mean, one of them is Yuta, which, ew. He works in international law at my firm but the other three… yes, sure, yeah. I think I did my clerkship with one of those guys, actually. Let’s go.”

After being introduced by Doyoung to the three men with him—Jungwoo, Sicheng, and Taeil—you found out that Eunji had in fact done her summer clerkship under a federal judge with Jungwoo during law school. As they got to chatting, and the others talked about some recent fascinating court ruling, you slowly sipped on your drink, zoning in and out of conversations. You loved your friend, really, but there was a reason that you had met at yoga and not in law school. Hearing lawyers talk about law was going to make your brain bleed out of your ears. Your thoughts drifted back to Qian Kun, and your eyes briefly flitted around the room, wondering where he had ended up.

“And what do you do, Y/N?” Yuta suddenly yanked you back into the conversation.

“Hm?” You blinked. “Oh, I’m a wedding planner.”

“Cool. Sounds fun.”

You immediately looked over at Eunji, and she flashed you the quickest lift of her eyes in an eye roll that would be imperceptible to anybody else.

“So how’s your mission coming along, Doyoung?” You decided to entertain yourself.

Sicheng and Taeil immediately stopped their conversation to look over, confused.

“I’m talking to people not directly about cases at work.” He looked at you with wide eyes, obviously hoping you wouldn’t divulge the other half of it. “I’ve done it.”

“Okay, and who are you kissing at midnight?”

“Huh?!” Yuta let out a comically bewildered noise.

Doyoung groaned, then pointed an accusatory finger at your friend. “Eunji… ordered me to not work tonight and find somebody to… kiss at midnight…”

You shrugged. “I’m checking in on his progress.”

“Are you offering, Y/N?” Yuta questioned teasingly.

“No,” you snorted. “I’m ineligible. Sorry.”

“You came to a singles event and you’re… not single?” Jungwoo cocked his head.

“I am. I’m just not letting some stranger put their tongue down my throat at midnight because of it.” You finished off your drink. “Sorry.”

“And there’s no way I’d let either of you do anything to my friend,” Eunji grabbed your arm protectively, pointing between Doyoung and Yuta. “I know how you live. And I’m not impressed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Doyoung scoffed.

“Yeah, understandable,” Yuta shrugged.

After a bit more mingling, you and Eunji once again ended up by yourselves at a table. She had her cheek dejectedly in hand, visible pout on her face.

“So? Have you liked anybody so far?” You asked her. “Felt a connection? Seemed like you and Jungwoo were getting along… Or that environmental attorney, uhm, Taeyong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” she sighed, straightening up. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Come with?”

“I can, or I can get us drinks again. Which do you want?”

“Mm, drinks. Thanks.”

“Of course, hon.”

On your way back to the bar, you spotted a familiar blue suit jacket in the crowd and decided to make a short detour.

“Kun.” You approached, stopping behind him at a table.

The attorney turned around, a wide smile coming to his face as he recognized you. “Y/N, hello again.”

“Yeah, hey,” you beamed. “Mind if I chat with you for a second?”

“Please do.”

“I was on the way to the bar to grab another round for my friend and I while she freshens up, then I saw you,” you explained, settling in to lean beside him at his table. “But she’ll be a while…”

“Lucky me then.” A dimple appeared in his cheek. “And honestly, you might want to hold off on the drinks. They’re going to start bringing out champagne at eleven.”

“What time is it?”

He checked his silver, analog watch. “Ten fifty-four.”

“I think I will hold off, then. Eunji loves champagne. Thanks for the tip.”

“Of course.”

“You here all alone?” You indicated the empty table he was standing at. “I mean, I know it’s a singles event or whatever, but people have at least been talking to friends or colleagues too.”

“I was with some others a few minutes ago, we were celebrating a recent promotion, but they all seemed to have left me.”

“Promotion? Whose?”

“Ah, mine,” he admitted, hand habitually smoothing over the lapels of his suit.

“Congrats. And what have you been promoted to?”

“Senior partner. Non-equity.”

“Celebrating your promotion at an event for lonely singles? Bit sad.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m only here because my friend pressured me.” He nodded towards a dark-haired man in an emerald green velvet jacket, who you had seen darting about the event the whole night. “Ten helped organize it.”

“I was forced here by my friend too, Eunji,” you laughed. “She just about dragged me in kicking and screaming.”

“I didn’t put up that much resistance myself, admittedly,” Kun chuckled.

“Oh? You secretly wanted to come?” You half-joked and half-asked.

“Something like that.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“When Ten was first telling me his plans for the event, I thought, knowing him, it was just a convoluted way to get wasted and make out with a stranger,” he shook his head. “But the promotion sort of put some… things into perspective. And I feel like the New Year always makes me reflect more than others.”

“Why is that? You feel like you reflect on New Year more than other people?”

“My birthday is January 1st.”

“Oh…” You nodded in understanding. “Time marches on.”

“Yes, it does. I get the hit of a New Year and getting older on the same day.”

“I know we just met, but I feel like you’re already sharing something pretty personal, so I’ll ask: How old will you be? At midnight?”

“Thirty-six,” he said it like he was in a confessional, quietly, dipping his head down to looking down at his feet, then straight up at the ceiling, tilting his head back.

“Kun… You know that’s not even half your life, right? Statistically?” You arched an eyebrow.

“I’m aware. I’m not ashamed of my age, really. I’m quite happy to be out of my twenties. But now, about to be closer to forty than thirty… there’s things about my life that twenty-year-old me thought would’ve been quite different than they actually are.”

“Is this connected to your new perspective from your promotion?”

“Yes. A lot of people take their promotion as an incentive to work harder but… I think I’m going to cut back.”

“Does your firm know about this?”

“My new position comes with a certain amount of security.”

“You’re a damn good lawyer, Kun,” you chuckled.

Kun seemed caught off-guard for the first time in your conversation. “Well, I mean, yes, I suppose—”

“You’ve been talking around your point for the past five minutes. Now that you’re at a certain place in your career, you want a family. When you were twenty, you promised yourself you would do it all, career and family, then along the way you slowly started conceding more and more in order to get ahead, and now you’re looking back and realizing you wanted to have more in your life than just work by now. So you let Ten talk you into coming out to this singles mixer hoping that maybe you’d luck into your future spouse in one go.” You poked him on the chest. “Sound about right?”

He raised his gaze from your finger on his dress shirt to your face, a wonder-filled smile on his lips that turned into a knowing smirk as he challenged, “Seems as though you’re… familiar with similar circumstances.”

You took your hand back before giving a casual shrug. “Maybe. How close was I?”

“Scarily accurate. Did my mother put you up to this?”

“No. But, let me guess, she’s been not-so-subtly asking for grandchildren?”

“Only for the past decade.”

“Ouch.”

A waiter then came by carrying a plate of champagne, offering some out. Kun grabbed two flutes off the tray and offered one to you. You accepted it graciously.

“Thank you.” Tilting the golden liquid back and forth contemplatively, you asked, “Do you happen to know if Ten got real champagne or sparkling wine?”

“Whatever real champagne is, he probably did not splurge on it, no,” Kun chuckled.

“Nobody actually knows the difference, I was just curious.” You took a sip. “Good quality wine.”

“What is the difference?”

“Technically, real champagne can only come from the Champagne region of France,” you explained. “Whenever a couple comes in insisting on real champagne, but without the budget for it, I have tell them that they’ve probably never had real champagne in their lives anyway, and their guests will not know the difference between real champagne and a good sparkling wine.”

“Your job must require you to be knowledgeable about a lot of different things, doesn’t it? Wine, flowers, food, logistics.”

“Money, budgeting, color theory, weather, you name it, I probably have to know at least the basics, maybe more.”

Kun’s admiration and interest once again seemed genuine. “And what sort of degree do you get to be a wedding planner? Is there a degree for it? Certification program? I mean, it’s not as linear of a path as being an attorney…”

“There’s some event planning associate and bachelor programs. I have a degree in hospitality, and then mentored under a wedding planner to learn the ropes before going off on my own.”

“So you own your own business?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Wow…” He trailed off, eyes focused on you, beholding you.

You laughed self-consciously. “I don’t think I’ve ever made anybody speechless with that information. You alright, Kun? How much have you had to drink?”

“I’m quite sober, this will only be drink number two.” He lifted the champagne.

“Really?”

“I do need to drive myself home tonight.”

“I’m DD as well. And I’m also past my ‘getting shitfaced in public’ days,” you chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips again, looking out over how many of the other partygoers were more than tipsy.

“You’re beautiful, by the way.” Kun’s voice brought your eyes back to him, his eyes twinkling under the lights as he looked at you.

Your skin felt warm, and your heart jumped a bit. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I was thinking about, when I trailed off a moment ago.”

“You didn’t open with that. Earlier, by the bar,” you commented. “Why not?”

“I needed to know if you even wanted to talk to some random man first.”

“But after that.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was walking up to every woman here tonight and telling her that.”

“You’re not?” You teased, the corner of your lip quirking up.

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Well, you’re a paper pusher… so I suppose I can take your word for it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Checking the time on your phone, you then got up on your tiptoes, peering around for Eunji.

“Looking for your friend?” Kun asked.

“Yes, she should’ve been out by now.” You frowned.

“Do you need to go look for her?”

“Let me shoot her a text first. She might just be taking a while fixing her makeup…”

[you: jiji, you fall in? everything okay?]

Thankfully, but much to your surprise, she texted back almost immediately.

[jiji: i’m okkkk! chatting with taeyong from earlier! sorry for leaving you!]

[jiji: GREAT champagne btw 🍾🍾🥂🥂]

[you: that’s fine. you two have fun! call me if you need anything]

“She’s alright,” you chuckled, turning off your phone. “Found a friend. And the champagne.”

“Does that mean you’re free right now then?”

“Why yes, yes it does.”

“Lucky me.” He grinned. “So have you ever been in the old courthouse before this?”

“No, I haven’t. Never been to an event here, and it closed before I was born.”

“Well, we have…” He looked at his watch again. “Fifty-three minutes until midnight. How would you like a personal tour?”

“Can you do that?” You raised an eyebrow. “There’s ropes blocking off the hallways.”

“Ten’s part of the event committee for the Bar Association, and I’m part of the historical committee. We’re in charge of the preservation and restoration of the courthouse. I know which parts we can go in and which ones we can’t. Besides, if we were caught, the person they would report us to would be me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, sure. Sounds fun.”

“I will have to ask that you leave the champagne. No liquids.”

“Of course.” You nodded, stepping away from your drink.

Kun cordially offered you his elbow, and you took it, well aware that the giddy, warm buzz in your body wasn’t from the few sips of champagne you’d just had. He led you through the crowd, and as you approached the black velvet ropes cordoning off the hallways, he looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then stepped over it. He offered his hand out to you, and you placed yours atop for him to steady you as you also stepped over the rope. You took one more look over your shoulder before you two quickly ducked around the marble column and out of sight.

The darkened hallway you entered was much smaller than the grand foyer you had been in for most of the night. In the dim light being let in through the windows, you could make out the multitude of frames along the walls, sconces clearly meant for oil lamps, and a few pieces of furniture—mainly chairs and tables pushed against the wall.

“This is where the clerk’s office was,” Kun explained. “The door at the end of the hall. But first—”

He stopped at a frame, and with your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see the art that was in it. It was of the courthouse itself, but a whimsical interpretation, with flying chariots in the sky above it, and mermaids swimming in a river in front of it that certainly had never been there.

“It’s a beautiful etching,” you commented. “Do you know who did it?”

“We think a local artist, but they didn’t sign it,” he sighed, gesturing to the four corners, all blank. “And there’s nothing on the back. It’s something we’ve been working with local art curators and historians to try to track down.”

“That’s… sad.” You couldn’t find a better word. “I mean, it’s incredible that their work survived all these years and is still being seen and people are working to find out who created it… but it’s still sad that their identity was lost in the first place.”

“One of the experts we had look at it believes it’s a first or second state that the artist never intended to actually be the final piece, so that’s why they didn’t sign it.”

“It makes you wonder if they never made the finished piece or if the finished piece didn’t survive.”

“Also makes you imagine that artist all those years ago looking at this and thinking that it wasn’t good enough to put their name on, and now we’re looking at it wishing we knew who made it because we think it’s so beautiful.”

Your eyes scanned over the chariots and puffy clouds and mermaids swimming among the waves, then drifted over to Kun. “What was your undergrad degree in, Kun?”

“History, why?” He looked over at you inquisitively.

“Just curious.” You shrugged. “I know you can do anything before going to law school, so I thought I’d ask.”

“A lot of my peers did Political Science or Criminal Justice, but you don’t actually learn much about the law in those programs like people think you will. Everybody starts on a pretty even playing field when it comes to stuff that’ll be on the tests. But as for practical skills... majors that give you good research, writing, and critical thinking skills were really the best ones to go with. So the humanities majors were honestly running laps around everyone else the first semester or so.”

“You’re on the historical committee, so you just like history, too. Right?”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded, slowly guiding you further down the hallway. “I like knowing how we ended up here. The people that came before us, how they’re still influencing us even today. I think we have a duty to remember them, learn as much as we can, and preserve that knowledge and pass it down. Because I would want somebody to do that for us as well. I know we have cameras, and phones, and can document things so much better now, but that’s probably also what they thought a hundred years ago. But things still get destroyed, and lost, and people pass, and stuff gets forgotten. So I hope we never stop being curious about where we came from.”

“I like that, Kun.” You squeezed his arm. “I really do.”

He smiled almost bashfully, looking down at his feet, then back up as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway, gesturing in. “This is the clerk’s office. We can’t go in since it is very much still pre-restoration and I’m afraid you may get injured.”

“That’s fine, I’ll peer in from here,” you chuckled, looking around from the threshold. There were floorboards haphazardly strewn about, but you could see one main desk, in the same dark oak color as everything else, multitudes of filing cabinets, and several different large, old manual machines that you weren’t quite sure what they did but you were sure there were probably an electric version of most, if not all, at any office building in the city.

“So this is where all the court documents were filed?” You clarified your knowledge that you had picked up from knowing a few attorneys in your life.

“Yes. Court documents were filed, real estate documents, and notary applications. They also did a few other things in this building that weren’t just trials, but weren’t handled by the clerk. I’ll show you in a second.”

Around the corner, Kun showed you where business licenses used to be processed, and where motor vehicle and driver’s licenses were taken care of before they got their own office long before this courthouse closed. In between all of these rooms, there were various pieces of art, painting, photographs, drawings, maps, or historical documents to look at on the walls as well.

The next room was a bit larger, and you were able to actually walk into this one, the first out of all of them. It had higher ceilings and a skylight, but not quite the infrastructure and grandeur to make you think that you were in the courtroom yet.

“The historical committee has been focused on getting this one ready sooner, with some pressure from the event committee. They think it’ll bring some outside business in,” he explained, guiding you towards the front, where there was what looked like a wood countertop of some sort. The windows on the far wall had a funny sort of tint to them, and you realized they were stained glass in various colors. They didn’t depict any specific religious imagery, but they were the only ones you had seen in the entire courthouse, almost giving the impression of a chapel.

“Why is that?” You asked Kun curiously. “Also, why is this the only room with stained glass windows?”

“This was where all the marriages in this jurisdiction were performed for hundreds of years. At least the legal part, the signing of the certificate. The actual wedding ceremonies were obviously up to the couples.” He said, then gestured to the wood countertop. “That’s where the certificate was signed. The stained glass was to emulate a religious setting without directly referencing any one religion. The event committee thinks people will want to hold their actual weddings here.”

You looked around at the room, already thinking about how many people would fit in here, how you would set up a possible wedding ceremony in here.

“So what do you think, wedding planner?” Kun prompted you.

“You want my advice for free?” You teased.

He held his hands up. “I’m humbly making conversation.”

“As a favor for taking me on this lovely tour, I’ll tell you what I think,” you giggled. “It’s pretty small. This area attracts a lot of big money weddings. It might work for a couple who wants an intimate ceremony but a bigger reception, if they can also use the foyer for the reception. Especially couples who aren’t necessarily religious, but don’t want to completely go off-book by not having a church wedding, since it feels similar to a chapel, and a courthouse is still formal like a church. You’ll also attract the kind of couples who are looking for unique venues: old bank vaults, railroad stations, cemeteries, that kind of thing. But again, the size of the room for the ceremony is really going to be a limiting factor for booking.”

Kun looked at you with wide eyes. “You can get married at a cemetery?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, unfazed by that factoid at this point in your life. “Halloween weddings are pretty popular in a certain crowd.”

“I don’t think I’d want to get married on a holiday.” He shook his head. “Christmas, Valentine’s Day, anything. Or one of our birthdays. It’s…”

“Tacky?”

“There we go.”

“I agree. I think the only special date that I can make an exception for would be an anniversary. Anniversary of getting engaged, anniversary of our first date, anniversary of when we met, that kind of thing.”

Kun had the same look in his eyes as when you told him that you owned your own business, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed, and he couldn’t imagine ever looking at anything else for the rest of his life. “What if one of those is on a holiday?”

“Then we’d just have to pick a different date. Can’t be tacky.”

“Oh God, of course not,” Kun chuckled jokingly. “My worst nightmare.”

Still gazing around the non-denominational not-chapel, you were overcome with a feeling of unease, suddenly being overwhelmed with memories that you hadn’t thought of in a very long time. You glanced down at your empty left hand, then wrapped it back around Kun’s arm, looking up at the stained glass windows again.

“I was almost engaged once. In my twenties,” you stated into the stillness.

Kun took this pivot in conversational tone in stride. “And how do you almost get engaged?”

“He had me pick my ring and then… never proposed with it.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“Mm, could’ve been worse. I could’ve married him,” you laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“Tell me.”

You turned to him still with a grin on your face. “He was a lawyer.”

“What kind?” Kun asked, then immediately followed up with, “Don’t say a trial attorney.”

“Nope.”

“Family law.”

“A wedding planner and a divorce lawyer getting married? That sounds like a pretty savvy business model. Or a really great rom-com.”

“You like rom-coms?”

“I’d call it a guilty pleasure, but I’m at the point in my life where I can’t be ashamed of the things I like.” You confirmed your love of the movie genre. “I just can’t watch any that are about wedding planners.”

“Too inaccurate?”

“Yes! It’s always about falling in love with the best man or brother of the groom or something. I’m way too busy to find my soulmate on the job.”

“So was I right? Family law?”

“Nope.”

“IP. Intellectual property.”

“No.”

“I can keep going, there’s practically infinite areas of civil practice that are non-trial.”

“I’m not the one who turned this into a guessing game!” You guffawed incredulously.

“Wait, was he… a corporate attorney?” He let out a fake gasp. “Do you have a type?”

“And who says I’m attracted to you?” You fired back immediately.

“That’s fair, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Kun laughed, smoothing down his lapels. “So what kind of attorney was he?”

“He wasn’t.”

“Wait—”

“He went to law school, so he’s a lawyer, but he never took the bar in order to practice law, so he’s not an attorney,” you declared victoriously through chuckles, much to Kun’s disbelief.

“I can’t believe you got me with that.”

“Don’t contracts require precise language or something?” You feigned cluelessness, making him snort as he knew that you weren’t that dumb.

“Yeah, they do.” He was shaking his head at himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You really got me with that one, goddamn.”

That was the first time you’d heard him curse all night, you realized, despite the fact that you’d already done so multiple times.

“I do… think you’re attractive, by the way, Kun,” you admitted. “And you’ve been great company tonight. I’ve had a wonderful time on this little impromptu tour.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, attorneys need their egos checked every once in a while. I’m honored to have such a stunning woman checking mine this time.”

“Well, any time you need me to lie to your face and say you’re not one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, I’m there.”

Kun patted down the front of his tuxedo jacket almost self-consciously, a pleased smile coming to his face and both of his dimples making reappearances. “Really? Well…”

“And I haven’t been walking up to every man tonight saying that, by the way.”

He laughed with his whole chest, eyes and nose scrunching up as he leaned forward, hair getting knocked out of place with his sudden movement. You smiled fondly as you watched him laugh so genuinely, so unrestrained, not in the practiced, manicured way as before. You didn’t think that they were necessarily forced laughs earlier in the night, you were sure that he did genuinely think what you said was funny, but he presumably had a laugh for these formal types of scenarios. And you’d been right, as the sort of laughing he was doing now was far different, warm, joyous, mirthful. It made your heart full to know that it was because of you.

As he caught his breath, the thought occurred to you of how much time you’d spent on your tour already.

“What time is it?” You questioned.

He checked his watch once more. “Eleven thirty-five. I should hurry this tour up to get you back in time for the countdown.”

“Lead the way.”

You and Kun slipped back into the main party with five minutes to spare, and grabbed a couple more glasses of champagne off a waiter as he walked by. You looked around to see if you could spot Eunji now that you were on the opposite side of the room as before. Funny enough, you saw Taeyong and his colleagues that you had met earlier, but not your friend.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Kun asked.

“I’m sorry, do you mind if we go talk to someone?” You couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off, despite the large screen set up behind the band displaying the timer now at less than four minutes.

“Of course not.”

Pulling Kun through the crowd by the arm, you landed in front of Lee Taeyong out of breath, offering him a wide smile. “Hi, Taeyong. I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y/N, we met earlier.”

“Of course, yes, you’re… an event planner, right?” He offered you a bright smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You didn’t have the time to correct him. “My friend Eunji that was with me, have you seen her? Is she with you?”

The man’s features immediately turned confused. “No, she’s not with me. But I have seen her.”

“Oh, good. Where?”

“Over there,” he nodded behind you. “With Johnny.”

You turned around, eyes zeroing in on a corner of the foyer where Eunji was in fact pressed up into Johnny Suh’s side, giggling and laughing, his arm around her shoulders. He looked about as tipsy as she was, pink-cheeked and giggling too.

Looking back to Taeyong, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Taeyong, one more thing: To the best of your knowledge, she’s been with him for the past hour or so?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” He nodded. “They look like they’ve been having a, uhm, pretty good time together. Not to be indecent...”

“Cool, thanks.” You walked off, taking Kun with you.

“So what was that about?” Kun questioned.

“Johnny Suh is Eunji’s ex from law school,” you explained the gravity of the situation. “Not a pretty breakup. Or second breakup. Or third breakup. From what I heard, I didn’t know her then.”

“Are we going to do anything?” Kun questioned as you were very clearly not walking over to Eunji and Johnny.

“I only got Eunji two drinks spread across two hours, so unless she has been chugging champagne at superhuman rates for the past hour, she’s probably only had one or two glasses, which with her alcohol tolerance would put her at mildly tipsy,” you responded with a shrug. “I’m not going to let her leave with him. But otherwise… she can deal with her choices in the morning. It would be way more trouble than it’s worth if I went over there and tried to remove her right now.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded.

“Besides…” You looked over at the countdown, which was now at 1:30. “It’s almost midnight.”

Kun tapped the side of his glass, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Y/N, I don’t want to be presumptive. Just being able to enjoy your company tonight has been more than enough—”

“Kun, I would be offended if you didn’t want to kiss me at midnight.”

“I do, I do,” he chuckled, clearly relieved. “I’m just aware that you had your reservations about coming here tonight, and about the entire premise of the event.”

“Well I said I didn’t want to get drunk and mack on a stranger. I’m not drunk, and I wouldn’t exactly call you a stranger. I feel like I know you a little bit.”

“Yes, I feel like I know you as well.”

A bauble nearby refracted the light into Kun’s eye just right and turned it a rich honey brown color, and the crowd around you began chanting the final countdown from ten. You and Kun both set your champagne flutes down on a nearby table, and you happily stepped into his personal space.

On one, you leaned forward to slot your lips with his, the cheers of the crowd fading out to silence. Kun’s mouth was gentle against yours, even as you curled your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, resting your other hand on his lapel, fingers mindlessly messing with his brooches. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You squeaked into his mouth as that arm around your waist was suddenly used as leverage to dip you, the other supporting your back. You laughed against his lips as you wrapped your entire arm around his neck instead of just one hand, before kissing him again.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year, Kun,” you stole another kiss. “And, Happy Birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

When he pulled you back up to stand on your own two feet, you were still grinning like a madwoman, and stayed pressed against his side. “I have to say… I’ve never been dipped before.”

“Seriously?” Kun seemed dumbfounded.

“Seriously.”

“Every man in your life has been dropping the ball, Y/N. Absolutely unacceptable that you hadn’t been dipped before that.”

“I’ll keep that it mind,” you giggled. “Find a guy who’ll dip me when he kisses me more often.”

“Y/N…” He sighed taking both of your hands in his.

“Yes, Kun, I would love to see you again. Specifically, to go on a date.”

“Wedding planner and a mind reader.”

You laughed, cupping his cheek to kiss him again, letting him slowly, tenderly move his mouth against yours. Just as he went to deepen the kiss, you heard a throat get cleared much too close for it to be coincidental, and you damn near jumped out of your skin.

Breaking the kiss, you dropped your hand down to his shoulder and turned towards the source. Eunji was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised. Except she wasn’t alone, as Johnny Suh towered behind her.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about getting wasted and letting a stranger stick their tongue down your throat?” Eunji cocked her head to the side, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Kun.

“I’m sorry, and what were you saying about Johnny Suh?” You snorted, pointing to the man with her.

Johnny looked down at her, surprised. “Yeah, what were you saying about Johnny Suh?”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve. Good or bad,” Eunji replied dismissively.

“Okay, that’s probably fair.”

“Anyway, I think it’s JiJi and I’s bedtime, so, goodnight, guys.” You took Eunji’s arm and backed away from both Johnny and Kun. Eunji went willingly on both hers and Johnny’s parts, which you were relieved for.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Kun immediately offered.

“We’ll walk you to your car,” Johnny tacked on, flashing you a million-dollar smile that you were sure had done a lot for him in life.

And so you and Eunji headed out, Kun and Johnny on either side of you. As you were heading for the front doors, you saw a familiar face though, and just had to stop.

“Hey, Doyoung!” You called out to him. “How’d your mission go?”

He stopped, and despite the fact that it was you who asked the question, it was your friend that he focused his stern gaze on. “It’s done, Eunji. Happy?”

Her jaw dropped. “Who was it?!”

“It would be improper of me to say.”

“Oh come on. I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“The deal had no clause for supplying proof. Only that I find someone.” He straightened his tie. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m going to kill you, Kim Doyoung!” Eunji lunged forward, but Johnny easily caught her and kept her from her intentions of presumably ripping Doyoung limb from limb.

“Maybe you should’ve had a paper pusher like Kun there, Eunji,” you snickered, squeezing Kun’s arm.

The four of you continued your journey outside, Kun holding the door open for the other three of you, as Johnny was still restraining Eunji, just in case. Once the doors had closed behind you all and Doyoung was contained on the other side of them, he let her go.

“God, you get corporate dick one time and you’re brainwashed,” she complained. “Y/N, come back from the boring side! Please!”

“You’re drunk and dramatic,” you deadpanned, leading the way in the direction of your car. “Stop embarrassing yourself more than you already have at your big age.”

She immediately became more serious, but with a slight pout to her bottom lip. “Fine.”

Approaching your car, you slowed to a stop.

“This is us. Thanks for all your…” you paused, looking at Johnny, “…help, guys.”

Johnny flashed you that same million-dollar smile. “Anytime. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Eunji talked a lot about you.”

“Yeah, sounds like you two were doing a lot of talking from what I heard,” you replied lightly, opening your passenger door for her.

“You’re not subtle, Y/N,” Eunji grumbled, willingly getting in.

You handed her the seatbelt buckle. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

After she had gotten herself situated and you gave her the keys to start the car and the heating, you walked around to the driver’s side, where Kun was waiting for you. Eunji had rolled down her window, and Johnny was bent over, leaning his elbows on the open window to talk to her.

“I have to say, I did not expect to meet someone like you tonight, Y/N,” Kun chuckled, his laughter coming out as fog in the winter air. “You’re… amazing. More than amazing.”

“I think I made it more than obvious that I wasn’t expecting to meet you either,” you laughed. “But thank you, for making this night not only tolerable but incredible. Unforgettable.”

“We uhm, got interrupted earlier, but if we want to see each other, we’ll need to contact each other…?”

“Right, right.” You brought out your phone, handing it to him with a new contact open. “Here.”

He quickly typed in his number, then handed it back to you. “I’ll let you go, since it’s cold and late and you have to get Eunji home.”

“Thanks. I have your number now, so I will definitely be using that.”

“I’ll patiently be awaiting that time then.”

“Goodnight, Kun.” You went to hug him. “And Happy New Year and Happy Birthday one more time.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed you back. “Happy New Year, goodnight, and drive safe.”

“Will do.” You pulled back, giving him a final peck on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.” He was beaming, and you took in the beautiful sight of his dimples one last time before turning around to get in your car.

As Eunji took over the Bluetooth in your car to change it to her own phone so she could play her music, you did one more thing on your phone, going into Kun’s contact that he had just created. Qian Kun, and his number. You had one slight correction to make.

Qian Kun 💍

Putting your phone away, you drove away from the curb, looking at Kun waving to you out the rear window. Yeah, you had a good feeling about this one.

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

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Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 12 - Sensory Play]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x sub f.!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, second chance!AU, Gangster!AU

Kinks: romantic love making, morning sex, somnophilia, he wakes her with oral sex, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), hair pulling (m.receiving), biting (m.receiving), finger sucking (f.giving), body worship, sensory deprivation with a sleeping mask, praise kink, good girl kink, sensory play, knife play, wax play, but nothing of it hurts her, use of a vibrator, orgasm control & edging, subby girl tears, lots of begging, he is so gentle and loving with her, penetrative vaginal sex in missionary, hand holding, choking (f.receiving), loving dirty talk, creampie, strength kink, protective!Yoongi, she feels so safe being his sub, loving aftercare, some plot: mentions of past struggles with sex because of bad mental health, mentions of corrupt police work, the character growth we all wanted from Yoongs

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: all you had to say was say gangster!yoongi and vanilla sex and I KNEW I had to give you the sequel to TCOFU about their mountain holiday. like! do we all get her now and why she couldn’t leave him? like he is really that man omfg oh lord

Yoongi regrets a lot in his life. Quite frankly, he regrets most of his life. He regrets the choices he made and the consequences they bore. He regrets the people he killed because he couldn’t save them and regrets the people he killed because he was reckless. He regrets the hearts he broke and the dreams he crushed. He was a good person once, someone with ambitions and dreams. He was someone who wanted to change the world for the better and he truly thought that he could. And then reality woke him and turned him from a dreaming boy to a hopeless man. 

Yoongi still remembers the breaking point. The true, actual breaking point. He remembers what lunch he had that day. Bibimbap with sausages because you ran out of beef the day before. Yoongi loved eating it, but soon felt it sit in his stomach heavily. Yoongi remembers what he wore that day. His uniform with his favourite pair of socks, which he couldn’t look at after that day. Yoongi also remembers that he cried on the toilet that day because that day was the moment he felt helpless for the first time. A crime happened in his precinct, but the criminal was never punished because it was his boss. His former captain, who was caught with pornographic images of non-consenting women on his hard drive. It was swiped under the rug because he was friends with a politician in a rather high position, who just so happened to know some vultures which called themselves reporters from the press. The women were never allowed justice and the captain ended up working for another three years. Yoongi woke up that day and then began making decisions which were so right at first before he was blinded by the power they brought him.

He became a cop who lived two lives. By day he tried to serve the law and by night he disobeyed it for the sake of helping those who were forgotten by it. It was honourable at first but then he became greedy and the decisions he began making were regretful.

Yoongi regrets a lot of the things he did. He regrets the choices he made, the choices he didn’t make and most of all, he regrets how he treated the person he loved most.

You.

He regrets most how he treated you. 

He became cold, distant and took your affection for granted.

He regrets it. He really does. You have always been the person most important to him and yet he treated you like shit. When you broke up with him, he expected it but never welcomed it. He knew he needed to change for your sake. For his woman and his love. He never thought that you would take him back, but you did and he swore to himself to make you not regret it. 

Yoongi woke before you from the thunderstorm outside. The thunder ripped him awake, making him think for just a moment that he was in danger until he remembered where he was. In the mountains with you far away from the cursed city with its disgusting people. 

You wanted to leave it behind and he wanted to make it possible. He knew that you were struggling for quite awhile now. He also knows that it was mostly his fault and regrets it so deeply that it hurts, but he also knows that the city was at fault. It is dirty and corrupt and filled with suffering. You always had a good heart and an empathetic soul and this city ruined you. Yoongi thought that he could fix it for you, he hoped that he could, but he sometimes thinks that he only made it worse. You said so yourself. He fucked it up, just as much as he fucked you up. Yoongi truly regrets a lot in his life.

Thunder cuts through the silence. You flinch in your sleep, instinctively drawing closer to him. Yoongi shushes you quietly, brushing his hand over your head in soothing. Your body instantly relaxes, a content sound leaves you in a sleepy sigh. Yoongi feels happy witnessing it.

He thinks that he might have finally done something right with this holiday. Yesterday he watched you take a deep breath and relax your shoulders afterwards. You haven’t done this in so long. The day before that, you ate two portions of lunch because you finally had an appetite again. In the car on your way to the mountains, there was a moment where you talked about how beautiful the landscape was. And right now, you are smiling in your sleep as he pets your hair slowly. You are starting to feel like the woman he fell in love with all these years ago. Not burdened by the suffering of others, not suffocated by the toxic fumes of the city, not shackled by your own thoughts. You feel like you and you look happy. 

You look really happy. 

Yoongi traces your eyebrows, heart taking each beat just so he could gaze at you for longer. You are the very reason he breathes. From the very first moment he loved you, he knew that he would do anything for you. He would set the whole world on fire for you. Even kill and he has done so in the past. The scar running down his face will be a visual reminder of it for the rest of his life. On most days, he hates looking at it because he feels ugly with it, but on some days he remembers that if he wasn’t carrying this scar right now, you would have to run around with the memory of being violated by cruel monsters which call themselves men. He stops hating the scar then and swears that he would do it again. He would take a knife to the face over and over again if it meant that you will always be safe. He took this oath years ago and swears to never break it.

Another thunder cuts through the silence as if God Herself was whipping the sky. You flinch awake from it, taking a deep gasp of fear. Your eyes show your feelings.

“Hush, it’s okay. It’s just thunder”, Yoongi whispers, cradling your cheek.

Your fearful eyes lock with his’. Your voice doesn’t want to come out as your lips form his name.

“It’s okay. You’re safe”, he promises and kisses your forehead.

You exhale deeply, touching his chest. His skin practically comes alive where you touch him. You are so warm from sleep.

You crane your neck so you are looking up into his eyes. Thunder and lightning. You don’t flinch anymore, instead, your lips curl into a toothless smile.

Yoongi retorts it, brushing his thumb under your eye.

“I’ve been awake for a while. The storm woke me. I thought someone was trying to fucking shoot me.”

You agree with a knowing snicker and a nod of your head. He chuckles with you.

“I watched you sleep.” He traces the slope of your nose, forcing your eyelids to grow heavy. “You smiled in your sleep.”

“It’s because I’m happy”, you get out and shiver with your entire body, “Yoongi, I feel comfortable”, you confess, cuddling into his chest.

Yoongi hugs you, kissing the crown of your head and closing his eyes. Comfortable might be a normal state to most people, but you haven’t felt like this in too long. Yoongi cherishes your confession deeply. 

He begins running his fingertips up and down your back. It draws you closer to him and for your happy purr to meet his ears. 

“Do you like this?” he asks you in a barely there whisper.

You nod your head, humming your answer. He answers you in a hum as well, continuing his touches. 

You fall back to sleep like this, cradled in his strong arms and against his safe chest as he pets you slowly. The rain and thunder lull you back to sleep as well, now that you know that nothing can hurt you. You are with him and he will always keep you safe.

You don’t quite know how much time passed, but it must have been enough for the thunderstorm to stop. Only rainfall can be heard now. But that isn’t what wakes you. No. Warm, slick pleasure between your legs does. 

“Ah”, you get out, sleepily arching your back and reaching down to see what is making you feel so good. Your legs close around a head, your fingers meet bundles of soft hair. 

Strong hands touch your inner thighs and push your legs apart again. The warm, slick pleasure stops in a sucking sensation. Lips against your inner thigh, teeth in soft bites as well. Sucks and licks and kisses. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, Yoongi rasps between his kisses, “don’t let me wake you, just relax”, he breathes and connects his eager mouth with your pussy again. He sucks and licks, moaning softly each time your clit is between his pouty lips.

It feels so good that you can’t help but whimper. He is so warm and soft. Judging from how wet you are, he has been doing this for quite a while. That explains why your dreams started to become so sinful.

You are delirious from sleep, both numb and sensitive, so what he is currently doing is a lot. You can’t talk yet because you are too tired, making a small sound and twisting his hair. You do it so weakly that Yoongi barely feels it. 

He smiles and tongue kisses your clit with his eyes closed in bliss. You are especially precious when you are sleepy. You get so weak and quiet despite trying to be so strong and loud. Yoongi swears he would do unspeakable things to anyone who dared to disturb you in this state. His protectiveness almost makes him feral. 

But he doesn’t let the feralness consume him. No. He runs his big, strong hands to your waist and places a protective touch on the softest part. Your skin dimples where his fingertips lie. Yoongi knows the meaning of to have and to hold when he can hold you like this, when he can have you like this. 

Your weak body writhes helplessly, your throat produces a small sound. Yoongi soothes you by rubbing your waist and purring around your clit. 

“Oh my god”, you get out in a breathy whisper and whimper, legs closing around his head in a quick twitch and body convulsing in the sudden high his purrs drag out of you.

Yoongi moans, wrapping his muscular arms around your tensing legs and moving his hot tongue on your clit eagerly. Your noises are heaven to him. So sweet, so cute, so perfect. He loves nothing more than making you feel good.

You sob softly, overwhelmed by what he makes you feel. You aren’t even properly awake yet to take in the sensations and now he has you orgasming. It feels like too much and yet so good.

He expected you to orgasm quickly, but not that quickly. He is delirious, rutting the sheets with his aching cock as his tongue makes sweet love to your pussy. This is heaven to him. True heaven. 

“Sto…stop”, you breathe out after your high turns into overstimulation. “Plea..stop…” 

Yoongi listens to your begs, kissing a path up your naked body. It wasn’t always naked but he undressed you so he could gaze at you and worship every inch of you. He missed you a lot in the three months you and he were separated. He needs to truly appreciate every second with you and memorise it so it will always stay with him.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your tender skin slowly. Like this, his hard cock rubs against your thigh. He is naked as well because he wanted to share the state with you. Perhaps there is even a chance that he spent a good ten minutes holding you as you slumbered so his skin could finally feel you again. 

You sigh and chase him. Yoongi understands, giving you what you crave so deeply. A kiss. A slow, deliberate tongue kiss where each second counts and each movement is filled with emotion.

You shiver, burying your hands deep in his soft hair and making him shiver with it. You and he draw closer, skins touching and lips moving with so much more passion. This is the first time you and he have sex here. 

Yoongi has been wanting, craving, you ever since this holiday started, but he knew not to pressure you. You seemed drained and in need of healing. He wanted to give you time to do so. He held back, but he can’t hold back anymore. 

The way you kiss him, lets him know that you don’t want to hold back either. You bury your fingers deeper in his dark hair, making him purr contently. 

Yoongi has the thickest and healthiest hair ever. It is dark black, except for when the sunlight hits it and turns it a warm dark chocolate brown. He wears it slicked back on most days because he wants to look his best as police captain. When he is with you like this however, tangled in the sheets with your bodies still warm from sleep, his hair is unstyled. It is messy and it is soft from the lack of product. It hangs into his face or gets ruffled when you play with it just right. You could honestly write songs about his morning hair.

You break the kiss to look at him in his pretty state. You open your eyes. Darkness. A nervous sound leaves you, fingers coming up to touch your eyes. Soft fabric. How peculiar.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just an eye mask. To heighten your senses”, Yoongi assures you, tracing it gently and with it, ridding you of your fear. “Do you want me to take it off?” 

“No.”

You drop your hands again, sighing his name. He kisses your neck, talking to you like this. He rests his hands on your wrists, long fingers stretching along your palms. There is no pressure involved, neither strength, and yet you still feel so claimed. In a good way of course.

“I want more of you”, he purrs, running his thumbs up and down your tender wrists. 

You whimper and squirm, legs opening.

“But don’t worry, I know you’re not ready yet. Let’s play a game.”

“A game?" you talk in the kind of voice you only possess when you are in subspace. It is soft and a little higher in pitch and brings out Yoongi’s desire to protect. 

“Yes a fun game. You’ll like it.” 

“Please.”

Yoongi begins kissing your face as he talks. It feels so good to receive. Everything he does and did to you feels so good. This is what you needed from him for months. 

“Okay so, next to us are five things. My necklace, my knife, a candle, your makeup brush and a leaf. You have to guess with which of the things I’m touching you. How does that sound?” 

“Fun. Really fun.”

“Yes?”

You nod your head, putting your hands above your head in a submissive squirm. Yoongi smiles, heart skipping a beat in giddiness. He would do anything for you. He really would.

“I knew that you would like it. Any of the things you don’t want me to touch you with? I guess most are soft, except the knife and wax. I won’t cut you and the wax will be hot, but not painful. Is it okay for you?” 

“Yes, really okay.” you writhe and sigh, parting your legs for nothing in particular. 

“Good, that’s good. You can stop this anytime you need to. Your voice matters, sweetest. Your safety does as well.”

You whimper in emotion, healing from deep wounds. This is exactly what you needed from Yoongi. This kind of care and love and safety. You were so scared that giving him another chance will end in your heartbreak, but instead he is proving to you how honest he was in his promises to change. 

“You’re important to me”, he kisses your cheek, “you’re so fucking important.”

“Yoongi”, your voice trembles as it leaves you. 

“Mhm, my sweet girl.” He kisses your ear softly and straightens up. He rubs his hands up and down your stomach gently. “Ready for the first item?” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t be scared to guess wrong. There won’t be punishments, just rewards.”

“Rewards?” 

“Mhm, guess correctly and you’ll find out.”

“Okay”, you sigh. 

Yoongi climbs off your lap. You listen with bated breath. The sheets ruffle as he gets comfortable. Then sudden silence which he breaks in a soft rasp.

“Ready?” 

You nod your head.

“Use your voice, sweetest.”

“Yes, I’m ready”, you whisper cutely, sending his heart into overdrive. 

With a racing pulse, he lowers the brush to your collarbone.

“Oh”, you gasp with the first touch, chasing it. 

Yoongi lets your skin soak up the feelings, guiding the brush up to your shoulder and down your arm. He dances it over your chest, circling your nipples. Then he guides it up your other arm, over your shoulder and back to your collarbone. 

“What’s the first item?” he asks you in soft spoken voice, guiding the brush back to your nipples to circle them. He is obsessed with the way your body reacts. Goosebumps and swollen nipples. You are so beautiful with the most perfect reactions. 

“Feels nice.”

“Of course it does, but what is it?” he is chuckling his words, finding you beyond adorable.

“Uhm..”, you shudder as he tickles your neck with it, “brush?”

“Mhhm good girl”, Yoongi praises, placing the brush aside to get your reward. He turns it on.

You instantly move your head into the direction of the sound, gasping his name.

“Can you guess your reward?” Yoongi asks, guiding the vibrator down the inside of your thigh. 

You moan weakly, writhing on the sheets. You nod your head because you can’t talk. The vibrations feel so good and they’re coming close to where they feel otherworldly. You are so excited. 

“Do you want it?” 

“Please.” 

Yoongi takes your consent and connects the vibrator with your clit, rubbing circles on it. You wail up weakly, hands instantly reaching down to grab his wrist. Your legs close around him, but fall open a moment later, toes curling in the sheets.

“Is this nice for you?” he asks you, eyes flitting between your pussy and your face. They linger on your chest as well, soaking up the view of you writhing in pleasure.

“Nice”, you whimper, rolling your hips up into his touch.

“That’s good”, he says and then falls into comfortable silence with you. 

Not that the moment is truly silent. The pitter patter of rain enters the room. The low purr of the vibrator mixes with your quiet moans and breathy sighs. Yoongi’s own heightened breathing matches you. But there is no traffic, no loud neighbors, no emergency sirens or people cursing on the streets below. There is no city. No burden. Just you and him and nature. 

Yoongi knows from how quickly he brings you to the edge that you are truly enjoying the sex you are having. When he fucked in the past, trapped with you in his penthouse or your small apartment, you often struggled to reach climax. Sometimes you didn’t orgasm at all, no matter what Yoongi tried. And be certain that he tried. Your pleasure has always been important to him. He tried, you tried but the city had an awful grip on you, keeping you tense and nervous and too anxious to truly be in the moment. 

But not anymore. You gasp and tense in the way you always do when you are close. It happens so fast that Yoongi feels high. You are so into this, so relaxed. He is doing this to you. He is making you feel good. Yoongi wants to give you an orgasm, but knows not to rush it. If you climax, you should really enjoy it. You should crave it so violently that you have nothing else on your mind.

He takes away the vibrator, soothing your squirms with gentle touches.

“I was close”, you whine.

“I know sweets, I know”, he kisses your neck, “it’ll be worth it. I promise.”

“Oh god.”

He kisses your cheek and sits up, “next item. Guess whenever you are ready.” 

You wait with bated breath and an aching pussy. You really wanted this orgasm. Sheets ruffles, silence. The sensation. 

“Oh god”, you get out, arching your back to chase it. 

Something metal and tangly. It is cold and light. He guides it down your sternum and stomach, letting it tickle your belly button before he guides it up to your neck. 

“Chains…” you moan, writhing from the memories of feeling them hit your skin whenever he fucked you deep. 

“Good girl”, Yoongi praises, rewarding you by tangling them over your face. He makes sure that they hit your skin in the ways they sometimes do when he is buried inside you. 

You chase it, moaning his name.

“You’re thinking the same, right?” 

“Yes. Yoongi…”

“I fucking love being with you, my sweet girl”, he says, tickling your face one last time before he gives you your true reward. 

The vibrator. He keeps the same setting and the same spot, but rubs your stomach the entire time. Your moans are louder than before, your pussy so much wetter and your hips a lot more restless. 

It also takes you way less time for your orgasm to be close. Yoongi really draws out the moment he takes it away from you, keeping you on the edge until the last second.

“No please”, you beg, bucking your hips against nothing, “please.” 

“Patience, sweetie, patience. You still have three more items to go.”

“Please.” 

“Patience”, he whispers and lifts the third item, “time to guess. Focus on the sensations, not your pussy. Do it for me, sweetest.”

“Yoongi, oh god”, you whimper, almost spilling tears. 

“Take a deep breath for me.” 

You obey only to have it knocked out of you when sudden burning warmth hits the skin of your chest. You sob, arching your back and twisting the pillow edge. 

“Wax, aah”, you mewl, feeling dizzy. It is hot, but it’s not painful. Exactly how he promised. You still weren’t ready for how good it will feel. 

He starts at your sternum, leaving a puddle of it on your skin. Next he covers your breasts with it, your soft flesh first and your nipples last. You sob again when he covers them in the hot wax, pleasure soaking so deep into your fibers that you find it hard to breathe. 

“Good girl, correct again. Is it too hot?”

“No, feels so good. Yoongi please fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sweetie. First you need your reward.”

“Please…”

As the wax hardens on your chest, Yoongi presses the vibrator against your clit again, rubbing it up and down for a change. You mewl his name, digging your heels into the sheets and thrusting against the toy. Judging by how much your voice pitches, you are already close. 

Yoongi takes it away, pinning your hips down easily as they try to squirm.

“Please no more edging, please”, you beg in desperate croaks.

“Sorry sweetest, sorry”, he rasps, kissing your neck and jawline. “It’s soon over. I promise.”

“Yoongi please just fuck me, please.”

“Soon, sweet girl, soon. Two more items. I promise.” 

You mewl, squirming in agony. Yoongi sits up and gets the fourth item. He decides to guide it over your stomach and thighs. You instantly open them wider, skin covered in goosebumps.

“Your knife. Feels so good.”

“Good girl. Mhm your skin is so soft. I could cut it, mark it as mine, but I won’t”, he lulls, tracing the inside of your shaky thighs.

“Please do. I’m yours.”

“Another day. promise”, he says and picks up the vibrator. He puts the knife aside, using his unoccupied hand to pin down your squirming hips. 

He managed to edge you to a point of such sensitivity that he only has to keep the toy on you for a few seconds before your body tenses in your approaching high.

He takes it away, shushing you lovingly when you keen in agony. He lies down next to you, cradling you against his chest and kissing your cheek. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I can’t do it anymore please”, you beg, “please I want to be with you, please.” 

“One more item, I pro-”

“No! Please. I want to be with you, please.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“Okay. You can”, he gives in.

“Please I wanna see you, please Yoongi.”

“Okay, sweet girl”, he whispers, pulling the blindfold off your eyes. When you beg like this, he can’t say no. He has to fulfill your every wish.

You instantly look at him, spilling tears because of how happy the view of him makes you. 

He wipes your tears away, speaking to you in a soft voice.

“Why are you crying, my love? Is it getting too much for you? Should we take a break?” 

You shake your head and open your legs.

“Please. Be with me.” 

Yoongi smiles in order not to tear up. He hums a yes, nodding his head vigorously before dropping it against yours. His right hand cradles your cheek safely.

“I’ll always be with you, my love.” 

“Promise me.”

“I promise you”, he says and climbs between your legs.

You roll to your back, following him this way. He takes your hands and pins them in the pillow above your head, holding them tightly. 

“I'll always be with you.You have me”, he says and seals his promise by finally connecting with you. 

You and he moan together, hands squeezing the other’s and eyelids fluttering. Both of you refuse to close your eyes, wanting to see the other. 

“You have all of me, my sweetest girl”, he says and picks up a deep and gentle pace. “All of me, you’ve got all of me.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, body shaking instantly. You spill tears, sobbing softly.

“Does it hurt? Are you getting tight again like you sometimes do?” 

“No, feels so good”, you sigh and place his right hand on your throat. 

Yoongi moans your name, hips stuttering in shock. 

“Please”, you beg and Yoongi knows what to do.

He applies pressure on your veins, watching the last piece of sanity disappear from your pretty eyes. You roll them back and moan. You moan in ways you haven’t moaned in too long. Quite frankly, Yoongi already forgot that he could help you make such noises. 

“You know I don’t believe in god, not with the kinda suffering the motherfucker allows to happen to innocents, but holy fucking god”, he gets out and picks up speed. Not too much. Just enough to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

He drops his forehead against yours, resting on his one elbow. His fingers are still holding your neck, feeling your pulse race uncontrollably.

“Holy fucking god, baby. Fucking god.”

You reach up with your free hand, twisting his hair. It feels so good. All of it feels so good. You don’t know what is happening to you. Sex hasn’t felt like this in so long. Can it really feel that good? Can you really be so without burdening thoughts?

“Don’t stop please.”

“Mhhm never. Gotta make you feel so fucking good.”

“Good. Yoongi. Ah!”

“Fuck I was such an idiot, fuck I forgot how alive I feel when I dedicate my all to you.” He thrusts into you deep and passionately. “I’m on a high, my sweet girl. You feel so good”, Yoongi gets out, letting you taste each word.

“Yoongi please.”

“Too much?”

“Please can I cum? Please.” 

“Fuck”, he curses and growls, kissing your nose softly afterwards. “Do you need more?” 

“No, just please. Soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetest. I’m right here. Your Yoongi’s right here. I’m not fucking leaving you again. I’m here.”

“I love you”, you sob and break. He didn’t even get to let go of your neck before you fell victim to your high. You simply feel way too good. There was no other way.

“I love you too. Ah, I’m-”, Yoongi’s voice breaks and turns into desperate whimpers as your intense high throws him over the edge as well. 

He makes sure to keep moving, so you could really enjoy yourself. And oh how you do. 

You are so lost in your pleasure that you pull him close enough that you manage to bite down on his shoulder. 

Yoongi mewls in pain, guiding your mouth away gently with the hand he once had around your throat. You instantly take his fingers inside your mouth, sucking them eagerly as you and he ride the waves of your shared highs. 

Once you and he come down, his fingers are messy from your drool and you seem so deeply satisfied that you can’t help but cry. 

Yoongi instantly cradles your face, kissing your tears away. 

“What’s the matter? Too tight?”

“No, I feel safe. Yoongi, I feel safe.”

“Oh.” 

You haven’t felt safe in so long. He knows that you don’t mean physically safe, but emotionally safe. 

He smiles and rolls to his side, taking you with him in his arms. He lets you cuddle into him and use his chest to get through your tears. 

Yoongi knows that you need this cry. He put you through so much and you went through twice as much on your own. Knowing that you can finally cry about it, is healing to him as well. 

Once you calmed down, you feel sleepy and cold. Yoongi cocoons you and him in the blanket, allowing you to rest your head on his arm while he traces your face. His head rests on a pillow which he folded up half to make it sturdier. You are looking up at him. He smells like him. Good, clean, masculine, familiar. He smells so calmingly familiar. 

“What are you thinking?” he whispers, tracing your brows and nose.

“Just that I’m happy.”

“You are?” 

“Very. I haven’t felt like this in ages.”

“I know. I…” he struggles with his words, gnawing on his lower lip.

You reach up and begin tracing his scar. He instantly knows that he is allowed to talk freely.

“I know you’ve been struggling with enjoying sex. I could beat myself because I know it’s partially my fault.”

You shake your head, “it was never your fault. You tried to make it good for me. I could see that you did. It was the only time I felt like you actually tried for me.”

He furrows his brows, “I’ve done so much wrong in my life and most I’ve done to you. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl.”

“Thank you. I know that you’ll be different from now on. That Us will be different again.”

“I will. We will. I fucking promise you. And I-”

“And you never break a promise. I know”, you interrupt him in a soft whisper.

Yoongi’s smiles, nodding his head. You giggle because it feels good to know him so well and be known in return.

“I felt so good today.”

“That’s good. That’s all I want when I’m with you like this.”

He brushes his thumb over your eyelid gently. You close your eyes with a smile, enjoying his tender touch for a moment.

Once it passes, you look up at him again.

“I’m scared of going back.”

“To the city?”

“Yes. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of it. I promise I’ll make your life happy again.”

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t have to return to the city if you don’t want to. I meant it when I said that I’ll fucking set it on fire if you want me to.”

“What about your job? The things you keep hidden from the law?” 

“I’ll take care of it. You won’t get hurt, I promise.” 

You cup his cheek, eliciting a shaky gasp from him. Your eyes widen as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I’ll kill whoever needs to be gone. Just tell me.”

“Oh sweetest”, he kisses your forehead before cradling you against his chest, “don’t make such promises. I don’t want you to have to get your hands bloody.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’ll get my hands dirty, so you won’t have to. Now enough about the future, right now I wanna hold my woman and let her know I’m entirely here for her.”

“Good. I’m glad you are”, you say and melt into his strong embrace.

[kxttqi]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

s. gojo x f!reader ✧  fluff ; not proofread ahaha ; christmas special !

この 物語 で ⇢ he proposes to you on christmas eve .

soft moonlight gleams upon the snow-laden streets, blanketing them with a quiet stillness that only comes at the height of winter. each breath you take is visible in the cold december air, and your boots crunch lightly through the powdered frost beneath as you hurry to keep up. neon reds and greens reflect faintly off shop windows, a kaleidoscope of christmas lights blurring in your peripheral vision as the wind teases at your scarf. somewhere in the distance, the faint bell chime of a salvation army volunteer jingles like far-off sleigh bells, joining the distant hum of christmas songs spilling out of café doors and dim-lit storefronts.

"would you stop running off?" you whisper-yell, just as a puff of breath escapes your lips. satoru’s always like this — taller than anyone else, obliviously confident, and a streak of childlike mischief wrapped around an impenetrable core of too much power for one man to hold. his platinum hair is bright beneath the holiday lights, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he turns his head back toward you, grinning like a satisfied fox.

"i’m not running," he replies with a breezy shrug, placing extra emphasis on his long strides. “i’m leading. big difference.”

you mutter his name beneath your breath in semi-annoyance, and he slows down just enough for you to hobble at his side, cheeks flushed from exertion and the nip of the winter wind. he dips his head closer, amusement glittering unmistakably in those electric blue eyes of his, glowing even brighter than the string lights hanging up above.

“y’know, if your legs were just a little longer…” he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you elbow him through his thick wool coat, immediately greeted with the unmistakable sound of his laughter, sharp and just a little too loud for this sleepy christmas eve. if it weren’t for the fact his face was sculpted like some modern michelangelo piece, you might have actually slugged him.

“i have the ticket home,” you remind him pointedly, fingers shoved into the warm depths of your coat pockets. “you really wanna miss our train back to tokyo? you’d sulk the whole ride tomorrow.”

“nah, i’m good,” he assures you, mock solemn as he ducks his head against another onslaught of wind. “in fact… this is me slowing down! such a considerate boyfriend, right?”

the streets have emptied; most people are home now, wrapped in blankets by crackling fires or sipping holiday drinks among friends and family. the two of you are outliers — wandering the quieter streets, half-aimless now. it’s not so cold that you mind. honestly, the world feels a little softer tonight, like every hard edge has been dulled beneath a layer of frost and good cheer.

"where are we even going, satoru?" you sigh finally, stopping in your tracks and crossing your arms against your chest. the streetlight above flickers faintly, casting warm golden hues against plates of unbroken snow and two long shadows stretching towards each other on the asphalt. it’s hard to look away from him — as always, he seems completely at home in the chaos he creates, dressed neatly but somehow slightly disheveled. snowflakes linger on his lashes, an annoying but endearing imperfection against the surreal sharpness of his face. it’s like he belongs to the winter itself, something untouchably beautiful yet cold enough to bite.

“wait,” you realize, groaning. “you don’t even have a plan, do you?”

satoru grins again, a little boyish now as he rubs the back of his neck. “do i ever?”

“you’re hopeless.”

“i do have… something in mind,” he insists, drawing out the pause dramatically. “c’mon, we’re almost there! well, sort of. we’re getting warmer.”

you squint at him suspiciously, but there’s only so much of that you can do when he’s peering at you like he knows all the world’s secrets, like he expects you to give up because he already knows how this scene is going to play out. you unfold your arms just to stuff your cold fingers deeper into the warmth of your coat. sighing, you follow him through the streets because you always do — no matter what antics gather like snowflakes around his heels, you’ve never been very good at walking away.

the city opens up after another stretch of blocks, the quiet streets falling into the sprawling expanse of frozen parks and the faint reflection of city skyscrapers off the inky black river just ahead. the snow by the riverbank crunches loud beneath your steps as the two of you veer slightly from the path, your breath hitching when you see the skyline faintly mirrored in the thin layer of ice atop the surface.

the stars, brighter here than in the heart of the city, twinkle faintly as orange and hazy blue lights stretch out row by row against the backdrop of the otherwise dark, glassy water.

“here we are,” satoru announces, raising his arms out like the proud ringmaster of an empty circus.

you glance around skeptically, brow raised.

“a frozen river in the middle of nowhere?”

“it’s called ambiance,” he corrects you with a playful tap to your nose. “you don’t get it.”

but then he’s pulling something from his pocket, his scarf slipping slightly as you watch him drop down to one knee. it's so unlike him to be still and steady like this, hands no longer performing flourished, over-the-top gestures. he looks up, the whiteness of snow alighting against his lashes and the tips of his impossibly pale hair. his gaze is raw now, utterly open, and the real weight of the moment presses itself against you like the chill in the wind. nothing about it feels real.

"i know," he starts, exhaling laughter out into the open air between you. it fogs up faintly, a fleeting blur of warmth in the barren cold. “it would make more sense to wait until christmas day, right? but it’s midnight somewhere, so technically…”

he’s babbling, you realize, watching the sheepish grin slowly tug at his lips — a rare thing for someone who prances through life as though he owns it.

“satoru,” you breathe, the waver in your voice making his grin deepen.

“i know,” he says again, this time softer. "but listen, you're kind of stuck with me, so i figured we should make it official."

your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and the moment he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, your throat tightens. the ring shines faintly, reflecting flecks of orange the same way ice reflects firelight, but your eyes are on his face — on the steadiness of his words, of his gaze, of the unusual quiet awe there as he says your name and speaks plainly for once in his life.

"marry me," satoru says, light but not carelessly. "marry me so no one else can steal you away — as if they could — but, uh, let’s just make sure.” his words falter under the weight of a chuckle he doesn’t quite know what to do with, and despite the stillness of him, his fingers tighten over the box, like it might flutter away if he isn’t careful.

you feel your lungs collapse when you nod without speaking, your hands trembling slightly as you extend them towards him.

for once, satoru doesn’t bother to tease or gloat. he just blinks up at you, his smile gentler than you’ve ever seen it, and when he rises, smoothing the ring onto your trembling finger with the care he reserves for only the most fragile and precious things, you don’t bother hiding the bloom of tears against your cheeks.

he notices, of course. he always notices everything.

“crying already?” he murmurs, his voice soft but confident again, full of the easy dominance that makes satoru who he is. 

in place of a response, you loop your arms around his neck and feel the hum of his laughter in his chest before his hands find your waist. he pulls you just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, somehow thawing away even the bitterest part of winter.

the world belongs to you two tonight, snow dancing gently all around as you kiss him, his fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck with the tenderness of a moth’s wings.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña

Summary: You've never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day. But when you and Javi celebrate it for the first time together, he goes out of his way to make sure it's everything you want and more.

Pairing: Fiancé!Javier Peña x F!Reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do that pls), face sitting, oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (it's me), PREMATURE EJACULATION, cumming untouched, subby Javi (he is no better than a teenage boy and can barley keep it together bc he is so obsessed with you AH), Javi picks you up to carry you, Javi being a hopeless romantic, sweet, cute fluff bc I said so

A/N: HEYOOOO. It's me, back with our favorite menace couple 🤪 You know damn well Javi goes all out for Valentine's Day, bc Javier Peña is a man in LOVE and the world's biggest softie (I will not be taking counter arguments, it's fact). So in love, in fact, that sometimes, things are finished before they're even started!!! Happy Valentine's Day, Y'all!! 🫣💕 Unbeta'd bc my body won't let me sleep and I'm too exhausted to edit

Can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

You hated Valentine’s Day. 

Well… Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word strong enough to try and convince Javi that the last thing he needed to worry about doing was going all out for you on a Wednesday in the middle of February. Because for a very long time, all Valentine’s day was for you was just that- another day in the middle of winter. 

For as long as you could remember, you had either spent Valentine’s day alone, wishing you had someone special to share it with, or the person you were sharing it with really didn’t give a shit about you, bought you some chocolate and flowers to cover their ass and called it a day. Your most recent ex had been kind enough to follow your request about not making the holiday anything special by forgetting about it completely and ditching you to go to a hockey game with his friends and then drunkenly calling you to come pick him up that night. 

It was safe to say that Valentine’s day really didn’t mean much to you at all, or at least you thought it wouldn’t, until you’d met Javier Peña- A man who had quite literally bumped into you and proceeded to change the course of your life for the better and found yourself falling head over heels for, so much so, that it didn’t take you long to realize there was no one else that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with than him- leaving your first Valentine’s day together also the first time celebrating the holiday with your fiancé, now that the two of you had gotten engaged. It also meant your first of many years of having to convince Javi that he really didn’t need to do anything special for you to celebrate, and that just getting to spend time with him was more than enough for you. 

Unfortunately, it was not good enough for Javi. 

“Baby, I’m being serious, I promise I do not care. I would be happy if all we did was got pizza and watched TV together. All I wanna do for Valentine’s Day is just spend time with you. I don’t need a random weekday in February for you to prove that you love me, I think you’ve already proven that, Jav.” You laughed, pausing from washing dishes to pull your left hand out of the kitchen sink to point to the engagement ring on your finger. You found yourself now laughing even harder at Javi’s audible sigh as he snuck behind you, flushing his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, practically feeling the weight of his signature puppy dog pout drooping on you. 

“I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m not gonna not do anything. And you deserve much more than pizza.” Javi sighed, pressing a kiss on your cheek, squeezing you in his grasp just a little tighter, making you giggle as he flipped you around to face him, caging you under his broad body against the kitchen counter. “You have to let me do something for you, Hermosa.” 

“I don’t know Jav, pizza does sound really good. You really think you’re gonna be able to top pizza?” You teased, raising your eyebrow at him and sporting a sarcastic smirk as he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Oh shut up, you dork. Seriously, Osita. I totally get if you don’t wanna do anything big, but, I am not doing nothing for my beautiful fiancé on Valentine’s Day. You deserve it. How about this? If you don’t wanna go out, then I am making us reservations here at Restaurant Peña.” 

“Oh, Restaurant Peña? They must be new around here, never heard of them before. Does the chef take requests?” You smirked, biting down on your lip to keep your goofy grin from growing between your cheeks, only giggling more as Javi leaned in to pepper ticklish kisses across your face. 

“Normally, no, but I have a feeling the chef can make an exception for you.

“Does the chef make pizza?” 

“The chef will make fucking pizza if you want pizza.” Javi laughed, rolling his eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around in a fit of laughter before setting you down on top of the kitchen counter, slotting himself in the open space in between your legs and digging his fingers into your hips. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll make it for you.” 

“You choose, Chef Peña. Surprise me.” 

“Hermosa, you hate surprises.” 

“Well, then whatever you’re making better be good.” You shrugged, cocking your head to the side with a smug grin. 

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that.” 

“Yeah, no shocker there. Seriously though, thank you, Javi. This is really sweet of you. You know you don’t-”

Cutting you off, Javi brought his lips to yours, cradling your jaw as he swallowed the rest of your sentence, making your heart flutter from the electric kiss your fiance had just given you to politely shut you up. 

“I know I don’t. But I want to. Te amo, tozuda (I love you, stubborn).” 

“I love you too, pendejo (jerk). Now help me down, I have dishes to finish and a menu to plan for Laredo’s newest top chef.” 

As you pulled up to the parking lot of your apartment, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Javi had already beat you home to get a head start on your Valentine’s Day dinner, laughing to yourself in disbelief, wondering how you had gotten so lucky that you had found someone that genuinely cared this much about making something so special just for you. 

As you fumbled for your keys and pushed open your front door, you saw your apartment was dimly lit, candles scattered around the living room and kitchen, the shadows of the flames flickering and dancing along the walls. You could hear soft music and pans sizzling in the kitchen, along with the sweet humming of Javi’s voice. You closed the door behind you, taking a few more shocked steps into the living room before Javi noticed your presence. 

He grinned, quickly setting down what he was working and wiping his hands on the towel he had tucked in his waistband while he was cooking before coming over to cup your face for a long, sweet kiss that made your heart race, leaving you speechless.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.” He cooed, now pulling away from his embrace to reach behind you for the bouquet of daisies that had been hiding on the entryway table, handing them over to you with another peck on the cheek. 

“Javi, these are, baby, these are beautiful. Did you- you left work early just to do all this?”  You grinned, burying your nose in the flowers before looking around the living room to admire the setup Javi had prepared for the two of you, finally meeting his soft, sweet gaze staring down at you. 

“Maybe. You’re Restaurant Peña’s first customer, wanted to make a good impression. Speaking of which, dinner is almost done, and as much as I would love to do nothing but stand here and kiss you, the chef doesn’t want to be the first meal he serves to be burned to a crisp.” 

“Well in that case,” You paused, giggling as you pressed up on your tiptoes to press a kiss onto his plush lips, “I better go change for this classy event. Can’t wait to see what the chef has in store.” 

Handing your flowers back to Javi, you set down the rest of your things from work, and quickly scampered back towards your bedroom, peeking back out of the doorway to shoot Javi a quick wink, making him quietly laugh to himself as he ran his hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head, trying to hide the completely lovestruck smirk plastered all over his face before heading back to the kitchen. 

Gently closing the door behind you, your face mirrored Javi’s, heat creeping through your cheeks, grinning to yourself as you made your way to your dresser, starting to shuffle through your top drawer, looking for personal Valentine’s Day gift for your fiancé that had been hidden away under your folded piles of socks and underwear. 

After digging for a few moments, you felt the lacy texture running through your fingers, pulling out the new lingerie set you had bought a few days ago to surprise Javi with. You quickly shimmied out of your work clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket next to your bed before slipping the delicate fabric over your body. Although this wasn't the first time you had surprised Javi with an outfit like this, you’d never get over his awestruck reaction, watching his eyes grow wide with his hungry gaze, ravishing in every inch of you, barley keeping himself together enough even remain coherent as you revealed yourself to him. 

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you pulled one of your nicer, fitted black dresses out of your closet, hiding the matching red bra and thong held up by the lacy garters around your thighs, quickly touching up your hair and makeup from your long work day before making your way back out into the kitchen to greet Javi, back turned to you as he picked up two plates off the counter to bring to the table, nearly dropping them in the process as he turned around to see you standing in front of him. 

“Fuck me…” He muttered under his breath, his jaw nearly dropping as he gave you another once over after looking you up and down, having to shake his head to snap himself back to reality, having enough sense to set his plates full of food down on the table before they ended up on the floor. “Baby, you look- fuck, you look fucking stunning.” 

“I heard Restaurant Peña’s a nice place, figured I should dress for the occasion. Plus,” You smirked, taking the few steps to close the space between you and Javi, draping your arms over his shoulders and pressing up on your tiptoes to giggle in his ear, “I heard the chef here is really sexy. I’m really hoping that he’s free after dinner so I can treat him to some dessert.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ… Hermosa, if you keep talking like that, we’re not gonna make it to dinner.” Javi groaned, biting down on his lip as he looked down at your mischievous grin, letting out another deep breath as his hands traveled down the curves of your waist, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, kneading it over the fitted fabric covering it. “Fuck… can we just skip dinner and go straight to des-” 

“Javi! No! You made me this whole delicious meal, I am not letting you skip this because you can’t keep it in your pants, mister.” You teased, giving Javi a playful nudge, taking a step back to cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him to tease him, even you knew damn well you would have been more than happy to give in to Javi’s plan, but the gurgle in your stomach and the inkling you were going to need some energy for the night ahead gave you enough logic to at least have some rational thinking left in your brain. 

“Fine…” Javi sighed, holding up his hands in defense, laughing at your sassy remark, stepping back to the table to put both your plates in their rightful spots before making his way over to your chair to pull it out for you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as you sat down, the hot breath of his words dancing across your neck as he spoke. “Can you blame me when you look like this? You keep fucking teasing me like that, Hermosa, and dessert’s about to get very interesting.” 

You could feel the rasp of his voice shoot straight to your core, your thighs instinctively clenching together to try to keep the ache growing between your legs at bay, letting the softest moan escape from your lips, using every ounce of brain power you had left to try and conjure up some sort of response. 

“Yeah? Is that a threat or a promise?” 

“Depends, which one do you want it to be?” 

“Whatever the chef wants.” 

Although the dinner that Javi had cooked was absolutely delicious, after adding a few glasses of wine during your meal to the already thick and palpable sexual tension in your kitchen was not helping either of your causes, the two of you probably rushing through eating much faster than you had intended to when the night had begun. 

Taking the final sips left in your glass and watching the last bits of your plate cleared, all your inhibitions had been thrown out the window, giving Javi longing look as you stood up out of your chair, pushing in your seat and slowly slinking your way over to Javi, lifting your leg over his lap as you straddled him in his spot, your hands slowly running up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt and carefully unbuttoning button by button as you nipped at his ear. 

“So, are you ready for dessert? I think I have a treat for you that you’re gonna like.” You rasped, trailing kisses across his neck and jaw, your lips meeting his in an electric passion, catching the muffled moan escaping his mouth as you began swirling your hips feeling the bulge beginning to grow in his pants. 

“Fuck… Yeah? You gonna tell me what it is, huh, Hermosa?” Javi groaned, his hands wrapping around your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pressing you down further into his crotch, making you whine as you felt his hard length beneath you rubbing against you, only fueling the fire burning in your stomach and the wet patch growing in your underwear. 

“Why don’t you take me to the bedroom and find out.” 

You could barley finish your sentence before Javi was tightening his grip around you, standing up out of the chair to lift you up as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom as you stumbled down the hallway, becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth as the back of Javi’s knees finally hit the bed, situating you back in his lap. His hands roamed relentlessly over your body, letting his hands creep up your thighs, pushing up your dress high enough to stop in his tracks as he felt the lace of your garter band, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the realization of what treat you had to offer for him. 

“Oh fuck… Baby, are you- what do you have on under here?” He asked, breathlessly, very clearly knowing the answer before he had even asked the question, his hands now pushing further up your legs, his fingers dancing across the delicate waistband of your thong as he looked up at you with his pleading brown eyes, now growing darker and darker with lust. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi.” You mewled, reaching behind you to unzip the back of your dress, letting it fall of your shoulders and reveal the red bustier underneath, the floral, lacy pattern leaving very little to the imagination, and leaving Javi’s jaw to practically drop to the floor as you showed off your hidden outfit. 

“Osita… Fuck… This all for me, sweet girl? Jesus Christ.” he practically whispered to himself in disbelief, soaking in every inch of you as you stepped of back off his lap to let your dress fall to the floor, unveiling your lingerie in its entirety in front of him. Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he brought his hand over his mouth, gaping open in awe, soon balling his hand into a fist and biting down on his knuckle as you slowly turned around in a circle, showing off all angles of yourself before meeting Javi’s gaze again, smirking to yourself at the incomprehensible mess your fiance had become. 

“You like it?” You giggled, raising a knowing eyebrow at Javi as you stepped back towards him, running your hands up his strong thighs hanging over the edge of the bed, letting your fingers barley brush over the undeniable tent in his pants, teasing at his belt buckle before dragging your hands back down, resting on his knees. 

“Y-yeah, I- yeah, fuck.” Javi gulped, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to find a way to string together a coherent sentence as you let your fingers trace over his legs and crotch, melting into a puddle under your touch. 

“Yeah? I had a feeling.” You smirked, now palming at the bulge in his pants more firmly, eliciting another audible moan from Javi, his breath becoming heavy and shaky as you sat yourself back over his lap, your ass resting perfectly on top of his erection as you began to slowly swirl your hips over his. Your hands worked their way down the rest of the buttons of his shirt, creeping between the parted fabric to rest your hands on his bare chest, nestling your face in the crook of his neck as you sucked at his pulse point, whispering against his skin. “You gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, baby?” 

There were few times in his life where Javier Peña had found himself at a complete loss for words, but you had him wrapped around your finger as you sat in his lap, all dressed up just for him, whispering sweet praises in his ear did something to him that even he couldn’t quite comprehend. Truth be told, the only thought he could process right now was the all too familiar clench in his stomach and tightening in his balls leaving him on the verge of busting in his pants before you had even touched him. 

Scrunching his face in concentration, Javi nodded rapidly as his hands dug a bruising grip into your hips, every grind of your ass against his crotch only tightening the undeniable knot in his gut. Javi was convinced he’d be strong enough to keep it in check, as long he could use every ounce of his being to focus on not falling apart. But that was before you decided to fight dirty and press every button you knew to make Javi absolutely crumble. 

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby. You want me to touch you, Javi? Let me make you feel good, sweet boy.” You cooed, nipping at his ear as your hands ran through the thick, dark curls of his hair before sliding down the width of his broad shoulders, sliding his shirt down his arms and gripping around his biceps as you sunk your hips deeper and deeper into his lap. 

Before he even had time to process what was happening, Javi found himself instinctively bucking his hips up into you, holding on to you for dear life as he let out an absolutely wrecked moan, slumping his head into your shoulder as you felt a warm, wet sensation begin to spread below you. 

“Fuck… Fuck me…” He whispered, silently cursing himself over his shallow breathing, making you pause in confusion as you looked down at Javi, taking a moment to quickly piece together in your brain what had just happened. 

Javi had just cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. 

“Javi…Javi, did you just-” 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m- I’m sorry. Fuck me.” Javi grimaced, running his hand over his face, tilting his head back up towards the ceiling, his cheeks turning red in pained embarrassment, not even able to bring himself to make eye contact with you until you brought your hand under his cheek, gently cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze onto you, locking his lips in an intense kiss before either of you had the chance to speak. 

“Well, that’s a first.” You giggled, trying your best to lighten Javi’s clearly distraught mood, feeling his pouty frown through your kiss. “Javi, it’s okay, we can just- Oh!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s back was to the bed, dragging your body across his chest until you were straddling just below his shoulders, his hands digging into your ass and pulling you closer towards him. 

“Nuh uh. I just need a few. Lemme make you feel good, baby. Please. Fuck, I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy, I couldn’t help myself. Let me make it up to you, please, Osita.” 

It wasn’t very often that you found yourself like this- you being the one who turned Javi into a whimpering and babbling mess, begging for forgiveness. And even though it was a position you found yourself in often, you very well knew that you were going to take advantage of every last second. 

“Oh yeah? And how are you planning on making it up to me, Javi?” You cooed, cocking your head to the side apathetically, arms crossed over your chest as you sat straddling Javi’s. 

“Sit on my face, baby, please. Fuck, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want. I wanna taste you so bad.” Javi moaned, his sweet, brown eyes pleading with you for just a taste of the arousal that had been steadily pooling between your legs. 

“Yeah?” You paused, leaning down to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, your teeth tugging at his plush bottom lip as you pulled away to nip at his jaw, “and what if I still want you to fill me up after you’re done? What if I need you to fuck me full of you?” 

“Jesus fuck…” Javi groaned under his shallow breathing, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermosa. I promise.” 

“Good boy.” You mewled, running your hands through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair before shuffling your body so your lace covered and soaking heat was hovering over Javi’s face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit, nudging your panties out of the way. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced your hands by burying them in his hair, tugging at the ends of his thick curls. 

“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You cried, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone. 

“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning. Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high. 

Dipping his tongue into your hole, his muscle plunged into your cunt, drinking up your arousal while the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, making good on his promise to redeem himself from earlier, not letting up until he felt your body tense and legs begin to shake as you came again, feeling about as sturdy as a pile of jello at this point. 

Your body went slack, draping your upper half over Javi’s body as you felt his face free from out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin and pleading eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and gazing back up at you. 

You had caught your breath enough to sit yourself back up, looking over your shoulder to see the bulge in Javi’s pants was back in full force, slowly scooting your way down his chest and stomach to sit yourself back on his lap, grinding your hips in his, circling slowly over his painfully hard bulge, digging deeper and deeper with each sway of your hips. You slid your hands up his chest, into his hair, gently tugging at his dark curls as you rocked against him. You could tell how hard Javi was trying to control himself, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw as he watched you, the moans escaping from his mouth only becoming louder as you began to gently tug at the straps of your bra, letting them fall from your shoulders, teasing him even further. 

“You think you’re ready for me, baby? You’re gonna be a good boy and fill me up like you promised? You smirked, slipping your hands behind your back, you unclasped the hooks holding your top together, letting it drop to the floor and leave your top completely bare. 

“Promise.” He sighed, voice trembling, feeling the muscles in his body tense with your question.  

“Good.” You smirked, “Gotta ask nicely, though.” 

“Osita, please, baby, fuck- please.” Javi whined, his voice ragged and wanting as his brown eyes met with yours, watching you crawl up over him, your hands now working at his belt buckle. The metal clinked as you pushed his pants down his hips before ever so gently tugging at the waistband of his boxers, already tented from his stiffness.

“Please, what, sweet boy?” You cooed, pulling just enough to let his cock spring free, revealing how painfully hard he was, his tip dark red and leaking with precum that had left additional stains on his boxers, mixing with his premature spend from earlier. 

“Hermosa, please. Please, baby. I need you to fuck me, please.” Javi whimpered as you settled yourself on top of his legs, your hands now creeping towards his shaft. 

“That’s better. So handsome when you beg. Need me to take care of you? I’ll take care of you, baby.” You wrapped your hand around his cock, thumbing at the precum dripping out of his tip and rubbing it around his head before taking the same hand and running it through your folds, collecting the arousal that had been rapidly pooling between your legs and using the mixture to stroke him. 

With his shaft sufficiently slick, the both of you gasped as you sunk down on Javi’s length, his cock bumping against your cervix as you took every inch of him inside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sweet sting of his fullness. “Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I love feeling you inside me. Can’t wait to feel you dripping down my thighs. Gonna keep me full of you all night.” 

The groan Javi let out was low and deep, feeling your hands rest against his chest as your hips rolled back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. The hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbed deliciously on your clit, the sensation of that, combined with how frantically you were rocking your hips back and forth had your heart racing, so worked up from trying to keep your cool that you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine rapidly. 

“I will. Please let me, I will. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck, I wanna cum so deep in you, please, Osita. Please, baby.” 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you, all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone again. The arousal pooling in your belly continued to build, the lewd noises of your wetness and mixed moans coating the walls of your bedroom as your fingers dug into the skin of Javi’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck- I love you, Javi. Holy shit- I’m so close. I need you to fill me up, baby.” 

“I love you too, Hermosa. I’m not gonna last much longer either, so fucking wet and tight, oh my god- I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. I promise, promise I’ll be a good boy and fuck every last drop in you.” 

It wasn’t often that you had seen Javi turn into such a mess, watching him whimper and beg to with such desperation and neediness, barely hanging on by a thread from the moment you had crossed the threshold of your bedroom, and holy shit, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Javi had already cum once without you even touching him, and now, he was so worked up he was teetering on the brink of falling apart again. 

In a frantic desperation, Javi sat himself up, caging your chest against his, wrapping his arms around your back as he held you in his lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck, sweaty curls of his hair resting against your shoulder, while he fucked up into you, each thrust becoming reckless than the last.  

“Oh fuck, Javi, fuck, don’t stop- fuck, fuck, I’m gonn-ahhhhh” 

The coil building in your belly snapped, screaming Javi’s name over and over again as your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm flood your body with pleasure. You braced your hands on Javi’s chest as you felt your body go numb, euphoria flowing through your veins while Javi fucked you through your high, quickly chasing his own. 

“That’s it baby. Fuck, Mierda- God, you’re so fucking perfect. Tu eres mio para siempre. Mi amor, mi vida, fuck, te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir. (You’re mine forever. My love, my life, fuck, I love you more than words can say). Jesus, fuck- Oh fuck, Osita, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, I-” Javi quickly followed behind you, thrusting a few more times up into you before letting out a low, ragged groan as he spilled deep inside your pussy, his warm spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop, as promised. You could feel the mixture of the both of you leaking down your legs into Javi’s lap as you sat on top of him, his dick still pulsing as your chests heaved in sync, squeezing your eyes tightly to try and bring yourself back to earth. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, his body still slumped into yours until you began running your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look back up at you, the blissed out grins on both your faces making you let out a quiet laugh of surprised disbelief at what had just happened. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javier Pena.” You giggled, cupping his face, tilting it up towards yours and locking his lips in a long and tender kiss. 

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, baby. Fuck, that was hot. Sorry, uh- sorry about earlier.” He sighed sheepishly, gesturing over to the very thoroughly stained pair of pants now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

“It’s okay. Definitely a good confidence booster if me putting some lingerie on for you is enough to make you blow your load faster than a middle school boy.” You snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge as he rolled his eyes at you, letting out a little sigh. 

“Shut up. You have no fucking idea. God, you’re so fucking sexy, you know that? I can’t believe you get to be my Valentine for the rest of my life. I’m a lucky fucking man, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I could say the same, handsome. I love you, Javi. Alright, what do you say we go clean up so we can have real dessert. I have a whole plate full of cookies left over from our class party, along with some very questionable candy from several 3rd graders.” 

“Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

Taglist:

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[krysalla]

rack of his / pound of flesh

thomas hewitt x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

read on ao3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism mention, blood, pregnancy mention, baby trapping (?), bad sex :(

It’s one of those insufferable days. The clouds are brewing in the sky with the sun still blazing behind them, creeping its heat into the moisture in the air. Even with the clouds, nothing stops the temperature from rising. What is it that they say about the frog in the pot? If you slowly turn the heat up, the frog won’t notice that it’s being boiled to death until it’s too late and its muscles are cooked away until they are of no use to him anymore. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day, you would share that same fate thanks to the Texas summers. Though, maybe it would be your own fault, you choose to be outside, rain or shine, to work the laundry. It’s easier for you, even if your hair and clothing are soaked in sweat and your whole body burns from exhaustion. You get to be on your own with only Luda Mae’s eyes glaring out the kitchen window, trying to drill a hole in the back of your head. 

Out here on the back porch, there is no bickering, no staticky TV to set your head ablaze, no one to answer to and no one to make cruel, lecherous comments about you. Sitting on the porch swing, a bucket of water between your feet, the chirping of the birds and your own singing is as close to paradise as you can get in the Hewitt farm. They all sequester themselves inside, hiding themselves away from the rest of the world in this decaying house. Out here, you think of your life before. You wonder how long it took for your mother to report you missing when you didn’t show up on her doorstep like you had planned with her. Has your sister noticed a gap in between her ribs, like you do, where you always kept a piece of her? You can’t remember what color your kitchen cabinets were or if your bedroom window faced east or west. You can’t remember the title of your thesis paper. Maybe you didn’t decide on one before you took off for the holidays. Did your advisor like your last submission?

It’s easier not to think of before and focus on the now.

You have a garden that you keep and a perpetual workload of laundry to do.

You’ve been working on one of Tommy’s shirts for the last five minutes, trying to rub the blood out of the cream fabric, but no matter how much you scrub or how much soap you use, the stain just won’t come out. You’d been hoping to save this one, it’s his best shirt. You sigh and drop it into the tub with clean water. It’s hopeless to even try and make anyone in this family look presentable. A sheepskin does little to make a wolf look friendly.

“Baby, come ‘ere!” Luda Mae shouts from the kitchen.

“Coming, mama.” You wring out the water in Tommy’s shirt and lay it flat on the seat next to you. 

You heft yourself off the swing and make your way inside. 

The air is just as thick, heavy and miserable and dank as it is outside. At least outside, there was a breeze. The air in the house is stagnant and reeks of sweat and blood and the scum of years worth of build up when Luda Mae had felt too hopeless to clean, before the Hewitt’s had come into their own. Now, it seems as though there is no way to get rid of the filth. No matter how hard you scrub the walls or how much bleach you use, the yellow tint won’t wipe away.

Luda Mae stands with her back to the counter, a large knife in hand. Behind her, you can just make out a cutting board and vegetables pillaged from your small garden. So much for a bountiful harvest. She pulled the potatoes and carrots from the ground too soon.

“Almost done with the laundry?”

You wipe your hands down the apron wrapped around your waist. A nail snags on a loose thread. Your hands are all dried and eaten up from the detergent. “Yes, mama. Just gotta finish wringing out the water and put ‘em out to dry.”

“Don’t bother putting them out on the line. A storm’s coming in. You’ll have to string them up in the family room.”

You tighten your jaw and quickly glance out the doorway leading to the room. Monty and Hoyt are out there watching TV. They make it so much harder to get anything done, especially Hoyt. Monty for the most part leaves you alone unless you block his view of the television or upset that pitiful dog that he keeps on his lap, but you can feel his eyes on you nonetheless. Hoyt will get in your face for no reason at all, just to scare you for his own kicks. 

You don’t school your twisted expression fast enough. She catches the contempt curling on your lip.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Luda Mae smiles with that wolf grin, laying out her trap for you.

“Nothing, mama.”

She comes close to you, knife still in hand, and even though you’re taller than her, she still has the presence to have you shrinking in on yourself. This little, old lady has just as much of a proclivity to violence as the men. She’s mean and cruel and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always been this way.

“You think you too good for this family, girl? Don’t insult me with ‘em lies of yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and my boys will fall right in line. You think you’re here because of my boy? I am the be all and end all of this house. Just one word and you’ll be next on the serving platter. No matter how much my boy thinks he loves you, you ain’t family.”

You hang your head like a scolded child, “‘M sorry, mama.” 

She coos and sets down her carving knife on the counter. It’s a complete one-eighty that leaves your head spinning and stomach knotting. Luda Mae holds your face in her hands and tilts your head back to face her. Gone is that terrifying look in her eyes. Now, she treats you with the tenderness of a mother with her child.

“I know you’re sorry, baby, but you gotta know the way it works. Don’t want to lose the only daughter I ever had.” Luda Mae runs her hands down your shoulders, over your arms, squeezes your hands. She can be very affectionate with you when the mood strikes her. Your skin crawls as she clicks her tongue. She chucks you chin. “Now, give mama a hug.”

You wrap your arms around her back and push your face into her shoulder. You can feel the sting of tears, hot and angry, in your eyes and you will them to go away. You hold onto her tighter and she rocks you from side to side on your feet, cooing and shushing you with a spindly hand stroking over your hair.

“I love you, baby,” she says when she breaks the hug.  

“I love you too, mama.”

She kisses your cheek. “Now, go bring Tommy in from the barn. I’ll have dinner done soon.”

“Yes, mama.”

---

Anxiety is coiling deep in your stomach and you’ve only got until you reach the barn to shake it off. No matter how much he might worry and fuss over you, you know Luda Mae is right, at the end of the day if she wanted you dead, Tommy would follow her orders. He is a dutiful son after all and family–blood– comes first. Tommy is dangerous, but not to you, not without Luda Mae pulling his strings. There’s no way you make it out of this alive without her complete and total confidence or until she is rotting six feet deep.

What bond can compare with a parent and their child?

You look up at the sky. Luda Mae is right, there is a storm coming. The clouds are darker now and the breeze has started to pick up. 

The barn doors are wide open. It’s dark in the barn, cluttered with rusted over farm tools intermingled with suitcases and mountains of car parts and an engine that someone in the family had the intention to put back together again. It looks better than the last time you were in here– though it was much darker then. There aren’t so many hiding places. You wonder if Tommy has found your suitcase yet.

“Tommy?” you call out. 

You hear a rustling from the back of the barn followed only after a few short moments by Tommy and his heavy footfalls. He looks subdued, as close to looking happy as he gets, his shoulders are relaxed and his pace lazy as he makes his way to you. You watch him carefully. As much as you might hate it, you care about the man that has taken you captive. It’s wrong and you know that deep down, once you break free from this family, you will no longer have any tenderness for him. He’s treated you well enough since you stopped fighting every second you could. He keeps an eye out for you, always keeping you out of trouble, and when he has no work to do, trails after you like a lost puppy imprinting on the first kind soul to reach out to him.

There’s one other way to make it out alive.

You know what your saving grace will be, what will solidify you as a Hewitt and give you the reins to control Tommy, to end the ever present danger he presents to you. A child. You will give him a family of his own, one of his making and one that will come willingly. You will give him everything he has been denied. You will become mother and wife, madonna and whore, prey and predator. Luda Mae will have her reckoning.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach up on your toes to press a kiss to the leather covering his cheek. “Look how much work you got done. Very impressive.”

He huffs, quick and short, and bows his head in an almost bashful manner. You hem and haw and lay it thick with compliments as you walk around the mostly cleared out area. You really play it up for him and maybe just a little bit for yourself just so you can glean a smile out of him, no matter how small, and make blood flow to his cheeks. It will serve as an opening.

There’s a smudge of dirt on his forehead and that just won’t do. You lick your thumb. He gently swats at your hand, grunting low in displeasure, but you pay it no mind— he’s only pretending not to like your gentle fretting. 

“Oh, quit that bellyachin’ of yours. I wanna be able to see that handsome face of yours.” That earns you a small victory. You catch the crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, right above the cut of his mask. His guard is down.

The wind picks up outside. You can hear the drops of light rainfall. 

“Do you love me, Tommy?” you ask quietly. You brush his hair out of his face, clearing up his eyes so you can see his answer. 

Your question takes him off guard, shoulders stiff and eyes wide. He looks around the barn, looking for something, someone. The Hewitts don’t talk much about before when you’re around, something you will never be privy to, but you can guess why he’s looking around for someone to come out from the thick, wooden beams to laugh and point and mock at him. Big, stupid, ugly animal. He’s not the average man and in a small town, you can only imagine not fitting into the norm can only have meant one thing for him: cruelty.

“It’s just you and me, Tommy.” You look conspiratorially around the barn with a sly smile. “I love you. Don’t you love me too?”

His eyes go wide, and you’re sure he believes you when he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand. Maybe one day it will be true. For now you’re playing a game of survival. He pushes your hands away from his face and pulls you by your wrists until your chest touches his. Large hands pet over your back, your shoulders, down to the wide breadth of your hips and back up over your face. He creeps over you like a spider. He must be craving this, he’s never been particularly touchy with you, no thanks to Luda Mae who watches you like a hawk when the two of you are together. I won’t have any hussies in my home, she said to you when she stripped you bare of the clothing you arrived in. She threw your denim shorts and tank top and anything else in your suitcase she deemed inappropriate into the fire. 

You take a deep breath and slide your hands down to his chest and push him away from you. There is no force on earth that could get Thomas to move unless he allows it. He takes a small step back and whines, brow drawing down in hurt betrayal. You ignore his whining and make your way over to the cluttered workbench. The table top surface is a little too high for you to be able to push yourself up on, but you’re sure Tommy will be able to help you out here. 

You pick up the edge of your dress and pull it up, giving him a view of your leg, and crook the index finger of your free hand to him. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as he follows the curve of your calf. The display you make of yourself makes him look hungry. You catch his tongue peek out from his lips and lick over them, there’s a sharp glint of teeth in there too. His steps are heavy as he approaches you and your stomach turns over. There’s no going back after this. You are making a permanent home in the belly of the beast. He won’t let you go after this, not when he will have everything he has been denied– love, affection, a warm, wet cunt to stick his cock in. You may not escape, but it will guarantee survival, especially if the fruits of your labor begin to show.

His hands fall on your hips and he lifts you clear off the ground. You shriek, holding tight to his shoulders. You’d been expecting it and yet it still surprised you. The strength of his arms give you something no man has been able to do for you. Even after he sets you on the table, you still cling to him, heart pattering in your chest from the anxiety of being dropped. He heaves you up as if you weigh nothing to him. 

He seems pleased with himself. 

It’s gotten so warm, it’s crept under your skin, crawling throughout your body.

You grab the wrist of his left hand and bring his fingers to your mouth. He tastes like sweat and grime. You lap your tongue around his index and middle finger, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. You suck and and suck, and you can feel saliva falling from the corner of your mouth as you work his fingers. It slides down his fingers, into the creases of his palm and to his wrist where your hand wraps around him.

“C’mon, big boy.” You suck in a breath and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Show me how bad you need it.”

He grabs your thighs, his short nails bite into the fat of your thighs and he pries them apart, pushes himself further into your space, crowding you until you’re overwhelmed with him, hips aching as you accommodate his sheer size. Anything you were going to say, even if you could work out a word, is snatched from you when you catch his heady gaze, eyes dark and unwavering, waiting for any slight movement or any tell of yours.

You force his hand between your legs, fixing his fingers beneath your panties and rock against him. You moan loud and exaggerated, just to break him out of whatever spell you’ve got him under and get him to make a move.

He curls his fingers into the crotch of your panties and yanks at them. He tugs your underwear off, the cotton stretched out and the elastic useless. It gets caught around the tops of your thighs and Tommy manhandles you, moving your body like a doll to pull the offending garment down your legs and flip your skirt up for his own viewing pleasure.

You don’t have time to scold him. Underwear is invaluable around here, especially pairs that fit. Tommy drops down onto his knees and lands with a loud thud. It’s the last thing you expected of Tommy– you had a suspicion he really wouldn’t know what to do except to ram himself into you from behind like animals do. He must have seen this on one of the many gutter trash pornos Hoyt has on video, the fucking pervert.

There is no technique or finesse to what he’s doing. He just tears into you with teeth and tongue. He’s making a sloppy mess of you. 

You take the reins, knotting your hand in his hair and pulling him back from your cunt. “Fuck, just a little less teeth, Tommy.”

You push his head back into you. He listens. He drools against you, the only source of wetness that you’re sure you will need in time. You’re too stiff, too on edge to feel anything. There’s no grace in his movements, his tongue completely misses your clit and his lips are too rough against you. 

You grip his hair as hard as possible and yank him away. “That’s enough. I need you.”

With one hand, he does his belt and tugs his pants down enough to free his cock, and the other to pull your neckline down to expose your breasts. You look down at him. Your heart skips a beat and your lungs struggle for air. It’s a fucking beast, a lead pipe that will split you in two. You’ll die before you even get a chance to see your plan through. 

There’s no consideration on his end or he simply doesn’t know. He pushes into you with no warning and you cry out. The wind washes out the sound. 

You feel like you’re on fire, burning from the inside out with how he stretches you open. The pace he sets is brutal beyond belief. You lean forward, one arm draped loosely around his shoulder and push your face into his neck. It hurts with the minimal lubrication you’ve got, just his messy display of eating you out. You try to smother your grunts of pain against the thick column of his neck, you close your eyes and clench your jaw, trying to find anything pleasurable in this act. There’s nothing you can do now.

He doesn’t sense your discomfort, just continues pushing through it. He pulls you closer, big hands pawing at your back, fingers catching in the fabric of your dress, before he remembers your chest is exposed. His hands come circling around and even his hands are not big enough to hold your breasts in full. You look down at the flesh spilling out between his fingers and you moan. The sight turns you on more than it should.

The way he looks, hungry and wanting more, makes you act. You tear the leather mask from his face, your nails scratch his cheeks from the force of you fitting your fingers under the mask. He grunts. His face is ruddy and pockmarked from both his skin condition and his own self mutilation, his nose rotting away. His brow is heavy and thick and his eyes the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen. He’s beautiful and your heart lurches in your chest when the thought comes tumbling through you. It’s sick and you lash out against him, this is all his fault and you will make him pay.

You lay into him and bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Warmth overflows in your mouth, the tang of iron on your tongue and a bit of flesh stuck between your teeth. You smile into the wound you inflicted on him and lap at the blood pouring out of him. You’ve gotten your pound of flesh from him. 

He fumes, glaring down at you with a deep frown set into what is left of his lips and snarls, showing off the glint of yellowed, sharp teeth. You push your fingers into the bite you gifted him with, collecting the blood and smear his over his mouth, fearing no repercussions as he nibbles on the finger that breeches his mouth. He could very well bite it off, but he won’t. He won’t bite because to Tommy you’re family now and family ain’t meat. Meat is mean and angry. Meat is filth and stink and lesser than. Meat is a corpse wasted on a walking, talking sack of shit. He loves you and being loved makes you family. You are family, so you are better than meat.

He picks up his pace. The sound of flesh smacking is almost too much. You can feel yourself grow wetter and feel the ease he thrusts with. You choke out a moan. He pushes you down by your shoulder onto the messy workbench. Something digs into the middle of your back. You squirm against it, but he pays you no mind. He is busy positioning you exactly how he wants— your ass close to the edge of the bench, your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight resting on his forearms, leaving no room for you to escape. As if you could. 

Outside, the rain begins to pour with fervor. 

It’s all starting to become too much. His weight, the heat, the thick of him splitting you open. You clench down, hoping to encourage him to finish. You can’t take it any longer. There’s no room to breathe beneath him, what little air you can manage is punched back out of you with each thrust of his cock. The guilt and fear rearing its ugly head again. It’s been too long, you need him out of you, off of you. You dig your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching as hard as you can, leaving red welting lines down the planes of his shoulders. He grunts louder. He likes it, you think. 

This is sick, this shouldn’t be happening. You should be at home bickering with your roommates about who’s turn it is to do the dishes or tucked away in the library, scouring through the library catalog to find just the right book for your thesis. You would have already graduated if Tommy hadn’t yanked you by the back of your shirt out of your car. Your future was bright and full of potential and now you’re here, crushed under the weight of a man who kills without remorse, trapped by a woman who wants a daughter but will not value you the same as a son, and planning a pregnancy that will inexplicable tie you to this family, to this chapter in your life until death. You cry out.

He comes soon after and you feel disgusting.

He pulls out and his spend leaks out of you onto the dirt. You wipe your tears away and piece yourself back together into the character of hopelessly in love with the man who has taken your life from you. There’s no time to feel sorry for yourself. 

You grab your ruined panties from beside you and clean yourself up as well as you can. 

His blood has started to coagulate around your bite. He gingerly puts his button up over it, careful not to disturb the bite mark and start the bleeding over again. The last thing you need is Luda Mae questioning why he’s bleeding and what exactly you two got up to in this rundown barn.

Thomas offers you his hand, ready to help you down off the workbench, but you press your dirty underwear into his palm instead. He takes them eagerly, stuffing them into his back pocket. He’ll sniff at them later, keep them under his pillow and when he finally can’t smell you on the fabric, he’ll finally give it back to you for washing. It’s not the first time he’s hidden a pair of your used panties around for his own private pleasure. You’d found your blue panties mixed in with his clothing. The fabric was stiff and coated in white.

You brace your hands against the edge of the bench but before you can push off, his hands encircle your hips, gently lifting you up from the bench to avoid scraping the back of your thighs or your ass along the wood, and sets you down on the ground. His hands pet over you again, mussing up your hair in an attempt to smooth it, his fingers too big and gentle touch unpracticed. His fingers get caught in your hair and he frowns. You pull him apart from the nest he’s made in your hair with delicacy.

Are you supposed to hate him or love him? He’s the reason you’re here, why you are under the constant threat of butchery, but he treats you with such care even after he destroys you.

“C’mon, your mama will be wondering where we went off to,” you murmur.

The sky has turned dark blue, almost black, with heavy storm clouds. Hail the size of nickels and rain pelts down from above you—it takes only a moment before your dress is completely soaked. Lightning splits open the sky. The storm rages, wind blowing so hard it sends the rain horizontally. 

Tommy looks down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and he presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes. It’s so nice to be treated like glass after such rough handling. He takes your hand in his and your heart shatters. Why are you letting a few gentle touches turn you upside down? 

You are guided back to the Hewitt residence but the light flooding out of the kitchen window.

Luda Mae is full of accusations when you come back through the door, her eyes narrowed at you–always the first to be blamed. “What took you so long?” 

Under the weight of her stare, you feel like she knows exactly what happened, like she can see it on your face. You feel something trickle down your legs. You’re not sure if it’s rain water or cum. You hope the rain has washed away the scent of sex and sweat on your skin. 

You let go of Tommy’s hand and duck your head in supplication to Luda Mae. “Sorry, mama. Tommy was showing me all the hard work he did today.” 

“That so?” Luda Mae turns to Tommy and her whole demeanor changes. She smiles so wide and reaches up to cup his face. “You’re such a good boy, Tommy.”

“Go on and set the table, baby,” she directs you. “Let Monty and Hoyt know it’s time to eat. After that you can finish hanging the laundry. You gotta finish your chores if you wanna eat.”

You breathe deeply before giving her your best smile, “Yes, mama.”

“Now you go and sit down, Tommy. It’ll only be a minute.”

---

You’ve long stopped thinking about the implications of this child’s conception, it’s less than moral reasoning. They will not be born out of want, but of need for your own survival and assurance of your status as a Hewitt. You will have a leg up for giving Thomas a child and Luda Mae a grandchild. While it might not provide you with the status of matriarch, you will hold more sway over Thomas. Besides, Luda Mae can’t live forever. Once they are all gone, it will be easier. You will take the child with you and hope that they are young enough to forget about the Texas heat and the stench of blood.

Tommy presented you with a ring not long after that day in the barn. It didn’t fit right, nothing here does. It hangs around your neck on a delicate gold chain. Hoyt had hooted and hollered and went out, drunk as a skunk, with his shotgun and shot off two rounds. Luda Mae had been as happy as a clam–her boy was finally getting everything he deserved.

You wear the ring, biding your time. 

Luda Mae has let you move into the same room together. Privacy has given you more chances to try for this hypothetical child.

You wash out the blood in your underwear in the sink. It will catch one day and when that day comes, you will no longer be at the bottom of the food chain. You will be a prized bitch for breeding. What an honor to carry on the Hewitt name! 

You will suffer the sickness, the distortion of your body both temporary and permanent. You will endure hours of labor, blood and mucus membranes spilling out from you by the buckets, the shifting of bones and tearing of skin for a child that will come out too big for your body. You will put yourself through the wringer for just a taste of the power that will come from it.

Tommy has no idea about your intentions. It’s sweet almost how he doesn’t sense what you're doing and you almost feel guilty for using him this way, letting him soak up all the physical attention he’d been denied by other women, but he will be overjoyed at the results. Tommy will be a good father. He will teach them how to pluck a chicken clean, how to suck the marrow out of a bone, the proper way to cut an artery to drain an animal of blood, how to use every piece of livestock so nothing goes to waste–all the same things he taught you. He will love them fiercely as he loves his mother. He will be a protector. You’d never planned for children yourself and you have no warm or soft feelings at the prospect of your future child. This child is just a means to an end. Maybe one day you will grow to love it. Until then, you have other things to worry about. 

There is food to grow and laundry to do.

[darsynia]

Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while. 

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

🪴🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have  brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view. 

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek. 

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- “Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you). 

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.” 

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly. 

“I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

[joocomics]

LONG STORY SHORT

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut w/ a sprinkle of plot wc: 8.5k

summary: when christmas comes around you know your emotions will be all over the place, because the one thing your parents look forward to the most, is inviting their best friends whose son kim jungsu is the guy you try to not think about unless you want to make your standards even higher, and your chances to find a boyfriend soon - lower. one sleepless night turns into an opportunity to look back on some shared memories, but to also tell each other things both of you believed will remain unsaid...

contains: childhood friends au, friends to lovers trope, soft dom!jungsu, sprinkle of fluff, protected sex, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, size kink, size training, praise kink, oral sex (f!rec)

[ event masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Do you think he’s still single?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmm...” Your friend on the other line goes silent for a second. “I don’t see any pictures of him with a girl so far.”

“Are you lurking on his Instagram account right now???”

“I’m not lurking,” she calmly explains herself as you continue pacing around the room. Waiting. “I’m getting familiar with the guy that’s about to spend a night in your house. See if there’s anything suspicious that we should know about.”

“Jungsu is the most harmless guy I know.”

“I know you grew up together, but you haven’t talked about him a lot. I’m curious.”

You pick up a noise from outside and you peek through the window only to see the familiar car of Jungsu’s parents parking in front of your house.

“Shit, he’s here!” Your voice comes out barely audible.

It’s like you had to see it with your eyes to believe it - to believe that he’s really going to be in front of you just like before. Till now it has been just a possibility that may or may not happen which is ridiculous of you to think that way, because you always spend the Christmas holidays together.

There’s no Christmas without Kim Jungsu.

You tell your friend you’re gonna text her when you can and she giggles through one sly “have fun!” before hanging up.

You inhale a deep breath to control your heart rate that already quickens before you even hear the doorbell ring.

It feels just like last year or even slightly more intense than last winter judging by how much you’re overthinking the moment he’s going to walk through the front door.

There’s an echo inside your head; Why? Why? Why? But your brain cannot ponder the question right at this point of time. Not when you’re this giddy with excitement to see one of your closest friends again, but also nervous to face your first love - though unrequited it still turned you into the biggest hopeless romantic. You wouldn’t be the person you are right now without it.

You and Jungsu grew up together after all; you’ve shared so many things - from toys and lunch boxes to living on the same street. Even after you entered high school and started hanging out in two separate friend groups you continued walking to school every morning together only to wait for each other at the bus stop and return home together too. It was your tradition; a habit that your evolving interests and social lives couldn’t break.

Until you started college here, and he - three hours away - and you started drifting apart, texting each other only on special occasions or if provoked by an Instagram post, and ending birthday calls with you should visit me sometime, but neither of you have done it yet.

Maybe if his parents didn’t move to a different distanced neighbourhood as soon as the first school year started you would’ve stayed more in touch now, because he would’ve been able to stop by your door for an hour every time he visits during semester breaks.

Maybe…

You’re about to run upstairs so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for his arrival when your mom calls out for you to come back and stop being rude.

You keep your distance in the hallway with heart racing, breath hitched in your throat and eyes inspecting the scene in front of you. Your mom welcomes the guests warmly one by one and you do the same while helping out by taking the Christmas presents inside.

Jungsu walks in last, with a big backpack hanging from his broad shoulders and a navy blue beanie on his head. The hallway turns extra smaller now that he’s inside too, trying to make his way without pushing anyone to the ground.

As he patiently waits for his parents to take off their shoes and head to the living room so he can move around freely, he keeps staring at the floor, too flustered by your mother’s compliments on how handsome he’s become to look up. Once she’s had enough of admiring him and steps back, his eyes shift curiously in search to look for you.

They easily spot you standing speechless in the corner, and although you take a second to react, his eyes crinkle into a smile on the instant.

You notice the soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, then the flush caused by the cold air on his cheeks and nose which you’ve always been fond of. Next, you feel his puffer jacket is freezing, because you shudder after he comes to embrace you into a hug.

That’s when the world around you finally stills.

“Your hair!” You gasp as you take a proper look at him after he removes the beanie.

“Hi to you too.” Jungsu chuckles softly.

He blinks at you few times with surprise as he takes a second to comprehend your astonished reaction; to acknowledge the small changes in your appearance. They’re something minor, but surely they are there or he wouldn’t be feeling the need to stop what he’s doing and stare, questioning what exactly feels different.

“You’ve never had such short hair before,” you note, hiding hands in the pockets of your jeans to suppress the urge to run fingers through what seems like a fresh haircut.

“Should I take this as a compliment or…”

“I mean, I just saw that you pretty much still suck at taking compliments so,” you shrug shoulders meanwhile Jungsu presses lips at the sight of your sarcastic face, because he cannot deny that observation of yours, “but I do like it.”

“You look good too.”

Your stomach makes a somersault and you look away, but seconds before you do, your face earns a glow that Jungsu does not miss out on noticing.

You thought that after such a jolly evening you’re going to fall asleep the moment you get into your bed, but turns out the lingering exciment keeps you awake and energised for longer.

It’s almost two in the morning when you go downstairs and make out some noise coming from the living room. Lights flicker in the darkness as you step in to discover that it’s not all coming from the decorated Christmas tree, it’s also Jungsu’s laptop. It’s resting on the coffee table with something playing in low volume as he’s occupying the entire couch by laying comfortably on his side.

You’re about to tiptoe when you see him shooting a curious glance over his shoulder the moment you close the door.

“Why are you awake?” He asks; his voice is not drowsy at all.

“I can’t fall asleep and got thirsty.”

Jungsu’s attention leaves the screen, suddenly too compelled by the appearance of your silhouette in front of him.

He reminds himself that you’re one of his best friends as he realises the beauty of your legs illuminated from the glowing desktop screen; they force his eyes to follow every small movement of your hips and to travel up your figure, noticing more parts of you for the very first time. You’re one of his best friends, but last year you weren’t wearing such little shorts… so exposing…

He needs to stop before it gets obvious and awkward.

“You?” You’re still standing up, taking another sip of water before placing the cup on the table.

“Same here.” Jungsu murmurs and sighs. He sits up then lifts his arms to stretch.

His plain white shirt rides up his body exposing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Your eyes fixate right upon it, staring at the waistband of his sweats that’s resting loosely on his waist too.

The cold water does not do anything to stop the heat from enveloping your body. Maybe it’s perhaps the reason you take longer to direct your shameless stare somewhere else; now there’s also a dangerous train of thoughts settling in your mind as you capture the intimate view.

“Severance?” You step forward to take a peek at what he’s watching in order to stop yourself while you still got time. “You got taste.”

“Have you seen it?” Jungsu raises brows as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good mindfuck, isn’t it?”

Your question is followed by an unexpected notification from your phone that buzzes in your hand.

What ends up pleasantly surprising you is not the person who’s texting you, but the particular way in which Jungsu shows interest in them.

“Who’s thinking about you at this hour?”

Still to this day, he always listens to you share what you’re up to with genuine interest, and you listen to him do the same too, but with slightly different emotions you can bet. These few hours of alone time you get during the holidays are the moments when you learn new things about him as well, things that you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and as silly as it may sounds… sometimes those moments make you feel melancholic.

You’re happy that he found the place where he belongs, but you also miss him.

“Uhm, a friend of a friend…” You mumble, putting your phone away. “He texts me once in a while.”

“Do you like him?” Jungsu asks despite noticing the casual way you ignored the message.

“Not like that.” You suppress a chuckle. “He’s funny and nice to chat with, but that’s all.”

“So you like someone else?”

You stare at his familiar side profile as he continues to pay attention to the episode at the same time.

As if he feels your gaze lingering on his skin, Jungsu looks in your direction.

You swiftly switch your expression from astounded to laid back and unbothered by these straightforward questions which you were definitely not prepared for.

“Why are you the only one asking questions?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu turns his gaze away from you again, letting the corners of his lips to slide up discreetly, “if there’s anything you want to ask me, go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment. There are multiple things you’d like to know the answers of, but what if you don’t ask correctly and he gets a wrong impression?

Unsure if it’s the fact he’s not facing you or if it’s because it’s past midnight, your heart feels calm, allowing you to just go for it.

“Are you seeing or talking to someone right now?” You carefully focus on him as you don’t want to miss out on his next expression.

He barely makes one though.

“Nope,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the scene as he adds: “but there’s a girl I find pretty cute, I think.”

After you remain silent for a short moment, only releasing a quiet oh of surprise, Jungsu guides his vision to you and keeps it there.

“So you like funny guys, but humour and communicative skills is not everything.” His figure droops down a bit, letting him rest his head back comfortably against the couch. “What else are you looking for in a guy?”

“Well,” you sigh as if mentally you’re recalling an entire detailed list of qualities which makes the boy snicker. “I want him to be a gentleman. Trustworthy and kind. I need to know I can tell him anything and I want to be the only girl he thinks about.” You give him one wary look just in case. It’s clear he’s heeding your words that only speed up as you go. “I also like when they take care of their bodies… I like broad shoulders and nice arms. Pretty lips too.”

“Mmm,” Jungsu nods while letting all of that sink in, “well, they can’t work for pretty lips at the gym, you know?”

“I know, I just added that in.” A grin appears on your face as you lean against the back of the couch with one shoulder, but soon after it disappears. “My friends always tell me I need to lower my standards, do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t really think you have high standards to begin with.” Jungsu examines your expression carefully since your question doesn’t come out light heartedly like what you previously said. He’s aware you’re referring to something more serious that must be bothering you. “That’s exactly how a guy should treat you, if he doesn’t then you need to cut him off.”

You smile as a sign of appreciation, feeling your heart beating with joy too.

“We’ve had a similar conversation before, do you remember?”

“We have?”

Jungsu’s face scrunches a bit as he goes down memory lane, but you already have the exact moment replaying in your head as if it was yesterday. Severance is now forgotten, but still going in low volume.

“Yeah, after we graduated.” The images of the two of you in his room warm your heart as you cast your mind back to that sunny afternoon. “We were at your house and you were bragging about the new camera your parents had just bought you to get you excited for college.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just a litttle bit.” You quickly dismiss his denial and Jungsu laughs without saying anything more so you can continue. “We were imagining how our first boyfriend and girlfriend would be like. We were visualising their appearance, wondering how and where we would meet them and all.”

You know Jungsu begins to recall the event when you see him cover his face with both hands. His muffled groan of embarrassment amuses you a lot; Why is he being flustered all of a sudden?

“Yeah, yeah, we did…” He mumbles in his palms before leaning back again. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment. “My first girlfriend wasn’t anything like that by the way.”

“My first boyfriend was anything but that,” you declare right after him as you burst laughing at the same time.

You grin at each other, feeling a sense of comfort from the mutual understanding.

The silence you find yourselves in again isn’t perplexing as it gives the two of you a chance to dive into more shared memories that are suddenly scattered in your minds. You reflect on differents parts of them without paying attention to the gaps that eventually start to multiply as the months pass by.

“We were so curious then,” Jungsu speaks up first; his voice drops lower as he muses, “about relationships, drinking, sex…”

Undeniably, the last word catches you off guard. You don’t comment right away, because you start to ponder about the same with cheeks tinged with blush.

“We couldn’t wait to see what all those experiences are going to feel like.”

“Yeah, that’s how we were.” You agree, keeping your fingers busy with the hem of your shorts.

“Y/N…”

As you were staring down at your lap your eyes snap back at the sound of your name and you meet Jungsu’s gaze; it seems to shine more softly now, or that’s just the nostalgia in your chest.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says with voice laced in something bittersweet, “and I really think you deserve more than just a funny guy.”

You feel something around you shift and you’re unsure of how to handle it just yet. It’s like whatever was building up in the air during your conversation is now swirling, making you giddy and unsteady.

You thank him and you acknowledge how weak your voice is once it leaves your mouth, but you can’t do anything about it.

Neither of you breaks eye contact - is it because neither of you is bold enough to do it first or because neither of you wants to put an end to it in the first place? You can’t tell.

Jungsu’s eyes make the first movement in order to peek at your parted lips and just as quickly return to your fluttering lashes.

“I mean it,” he whispers, sliding his hand your way.

The tips of his fingers are centimeters away from your knee, resting on the cushion; one small move and you will feel their touch, but they remain still and courteous.

As your body is tempted to get closer, your heart starts to thump faster - not to warn you or stop you from the decision you’re about to make, but to remind you of how much exactly you want it.

You want him. It’s a scary thought, but perhaps, every love seems scary when it arises from friendship.

It all happens in a matter of two seconds - you cut the distance, Jungsu’s gentle hand moves on your thigh and you kiss him.

If a moment ago you were feeling dazed then now as your mouths get in contact for the first time ever you’re feeling absolutely under the influence. You’re feeling intoxicated by the softness of his lips and how they already move like they’ve got yours memorised; as if he was using that moment of silence to study them perfectly.

In a way his lips feel… familiar, as ridiculous it may sound, but the spark they bring you is strong nevertheless. Until you back away in panick from your impulsive actions.

Your heart is threatening to burst out.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry—“

“Come here,” Jungsu says under his breath and pulls you over his lap.

What follows after you straddle him doesn’t come close to the mellow kiss from earlier.

It looks and feels times more intense as Jungsu’s fingers grip on your waist beneath the fabric of your loose shirt. The way they explore anywhere they can reach, causing every spot they glide against to heat up, provokes the rush to rise in your tummy.

Your tongues roll against one another after you allow him to separate your lips; the delightful dance turns into a french kiss that you would’ve never imagine having with him one day.

Jungsu’s lips slowly detach, sighing as he finds out you’re not wearing any bra underneath. His hands cautiously retrieve to your hips, making you wonder what could be going through his head right now.

Is his mind calm? Or is it jittery like his heart that’s racing… you can feel it as you keep your hands on his chest.

“Should we…”

“Keep going?” Jungsu finishes your question after glancing at you. “Only if that’s what you want.”

You stop biting your lip and chuckle silently at his words. You thought what you want is pretty obvious and you find his wariness sweet.

“I want it.” You confess; slowly, so each letter sinks in his brain as you lean forward only to provoke him to kiss you deeply once more.

That’s when you feel a sudden movement beneath you - a quick twitch right between your legs that has you smiling coyly against his flushed lips.

“I don’t have any condoms in me.” He realises quietly while staying close to your mouth, swiping your bottom lip gently with his thumb. It’s like he cannot get enough of their plushness, their texture and taste.

When you lock eyes it becomes clear you’re thinking of the same thing.

“We can still go upstairs though.” The same finger that was tracing the shape of your lips now presses against your shorts, rubbing tenderly up and down exactly where you feel the irresistible heat looming from. The pleasure is barely there and yet it still makes you hold your breath. “I can make you feel nice in different ways... Unless you prefer to wait.”

He’s not saying this to tease you or to try to be flirtatious; you can see it in the genuine way he looks at you. Jungsu has never been like the rest.

Truthfully, like is a weak choice of word for what you feel about him.

You shake head right before you roll your hips against him, eager to feel more. You don’t want to wait; you can’t.

“Let’s go.”

Jungsu reaches behind you and shuts his laptop.

You can’t tell how many minutes you spend in your bed just kissing, - laying beneath him like this with legs intertwined and lips going numb against each other has turned time into something nonexistent. And his scent, familiar and so comforting, has put you in some sort of trance that you don’t want to escape from.

What has Jungsu leaving your mouth is his hand that ghosts over one of your breasts; the subtle feeling of your nipple poking through the fabric tempts him into giving it a light squeeze. Your figure starts reacting excitedly as he continues to caress it under the blouse, occasionally circling your nipple with his thumb.

Those cute responses against his hovering body make him move lower so he can scatter kisses on other places too. He wants to taste as much of you as possible.

Blissful sighs slip from your tongue as Jungsu’s puffy lips press against many different parts of your skin; his hands touch wherever his mouth can’t reach. The subtle way the tip of his tongue starts teasing the area between your bellybutton and the hem of your shorts causes your spine to bend from pleasant shockwaves.

His hands remain on your hips, but they seem to hesitate to continue when your eyes meet.

“I want to know you’re not going to regret this.”

You move one hand to his face that’s contorted with a mixture of emotions - one you’re perfectly familiar with the meaning of.

“I’m not, I promise.” You utter as your fingers finally get lost in his hair. “Can you say the same?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” he admits, breathing out a soft sigh afterwards that almost turns into a flustered chuckle. “And,” he takes a pause to what seems like an attempt to gather his thoughts, “that I didn’t reach out as much as I wanted to.”

“That’s on both of us, Jungsu.”

The decorative lights effortlessly shine onto his face, warm white light that makes it look even softer as he lets himself rest in your palm.

Regret is the last thing you will feel, even if this is just a one time thing.

Soon enough, his hands proceed. You’re out of your sleeping shorts and Jungsu’s fingers are doing that same motion from earlier, but now it feels even better as they move up and down against your underwear.

Suddenly they stop to apply some pressure in one particular spot - where he noticed a dark wet patch forming.

“Mmm—“ you bite your lip, provoking his gaze to shift back to your face. “You can remove one piece of clothing too.”

He mumbles that’s fair and grins at your smile of approval as he throws his shirt away. You didn’t expect to be so effected by the view, but you are; seeing his fit chest bare makes your heart quicken and now the way his arm flexes as he moves your panties to the side to touch you without any barriers is suddenly even more noticeable than before.

“So wet,” he mutters as if he’s in awe at the sight below, “you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment warms up your cheeks as you moan desperately at the first real touch.

He slides his fingers through your folds so slow and gently that you’re amazed how a delicate touch like that can have such a strong impact everywhere on your body.

From your entrance up to your clit, Jungsu swipes the tips of his two fingers and stares at the string of arousal that sticks to them once he pulls away.

His spare hand tugs your panties more while the other returns to where you’re dripping.

“Is it okay like this?” He asks in a whisper, watching your mouth open for a silent moan; his middle finger enters you with ease and for a second your breathing stops. “Yeah, feels nice?”

You nod delighted before resting your head back on the pillow, cherishing the warmth that’s building and electrifying your core.

You can’t see it, but Jungsu’s eyes sparkle as you transition into a new blissful state with each gliding through your tight walls.

“I love it,” you breathe out excitedly, not able to ignore the sounds that come with each move of his hand; especially once he adds another finger so he can make you feel even better by thrusting deeper into you. “Fuck—“

Everything doubles now that it feels more full, more fast paced and intense. His fingers feel perfect for this - firm and just the right subtle amount of rough. They move with dominance that they aren't trying to force, but still can be felt in his touch.

“You can cum for me, sweetheart,” he says under his breath while maintaining the quick motions targeting the desired angle. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Every time you mewl his name your quiet voice shakes as he chases your peak.

The trembling chanting makes Jungsu’s skin run hot - at the back of his neck and the sides of his face that’s a little bit scrunched from concentration, from not allowing himself to slow down. It also teases his erection with how arousing it sounds, making it twitch inside his sweatpants.

Not long after, his free hand moves to your clit to stimulate you even further by circling around, and the knot of pressure inside you snaps.

The squelching noise, so blissful to Jungsu’s ears, fades in the small room as he eases up with his arched fingers, letting only your heavy breathing to fill the silence now.

Your eyes are glossy when they find his in the warm fairylights, but you’re not exactly sure what to say. As if he knew, Jungsu drops down, prepping himself on his hands and kissess you to let you know it’s okay.

Your hands go to his still hips, but yours are far from calm, and for the first time he fails to swallow a groan.

“Y/N—“ he exhales softly into your lips, unconsciously responding by grinding between your open legs. It doesn’t help that your hands are encouraging him to thrust again and again. “Fuck, feels so good…”

“I want to touch you,” you mutter not even having a specific idea in mind - you want to touch him everywhere all at once if it’s possible. Your fingers sneak beneath the waistband of his sweats, pleading by scratching his skin. It’s all you can do with how much you love the sensation from his length rubbing against you through the fabric, making more rush of arousal course through your veins. “Jungsu, please…”

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing first chance I get.” He speaks in the crook of your neck before backing off.

Your glowing doll eyes speak for themselves.

The enthralling effects of his words that dripped with honey-like sweetness despite the dirty context only grow after you earn the view you pleaded for.

Jungsu tugs down the clothing, stained with your arousal at the crotch area, and then you see it - flushed from the friction and oozing from desire as it bounces up. The size alone has your eyes almost shutting down from all the images of you taking it inch by inch flooding your mind.

If you focus enough, you can feel the strech.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungsu’s lips turn slightly as he takes a hold of his base, lowering his tip to your folds. The way he drags it down your slick lets you know that he’s aware of exactly what’s troubling your head.

“It will feel so nice,” you whine as his warm tip presses against your leaky entrance, but not enough to enter.

Jungsu repeats the same thing to hear the squelching sound one more time. It’s begging him to push deeper, but he resists and forces his length up your folds instead, smearing the glistening essence.

“You’re gonna take me so well, sweetheart, I’m sure of it.” His gaze observes the effortless way your slippery lips have his length gliding up and down. As his fingers stay around the base his aroused tip rubs your clit with each next move which has you humming erotically. “Mm— It will fit perfectly inside you…”

You bite your lip as your mind creates vivid images, one after another, based on Jungsu’s provocative words. His sensual tone of voice and his cock moving along your slickness work effectively in harmony, forming new undeniable rush in your core.

Two light slaps by the head of his dick force your eyes open and you see Jungsu letting a string of saliva fall into his palm to make his strokes smoother.

You know he smacked your clit with his tip without meaning anything by it, simply to hear the lewd sound and feel a small thrill. However, the excitement you get from that quick act is much bigger, and after Jungsu speeds up his fist up and down, you sit up, placing fingers on your sweet spot to continue the arousal he awakened.

Your breaths blend together as you sit in front of each other… along with the little airy sounds slipping into the air that’s growing thicker from the intimate scene.

In the meantime, your eyes drop to his busy hand to study the way it moves. You want to see how he likes to be touched; what pace does he enjoy, how much is his fist tightening. Though the up and down motions are quickening, you notice his fingers still seem gentle on his erection like he’s not doubling the pressure only the rhythm.

Soaking up this sight and the way his toned stomach reacts to the sensation turns you on immensely, but then your chin gets guided up and your attention is dragged away.

Jungsu doesn’t comment on your obvious and shameless staring. The only thing he does is take in your delighted twitching features and get off on their beauty.

“Keep going,” you encourage him quietly as your free hand cautiously reaches out to cup his balls.

While maintaining the eye contact and the steady circles on your clit, you let your fingers explore gently for a moment, then you make them squeeze which breaks Jungsu’s breathing.

The bold act of yours takes him aback, but the delight that shoots through him makes the surprise last only a second.

You squeeze again simultaneously mewling from your own bubbling emotions, and earn the first clear moan from him. It sounds exhilarating, but too short. Perhaps, you could’ve gotten more out of him if his lips didn’t gravitate towards yours for an open mouthed kiss.

This makes Jungsu let go of his cock and cup your face as the moment intensifies.

You, on the other hand, use the opportunity to finally touch him properly.

Gliding your fingertips from his ballsack up to his base, Jungsu feels the lingering effects from the delicate caressing right away. Once you wrap your fingers around him and apply some pressure his lips stop moving - he cannot help, but squeeze his eyes tightly and invite a hitched breath into your mouth as a wave of euphoria passes through his veins.

Encouraged by his breathing that’s catching up and his head resting back, the nerves you were holding in your stomach completely disappear, and your hand continues twirling - more freely and with more ease and confidence.

He seems fully relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure you bring him, and you can’t stop gushing over how grateful you are to be in this position.

You catch his hands form two fists around the bedsheets as you do your best to keep up the nice rhythm that continues to have more and more effects on him.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

Jungsu opens his eyes; he can’t tell whether your innocent tone or the way you rub yourself as he kneels between your legs is what brings him dizziness.

He wets his lips before swallowing.

“Yeah, but… I want to make you feel good one more time first.” He wants to emphasise his wish by making his voice firm, but it drips from his tongue breathless, almost fading away completely at the last word.

The sudden delay in the next twirling of your wrist has his jaw slacking; especially when you stop to squeeze at the top, flicking your thumb over his slit.

The hand between your own thighs slows down as you speak too.

“It’s okay, I’m very close anyways,” you give him a coy smile as he stares at you weakly with hooded eyes. “You can just relax now and keep looking at me…” you resume the stimulation on your clit and sigh at the feeling before finishing your thought: “and cum in my hand whenever you’re ready.”

Jungsu’s stomach flips at the sound of your sudden but incredibly soft domineer; it continues to swirl from pleasure as you bring back the familiar pace around his girth. His gaze is fixated upon your hands - one dancing up and down his slick member, the other toying with your sensitive clit, slowly so the one around his cock can go faster, but the mellow touching only captivates him more.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Jungsu chokes just when the arousal that’s burning low in your tummy rises like a wild fire. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whine right after him as the knot pulses harder with each rub, making it a challenge for you to keep stroking him smoothly as you used to.

Your technique is turning sloppy and unsteady; most likely causing the rush in his body to slow down just when it leaps up.

“Fuck,” Jungsu cusses again, this time in a thinner pitch, an alluring breathy sound that indicates he’s getting closer just like you. “Like that, yeah—” As his head drops low in sudden silence, his one hand goes over your weakened fist. In order to guide it in the speed that’s going to push him over the edge he needs to put in some strength so he squeezes around your fingers.

Both of you are now speechless, looking narrowly at the view of your laps and enhancing the mutual pleasure. The growing excitement turns into ragged short breaths that crawl out of your throats as you do everything you can in order to keep your composure.

“Doing so good for me…” Jungsu’s hand is sweating on top of yours, gripping and forcing the lewd motions of your fist top to bottom until it reaches the end of the rush and slows down steadily.

Your own sensational high hits you like a wave as you watch his thick arousal seep out of him. The first rope shoots onto his tense stomach while the rest trickles down your fingers that still hold onto his member. It twiches once or twice in your palm before he removes his stained hand away and you do the same.

“Thank you,” Jungsu’s eyes flicker at you as the corners of his mouth twitch. He’s bemused by what just happened and you are too; you can only chuckle along. “You’re a good girl.”

The knuckles of his clean hand run down your cheek, but you feel your skin getting tingly everywhere.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning, 26th of December is the day Jungsu and his parents are leaving because they’re visiting close relatives before his winter break ends. You’re both drinking tea and scrolling through social media, chatting about mutual friends and who’s up to what.

There’s definitely something different in the way you speak to each other; it would be weird if there’s not. You’re not sure what to think of it still, because you haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet, but you try not to let yourself fall into heavy overthinking mode and ruin your last hours together.

Hesitating if you should open a loose discussion about last night now that you’ve been sitting in silence for two minutes, you look up from your phone just to see your mother walking in.

You catch a glimpse of the pie recipe she always makes this time of the year in her hand, but there’s slight worry on her face. Turns out, she forgot to buy two of the ingredients she needs and now she’s stressed out about it.

You always have this pie before Jungsu and his parents leave.

“I’ll go get them.” Jungsu offers already standing on his feet.

“Are you sure? It’s snowing outside.” Your mom says, glancing through the window. “I can just make something else.”

“That’s not an issue, I got my drivers license this summer.” He takes his parent’s keys, and looks over at you with a discreet grin. “Wanna join me?”

Jungsu insists on holding the bag with the ingredients you bought for your mother’s recipe despite being the one not wearing gloves. You forgot to put on yours before you leave the house and he asked you to take his pair or apparently you weren’t leaving the car.

Now, thanks to him your hands are warm, and you enjoy the light snowfall even more as you walk side by side.

“Hey, uhm” Jungsu speaks up, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was wondering something this morning.”

You turn to him as neither of you hurries to reach the parking lot just yet.

He shoots you a quick glance then goes back to staring at the deserted street in front of you.

“I’m going to be celebrating New Year’s with my roommate and some other friends from college. It’s gonna be fun, and I was wondering if you don’t have plans already of course…” He can feel your gaze on his cold face, but he can’t make himself respond to it. Not when he hasn’t gotten a reply to his offer. When was the last time he was feeling nervous because of you? Was there ever a time like that till now? “I can come pick you up and we can celebrate together. My roommate won’t mind it if I steal his car for a few hours.”

“What’s his name?” You look down at the white pavement with a smile unable to leave your face.

“Who’s— Oh!” Jungsu finally takes a peek in your direction, a bit flustered. “Seungmin. He’s a really nice guy, just a year younger than me.”

“Are you sure he’s really not going to mind it if you take his car twice? My classes start on the same day as yours and I’ll need a ride home.”

“Positive.” You both quit walking to look at each other. “I already asked.”

“Last night you mentioned there’s a girl you find cute.” Your head leans to the side as you inspect the boy’s expressions. His eyes look down at his feet once he registers your words; there’s definitely amusement inside them though. “Is she going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu’s grin widens at the fact you remember this. The next moment, he glances back up at you. “I’m waiting for her to give me an answer right now.”

Few seconds pass as you try to collect yourself. He meant you.

“So are you going to be there?” He gives you an eyebrow raise. “With me?”

You’re aware your glowing smile is already enough of an answer, but you still nod at him and say:

“Yes, I’ll be there with you.”

You were too immersed into your conversation to notice earlier that Jungsu has been driving in a totally different direction.

“Wait, where are we?” You ask as the car stops in front of a nice house covered in snow just like the rest on the street.

You’ve never seen it before.

“I thought we could use some privacy.” He turns to you, not yet sure how you’d react to his idea. When he catches your lips turning into a coy, but definitely approving expression, he feels a wave of relief. “Just for like an hour though or it will get suspicious.”

Jungsu gives you a quick tour around their new family home and after you’re inside his bedroom things escalate surprisingly quickly; or not so surprisingly considering what went down last night between you.

The high still lingers in both of your bodies as you crash on his bed.

He pins your hands above your head and your cold noses touch as your kiss deepens before you even have time to really comprehend this is really about to happen.

You are going to have sex with him.

You’re a moment away from feeling him in the most personal, intimate way possible as you watch him rip off the package of the condom with his teeth.

“When did you get these?” You wonder, because you didn’t see him grabbing condoms from anywhere while you were out shopping.

“I have my ways,” he grins, lowering his gaze at his crotch while standing on his feet next to the bed.

You’re sat naked at the centre and follow his hands - how one of them makes few strokes around his erection before the other wraps it up with protection. Then, a moment later how they spread your legs as if he’s scared not to break you.

He pulls you down slightly and adjusts himself between your thighs, breathing against your heat.

The butterflies in your tummy go wild with anticipation and excitement at the attractive view.

His presence there alone doubles the warmth into your core before his lips have even gotten in contact with your pussy. Once they do, your hips cannot resist the urge to move in the rhythm of his lapping tongue; wanting to match its sensual motions and earn more from the heady sensation it brings you.

Your fingers go into Jungsu’s hair the moment the arousal enhances to the point it makes your hands search for something to clench at. As your moans elevate as well, your hips keep moving against his gentle devouring mouth until his hands press you down so he can invite himself further into you with no interruptions.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan towards the ceiling, thrilled by the way he twirls the tip of his tongue around your clit before sucking on it some more. “Jungsu, it feels amazing…”

Once he detaches, he pushes his index finger through your entrance, then his middle one and tenderly glides them back and forth to really make sure you’re aroused enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he comments, staring down at your intimate lips, lustrous from his mouth and the essence his fingertips bring out of you only to spread it up to your clit.

He gives you one last open mouthed kiss which makes you whimper desperately.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He looks you in the eyes after he hovers over you; holding himself up on one hand so the other can push the first inch of his member through your walls.

You let out a shaky sound and your nails sink into his shoulders. You breathe in, trying to relax as you haven’t been intimate with anyone in a while. It feels a bit painful because of that and his big size struggling to enter, but at the same time it also feels soul-stirring - because it’s him you are giving yourself to.

“You’ll need to loosen up some more for me, baby.” He whispers softly in your lips and you can almost taste the tension. “Can you do that for me?” The head of his cock retrieves before bumping into your small entrance again.

You nod while grasping onto his frame, and as you exhale with eyes closed shut, a gradual warm pain shoots through you as Jungsu forces a bit more of his length.

“I can stop anytime,” he reminds you while placing fingers onto your clit to comfort you with slow circles. The small portion of his cock your gummy walls are gripping on barely moves any further as he wants to give you time to adjust.

“No,” you utter without opening your eyes, “don’t, please.” Your focus is all on the big stinging stretch and you sound distracted and woozy.

Your walls, though hesitantly, start to accept some of his thickness as he cautiously rocks back and forth. At the same time, little by little you get familiar with how staggering it is to be so full.

“You already feel so good.” Jungsu’s low voice tickles your neck as he’s fully immersed in the exact same sensation as you. The tightness stimulates him more and more during the small pushes back and forth; they make you whimper every time and the sounds have such strong impact on his arousal that he starts to worry not to insert himself all the way by accident and hurt you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out causing you to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness.

Your glossy gaze focuses on him questionably until you realise he’s spreading your legs wider to lick you up again.

Keeping them open and still, he forces his tongue into your entrance and humms quietly every time it throbs, provoked by his movements. The pleasure he gains from your addictive taste has him squeezing your thighs and working his mouth in a way that makes the buzzing delight speedily prevail over the former ache.

“Jungsu, I’m…” you breathe out overwhelmed by the thorough gliding against your folds. “I’m close—“

He went back to eating you out with the intention to ease out the uncomfortable soreness he caused you, but here you are… a short moment before an intense climax washes over you as he presses against your legs so they don’t close around his head.

Your convulsing under his tongue has his arms holding onto you tightly, and as you calm down from the high, Jungsu’s lips suck your stimulated clit once or twice causing you to twitch even more.

“Good girl.” A gentle whisper caresses the skin of your inner thigh before he moves on his knees. “Now you’ll take me easier, right baby?”

This time instead of doing small bumps at your entrance Jungsu slides half of his length through a single slow push that has you hissing at the warmth it incites - a mix between pleasures with just a hint of the stinging ache from earlier.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

Analysing your beautifully twitching face Jungsu decides to pick up a quicker pace at once. His heart rate along with his adrenaline rush increases by the new sound of your clear moans of rapture - all of them a reaction to the way he fills you up.

“Better, baby?” His eyes alternate between your open mouth and the appealing view where your bodies connect; where you’re hypnotising him by looking so stuffed and small and keeping him in trance with how you squelch for him. “So pretty…”

“Yeah,” you answer as your lips tremble from the rising pleasure, “so much better, k-keep going.”

“I knew you’d take me well,” Jungsu says as his own voice starts to drop softly. His hooded eyes blink weakly till they shut entirely as he inserts himself fully into you. His sticky fingers leave his base and sink into your thigh the moment you let out a high pitched whine at the way his tip hits your deepest spot. “Shit— you feel so good around me, baby.”

As you feel mazed and disoriented by the rush, your hand goes over your mouth after another mewl escapes your throat. It sounds too loud, but your self-control slips away the more Jungsu speeds up.

“You don’t need to keep quiet here, sweetheart.” The sudden action makes the boy chuckle as he holds your thighs loosely over his arms. The sheer look of desperation that’s contorting your face tempts him to drop closer. As he does so, he notices your fingers hesitate to uncover your lips completely. “Don’t, baby,” he grunts and even the intense rush can’t stop his voice from sounding sensual and comforting. “I want to hear the pretty sounds you make for me.”

His body weight now presses comfortably against you and you’re almost sure the heat it radiates while his hips slow down for a moment, makes your arousal grow, throb and trickle down on the bedsheets.

“So,” you breathe out in bliss as your fingers move away with trembling motions, “s-so deep…” Your mouth remains open as your head lolls back. You’re amazed by how it’s possible for him to stimulate such deep points inside you; once that have been unfamiliar to you until now.

“Yeah?” Jungsu’s lips move at your ear, producing intense breaths like a tune. “And you’re so tight, pretty girl… you feel perfect for me.”

A lazy kiss on the side of your jawline makes you flutter inside as your hands glide around his broad shoulders. The muscles tense under your touch as eventually Jungsu strengthens the pace again.

Your vision gradually starts to blur, but you still notice the sweat pooling on his forehead; how his teeth keep his lip tucked harshly as the thrusting of his hips turns into a steady slamming that fills the bedroom with lewd noises.

“Jungsu, I—“ your nails dig into his warm skin; surely promising marks, but you can’t stop them from dragging against his back as he hits exactly where it feels best. “Right there, yea—“

“There?” Jungsu’s eyes open, and they open at the perfect timing - to see how yours roll back from pleasure. A sight that immediately provokes him to keep doing what he’s doing, but better.

“Fuck! Yes—“ Your moans keep slipping in the rhythm of his strong thrusts strictly fixated upon the desired angle. “Harder, ple—“

Your pleading is suddenly cut off by your mind shutting down and your throat choking on your own breath.

It wasn’t necessary for you to beg, because Jungsu already knew more was what you needed. Each sound of yours was signaling to him that you’re getting closer, that you need just a little bit more for the rush to come and bring you sweet relief. Even your desperate grasping at his shoulders was already speaking enough to him.

“You’re even prettier when you cum around me, princess.” He murmurs out of breath with lips gently pecking your warm forehead. They cannot wait for your panting to slow down though and they move to kiss you insistently until you inevitably back away to breathe.

It happens with a small delay, because it takes you some time to compose yourself from the passionate kiss, but the corner of your mouth slides up shyly as a reaction to his words; to the nickname attached at the end.

After spending a moment inside your welcoming warmth Jungsu eventually pulls out with a sigh and your hands let go of him.

Once he removes the condom and starts jerking off your attention fixates upon the most compelling facial expression you’ve seen. His flushed face is painted by relish, but also by desperation especially when the climax gains complete control over him and his head drops low shifting your focus.

Warm and thick, his arousal lands all over your bare tummy, making you gasp quietly.

When he returns with a towel to clean you up before laying down beside you, you come to realise that it almost feels like summer from the snuggly atmosphere around the two of you; it’s perfectly formed by the mutual aftermath that you experience at the same time as you gaze into each other’s eyes, and nicely balanced by the soft glow of sunlight that’s attempting fo filter through the curtains.

And all of this as Jungsu’s fingertips draw soft patterns on your back.

Till this current moment your entire skin was on fire. Now, the feeling of those strong flames has faded, leaving a single lingering warmth that’s not completely new to you simply because it’s been slowly growing throughout the years of your friendship… warmth that feels reasuring.

It feels like love.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @gclhn ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

[moonstruck-poet]

Let's Have One

Pairing - Ben Barnes x reader!

Summary - Seeing you play and bond with his sister's baby sparked a new feeling of want and love in Ben.

Warnings - none!

This one is a thank you for a hundred followers!! I love all of you sm <33

"You ready, love?" His soft voice addressed you as you finished applying some light compact powder, thus finishing your simple and elegant look.

"Yeah just done," you gave yourself a scan and smoothed down the simple blood red dress. And even with the three cups of caffeine that you had downed in the past two hours, a yawn still managed to escape.

"God I'm hopeless," you chuckled lightly, fighting the urge to rub your eyes so as to not ruin the eyeliner.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and pulled you closer by the waist. "I can see how tired you are and I can't do anything at all".

"Hey it's fine," you kissed his cheek, lingering for a while and nuzzling into his neck. "It was my fault for staying up late on that case".

"You sure you're feeling okay? No headaches or anything?"

"I'm fine," you smiled at his worried expression before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the door. "And besides it's Sarah's birthday party, I wouldn't miss it for the world, you know?"

"I know," he replied and followed you without a doubt, opening the car door like an absolute gentleman before getting in himself.

"I should've done that since I'm driving," you laughed when he shook his head.

"You open the doors for me at restaurants and I do it for cars. I think it's only fair".

The drive to the party was spent in silence, with the radio and Ben's humming being the only source of sound.

"You need to have a small holiday," he interrupted the quiet and took your free hand in his. "You're working too hard".

"I'll get one as soon as I finish this, I promise. This one's a lot more complicated than we expected so naturally it is taking more time".

"I find you absolutely cool have I ever mentioned that?" He asked with a teasing smirked on his face.

You couldn't help but laugh and smile yourself, "I think you have, indeed! For the past week or so".

"Seriously though, I still can't believe that I'm married to a crime branch officer. Who could've thought?"

"And it's beyond my understanding how I managed to snatch for myself a literal Disney prince for the record," you retorted and he grinned proudly.

You two had arrived at the destination and the car was parked quickly by your efficient hands.

As usual, he got out first and opened your door, offering a charming smile and his hand as if you were a queen.

You accepted it without a moment of hesitation and placed your palm on his cheek to give him a rather unexpected kiss, one that he immediately reciprocated.

"Goodness," he whispered to himself after you pulled away, leaving him rather breathless and following with a wink.

Ben just felt himself fall a little more in love.

As soon as you opened the doors, you were swarmed by his family members. Eveybody coming closer to greet you with enthusiasm while your husband watched from the sideline, a fond and adoring smile on his face.

"It's so good to see you sweetheart!" His mother cupped your cheeks and surveyed your face in the most motherly way possible. "You're resting well aren't you? Eating properly and getting enough sleep? He's taking care of you isn't he?" She pointed towards her son and playfully narrowed her eyes as if threatening him.

"Don't worry, Mum. He's always taking care of me," you laughed at his nervous and scared face.

"He better be," Thomas, his father patted him on the shoulder sternly before chuckling and pulling his boy in a hug.

You finally managed to extract yourself from his loving family and he joined your side a second later, straightening his blazer.

"I honestly think they love you more".

"Well, I know they love me more".

He rolled his eyes at your smirk and extended his arm which you took, placing your palm on his bicep.

"You look beautiful by the way," he muttered in you ear as you searched for an empty table. "Like breathtakingly gorgeous".

"Thank you," was all you managed to utter because the way he was looking at you made you feel all sorts of things.

"All these years and I can still make you blush huh?" He grinned knowingly while you poked and slapped his abdomen.

"Let's sit here," he pointed to one with two empty seats and you followed, settling down at last and letting out a sigh as you slipped your heels off.

His hands found their way to yours, as though it was second nature to do so. His fingers fiddled with yours, occupying his attention till the party began.

And it started soon enough with everyone standing up as the birthday girl cut her cake and both her husband and son placed a kiss on her cheeks.

"Awh," you said to yourself, a smile forming on your face at what you saw a perfect family. You wanted that too. You already had a loving husband, the only thing left now was an adorable little one.

You lips were pressed together as you looked at your man, letting your eyes rest on his sharp but smooth features.

How beautiful would it be to have a little baby, a perfect combination of yourself and someone whom you held so dear. Maybe they'd inherit his dark eyes and hair or yours, it would be beautiful either way.

How lovely would it be to see this small, tiny human being blossom into a fully mature adult with their own unique personality while also sharing some common traits.

Your heart felt heavy with love at the thought and Ben could certainly feel you planting holes in his face and he looked at you quizzically, though a smile was still there.

You shook your head, suddenly overcome with emotions as you rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to be close.

He didn't say anything and merely pulled you closer, if that was even possible while pressing a kiss to your hairline.

The celebrations were in full swing and all of the couples were currently on the dancefloor, swaying to the romantic rhythm which soon changed into an energetic beat.

"Goddamn," a breath escaped your lips as you pushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "You're quite the dancer, Barnes".

"Care for another one, my love?"

"Unfortunately though I have to decline your offer, darling. I'm quite tired," you laughed lightly and he guided you to sit on a chair.

He knelt down on the floor and touched your feet making your eyes widen as you instantly grabbed his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Shh just relax and trust me," he whispered and you watched as he undid the buckles of your heels and removed your sore feet from their tortuous clutches.

He then went forward to gently rubbing the top and sides and then moving towards the sole. The slight pressure helped immensely and you had to literally push him to get the man to stop.

"Thank you," you said into his ear once he settled down next to you, his chair close.

"Always," he murmured back and leaned down, capturing your lips in his and savouring the moment before it was broken by the party host.

Drinks and food were served once again, probably to energize the crowd for another round of crazy dancing. And Ben too had been dragged away by his many relatives, you laughing at his face that screamed 'save me from these hooligans'.

The sound was getting too loud for your rather sensitive ears so you decided to go to the more quieter areas but suddenly a loud crying stopped you in your tracks.

Pinpointing the source was easy enough and your heart dropped in your chest on seeing a toddler sitting on the grass all alone.

"Christ," you almost sprinted to the baby, recognizing him to be Louis, Ben's nephew. You sat down on your knees, offering him a smile and slowly moving closer.

"Hey Lou," you whispered, the smile still intact as you held out your palm. "You remember me, love?"

Fortunately the one-year-old had stopped crying though tears still stained his cheeks. He looked at you through wide set of eyes, his mind racing as he tried to identify.

After some time of silence you concluded that he didn't recognise you, which was fair considering you had only ever seen him twice in his life.

"Come here," you beckoned, now sitting on your heels and grinning as he raised his arms, allowing you to pick him up.

"Now what might you be doing here all alone, hmm?" You spoke softly, tucking him close to your body and finding a secluded spot in the party which didn't invite a lot of noise.

A sudden giggle was heard from him and you looked, surprised and laughing upon finding the cause. His tiny fingers had found your small butterfly necklace.

Sitting down on a chair you placed him on your lap, facing you. "Yeah that's a butterfly!" You smiled and gently wiped his moist cheeks.

"Fieee!" He grinned, his voice melting you immediately. He was an adorable boy, with blond hair and sea blue eyes.

"You wanna play a game? Let's play a game," saying so you kept him engaged for quite a long time and were entertained yourself.

"More!" He said happily, swinging his little feet as you tickled his sides making him squirm away but also lean in.

There was a tissue box kept on the table and you folded one to create a boat, an aeroplane and some simple shapes much to his excitement.

"Boat," he pointed towards the craft kept on the left and you clapped.

"Good job!" You chuckled and kissed the top of his head with every ounce of love. A wave of pride filling your chest at his correct answer.

Your shenanigans went on for another thirty minutes before Louis started yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Someone's getting sleepy," you adjusted his position so that his face was resting comfortably on your chest and your palm was patting his back.

Ben's blazer that had been resting on your shoulders for almost the entire night was now shielding his nephew from the cold. You draped the black coat on him and it fit like a warm blanket.

"Goodnight sweetheart," you murmured and kissed his forehead before resting your cheek gently on his head.

"Nigh Nigh," he replied, eyes closed completely and one of his fist grasping on your necklace.

Looking at him sleeping so peacefully made your tired body feel dizzy as well and before you knew it, you were knocked out.

Ben Barnes on the other hand was roaming around the hall for the past ten minutes, trying to locate you amongst the crowd. He was getting agitated and couldn't help but release a sigh of relief upon seeing you.

Walking closer a small noise of surprise left him as he saw you fast asleep with his nephew resting on your chest. His heart took up its pace as he gazed at the domestic scene, his brain already creating various scenarios which depicted you and a tiny one nestled in your arms.

He swallowed, sitting down in the empty share and pulling out his phone to click a picture, knowing it would last longer.

His eyes surveyed every inch of you in that beautiful moment.

Moving from your creaseless eyelids to the small movement of your lips while you were asleep, then to the protective but gentle hold you had on the baby who was snuggling closer to your cozy figure under his own blazer making his smile widen.

"God I adore you," he said with a small chuckle, getting up to press his lips to the top of your head.

"Oh thank goodness," his sister Sarah's voice was heard from behind as she panted a little.

"What's wrong?" He stood up straight, concerned upon seeing her frazzled state.

"I left Lou with an uncle of ours and I saw the said person drunk some time ago and freaked out," she took deep breath, glad that her son was safe and sound.

He scoffed is disbelief at the carelessnes shown before turning back to you as you were rubbing you eyes and blinking rapidly, trying to move before remembering the child that was alseep too.

Ben and Sarah watched with a smile as you adjusted the coat, tucking it carefully and brushing the small strands of hair from his face.

"Oh hey," you greeted when your eyes fell upon the pair and you stood up, "He fell asleep as we were playing," you explained and handed him to his mother.

She took her son in one arm and pulled you in a warm embrace, "Thank you. I was worried sick after not seeing him," she said, shuddering slightly and you offered her a comforting smile.

"Its okay I can understand, glad to say he was in good hands," you said softly and they nodded while laughing.

"See you around then, visit soon, Ben," she hugged her cousin and bid goodbye.

"You slept well?" Your husband asked and brought you close to him while you arms went around his neck.

"Mhmm, needed that power nap".

"I've been thinking.." He began slowly making you pull away to look at his face, noticing the slightly nervous expression.

"Go on," you encouraged him, leaning ahead.

"We've been married for almost four years noe, yeah? And have been together for ever longer," he said and you nodded. "How about- How about we have a child now?"

Your eyes widened and you stilled in his arms, your heartbeat increasing with both nervousness and excitement at his declaration, "Y- You sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He questioned and gently swayed you two together. "I want a future with you, my love. Have been dreaming about it for ages".

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile forming against your lips. "Seeing Lou again just increased that feeling tenfold".

"I second that. And honestly? I really want to take the next step now. I think we're ready. What'd you say?"

"I think I'm ready too".

"Well then, I supoose we should start practicing soon," he said, now a teasing smirk on his face making you blush.

"Indeed," you replied and the two of you laughed, placing your foreheads against each other and simply staring into each other's eyes, making a whole new world of promises by sharing looks.

===============================

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [1]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

TW: Depression and implied suicidal thoughts (I swear it’s not all sad haha) ‎ ‎ 

Words: 4k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer. ‎ ‎ 

NOTES: 'Tis the season! Ha, I rushed to get this out before Christmas was over. Christmas is still going, right? Happy holidays!! ‎  Anyway, this story is HEAVILY reliant on flashbacks and the past in general, so keep that in mind. Have a good read! ‎ ‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Winter, one year ago.

 ‎ 

If there was one thing you loathed with every inch of your being, it would be the winter season. It was a season that was associated with only despair and heavily encouraged death. Both physically and mentally. The death of plants, the death of animals, the death of people, just death in general.

And you hated it. You hated the overwhelming feeling of melancholy that would loom over you whenever snow would fall.

Your arms rested on the ice cold metal railing that overlooked a mystifying lake, one that had gotten frozen over the past week. The thick sleeves of your hoodie blocked the freezing temperatures like dutiful guards surrounding a castle. This comfort, however, felt like a miniscule droplet in the ocean of despondency you felt.

A tired sigh escaped you. And like a furious dragon, a vapour of pure white billowed from your lips.

 ‎ 

“Disgusting.”

 ‎ 

You muttered under your breath whilst you looked at the ice. In the distance, you heard something crack, and it took you only a few seconds to spot where it was on the icy surface of the lake.

 ‎ 

“Look on the bright side, at least.”

 ‎ 

Yu, your boyfriend, piped up from your right. He rested on the railing just as you did, with his jacket protecting him. But his upright posture and bright purple eyes conveyed something you didn’t: joy.

 ‎ 

“Like what?”

 ‎ 

“Look around you, observe the snow.”

 ‎ 

He pointed to the blankets of snow that surrounded the forest around the bridge, each snowflake collectively gathered to envelop every tree your eyes laid on. Like a mother huddled with her children on a cold night. To him, the landscape looked like a stunning painting, one meticulously slaved over by an artist who desired perfection over all else.

 ‎ 

“Isn’t it breathtaking?”

 ‎ 

Maybe to him. But to you? All you saw were dead trees, shells of the beautiful bearers of fruit and life they once were. That wasn’t to mention the corpses of animals buried under the feet of snow he was so enamoured by.

You rested your head on your arms in silence.

 ‎ 

“It’s winter.”

 ‎ 

Two words. Curt, but enough to summarise the maelstrom of thoughts that roamed your mind.

And it’s not like he didn’t know, either. He did, which was why, despite his optimism, he also started dreading this season once you both started dating nearly five winters ago. Yu placed one hand on your shoulder, the wooden planks under him loudly creaking as he stepped closer to you. Then, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, the warmth from his body counteracting the one from the railings.

 ‎ 

“I understand.”

 ‎ 

For a moment, that was all he could say.

 ‎ 

“But… Y/N, you shouldn’t think about them every single day.”

 ‎ 

You shut your eyes and took in a deep, slow breath, allowing the cold air to be warmed on the way to your lungs.

As much as he denied it, and as stiff as his face was, Yu was incredibly expressive. Whenever he’d try to conceal how he felt, his body language simply betrayed him at every turn. He meant well, both of you knew that. Especially you. But Yu wasn’t exactly the best when it came to dealing with things like… this.

 ‎ 

“It’s difficult to get over them, Yu. It feels impossible.”

 ‎ 

Since Yu’s hands were gloved the whole way here, the slightly cold temperature of it didn’t bother you as much once his fingers intertwined with yours. Add on to the fact your hands were in your pockets, the warmth immediately cooled him down as he began gently outlining the lines on your palm with his thumb.

You lost your parents in one hazy winter. And every one after that would be a depressing reminder of that fact.

 ‎ 

“Every winter, I ask myself why I should keep going.”

 ‎ 

He paused.

 ‎ 

“What’s waiting for us at the end? Some silly award for putting up with this?”

 ‎ 

“Don’t say that. There’s more to life than baseless questions like that.”

 ‎ 

The white tint of the snow was bright. So bright, it began piercing your eyes, and you were forced to close them for a hint of relief.

  ‎ 

“What do you think?”

 ‎ 

You flipped the question on him, your words cutting through his benevolence like acid through a rotting cadaver.

Silence settled for a moment. Between it and the blankets of snow that surrounded you, you could hear Yu’s very pulse echo with each passing second. That, and how his lips parted. But for a moment, no words left his mouth, and he stayed quiet.

 ‎ 

“I… I don’t know.” He turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think about things like this.”

 ‎ 

It figures, you thought. Nevertheless, he began outlining the lines on your palm all over again, and the sound of the shuffling in your pocket as he did this started to stick out to you.

A few rapid clicks caught your attention. And once you lifted your head, you noticed a peculiar sight.

A bird had landed on the lake’s icy surface. Though it was a few dozen feet away from you, somehow, It felt as if all the sound waves were channelled in one direction just to reach you, and you could see it with clarity that would rival a telescope. With each step, you heard a loud click. And each time it pecked at the ice under it, you heard a little pick that accompanied it.

You wanted to ask why there was a bird here. Around this time, they’d usually disappear and leave the grey sky more dreary and lifeless than it ever could be. So… why?

You diligently watched it stretch its stunning wings, shades of blue reflecting off of the sunlight and complementing each other. Somehow, it spawned various new shades on its wings. Like ballet dancers, the colours played off each other's movements gracefully.

You lifted a hand and pointed at the bird.

 ‎ 

“It looks just like you.”

 ‎ 

Yu stopped to get a glance at what you were looking at. Then, he chuckled.

 ‎ 

“You think every bird looks like me, Y/N.”

 ‎ 

“I...”

 ‎ 

Your words were interrupted once the bird’s feathers reached outwards. For a moment, it puffed and formed a fluffy ball of white, blue and black, before it rapidly shook its head and relaxed all over again.

 ‎ 

“There. Did you see that?”

 ‎ 

“See what?”

 ‎ 

“It puffed up.” You met his gaze. “It looked just like you whenever you’d wake up.”

 ‎ 

Even on the hottest days of summer, Yu would have at least three blankets wrapped around him whilst he slept. That wasn’t to mention how messy his hair would be whenever you had the pleasure of catching him in this way. Yu grinned, pulling you closer as you both watched the bird for a few seconds.

A few short-lived seconds, until it flew away and disappeared into the clouds, cutting the enjoyable moment short.

But before melancholy would dare set in once more, Yu immediately turned to meet your gaze, his purple eyes glimmering under the bright winter sky. Just like the bird’s wings, the colours mixed with each other in a captivating manner.

 ‎ 

“How about we go home and watch a movie? I’ll even make you hot chocolate. What do you say?”

 ‎ 

“Movie?”

 ‎ 

A moment of silence settled.

But just as Yu thought he failed in his endeavour to cheer you up, all of his doubts evaporate once he saw a smile form. The sensation of such a move, though weak, still felt foreign to your face.

 ‎ 

“Can we take the movie out of the equation?” 

 ‎ 

…

 ‎ 

“Definitely.” 

‎ 

Before another word could be uttered, he suddenly pulled you much closer, trapping you in a warm embrace. And you couldn’t help but grin at such an unexpected yet sweet move.

‎ 

“Yu, we’re in public.”

‎ 

“You don’t know how much I missed your smile, Y/N.”

‎ 

“Be reasonable. It couldn’t have been that long.”

‎ 

You said, your words muffled as he had your face pressed up against the inside of his jacket. Your arms were wrapped around him to allow the heat to pass on over to you.

‎ 

“It has.” He muttered. “Longer than you think.”

‎  

The pleasant fragrance of lemons entered your nostrils. Familiar, especially since it was the only type of musk Yu ever sought after. Other than yours, of course.

‎ 

❤ฺ·。

Winter, present day.

‎ 

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Yu once the week after that conversation. He didn’t answer his phone, and, like you, none of his acquaintances knew where he went. Even with the police alerted, he was still legally considered missing.

On your way to work that dreadful morning, you’ve had your eyes stuck on your phone the whole time you walked down that repetitive path. You were calling Yu for the umpteenth time in hopes that he’d miraculously answer. But just as expected, your call was sent to voicemail again.

He was gone.

And you didn’t shed a tear. Not that you didn’t care, quite the contrary, in fact. You lost a ton of people. He was just another added to the list.

With a deep sigh, you pocketed your phone and looked up at the sky, a group of clouds concealing its previously blue colour thanks to the season. White and pale, just like bones.

‎ 

Your fingers wrapped around the cold golden handle. And with one swift push accompanied by a cheerful ding of the bell above you, you’d entered the café you worked at. The warmth hit you like a slap in the face once you’d fully entered the café. The boring music inside, and not to mention the decor you were borderline sick of seeing every day.

Your boss, Ying, and another one of your co-workers were chatting behind the counter. But your entrance immediately halted the conversation and shifted their attention towards you.

‎ 

“There you are! I was getting worried.”

‎ 

“Hi.”

‎ 

Ying earned a boring greeting from you. Just like every other day. And just as you turned back to the counter, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.

‎ 

“Y/N, how have you been? Here– would you like me to make you something?”

‎ 

She pulled away and held your shoulders in hopes of catching a change in your expression this time, but there was naught.

Ying, despite being your boss, had been treating you like her daughter for the longest time. And with Yu’s disappearance, her treatment was laced with worry and an overwhelming desire to tend to your needs. But every time, she’d earn the same response accompanied by the same vacant look on your face.

‎ 

“I’d like to clock in.”

‎ 

“Would you like to take the day off instead? Take a moment to catch yourself?”

‎ 

Though you had no circles under your eyes or any other noticeable blotches, she still noted the subtle gaunt look on your face. Pale, lifeless skin, and that wasn’t to mention the dull heaviness in your pitch black irises. A massive contrast to Yu, whose very presence brought life to any location lucky enough to bear his presence.

You shook your head.

A sigh escaped her and her gaze turned to the ground for a moment. Then, an idea popped up.

‎ 

“How about some passion fruit juice? We still have some in stock from yesterday.”

‎ 

Ying said with that kind smile as she looked back up at you. It almost widened to a full-blown grin once your lids slightly lifted at this random offer. Passion fruit was your favourite. And she remembered, even though you mentioned it offhandedly many winters ago.

You still shook your head.

‎ 

“I’m not too fond of the artificial flavour.” You held her wrists and put her hands down. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

‎ 

It took you only two seconds to walk away from Ying’s benevolent aura and move behind the counter where the sickening one lay. The very creaks of the floorboards and the ticking of the machines churned your stomach.

‎ ‎ 

“I’m leaving. You need any help in here?”

‎ 

Your co-worker exclaimed, earning the same response you gave Ying twice. And with that, he immediately tossed the towel on the counter and walked out, leaving your boss in the awkward position of asking the same question.

‎ 

“Y/N?”

‎ 

“I’ll be okay.” 

‎ 

Juxtaposed to the loud slam emitted from the door once your co-worker left, as if to announce his departure, for Ying, it was a gentle woosh of the wind, followed by a click once she’d closed the wooden door. You didn’t even realise she left until you lazily glanced at the exit for a moment, then turned to the task at hand.

‎ 

You grabbed the towel and began wiping the counters. The hum of the refrigerators around you remained as the only thing that broke the heavy silence that encapsulated the small café.

Everyday was the same routine. Wake up, go to work, go home and wait for sleep. At this point, the only thing amiss today was Ying’s offer to make you passion fruit juice. A delightful offer, but the juice here was artificial sugar. If anyone would know that, it was you.

You jumped once you felt a hand on your shoulder, looking over to see Ying.

‎ 

“Oh, Ying, I– I assumed you left.”

‎ 

“No, I merely closed the door.”

‎ 

Your pupils dilated as you took in her soft features once more. But before you could allow this conversation to blossom, you turned away and continued wiping the counters.

‎ 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

‎ 

“What makes you think otherwise?”

‎ 

“Every day, you look more and more like a zombie. I… I cannot help but worry every second you’re not with me.”

‎ 

With a loud clunk, you set down one of the cups on the marble counter and stared at the wet towel in your hand, its temperature combining with the one around you to freeze your bare hand. But that didn’t matter to you. There was only one thing that caught your eye; its colour.

Purple.

A deep sigh escaped you, but you didn’t dare lift your chin to look at your boss.

‎ 

“When are we opening?”

‎ 

Ying held herself and watched you continue working.

‎ 

“Please, just speak to me. I fear the day you won’t walk through that door, and I feel as though it’s coming very soon.”

‎ 

“Enough with the fear mongering. I just don’t want to talk, okay? I don’t even want to look at you.”

‎ 

She opened her mouth, but the words were lodged in her throat. Clearly, though those words escaped you without second thought, Ying was still taken by surprise.

You needed to act fast.

‎ 

“Everything reminds me of them, Ying. And you remind me of him now. More than ever.”

‎ 

“I… I understand. What you’re going through is horrible, nobody deserves to experience anything like this. But, Y/N, please,” she cupped your cheeks in her hands, “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

‎ 

You were forced to look up at the tall woman to even meet her gaze. And that, you hated. You hated how her features somewhat matched Yu’s. The more you scrutinised her, the more similarities you found. Their nose, lips, their height, and the way their silky black hair framed their face. Hell, even their soft voices matched.

‎ 

“You haven’t eaten breakfast today, have you?”

‎ 

Her amiable voice suddenly took on an incredibly stern tone, one alien to someone like her. And to say you were caught off-guard would be a massive understatement.

‎ 

“Pardon?”

‎ 

“You’re pale. Your blood pressure is low.”

‎ 

“Pressure…?”

‎ 

You watched Ying immediately pull away and rush towards the fridge, a gust of cold air hitting you like a whip. On another note, it was winter. Why the hell was the fridge still on?

‎ 

“Ah, I meant sugar, Your blood sugar. We need to get you something to drink!”

‎ 

You eyed the passion fruit juice she took out of the fridge, golden fluid swirling inside in a hypnotising manner. And with a slam of the fridge’s door, its movements grew more rapid and dramatic. Then, you met her gaze with a vacant expression.

‎ 

“Ying, I’m fine.”

‎ 

"For the love of God, please accept some help and get your sugar back up. Just this once, at least!"

‎ 

She desperately held out the juice for you. And, although you were incredibly reluctant, you gave in and grabbed it from her.

‎ 

“Fine, but if I’m going to drink juice, I might as well make it myself.”

‎ 

Ying’s eyes bore into yours whilst you twisted the green plastic cap. Then, a particularly contagious smile lifted her pink lips. That statement must’ve evoked something within her.

‎ 

“Do you still remember how?”

‎ 

“What? Of course I do–”

‎ 

“Wonderful! Then I’ll take out everything you need.”

‎ 

She lit up and trotted over to a nearby counter, her large black ponytail swaying with each step. Ying immediately bent down and took out a few dusty slick grey boxes from inside, but your eyes were only focused on the dust that fell to the ground with every box she took out.

A mess you’d have to mop up.

Nevertheless, you took a sip and immediately grimaced at the unnatural flavour.

‎ 

“I bought a container of passion fruit yesterday, but I was afraid you’d be offended had I asked you to make some again.”

‎ 

"Why would I be offended by that?"

‎ 

With a huff and a loud thud, she slid out the blender’s box onto the ground. Then, she fixed her posture and grabbed it on both sides, ready to lift it.

‎ 

“I did not wish to pressure you into making this again. I understand your circumstances, however…” she lifted the box and set it on the counter, meeting your gaze with a smile, “your products are very addictive!”

‎ 

You took another sip in silence and set the drink next to the cash register, before moving to the fridge to take out the container of passion fruit.

‎ 

“Do you need any help with those?”

‎ 

You shook your head and took out a spoon and a bowl. It didn’t take long for her to catch on to what you were trying to do, clasping her hands together nervously.

‎ 

“Are you going to wash and scoop all those seeds? Alone?”

‎ 

“Are there people outside?”

‎ 

She glanced at the wooden double doors. If the massive windows on the walls weren’t enough, the doors allowed an even wider view of the sidewalk outside. Thankfully, the snow didn’t obscure much of her vision, either.

‎ 

“Ah… No, not quite. This morning is as idle as the others.”

‎ 

“Then I’ll do it.”

‎ 

She smiled and nodded.

‎ 

“I admire your patience.”

‎ 

That was all she said before she turned to unbox the blender. Thankfully, she let the silence in the air settle and allowed you to work alone. At this point, the conversation already grew exhausting enough. You couldn’t be bothered to say another word.

‎ 

❤ฺ·。

‎ 

Winter, three years ago.

‎ 

At first, it started out a chivalrous act.

One day, Yu, your co-worker at the time, randomly offered to escort you to and back from work with a peculiarly red set of cheeks. You said yes. Not that you needed the protection. And quite frankly, looking back, it was clearly a thin veiled attempt for him to get close to you; but you still entertained the offer and walked with him. It quickly became a day to day thing.

First, you’d see him by the gates every morning and head to the café.

Afterwards, once you both went back, you’d part ways at said gate. He’d go to the bus to return to his house, and you’d go up to your apartment. But after you started dating, he started sleeping over. Then, he began spending more time in your cramped home instead of his lavish abode.

Then… Well, to say he simply ‘took over’ would be an understatement.

‎ 

Once the both of you had arrived at the entrance that would lead to your dwelling, you took off the earbud and handed it back to Yu, promptly pushing the thick door to your apartment open. Back then, whenever you’d enter, the gust of air that enfolded you used to have a… melancholic feel to it. 

Now, it was anything but.

‎ 

“Every day you visit, this place looks less and less like the house I live in.”

‎ 

You randomly commented, not bothering to glance at him as you spoke. An audible creak echoed through the small area. Then, with a loud flick, the lights switched open and allowed the comfort of familiarity to finally envelope each of you.

‎ 

“How do you mean?”

‎ 

“Look around. Look at what you’ve done to my home.”

‎ 

You haphazardly gestured around you whilst turning on more lights. And it was only after a moment of confused silence did he finally respond to your comment.

‎ 

“I’m not following.”

‎ 

You turned around, and both of your eyes bore into each others’. Judging by the blank expression he carried, he truly looked lost. So… you’d show him.

You held his hand and guided him down the entrance hall towards the living room, and pointed at the couch that faced the television mounted on the wall. Just looking at it proved your point, seeing how it was covered with blankets.

‎ 

“Two blankets,” you then pointed at the armchair on the corner where another one sat, “three,” the other armchair, “four,” the heaters, “and five.”

‎ 

You turned to face him with crossed arms. 

‎ 

“And the three on my bed.”

‎ 

By the time you finished pointing everything out, both of you had stopped at the doorway that led to the corridor. He knew by the way you pursed your lips; you definitely weren’t done yet.

You took a deep inhale, finally taking in the air that lingered around you like a lovesick ex.

‎ 

“It smells like the inside of a lemon, as well.”

‎ 

Yu smiled politely once you had finalised your sentiment. Sure, your tone was dry, but he wasn’t insulted. In fact, judging by his upright posture, he seemed quite proud of how he unwittingly changed up the place.

‎ 

“I... hear you. On another note, it's been three years and I still haven’t gotten to the balcony yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. He just couldn’t be subtle even if his life depended on it.

‎ 

“I’m not giving you the keys to the balcony, Yu.”

‎ 

“Just a peek?”

‎ 

You turned away and began taking off the heavy jacket you wore, earning a particularly endearing huff from him. The shadows on the ground let you know he crossed his arms and turned his gaze away to the living room. Probably eyeing the blankets on the couch you pointed out just a few minutes ago.

He muttered something under his breath. But before you could ask him what it was, he immediately moved over to the couch. Huh. Your hypothesis was correct.

‎ 

Not paying him any mind, you began slipping off your boots and taking off the hair tie that started to give you a headache.

Then, your eyes widened once you heard a distant spray. You immediately turned around.

“Yu, we don’t need anymore–”

‎ 

The words were lodged in your throat once you realised he wasn’t spraying the room with his lemon mister again. He wasn’t doing that at all, no. Instead, he was misting the potted plant set in the corner of the living room. Holes lay in the edges of its dull leaves. And thanks to the weak sunlight that bled through the windows, you could see that the soil was dangerously dry, as well.

You stepped up solemnly, watching him mist it.

‎ 

“How long has it been since you last watered this?”

‎ 

Judging by the curious tone, you knew that he wasn’t mocking you. He just wasn’t as knowledgeable as you were when it came to plants. You nervously clenched your fists and turned your gaze away, eyes landing on the dark vinyl flooring.

‎ 

“I… must have forgotten about it.”

‎ 

Of course you did. It was a miracle you even slipped out of bed every morning, let alone take care of something like this.

A gentle pat on your shoulder snapped you out of your maelstrom of thoughts, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his gentle gaze.

“That’s okay. You were busy.” He chuckled. “It’s probably why the smell of lemons is so strong, right?”

‎ 

You playfully flicked his forehead with a vacant expression, before grabbing the mister from his hands and aiming it at the plant. That’s one incentive for you to take care of the plant, that’s for sure. Oh, but you’d never tell him that.

Nevertheless, you continued misting. And spraying water on it felt so… weird.

But also relieving.

[starlightkun]

oh my GOD i just finished another kun holiday fic it's 8.6k words and i just need to proof it by new year's CHRIST ALMIGHTY

[fractualized]

2023 Batjokes Secret Santa Round-Up

Happy holidays! Big thanks to everyone who participated in the exchange this year. Gifts are listed below, split between art and fic, and SFW and NSFW. (Most art titles are unofficial, just text for me to link.)

90% of the gifts are batjokes; nonbatjokes are at the end of each section. I’ve included some other notes and warnings with the links, but as usual it’s on you to check fic tags.

🎄 SFW Art

Summer Selfie [Lego Batman] by arcthie

Lego Meme/Holiday Wrapping/Shark Repellent [Lego Batman, DOTF] by batjokestm

Joker by botoartist

Destined Dance [Telltale] by chokit-pyrus

Team-Up Selfie by clownedcrime

Under the Mistletoe by flurpyz

Gentleman's Arrest by the-hopeless-fanboy

Caught in the Spotlight by kitty-cat-boi

Partners [Telltale] by Koda

Christmas Sweaters [Batman '66] by garrett-strangelove

Cozy Christmas Evening [Telltale] by maple-chuu

Christmas Headgear [Telltale] by m-e-f-y

Rooftop Dance by metionohre

Caught by pipermint8magic

The Joke's On You [Batman '66] by Nex

His Bat and His Clown by occultkings

Playing Cards by pinkopalina

Keeping A Promise by powrbottomjoker

Visiting Room by riddlekid

I Won't Tell [genderbend] by Star

Loving Embrace [TDKR] by stewbud

Snow Globe [Telltale] by stryx123

Knife Dance [BTAS] by vongeist

Eye to Eye [riddlebird] by foolcunting

The Heart Outweighs All [twiddler, mild gore] by Ingo

Well-Trained [Punchline/James Jr] by venombiote

Wallypillar [Welcome Home] by marxtheimpish

Octogoblin Christmas [Spider-Man] by moxis

🎁 SFW Fic

Normal People Things (Rated Mature) by bang-the-smoke

once isn't enough (Rated Mature) by batsyjokes

This Strange Effect (Rated Explicit, but not in chapter 1) by battybrownboo

A Fine Addition To My Collection (Rated Teen and Up) by darkpurpledawn

What to Get for the Man Who Has Everything (Rated Teen and Up) by faygomonkey

kiss me (you animal) (Rated Teen and Up) by luxamea

That Deathless Death (Rated Mature; vampire Bruce) by superherogrl

I’ll Be Your Mirror [Breaking Bad; Mike/Jesse] (Rated Mature) by TheDykeKnight

🎅 NSFW Art

Hello Nurse [bondage] by drones-art

Lazy Morning Breakfast [pregnant Joker] by Emilia

Santa Lingerie by K

Tunnel of Love [TDKR] by Mara's shelter

Threshold by razzbatty

Men of Science [extremely dubious consent, Arkham staff] by Ring

⛄ NSFW Fic

let our bodies be awoken (Rated Explicit; zombies) by distortopia

I want to make you proud and play with your head (Rated Explicit; AU) by fractualized

If I missed your gift, let me know and I’ll add it.

Happy Holidays!

[mazeinthemiroh]

you need a holiday. [part 2]

pairing: hongjoong x best friend! reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn / slow romance, slight angst, and, of course, a sprinkle of crack

word count: 1.2k

warnings: cursing (mainly the f bomb), allusions to mental health issues + insomnia, hongjoong being stubborn af, helpful wooyoung <3

summary: hongjoong has been told to take some time off work, which he wanted to resist. confused and stressed, he tries to figure out what to do [part 1, part 3.]

author's notes: for those who missed it. i reckon this series will have 4 or 5 parts, just fyi. thank you for joining for part 2, and thanks for those of you who have supported me in part 1! let me know if you want to be tagged in the rest of these :] otherwise, enjoy the rest of them! <3

It wasn't that Hongjoong didn't trust your judgement. Of course, he did. It was the reason why he came to you in the first place. But it didn't sit right with him to take time off.

He knew that everyone needed time off but it was just bad timing. Although, if he was being honest, it was always bad timing. Whenever he had a break or a vacation, he could never fully relax. It was always right after a comeback and on to the next one, with things still very much in the air in terms of promotions.

He always felt restless. Like he should be doing something. Sitting and just... existing was a weird sensation. Not to say that Hongjoong is a man of action. He is usually calm and collected and fine with little stimulation. But his mind was always working. It felt hopeless, trying to relax during his breaks, because his mind naturally goes haywire. Thinking about the next comeback or the song he hasn't quite completed or the important photoshoot coming up next month. He thought about all these things.

"He's driving himself crazy, you realise that?" You were on the phone with Seonghwa, talking about your shared concern for Hongjoong. "I don't think I've ever seen him fully relax. Like... fully let go of all the things worrying him. It's so frustrating."

Seonghwa sighed through the phone, "Try living with him." He loved Hongjoong dearly and you could sense it through the concern in his voice. You were glad, at least, that Hongjoong wasn't alone. Seonghwa being there to keep an eye on him always put you at ease, because you couldn't always be there for your friend in the way you wanted to.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong slaved away. Hunched in what looked like the most uncomfortable position ever, he leaned over his desk and stared at the blank sheet of paper before him. It felt like he'd been sitting there for hours in the studio, and yet he had written nothing. No lyrics for the new song. Not a single thought. His brow was furrowed deeply as he closed his eyes. Thoughts swirled around in his busy head, and he couldn't make sense of anything.

He hadn't eaten or drunk anything in hours. His throat was sore and parched, his eyes dry from the air-conditioned room. Numbness took over him.

"Hongjoong."

He turned around slowly to see Eden, making his way back to the studio to gather some paperwork he'd left behind.

"I thought you'd gone," Hongjoong stated, his lifeless voice attempting to sound vibrant. Eden's jaw tightened.

"I don't want you here, Hongjoong. You don't look well and I think you need a break."

'Oh, so now Eden was telling me I need a break? What was up with everyone,' Hongjoong wrestled with the urge to fall asleep as he blinked his eyes open to stare at Eden's genuine expression.

"God, I'm not dying, geez. You've never taken any concern before," Hongjoong tried to snap back, but his tired voice and his weak state made him seem as threatening as an angry kitten.

"Well take it as a sign then," Eden replied back abruptly, before setting a hand down on Hongjoong's shoulder. "Go home, get some rest. Take a couple of days off."

"I don't need days off, I need to finish this!" Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes now wide with exasperation. He felt heat rising to his head.

His phone buzzed on the desk. A notification. And when he eyed the phone screen, he saw your name:

Flight leaves tomorrow morning. I already bought your ticket so you might as well join me ~

His eyes wavered as he calmed his breathing, before looking back at Eden desperately.

What was he going to do...

"Help me pack my fucking case."

Hongjoong's weak body chucked the suitcase to the floor of his bedroom. 1 o'clock in the morning. At this hour, he could be writing another song. He could be perfecting the new album. He could be working on Ateez's new concept. But no. He was packing. Packing.

"Huh?" Wooyoung looked at him, wide-eyed and confused, "Are you going? You're actually going?"

"I don't fucking know okay? Everyone's telling me to leave so maybe I fucking should," Hongjoong shouted, his breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe as scrambled for clothes and shoes and necessities of all sorts. His mind wasn't thinking straight and yet he persisted.

"Calm down," Wooyoung urged, "you and your colourful language can hush. There are people trying to sleep!"

"You're one to talk about colourful language," Hongjoong hissed, quieter now. He was usually so considerate of being quiet when he got back at late hours, but his brain wasn't working the way it used to.

Wooyoung saw his desperation and came to his rescue, folding through his chosen clothes and placing the efficiently in his suitcase. He was surprisingly good at organising where everything went. Why, if it was his own suitcase, he would likely shove everything in there and hope for the best. But he knew Hongjoong needed clarity, so that's what he strive for.

"Where are you going by the way?" Wooyoung asked in order to ease some of Hongjoong's tension.

"Spain," replied Hongjoong, his voice blunt and tired.

"With who?"

"Y/N."

Wooyoung slowed his movements, a grin forming on his face. "Ahh."

Hongjoong whisked his head around to face his friend.

"And what the hell does that sound mean?" Hongjoong's eyes may be tired, the bags under them dragging, but they were still piercing beyond belief, dangerous if you looked for too long. Which is why Wooyoung didn't bother looking up at all.

"Nothing, nothing," Wooyoung's playful voice sounded as he tried to contain his massive smirk.

Hongjoong shook his head and huffed, finally zipping up his suitcase and collapsing on his bed.

Was he really going to do this? Just Go? Leave everything and everyone behind for a bit? It felt wrong. It felt unnatural.

Wooyoung made his way onto Hongjoong's bed and snuggled up to him, which made the captain grimace and turn away slightly.

"I'm not in the mood, Wooyoung."

"Well, you're welcome for helping you pack," Wooyoung poked his sides aggressively, making the man squirm a bit.

Then they both lay there. Hongjoong was too exhausted to protest Wooyoung's affection, who was readily offering it. Not to annoy the captain, but to reassure him.

"Okay, I'm going to leave now," Wooyoung stated, deciding he had had his fun, and felt he did what he could. Hongjoong lay there unresponsive, and the younger member couldn't tell if he had drifted off to sleep or had just ignored him.

"Goodnight," he whispered loudly in Hongjoong's ear, before getting out of bed and stretching slightly, yawning as he did so.

Hongjoong stayed in his slightly curled-up position, blankets hugged to his chest.

"Have a safe flight if I don't see you," Wooyoung didn't hear Hongjoong's whispered 'thank you' as he closed the door.

Hongjoong lay awake for a little bit figuring out his next move. His next plan of action.

But the temptation to drift off into slumber was beyond his resistance, and soon he was snoring softly in a comfortable, dreamless state, the question of tomorrow awaiting him.

taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @toolovelyforyou, @dutchessskarma, @saltedplum-squid, @dandycharmer, @baek-at-it-again95, @whatisnttakenbynow, @yeosxxx (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[neonwaste-bah]

headmate based off the holiday Valentine’s Day? Make the xenogender and neopronouns COMPLETELY unrelated! Also, give them a typing quirk if you wanna!!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

❝╰ Name(s) ⊹ : Amanda, Amora, Marian, Mary, Lavi, Latte, Cinnamon, Cinnaba (from the mineral Cinnabar), Darling, Kyuu (from the Japanese pronunciation of Cupid), Parfait

╮✧ Gender(s) ⊹ : Cinnaromic, Pluvialgender, Autumgender, Blackberrian, Crystalic, Luminyx

⊹╰ Pronouns ⊹ : zey/zem (preferred), she/her, they/them, sy/skyself, crys/crystself, dia/dialself, rayne/rayneself, rain/rainself (secondary preferred), light/lightself, nya/nyaself, glow/glowself

╮ ᶻz Sexuality ⊹ : Abrosexual, Aceflux, Panromantic, Ambiamorous, Panqueerplatonic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

❝╰ Age ⊹ : 19

╮ ✧ Role(s) ⊹ : Comforter, Delight, Intermediary, Moderator, Peacemaker, Matchmaker, Playmate

⊹╰ Likes ⊹ : Roses, sunshine, spring and autumn, cute things, Decora fashion, magical girls, desserts, love and love/romance related things, candy, butterflies, stories with a lot of lore/worldbuilding, fantasy stories, writing, drawing, DIY (specifically papercrafts), astrology + astronomy, physical touch (cuddles, sweet kisses, etc), rainy days, gemstones and shiny rock collecting, fruit

╮ ᶻz Dislikes ⊹ : Not being taken seriously, most bugs, making hard to keep promises, thunder, excessive heat (90°F and above)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

❝╰ Personality ⊹ : A very upbeat, easy to befriend person. Zey're very cheerful a lot of the time, and love to spread zeir joy to rains headmates. Zey're very loyal, but also strong willed, and won't hesitate to call someone out for their behavior. Outgoing and talkative, especially about things rains passionate about. A hopeless romantic, often pondering about things like love and romance. Rain is wonderful with littles/syskids and similarly energetic headmates, easily keeping up with their childlike enthusiasm with a smile on zeir face. Zey always have the system's best interests in mind, coming to aid zeir system in times of need. Call zeir name, and zey'll be right there to help !

╮ ✧ How they type ⊹ : Typing Quirk: replaces "s" with "z", uses kaomojis a lot, puts spaces before exclamation marks and question marks.

"hello there !! iz there anyzing you need ? ^^" / "there'z thiz book i'm reading, wanna hear a piece of it ? ^.^" / "butterfliez are zo beautiful… zometimez i wizh i waz one.." / "awwh, that'z adorable !! ><"

[tq translation: "hello there!! is there anything you need? ^^" / "there's this book i'm reading, wanna hear a piece of it? ^.^" / "butterflies are so beautiful… sometimes i wish i was one.." / "awwh, that's adorable!! ><"]

⊹╰ Other Info ⊹ : Zeir main aesthetics are Lovecore and Candycore

╮ ᶻz Face Claim(s) ⊹ :

(link to picrew)

(link to picrew)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

sorry for taking awhile ! orz -- this was a fun one to do ^^ hopefully the neos and xenogenders are unrelated enough lol

have a great day !

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Compromise

** Part Two of “Where I’m From” **

Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]

2k || Jake never thought he would fall in love with the woman who cried on the first date he ever took her on, but here he was months later standing in her kitchen even more in love than ever.

===

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

CW: swearing, kissing, relationship insecurity, mentions of past relationships (neglect)

Author’s Note: I just love this version of soft jake so much. And yes, this completely self-indulgent I am not sorry || cross-posted on ao3

Part One

===

===

“I hate Valentine’s Day.”

Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”

You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.

A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.

“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.

“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship, I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”

Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”

And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead, you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.

A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates, but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.

A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey, do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.

Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said, and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”

Arms opened; Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”

Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms, and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.

No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.

“Valentine’s Day.”

He quirked his head. “What about it?”

“I’ve never celebrated it before.”

Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”

Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.

“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”

Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”

He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”

“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”

“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”

You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”

“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”

You let out a laugh. “Jake!”

“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let, doll.”

You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” you told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.

In shock Jake jerked away from you.

And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.

A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.

Bonus:

“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene. “I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”

You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”

“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”

“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.

“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”

You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”

He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.

“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”

“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”

His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.

“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.

Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.

===

taglist: @potato-girl99981 @milani-marie @gizmodear​ 

[kristinamae093]

Blame It On The Mistletoe

Everything else can be found here.

Book/Universe - TRR

Pairing - Liam x F!OC (Kyla)

Summary - A festive rewrite of Liam and Kyla's meeting/HCTS P1 (HCTS AU - AU)

Word Count - 2500

Warnings - language, mature themes, NSFW - 18+ ONLY 🍋

A/N 1 - I am using the following holiday prompts-

12, 31, 48, from @choicesflashfics, which will appear in either red or green

Strangers in a bar from @choicesficwriterscreations

Also submitting this to @choicesholidays because well... Christmas.

A/N 2 - This is happening because I was trying to get @ao719 to write some holiday spice (it's not too late for that, either 😉). But she suggested that this prompt would be perfect for a little holiday rewrite for the first chapter of HCTS, so here we are... PLEASE NOTE - This does not contribute to their story and does not change anything. Consider this an AU of an AU with very little purpose, lol. Also, this is only my second (public) attempt at smut, so... just keep that in mind 😬.

Song Inspiration - Blame It On The Mistletoe - Ella Henderson x AJ Mitchell (Thank you for that @ao719!)

Please excuse any errors, and thank you in advance for reading and sharing!

Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam walked through the crowded club with his head dejectedly hung. Life wasn’t going at all how he foresaw this time two years ago; he expected to be happily married and thriving but instead, he was alone on Christmas Eve, wallowing in his self-pity. To make matters worse, his father’s recent remission only added to the plethora of emotions Liam was fighting to keep under control. He felt defeated, angry, hopeless, but most frequently lonely.

He hadn’t looked twice at a woman since Riley, yet here he was — out in disguise seeking any kind of companionship. He longed to check out from his grim reality, even if only for a moment. 

He glanced at the dancefloor and all he could focus on was the couples. They didn't have a care in the world, as they held each other close. Envy filled his veins, but it faded as he spotted the only lone woman in a sea of pairs. She wore a sheer black dress that fit her curvaceous figure immaculately, combined with a festive elf hat. Her smile was radiant, reflecting off the lights and nearly blinding him, even from afar. She danced as if nobody was around, and didn’t seem bothered to be the only person without a partner. He grinned for a split second, admiring how she could let loose so easily. 

With a heavy sigh, he went to the bar, plopped down, and ordered a scotch on the rocks. The noisy commotion continued, but everything faded as Liam’s thoughts wandered back to the dark place he’d been trying to escape from; leaving the palace did nothing to halt the spiral. Just when he was about to call this mission a failure and head back to self-isolation, a soft voice spoke beside him. 

“Excuse me?” She politely attempted to get the bartender’s attention. After a moment of being ignored, she tried again. “Sir?”

Liam realized this was the dancing woman; the hat was a dead giveaway. The bartender obviously heard her, as he threw her a side eye, so Liam figured he might as well lend a hand. “HEY!” When the bartender faced them, he calmly stated, “A lady is speaking to you.” 

The man huffed but approached and took her order. As he left, the woman addressed Liam. “Thank you for that — seems like he was avoiding me.” 

“No problem.” 

She extended her hand to him. “I’m Kyla — It’s nice to meet you.” 

As he stared at her outstretched palm, he realized this woman didn’t know who he was; the notion was exciting. “Liam,” He smiled, returning her gesture. He met her gaze and goosebumps erupted on his skin as he peered into the brightest diamond eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Well, Liam — how about I buy you a drink to repay you for getting his attention?” She giggled. “And if you stick around, I’ll let you get it for me next time, too.” 

Liam took in the glint of mischief in her eye, and his heart palpated. “I’ll stay, but it would be impolite of me not to buy you a drink — I am the gentleman here, after all.” 

Kyla grinned from ear to ear. “Then that means it’s time for shots!” 

Liam grimaced. “Perhaps a mixed drink would suffice–” 

Kyla playfully rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me that such a big, muscular man can’t handle his liquor.” 

Liam scoffed, but the color creeping up his neck gave him away. “I can — I just don’t normally consume spirits with such predominant—” 

“Woah,” Kyla held her hands up. “Who are you — freakin’ Shakespeare?” She laughed. 

Liam chuckled. “I apologize. I can get — unusually formal when I’m…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh. 

“Sad? Mad? Stressed?” 

“How about all the above?” Liam shook his head and glanced away. 

Regardless, Kyla still noticed his dejection. “Listen… I know I’m totally a stranger but… It’s Christmas and you’re clearly going through some shit, so… if you want to get it out I’ll listen to all of your problems — or — we could dance or something until you forget about it…” 

As Liam took in her vibrant demeanor, a yearning flourished in the pit of his stomach; he wanted — no, needed — to enjoy her company. However, he was hesitant. “Surely a beautiful woman like you isn’t here alone. Won’t your boyfriend be upset?” 

Kyla flushed at his compliment. “No — no boyfriend. I don’t have anyone, really…” A brief glint of sadness flickered behind her gaze, but it disappeared just as fast as he saw it. 

“Then it sounds like maybe we could help one another… Like you said, it is Christmas Eve, so perhaps we can keep each other company.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Kyla giggled as a wide smile spread across her face. “Then we’re going to be needing those mistletoes!”  

Liam nearly choked on his saliva. “I’m sorry — we need — what?”

“Not literally,” Kyla howled with laughter. “It’s a yuletide shot — the kind that’ll make you holly and jolly.” 

“... Must we, though? I’m not entirely sure that I should partake—” 

“I bet those big, fancy words of yours only last two shots, tops…” she smugly replied. “Maybe three.” 

Liam’s brows lifted skyward. “Is that a challenge?” 

“What if it is?” 

Liam smirked. “You’re on — I hope you’re prepared to lose.” 

“Woo!” Kyla exclaimed with a fist bump. “The tree isn’t the only thing getting lit this year!” 

Liam chuckled and shook his head. A moment later, the server delivered their drinks and Kyla downed hers, Liam mindlessly doing the same. What was supposed to be one quickly turned into four until a content silence overcame them. 

Kyla stared at Liam, the silent question prominent in her patient gaze. He couldn’t place it, but there was something about this woman; almost as if an aura of comfort accompanied her presence, and Liam felt drawn to her in multiple manners. 

He smiled, gently grasped her hand, and led her to a secluded corner of the dance floor. Although he wore the disguise of sunglasses, he didn’t want to risk being spotted and swarmed. Bastien lingered somewhere, but regardless, the media circus that would create would be a nightmare. 

As the heavy bass rattled his bones, a sudden wave of nerves hit Liam; he’d never danced this way, and certainly not with a partner. He didn’t know what to do and unfortunately for him, four shots weren’t enough to make him throw away propriety. Kyla sensed his hesitation and gave his shoulders a firm shake, eliciting a loud rumble of laughter from Liam. He instantly relaxed and instead of overthinking what he was doing or his problems, he focused on Kyla and the beat of the music.  

The first few songs they kept their distance, but an invisible force pulled them together; by the third, Liam’s hands securely gripped Kyla’s hips with her back pressed against his chest. The way she moved, the softness of her skin, the fragrance of her hair; everything about her mesmerized Liam, and he didn’t dare look away. He mindlessly swayed along behind her, using all of his willpower to control the stiffening in his pants. Unfortunately for him, it was a losing battle; after being deprived of a woman’s attention for so long, his body reacted without consent. 

Liam flushed and suddenly stepped away, causing Kyla to spin around with worry prominent in her features. “What’s wrong?” She yelled over the music. 

"Nothing," Liam answered, as he tried to cover himself nonchalantly. 

Kyla noticed and heat instantly bloomed in her core; she bit her lip with a soft whimper that wasn’t heard over the loud bass. Liam saw her staring but Kyla slowly approached, holding his gaze with a smirk that intensified with every step closer. Liam stopped breathing as he followed her every move with rapt attention. She pressed her chest directly against his with her face tilted upward, and Liam’s hands fell to her lower back, almost out of muscle memory. Kyla took her time dragging out the anticipation but carefully inched closer until she finally made contact. 

When their lips connected, Liam swore fireworks exploded around them. Everything else faded away in an instant, as he let the electrical current transferring between their lips consume him. Kyla secured her arms around Liam’s shoulders, but as their urgency rose, her fingertips traveled downward, intently headed for the imprint bulging from Liam’s trousers. 

As she reached her quarry, Liam broke away with an elated gasp. He saw Kyla’s bright orbs darken at least two shades, making his cock pulse with every rapid course of blood flow. 

Kyla stared into his lustful eyes through her lashes, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. The moisture between her legs amplified and she clutched her knees together, seeking any kind of friction. For a split second, she considered asking if he wanted to leave, but she wasn’t willing to wait even a second longer. 

Kyla grasped Liam by the collar and pulled him away from the crowd, down a long hallway. He eagerly followed behind, not even knowing where this enticing stranger was leading him. She entered a door labeled staff and Liam stepped in behind her. As the structure closed, Kyla flipped on a light and he realized they were in some kind of linen closet; he recognized the dark colors of the hanging shirts from the staff around the establishment. 

“Do you work here?” 

“Nope,” Kyla answered. 

Liam’s brows furrowed. “Then why—” 

Kyla suddenly lunged for Liam, capturing his lips with such intensity that he stumbled backward. After the shock wore off, he returned her energy with enthusiasm, happily swallowing her needy whines. He shamelessly wandered every crevice of her figure as she headed for the buttons of his shirt. 

Clothes flung everywhere within an instant, their lips never straying far from one another. As Liam completed his mission, he used his weight to pin Kyla against the wall, his middle finger eagerly seeking her slick folds. He easily glided through, teasing her clit for a moment before plunging deep inside. Kyla loudly moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Liam expertly worked her toward release. His lips caressed every inch of her neck and chest as she squirmed against his palm, the sensations from his ministrations forcing her to see stars.  

With a loud wail, Kyla came on his hand; he growled at the sounds of her pleasure, drowning out the music in the distance as he worked her through the high. The next instant he hoisted Kyla up, placing her back flat against the wall. Kyla shrieked, but it turned into a needy whimper as Liam’s swollen manhood circled her entrance; she tightly closed her eyes, anticipating the stretch from his impressive girth. 

“Look at me… I want you to watch as I personally make sure you’re on the naughty list…” Liam rumbled, the deep baritone in his voice vibrating Kyla’s chest. 

Kyla met his gaze. “Joke’s on you. I’m already on the naughty list.” She smirked. 

Her attention shifted to the shelf beside them, and Liam followed her inquisitive gaze. He spotted what gathered her attention and shook his head. “No…” 

“Come on, just wear the Santa hat for a little bit. Please?” Kyla pouted. “You can be Santa and I’ll be your — helper elf…” 

Liam snickered. “Or, you could be my ho ho ho…” 

They erupted with laughter, Kyla still securely held in Liam’s arms with his cock nudging against her abdomen. “This is the only time that joke will be appropriate.” She reached for the hat and placed it on his head, afterward admiring her handiwork. “... There.” 

“Better?” Liam smiled. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Kyla hummed but quickly captured his lips; it was soft and felt natural as if this were a normal occurrence. It rendered both speechless at the intimacy of the moment; nothing was demanding or hasty but gentle, comforting, and warm. They parted and shared a flushed grin, staring into the other’s gleaming eyes with heavy breaths, but they could not resist the burning fire of desire a moment longer.

 Kyla pulled him closer and pleaded, “Take me…” against his lips. 

Liam didn’t need to be told twice; he used the wall to help keep Kyla steady as he lined himself at her tight opening. Never breaking eye contact, he delicately broke the threshold, Kyla’s fingernails sinking in and creating crescents on his shoulder blades. Buried to the hilt, Liam stilled, using every ounce of willpower that he had not to tip over the ledge immediately. 

“Shit,” Liam groaned, as her velvety walls accommodated around him. “You’re so tight… So wet…” 

“Oh — OH God — Yes,” Kyla hissed through clenched teeth as Liam steadily built their pace. 

Sweat coated their bodies as a tidal wave of euphoria appeared on the horizon. Liam tried to control himself but his thrusts turned frenzied as the cliffs of completion neared dangerously close, but he wasn’t willing to jump until Kyla launched over first. 

“You’re a decent elf,” Liam started, as his thumb found her clit and circled with determination. “But I want you to be a good little ho and cum for me.”

Kyla reacted immediately; her back arched off the wall, pressing her pert nipples securely against Liam’s chest. Her legs quivered as a burst of fluid coated his pelvis, adding to the sounds of wet skin relentlessly slapping together. Kyla chanted his name, the intense high hitting like an abrupt wall and forcing all coherent thoughts away; the only thing she understood was Liam. 

As if her contracting around his dick wasn’t enough to do Liam in, hearing his name roll off her tongue did something to him; satisfaction swelled in his chest, creating a whole new rush of endorphins. With a few more labored thrusts he coated every inch of her spasming walls. His balls twitched as he rode wave after wave of pure, unfiltered bliss. 

He held Kyla’s hips as close as possible, but soon slipped his softening member out of her. He gently lowered her to the floor, offering a hand to assist as she got her bearings. They breathed heavy breaths as their pulses returned to a normal rate, but they did not make eye contact or speak as they dressed.  

Finally, it was Kyla who broke the silence as they finished with their garments. “I… I don’t normally do the whole hooking up thing…” 

“Me either,” Liam agreed, but that earned him a snort from Kyla. “What? I’m being serious!” 

“Please — you can’t be that fucking chiseled and not lay it down on the regular.” 

Liam smirked at her boldness. “Really — I never do this… Ever… It’s been quite a while for me, actually…” 

“Me too,” Kyla shyly admitted, but just as their gazes locked, the door abruptly flung open. 

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” A man in uniform suddenly appeared. “The sign was clear — staff only.” 

“Sorry!” Kyla squealed. “I lost my purse, and we were trying to find it.” 

“Well, it’s not in here — so beat it.” 

“Will do,” Kyla quickly answered, tugging on Liam’s sleeve to pull him along. 

Just as Liam made it to the doorway, the man suddenly froze with wide eyes. “Wait… Are — are you–” 

“Let’s go,” Liam grabbed Kyla’s hand and took off, not stopping until they were outside. As they made it he spotted Bastien waiting, and a conveniently placed cab pulled behind the SUV. 

Liam stopped before the vehicles and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Kyla, I — I’d really like to see you again…” 

Kyla sighed heavily. “We’ll have to see what happens these next couple of weeks…” Liam nodded, but as his features fell, her chest constricted. “But I could give you my number… Then maybe if fate allows it, our paths will reconnect.” 

Liam smiled and exchanged devices with her. “Hopefully fate will be on our side, then…” The pair shared a flushed grin, but Liam soon led Kyla over to the waiting cab. He helped her inside but lingered before closing the door. “Hey, Kyla?” 

“Yeah?”

“... Merry Christmas.” 

Kyla fixed the askew hat that Liam forgot was on his head with a vibrant smile. “Merry Christmas, Santa.” 

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