#fic: promises unspoken

[asirensrage]

Title: Promises Unspoken

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x unnamed/undescribed oc

Warnings: Smut. Angst. Tenderness. Mention of torture. Hurt/Comfort. Did I mention tenderness? Unbeta'd.

Summary: She survived. That's enough. If only he would stop avoiding her.

Notes: This...this got away from me. I was originally planning just more detailed smut but they took over. There are so many parts of this that I love and I hope you do too. I'd like to apologize to anyone who reads this as a pre-canon thing because I broke my own heart when I thought about it. So, I'm sorry. On that note, enjoy! Lmk what you think!

She's fine.

She's fine. She's fine. She's fine.

The life of a demon slayer is a treacherous one with no guarantee of safety or length. Most die within years of becoming one. But this? This was different. This was not a matter of facing her death with open eyes and a vengeful heart. This had been torture. They had planned to take her apart slowly. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Until there was nothing left and her voice was nearly destroyed by how she screamed. And she screamed.

She bides her time, breathing through the pain as they pull thin pieces of her flesh off of her. When she escapes, by the skin of her teeth, a lot of luck and the blessed light of the sun, she is barely coherent. Driven by the same thought that helped keep her sane, she stumbles as she searches her way through the dense forest they called home. She almost doesn’t make it but there were people waiting for her and she refuses to accept any other choice but her survival.

She doesn’t remember falling or someone calling her name. She doesn’t remember reaching the edge of the village or how long she’s been missing or the way someone cradles her against them as they run for help. 

Instead, she dreams. 

She dreams of the people she left behind, the ones she’s saved, of her family who wait for her in the afterlife, of her friends who expect her return…and of him. A human personification of the sun. An almost inhuman form of something right and good and just. She dreams of the days they’ve spent together, meals they’ve shared and the quiet conversations that held promise if things had ever been different. If neither of them was prepared to die at any moment. Her life was never going to end any other way. That never stopped her from wishing, from hoping.

And then she wakes up.

It takes her a moment to realize it's not a dream. That the pain she feels is real, a sharp reminder of her life and one that aches with every breath. She is safe. 

She is alive. She is alive. She is alive.

She cries in relief at the familiar pale walls, the soft sheets covering her and the scent of wisteria that drifts through the open window. She cries for the people she could not save, for the others she left behind and for the pang of gratefulness that she survived. She is supposed to give her body and her life to the corps, to the act of demon slaying and yet she has failed and she is still alive. 

Others come to see her. The staff at the Butterfly mansion, Shinobu herself, some fellow slayers she knows by name or face and even Tengen, who presents himself as the one lucky enough to save her. The only one who doesn’t come is the one she’s been desperate to see. 

“He was here,” Tengen tells her. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The jewels that hang off of his headband sway, catch the light from the window and display its colours against the wall. It’s almost hypnotizing. A sufficient distraction for what he says next. “Stayed at your side while you slept.” 

“Then why–?”

He shrugs. “It’s not very flashy of him, but he nearly lost you. He’s dealing with that.” 

“You say that like we’re together,” she says, ignoring the way her heart clenches in her chest.

“Aren’t you?” Tengen raises his eyebrows as he looks at her. “Just because you two prefer to dance around each other doesn’t mean no one sees it.” 

“We’re not–”

“Don’t be boring,” Tengen cuts her off. “Soon as you’re healed enough, you find him. It’s that simple.” 

She doubts that but nods if only to get Tengen off of the topic. 

A month. 

A month passes with meetings with her leader, a catalogue of exercises and the hurt settling in her chest at his avoidance. She understands. What happened is a stark reminder of exactly why they’ve never said anything, why they’ve only danced around each other and never given in to the temptation of admitting they wanted more. But it still stings. 

Someone tells her that he’s there. Before she can stop herself, before she can talk herself out of it, she looks for him. It takes her a few tries before she succeeds. 

She slides the door open and pauses, breath catching in her throat when she finally sees him. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, hands folded together, his gaze distant. It is a strange thing to see him so still. He’s been known to move even when injured, loudly thanking the people taking care of him, even as he tries to leave too soon. 

She slides the door closed behind her, moving forward and reaching out as she calls his name softly so she doesn’t startle him. It’s her that’s startled. The world twists around her until her head hits the pillow, her body lands, and she finds him poised above her. 

His gaze pins her, red and yellow scorching as his eyes meet hers. He’s looking for something as he examines her face but she doesn’t know what. All she can focus on is the fear she sees in his eyes. 

“Are you–?”

“We almost lost you,” he says softly. He’s still staring at her, mapping out every expression she makes. 

She sighs, realization setting in. “You didn’t.” 

He lowers himself, enough that his body presses against hers. She tries not to think about how good it feels to have his weight on her, how easily he fits between her legs as though he belongs there. He buries his face in her neck. 

“-as too close,” she thinks she hears him say. “I can’t–”

“I’m fine,” she says softly. She reaches up and brushes his soft blond hair back. She didn’t think she was ever going to see him again but she had hoped. She came back. “I’m okay.” She repeats it like a mantra, trying to carve it into her own mind as well as his. “I’m okay.” 

He shifts and she tries not to react to the feeling, the pressure created as he lifts himself up again, bracing an elbow on the bed next to her. His hair falls around her, framing her face and acting as a shield against the outside world so that all she can see is him. She could drown like this, in his gaze, with all the promises she sees there and the longing that he’s held back. Maybe she will. Maybe she is still in that place, with the demons feasting on her flesh and a shattered mind trying to stave off reality with this imagined potential. Of course, he would save her, even if it wasn’t real.  

“I almost lost you,” he says softly, drawing her back out of her fears and into the warmth of the truth of her position. She is alive and he is here. “I do not know what I would have…” he cuts himself off. They do not have the luxury of dreaming of a future. Not together. Not yet. 

“You didn’t,” she tells him. “I’m alive. I’m here.” 

“You are here,” he repeats. There’s a pause before he continues. “My flame.”

Her breath hitches in her throat. He’s never called her that before. They’ve always stuck to their names, a formality to remind them of their position, to keep their desires separate from the fate that could await them. It was supposed to be easier that way. “Kyo-”

He cuts her off with a kiss. 

There’s nothing soft about it. It is tinged with a desperation they both feel, years of pent-up want coming to a head. Teeth clash as their lips move against one another until they find their rhythm. His head tilts, opening his mouth just enough to tug on her lip, to silently beg her to reciprocate and allow him to taste her. How could she ever refuse? 

His body presses into hers as he lowers himself closer. She digs her fingers into his hair, trying to burn herself into his memory. If they never get a chance, if they don’t see their ending, at least they’ll have this. It’s enough. It has to be.

 He maps her mouth, tongue sliding against hers, as he reaches up to cup her jaw, calloused thumb pressing against her skin in a careful motion that contrasts the way he kisses. He touches her like she’s something delicate, something precious that he cherishes. He kisses her like he wants to devour her, to bury her into him until neither one knows where the other begins. 

They break only by the necessity to breathe. She stares up at this man, wondering how much of her he’ll claim. She’d give him everything if only to ensure this doesn’t stop. 

“I feared I would never get the chance to gaze at you again, to hear your laugh ringing across the courtyard.” He pauses for a moment, eyes tracing the curves of her face, her lips. “I feared I would never have this chance.” 

She laughs, breathless and unsure of what to say in return. “We weren’t supposed to..”

“I will not have any more regrets,” he tells her, sounding like the Hashira he is except for the way she can feel him trembling against her. “Not with you.” 

She leans up, clasps her hand at the back of his neck and drags him down to meet her lips. He dives into her with a familiar eagerness. His lips are rough against hers, but it fades to the back of her mind as she feels consumed by the taste of him. 

She’s not sure who moves first. Buttons scatter against the mats as the standard medical wear is torn open. He pulls back, staring at her in awe and the adoration she sees in his eyes is not one she expects. She is covered in scars, some deeper than others, indentations made in her skin from the demons who held her. Kyojuro traces the largest one that spans her side across her hip. His fingers spark heat that flares in her belly and under her skin. 

“Kyojuro–” he covers her mouth with one of his hands, leaving her staring at him in surprise. 

“I will not hear it, my heart,” he tells her, as though he knows what she will say. “Your beauty is not marred by this.” His eyes meet hers. “It is a testament to your strength, your conviction to survive. I will hear nothing else.” 

“I had to survive,” she breathes. If she hadn’t already been completely in love with him before, she was now. “I had to return to you.”

His gaze darkens. “Yes. I pray you always do.” He sheds the top of his uniform, throwing it to the floor haphazardly in contradiction to his haori already folded on the lone chair. She drinks in the sight of him eagerly. She has seen his chest bare before, knows each story behind each scar, and yet she silently prays he allows her to learn to navigate the path between each one. She touches him, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. “Will you tell me if you desire to stop?” he asks and she can hear the hesitation in his voice. For as confident as he is, this is breaching an unspoken promise between them. 

“Of course,” she says. “But I don’t want you to stop.” 

So he doesn’t. 

She learns what it means to touch his body, to feel him react against her with every movement. She kisses marks into his neck, licking at the salt of his sweat as he murmurs promises that she pretends not to hear. Her nails leave marks into his skin, threatening to create new scars that will permanently leave the memory of her with him. 

Kyojuro attempts to memorize every dip and curve of her body with his hands and mouth. He groans against her skin the first time he takes one of her nipples in his mouth, teeth tracing it gently before he soothes it with his tongue. He begs her to let him hear her, etching himself underneath her skin with every touch. He wants and wants and wants and she gives it freely. 

He holds her in place, fingers digging into the tissue of her thighs. She thinks that he is going to leave marks but none of it matters at the first touch of his mouth against her. His movements are slow, a tenuous exploration of unfamiliar territory, but Kyojuro is acutely aware of every reaction she gives. He learns and she is thrown into a precipice that she knows might ruin her. There is no coming back from this and with every lick, every movement of his tongue and fingers between her legs, she will gladly never return. She burns with his touch and will willingly succumb. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, wiping at his mouth as he returns to his position over her. She has stars in her eyes when she pulls him in to kiss her. He would kiss her forever if he could, she knows. So would she. 

“Let me,” she says, trying to urge him into another position. One where he is not alone in control of their movements. One where she can touch him just as easily. 

He shakes his head. “I want to see you,” he tells her. “Please. Let me see you.” There’s a desperate need in his eyes, one that tells her that he is still trying to hold back the reminder that she was nearly lost. 

“Okay,” she says shakily. She swallows tightly, wondering if they’ll be able to go back to how things were after this. If they even wanted to. “Okay.” 

It’s easy to angle him into her, to wrap her leg around him in a way that begs him closer. It aches at first, this welcome intrusion. She breathes through the pain, trying to relax into it and finds herself watching the finely attuned control on his face. His eyes are closed tightly, a hand on her hip as he presses himself closer. He moves achingly slow, considerate even in this, until he is finally completely engulfed. 

She is full and surrounded and has never felt safer than at this moment. With how he looks at her, how his hand strokes her leg softly, telling her he’ll wait, that if she wants to stop he will. If she could drown in this moment, she would. She would gladly throw herself in the ocean of his desire, but Kyojuro has never been a body of water. He is a fire, a sun that threatens to scorch anything left in his orbit too long, and she will gladly burn. 

She eases his concern with her own promises, with her begging him to move, to ease the tension that she feels building with every movement he makes. 

“You are perfect,” he murmurs against her lips as he kisses her again. “My heart. My flame.” 

“Kyo,” she breathes. “It’s you.” She smiles, lost in his promises and praise. “Only you. Always you.”

“You came back to me,” he tells her. He reaches up, testing their patience as he strokes her cheek. “Always come back.” 

“You have to too.” 

He promises. It’s a fools promise, one that they both know they will likely break, but it doesn’t matter. Not now. This moment is carved into time between them. Their oaths, their positions, the rest of the world does not matter in this moment. Just them. Only them. 

Kyojuro moves. 

They stumble through until they find a rhythm that leaves her breathless and begging. She clings to his shoulders, his neck, any place she can reach as he leads her to the edge with every thrust. He kisses her hard, swallowing her cries as he shifts her legs higher, adjusting the angle of his movement. She breaks around him and Kyojuro stares at her, enraptured by the sight of it. He buries his face into her neck, moving faster as she is kept on the brink of her release until finally, finally, he spills inside of her. 

He doesn’t stir at first, allowing her to collect her thoughts at what they’ve done and come down from the high she’s been thrown into. He pulls back, just enough to meet her eyes again. They search hers, looking for something she cannot give a voice to. He sees enough though because he kisses her again, slower this time, making her feel as though they have all the time in the world, as if there is not an end date to their lives waiting for them in the distance. 

When he breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. “I cannot bear that fear again, nor can I regret this,” he says. “Do not ask it of me.” 

“Kyojuro,” she says his name softly, drawing his attention back to her. “I…I don’t regret this. Even if we cannot–” she cuts herself off. “I don’t regret this.”

“When we retire,” he says. “When Muzan is defeated, will you allow me to court you? To spend my eternity by your side?” 

Her heart stutters in her chest. This is another promise, but no longer one lost in the heat of their attempts to assure each other that they are safe. This is one that cannot be ignored. 

“I would like nothing else.”

He grins at her, as bright and blinding as the sun, before he kisses her again. He finally pulls away, leaving her empty and cold. “Remain here. I will check if the baths are empty and return for you….with something more to wear.” A blush stains his cheeks as he looks around, realizing the state of their clothing. “Wait for me.” 

“Okay,” she nods and watches as he dresses just enough so that he is not indecent before he leaves. He wants to marry her, to spend their lives side by side until the years crumble them apart. It would be nice, she thinks, dragging the sheet around her as she waits, to be his wife. If only they live that long. She prays they do. 

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @nejires-hado @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations  @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

[lovscb97]

bang chan recs (18+)

key: !!! = personal favourite, s = smut, f = fluff, a = angst

add. notes: hai :3 i know i said i would make a skz recs list but the minute i scrolled thru my likes n started saving from chan onwards, i realised i had Too many recommended fics for him (this list is like 40 fics/drabbles long....) so i decided to just make member separate posts instead!!! i tried not to have repeats of authors to give u guys a broader scope to choose from n also sorry in advance that i yapped so much abt them it's just like . these r my all time fav authors so it's expected. anyways i hope u guys love these works as much as i do bcs they r from some of my absolute fav creators n plz give them lots of love n always make sure to appreciate these ppl <3

. . .

hopelessly devoted to you — @changbunnies (!!!, s, a?)

this was literally a 11/10 fic like i am not even joking rn. i luv greaser chan n even tho he messed up, the way he makes it up to mc is so so soooo sweet. the fact that he's so gone n pussydrunk while eating her out, the sweetness in how he holds her n fucks her is all too mindnumbing n i hope u continue writing bcs u r amazing at it!! i will always come back 2 this when i need a pick me up fr

2. bad idea — @hyunsvngs (!!!, s)

JUNOOOOO my lovely baby.... i adore u n all ur work always but this fic. This Fic. it changed the trajectory of my life. like not even kidding but i was a different person when i started reading this n when i finished it i was Changed. life is worth living now, the grass is greener n the birds always sing 2 me which i firmly believe is bcs of u n this beautiful yummy fic. i fucking LOVE stepdad chan sm like there's smth so gross n nasty abt fucking ur mom's bf n even tho mc is a menace, i still loved it. never stop doing what u do!!!

3. 1095 days — @luvyeni (s)

EX INMATE CHAN RAHHHHH!! i have akshewally been following ur work for so long n i LOVE!! the way u write :3 thank u for always churning out ur work so fast n being so good at what u do. im obv a sucker for daddy kink considering i eat it up every time n it's so fucking good i love how chan cares for mc n the way he gives it to her once he's back. mark my words i will EAT this man up n this fic whenever i stumble across it

4. milk and honey — @straykeedz (s, f, a?)

user straykeedz u have to stop... ur work too addicting n perfect.. ur depiction of chan too real n crazy (/pos)... they're gonna get u... but seriously i love bffs2lovers so bad n the way u always characterise chan n make him call mc so many cute pet names melts my heart :( i've also been following U for a long time n even tho everything u write is so so soooo good, this has to be one of my faves alongside ur inexperienced chan fic. i hope u don't pressure urself too much to update n jus do what u have to do :D

5. my wife — @chrizzztopherbang (s, f)

ngl i Think this is my first fic from u cus i followed u bcs of it n that's a given honestly cus newly turned husband chan?? eating his wife out metres away from his friends n family on the other side of the door n fucking her within an inch of her life right after they're pronounced husband n wife?? i love it i loved their bickering over who's a pervert n i just love the idea of mc finally calling the love of her life hers forever. i hope they r always happy alongside u

6. sweet nothing — @frenchkisstheabyss (!!!, s, f, a)

this fic actually changed me as a person too not even kidding. i EAT UP exes to lovers n the portrayal of it was so good here bcs there's so much unspoken tension between the two n then chan begging mc to not leave again n her promising she won't bcs all she wants to do is be his at last?? AWOOGAAAAA i need him so bad it's jinja michin (i am so cringe sorry..) ANYWAYS!! i hope u know tattoo artist + ex bangchan is a crazy combo n that the makeup sex was HOT HOT HOT!!! plz keep writing i adore u <3

7. pick you up — @moonchild9350 (!!!, s)

see idk if this is tmi but sex where ure being picked up n fucked is downright nasty in the best possible way n i fear i need to get railed like that by chan so u writing abt is literally u making my fantasies come true. this fic was a delicious mix of cute w chan telling mc he only works out so he can pick her up (based off of his bbl texts obv) n hot w him Actually fucking her within an inch of her life. i love all ur work tee bee eich so keep doing what ur doing!!!

8. spring has sprung — @cbini (!!!, f, s)

miss ems where do i even begin with u.. (u probably Do Not Know me but i know u smirk emoji. soz that was weird erm but ya i am the binnie anon who said u deserve changbin LOLZ) this fic was the perfect mix of cuteness w raw passionate fucking i love the idea of chan getting hard bcs ur dressed so preciously in a pretty dress i think it's rooted somewhere in his slight corruption kink which comes out def when u r all dolled up for him. anyways u never miss n i hope u know that <3

9. walking in on rooomate!chan / pt. 2 — @kacciidubs (!!!, s, f)

going 2 be very honest here i do not even remember what happened in part 1 bcs part 2 of this roommate chan fic actually blew my mind away like Seriously user kacciidubs u r insane!!! all ur work never misses n i am always so eager whenever u post bcs i've been following u n loving everything u put out for so long. ofc ur chan work is my favourite as u can tell but this fic... this fic was crazy the switch between daddy n sir oh my god what if i cream my pants rn. plz never stop writing <3

10. last nerve / pt. 2 — @cb97percent (!!!, s)

user cb97percent let me just preface this by saying whatever u write is INSANE. like i already knew u were a great writer but this fic? changed me as a person not even joking rn. the way mc n chan banter n how chan's an asshole who is pissed off how he can't get it up anymore unless he fucks mc is so funny n how the raw passion between them results in the best sex Ever. n ofc the ending w minho took me out n Yea i just . i have no words plz never stop writing to u as well

11. hush — @petrichor-han (s)

sucker for exhibitionism n sucker for chan so what better way to comemorate this occasion than by reading abt it? this entire scenario was so hot like honestly i can totally imagine chan's bitchass doing this bcs he's so cheeky in nature he would lose himself from the thrill of almost getting caught. u r amazing as always thank u for churning out so much content for kinktober may god or whoever u believe in bless u with eternal inspiration

12. daddy!chan helping you shave — @hyunjins-orange-slice-too (!!!, s, f)

i sent u an ask already talking abt how much i love u n everything u write but THIS. this made me weak in the knees bcs i have imagined this very scenario so many times if im being brutally honest. there's smth so sweet n domestic abt the act of helping ur partner shave n with daddy chan in the mix? kill me now plz. the way he asks if he can play w mc once he's done n how he sternly instructs her to be safe like omgkjdfjhjdfgjhhjg need him in ways that give the pits of hell a run for its money w how hot n nasty im abt to be fr

13. one last time — @baby-yongbok (!!!, s, a?)

like i said, i am a sucker for the exes to lovers pipeline alongside husband chan so while this isn't Either of those things entirely it still scratches the itch in my brain very very well. the way mc n chan exchange snarky remarks n how chan only says he's satisfied once they're done fucking OHHHH MYYYYY GODDDD... need this man carnally like i would dump him just so he can fuck me the way he fucked mc in this fr (that is a lie we r locked in 4 life). u r brilliant as always i always look forward to ur work so next time u r questioning if this is worth it just know lovscb97 on tumblr has ur back fr

14. chan ask drabble #1 — @skzms (s)

maymay.. my eternal luvr... the genius behind smrsmf minsung... ofc u were bound to eat this up n end up on this list. idgaf if it's just an ask answer or drabble bcs the way u write is so . so Elegant. i love how u always use ur words to describe the emotion lingering between ppl in love n the way u do it here w chan n mc, the way he reassures her afterwards n how he promises her he'll give her everything later while fucking his fingers into her ohhhh mannnn.. i can just imagine him in his suit thank u for bringing the vision to life fr

15. you're right, baby — @chlorinecake (s, f)

soft dom chan who is ur fiancé fucking u n claiming u bcs he's a lil pouty that u forgot ur ring?? n then going so far to say he'll cum in u to make sure everyone knows who u belong to?? RAHHHHHH HE NEEDS ME!!! this was written so deliciously i loved the way mc n chan cared for each other n also the ending was so cute LOLZ hope they r happy in every universe n that their wedding goes great fr u r an awesome writer user chlorinecake

16. silence — @valkyriexo (s, a)

make up sex make up sex make up sex!!! i love it so good even tho it hurts so bad when mc realises chan forgot to show up :( but the fact that he makes it up to her by begging her to not leave him n making her cum as many times on his tongue as possible for her to forgive him?? INSANITY!! the longing in their eyes n words n actions from how much they've missed e/o when he finally touches mc n oh man.. u ate this up

17. corruption — @goquokka00 (s)

STEPBRO CHAN RAHHHHH i am a sucker for him (in more ways than one iygwim eheheh.. soz) i loved the sinister blackmail u added into the story n how he fucked mc bcs of her bad grades by making up some shit excuse abt learning how to please someone like y/n u can't be this dense girl!!! (i'd do it too if he asked me #Tbh) ANYWAYS. idk how this didn't have more notes bcs it was hot asfk i hope u keep writing more stuff to come :3

18. chef's kiss — @hyuniepies (s, f)

the tenderness of mc n chan's love mixed w the nasty dirty talk ohhhh hyuniepies u r a GENIUS!! this is exactly how i imagine domestic life w chan would be like; him coming back home to u cooking a dinner n then fucking u absolutely silly on the countertop bcs he just can't wait after getting a look at ur figure n bcs he's missed u so much. i too would be obsessed w bangchan if (read: when) he becomes my husband teehee

19. chan ask drabble #2 — @miupow (!!!, s)

USER MIUPOW UR FUCKING BRAIN!! HOW DO U CARRY SUCH A HUGE BRAIN IN UR HEAD!!! DOES UR BACK NOT HURT FROM HOLDING UP THE DELICIOUS IDEAS OF BCHAN SIZE KINK!!! like i told u yst i love ur writing n i love U so bad. u always eat w every request or idea u come up with n i absolutely adore that for u i hope u truly never stop writing bcs u have a serious gift n i hope ppl keep telling u that constantly bcs i sure as hell will <3

20. pretty mouth of yours — @jeongin-lvr (s, f)

need to give chan head like . Yesterday. but OHHHH MEINNNN GOTTTT fiancé channie w mc sucking him off so pretty u know exactly what im a sucker for u dont u user jeongin-lvr? ur writing is tooooooo good i swear i have read so much of ur work n granted this is one of my fave chan works from u icl i love the jeongin ones even more but i'll add those to my innie recs list later :3 ANYWAYS!! plz never stop writing u r awesomesauce (cringe.) n i love u hope u r having a great day today

21. daddy issues — @hwan-g (!!!, s, a)

HELLO THIS FUCKING FICCCCC... it is so good so delicious so fucking beautifully written that it brought tears to my eyes no joke. i still remember the first time i stumbled across it n like wow.. i think i dmed u on my side reading account too to express how much i liked it bcs i rly Did like it truly was a piece of art n sometimes i can't believe ppl like u just write stuff like this for free?? u should be getting paid good money bcs all ur work ALWAYS eats <3

22. closing the distance / pt. 2 — @thefantasyden (s, f)

ik long distance relationships r tough n it's awful when u can't spend time w each other physically or touch either but hear me out . it would Not suck w chan bcs he'd do everything for u the way he does everything for mc in this fic. from how he shows up n is too nervy to kiss her to them finally touching each other for the first time n then she moves back to him?? ohhhh man i love love n i love U for making this ur work always eats n trust that i'll always come back to this fic when i need to rmb how much i love chan

23. riding chan's thigh/knees — @faeryacha (!!!, s, f)

i love daddy chan so bad im sorry im not even gonna hide it anymore n i love the way he was written here too, from the way he asks if mc wants to play to the way he has her fuck herself on him to get herself off like i'm not even into little space like that but the minute he refers to himself as daddy n speaks to me all soft n protective im on my knees on the floor ready to suck him off like my life depends on it. u ate so bad w this plz continue doing more amazing work in the future!!!

24. steamy desires — @notsoangels (s)

shower sex w chan mngnghfhghgh.. need him so bad id let him fuck me anywhere as he pleases but in the shower?? w the hot water cascading over us w just us in our little world like omgomgomg NEED. i love the simplicity in ur writing too n how it paints a picture in my mind bcs i can vividly imagine all of this happening like him making u squirt on his cock n then rinsing u off so u can spend time wrapped up with each other on the bed like plz. One chance plz.

25. the fuckboy next door — @seospicybin (!!!, s, a)

miss seospicybin.. how do u always do it? how do u always come out w the most mindbreaking jawdropping amazing insane array of fics without even breaking a sweat like hello? this series is so fucking good from the smut to the angst that hurts so good. i love the development of the plot n that chan tries So hard to be true to mc so he can be w her n the way she tells him to do it for himself like :( they deserve each other sm i am very much looking forward to part 4!!!

26. pussydrunk chan — @aeliuss (s, f)

mngngngngjghgh i love pussydrunk chan so bad n i love the idea of him being so infatuated w mc that he just Had to drag her away n eat her out. i also love that he's there to support her in the end n how turned on he gets from her just being herself like that is a real man!!! n the way it's so reflective of how chan is irl too? i feel like this is how exactly how he'd behave— needy but so so soo in love with u too

27. kitty — @bandgie (!!!, s, f)

no joke this fic made my pussy throb. i need him 2 do this to him so bad bcs i need Him so bad. the way u wrote the subspace drop n how immersed mc was in her role n the way chan guides her thru everything n then the aftermath of it like hngnngnfgddjghjgh... i always have loved ur writing but this particular piece rly got to me along w ur kinktober series i hope u continue to do writing bcs u seriously so so SO good at it fr!!

28. angel eyes — @temptaetions (!!!, s, a)

this fic. this fucking FIC. bro this is actual evidence of the fact that literary geniuses exist bcs the way u wrote so beautifully not just the actual smut but the whole storyline?? u r a godsend fr like u should be getting paid to put out work of this degree. not only r u a PHENOMENAL writer but i hope u never stop writing bcs this was actually so so lovely n amazing to read i wish i could revisit the first time i read this T_T

29. just (fucking) friends? — @snowyquokka (s)

HELLOOOO i love possessive fwb chan almost as much as i love ur writing!! the way he's so annoyed at how she said they're just friends so he takes out his anger on her but then at the same time asks her what her color is to make sure she's still okay WOWZAAAA.. need him Bad. n in the end when they both agree they don't wanna be just friends like chan.. i don't want 2 be just friends either.. come 2 me plz... anyways very yummy work fr

30. american whiskey — @straywrds (!!!, s, a)

this fic... how do i even begin w this fic... the way u write is actually so . so otherwordly yk? u rly pour all ur passion into ur writing n the way u describe everything like every emotion every detail every feeling it's so raw n real that it touches my heart. i can Feel what each of the characters go thru n the SMUT... the smut is so so delicious ofc. i've read ur other work n u r such a good writer plz keep going with what u do i will always support u fr

31. free use w/ soft dom chris — @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (s, f)

the dirty talk in this.. hngnngkgjjdgjjh. i need free use w daddy!chan just as bad as i need to reread this fic ten times until it's ingrained in my brain n any telepath w the ability to read minds out there is disgusted by how many times i think abt it (idk what this analogy was i am sorry). the way he eats mc out n the way he fucks her omgfkjdgjhjhgjh NEED HIM RAHHHHH u did so well w this

32. play tight / pt. 4  — @roseykat (s, a)

squirting w chan squirting w chan SQUIRTING!! W CHAN!!! the way he makes mc do it once n then immediately goes "yea i need to feel that on my dick" n fucks her within an inch of her life like ohmygodjkdjhsfghj i did eat up the angst too but the way u wrote them fuckinig was so nasty n delicious I ENJOYED IT SM!! this entire series is such a good read even tho it's not chan centered idk if there r more parts to it but if there r plz link me to them!!

33. dream you — @charmercharm3r (s, f)

ok i know we r discussing smut n all n trust that i will get to that but THIS!! this was so cute n precious ohemgee the way he loves mc n takes care of her n banters w her at the start so lovingly is so so precious to me i want him so bad :( the smut was also very delicious w chan switching to hard dom mode n making mc suck him off before ravishing her like oh my god PLZZZZ FUCK ME PLZPLZPLZ u did so well on this plz continue writing more for me at the least <3

34. brat-taming w/ chan — @blurboki (s)

this damn drabble was so.. hngngjfjghjhdgjh. i want 2 be a brat to chan so bad n act out just so he'll snap n put me into my place which is exactly what u wrote n i LOVED IT!!! it's so short n simple (not a bad thing at all btw) yet it's so powerful too? i love the characterisation of chan cus i firmly believe this is how he'd act in bed w a fussy bratty s/o like wow. Just wow. i love u and ur delicious mind i hope u r having a great day just for this :3

35. tell me all about it.. — @chnsbm (s, f)

hngnfjhdfsjghgjh the idea of chan making u forget all about ur stress n playing with u to help u sleep is so gfjfjjjffjhgjhjh HOT!!! the way he lovingly reassures mc like u don't need to worry abt it now just let me take care of u n how he's such a fuckin TEASE!! w the way he's touching her is so so hot u ate w this idea n i will forever die on the hill that this is really smth chan would do— tease u n make u talk while he's doing ungodly things to u just to see u stutter over ur words

36. be that guy — @daizymax (!!!, s, a)

i have said it once i have said it twice n i will say it one more time bcs i don't care how many times i need to reiterate it needs to be said: EXES TO LOVERS W CHAN IS TOP TIER!!! the smut in this was so delicious but the LONGING chan had for mc.. the way he felt the twinge in his chest for letting her go oh man.. i'd take him back if he so even looked at me but maybe im just crazy. BUT ANYWAYS!! this is possibly one of the hottest chan smuts there ever is so thank U for this delicious gift fr

37. more than just friends — @kwanisms (!!!, s, f)

werewolf chan my luvr... my big strong baby who will knock me up w his knot n fuck me until the sun rises RAHHHHHHHH!!! this was so so SOOOOO good n yummy like from the way he pinned mc to the wall to the way he ordered her around n how his self restraint snapped the moment she called him daddy like why's that so Me behaviour HELPPPP anyways user kwanisms u fucking ATE w this i hope ur pillow is cold every night u go to sleep <3

38. connected — @j-0ne25 (s, f, a)

let me just start this by saying I FUCKING LOVE U USER J-0NE25!!! ur interactive stories esp megaverse r so fucking good how r u so bigbrained my dumbass could never like actually JSDHJFJHGJH. anyways i rmb reading this very vividly n oh boy.. "baby patience, or do you need me to teach you a lesson?" Brother my panties r drenched n off dont even start w me rn. anyways this was so so delicious plz never stop writing i beg u

39. chan ask drabble #3 — @hyungszn (!!!, s, f)

saved the best for last but CLOVER.. (u dk me but i am ur biggest fan hai :3) "your mouth is saying no but your body is telling me a different story, mrs. bang." GRRRHJDJSDFJHKJSFKJSFKJGJ... I NEED HIM SOO FUCKING BAD!!! the way they banter even while having nasty sex n just love each other so bad n hello my breeding kink went feral w this. when mc asked him to not eat his cum out of her pussy n he was like "and why is that?" cus he wanted to hear her say it GRAHHHHH I WILL EAT HIM!!! on a side note, u r so so soooo amazing i have been reading ur work for so long i think since american pie n i can safely say u r one of the best skzblr writers i have ever seen along w so many other ppl like plz keep up the good work bcs i will ALWAYS support u for it !!!

. . .

add notes: thank u very much to all these amazing writers fr. if ur work wasn't featured here now do not fret!! i probably (most definitely knowing my dumbass) just missed it cus i didn't scroll Very far down in my likes (there's like 2k+....) so trust that u will most likely end up on the next recs list!! i love u all very much regardless if u r here or not n as always a very big thank u once more for all ur amazing hard work, u r all doing so well n i hope u guys know that <3

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

"Even paparazzi don't record that..."༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

synopsis: making a movie with him in the locker room after the boxing match….fic is based on his voice line from the new card

tags: Sweaty Boxer Sylus, manhandling, cunnalingus(through the clothes and then not…), fingering, recording, pictures, penetration, mirror sex, creampie, praise, vulgar, explicit

wrd count: 2.3k

a/n: Sylus my beloved i’ll never get tired of writing for you

The roar of the crowd echoed in your ears as you stood outside the boxing ring, watching Sylus stand up with a knuckle to the floor to push his sore body up, walking toward the outside of the ring.

The sweat glistened on his muscular frame, and a triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked at the bouquet you got him.

You felt a surge of pride and anticipation.

His presence was magnetic, drawing all attention to him, but his focus was solely on you, not the crowd nor the confetti that fell around you.

"Kitten," he said, his voice low and husky, “This is for me?” He said with a smug look, clearly surprised you got him such a thoughtful gift.

You grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. "It’s for the champion," you replied sarcastically, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "I suppose that’s you tonight."

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching between the ropes of the boxing ring. "As beautiful as these flowers are…they aren’t the real gift," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "It's you."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible promise of what was to come. Without another word, he took your hand and led you through the bustling arena, past cheering fans and flashing cameras, until you reached the quiet sanctuary of his private locker room.

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the noise of the world outside faded away. Sylus turned to you, his gaze intense and full of unspoken desires.

“I’m glad you could make it tonight, Miss Hunter.” He said as he softly grabbed each side of your face, kissing your forehead before looking back into your eyes.

You chuckled, noticing his still sweat ridden face and body; your eyes roam for a bit.

“My eyes are up here.” He says, feigning offense.

You let out a small laugh, cupping his chest and playfully squeezing it before he smacks your hands off.

“I saw what you were recording you know…naughty girl.” He whispered.

You look up at him with widened eyes, embarrassed from being caught back at the ring.

“I didn’t know it was recording- I just…”

“…Just? Just what sweetie?” He pushed, tilting his face and sitting down on the bench as he pulled you close to him, making you stand between his legs.

Before you can take it back, he pulls your phone out of your back pocket.

“Hey!- I’ll delete it don’t worry…” You assure, trying to reach for your device back as he pulled it away from you.

He lets out a tsk, opening your camera and handing the phone back to you, “Don’t bother, I’ll give you something better.” He promises.

You look at him with a sudden heat blasting your face at his suggestiveness, about to deny your actions again before he cuts you off.

“Don’t get all shy now…I would never deny your little antics.” He says with that same smug expression, pulling you into his lap as you hold onto his shoulder with your free hand.

"Get comfortable," he said, his voice a velvet rumble. "Let’s make a little movie for you tonight.”

With quick work he lays you down on the locker room bench, pulling your garments over your head and letting them fall on the floor along with your pants.

“Are you recording, sweetie?” He asks, soothing over your bare skin.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you watched him approach. His hands were strong and sure as they wrapped around your waist, as he kneeled on both knees infront of your sat body.

Your legs parted instinctively, welcoming his proximity as you nodded.

"Good girl," he praised, his thumbs teasing the edges of your panties. "Now, let's give you a good video for later." He chuckled.

With a wicked grin, he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above your parted thighs before his tongue darted out, tracing the delicate fabric of your panties as he

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his tongue found the sensitive spot hidden beneath the lace. The sensation was electric, shooting straight to your core.

He worked his magic with languid strokes, his mouth a source of relentless pleasure.

"Sylus…," you moaned, your head falling back onto the hard wooden bench as you surrendered to the waves of ecstasy building within you. "God, yes..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Like that, kitten? Do you want more?"

You could only nod, your body trembling with need. Sylus's hands slid under your panties and holding your ass, lifting you higher as he pressed deeper into your folds. His teeth grazed the fabric, biting down gently before tugging the material aside, exposing your wet heat to the cool air, your entire body now on display for him.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "The camera too…don’t take your eyes off me.”

You opened your eyes, locking gazes with him as his tongue delved into your soaked flesh. The sight of him devouring you, so focused and intent, sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you as you struggled to hold the camera in frame as he winked at it, while practically swallowing you whole.

Your hips bucked, grinding against his mouth as he flicked his tongue against your clit, relentless in his pursuit of your climax.

"Fuck, Sylus-," you panted, your fists gripping the edge of the bench. "Don't stop... please..."

"Never," he promised, his voice muffled against your pussy. "Keep recording sweetie, don’t miss this."

His fingers joined his tongue, sliding inside you with perfect pressure. You cried out, your body arching off the wooden surface as he filled you completely. The dual sensations of his mouth and fingers pushed you to the brink, and you could feel your orgasm coiling tight, ready to burst.

“Yes…..yes, Sylus-!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as your release tore through you. Your body jerked and spasmed, every muscle clenching around his invading digits.

Sylus drank you in, his tongue never missing a beat as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form.

When your vision finally cleared, you found Sylus gazing up at you, his eyes dark and hooded. "Beautiful," he murmured, kissing your inner thigh before slowly rising to claim your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you up by your hair as he stood now.

You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you devoured his mouth. His hands roamed your body, worshipping every curve and dip, sending sparks of renewed desire coursing through you.

"My turn," he whispered against your

lips, breaking the kiss. "Let me show you how much I adore you, kitten."

Before you could respond, he lifted you off the counter and carried you to the counter. With gentle reverence, he placed you on the marble with your back facing the mirror and positioned himself between your spread legs, his cock hard and throbbing against your entrance.

"Touch yourself," he instructed, his voice a sultry command. "I want to watch you." He added, taking the phone and keeping it in his large hand.

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. Sylus groaned, his eyes fixed on your hand as you circled your sensitive nub, building the tension once more.

"So fucking sexy," he muttered, his hips thrusting forward, rubbing his length against your slick folds as it spread your arousal over his tip. "You ready for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded feverishly, your body aching for his invasion. "Please, Sylus... I need more."

With a predatory grin, he lined himself up and thrust forward, sheathing himself in your heat in one smooth motion. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you to the hilt.

"That's it…say cheese~," he jested before clicking a photo of him deep inside you, his voice rough with passion. "Take me all in. Feel how much I fucking love you." He groaned.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one driving deep into your quivering core. The intensity of his rhythm had you clinging to him, your body helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.

"Oh God," you moaned, your hips meeting his with desperate urgency.

"More, Sylus... harder..." You begged.

He could never say no to you like this.

He pressed record and handed you the phone, patting your thigh to alert you to keep filming.

You take it and angle it straight in front of you, the scene so vulgar and obscure: Sylus and his large muscular back, blocking a good chunk of the frame as he holds your hips while slamming into you now, his contorted face that lays behind your shoulder seen in the reflection of the mirror behind you two as you’re seated on the counter, taking every thrust as he moves in and out of you.

The camera shakes side to side as you keep recording, his cock now pummeling you.

He turns his face, kissing your cheek a few times before giving the camera a side glance, smirking as he looks at the scene, kissing you jaw and your neck as he stares back at the screen, then to you.

“Look at you y/n…sitting so pretty, making all these cute sounds...” He chuckles, his voice raspy as he seems to be getting close. lips, his tongue dancing with yours in a fierce duel of passion.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, lifting you closer to him on the counter so that he could drive deeper into you. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with each thrust as you tried to keep the camera steady, the lens capturing every intimate detail.

"Sylus... oh God... yes!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the cold walls. Your back arched, pressing your breasts against his chest as you rocked against him, desperate for more.

He groaned, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision, his cock filling you completely. "You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight around me... I can't get enough."

Your fingers tightened around the camera, your vision blurring with the intensity of the moment. Sylus's hand left your ass to trace a line up your spine, sending shivers down your back. He reached around and cupped your breast, thumbing your nipple before he reached for your ankle and propped it up on the edge of the counter, giving the camera a more explicit view of you getting impaled on his cock.

"Touch yourself again," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see you come apart for me."

You obeyed, your free hand moving to pinch and tease your nipple, slowing dragging to your clit and rubbing quick circles while your other hand struggled to keep the camera focused on the both of you. Sylus watched, his gaze dark and hungry as he continued to pound into you, his rhythm unyielding.

"That's it... show me how much you love this," he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "Show me how much you need me."

The combination of his words and actions pushed you closer to the edge, your body tightening with anticipation. "Sylus... I'm so close..." you gasped, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the smacking of flesh against flesh.

"Then come for me," he urged, his thrusts growing more urgent. "Let go, baby... let me take care of you."

With a final, desperate cry, you did just that. Your body convulsed around his cock, the orgasm tearing through you like a tidal wave. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Sylus grunted, his own release building within him. "Fuck, sweetie... I'm not done yet," he panted, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own climax. "I need to be inside you when I come... need to fill you up.”

You nodded, your vision swimming as you struggled to stay conscious through the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Please, Sylus... give it to me..."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came hard, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He held you close, his face buried in your neck as he emptied himself into you, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Then, slowly, Sylus pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and satisfied all at once. He placed the camera on the counter, ensuring it captured the final moments of your intimacy.

"Fuck…," he murmured, kissing your forehead before stepping back to admire the scene. "Just perfect."

You smiled weakly, your body still tingling from the intensity of the experience. "Next time, maybe we should film from a different angle," you teased, trying to catch your breath.

Sylus chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I have plenty of ideas for next time," he said, leaning in to kiss you again.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. The world outside the locker room might have been filled with noise and chaos, but here, in this secluded sanctuary, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms and lost in the aftermath.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[faebled-stories]

Home is Where I'm Enough

Poll winner: Praise Kink (Kinkvember Debut Fic)

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader

6.5k words

The apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the soft hum of Y/N’s computer. He sat hunched over his desk, the screen’s gentle glow casting an ethereal light across his face as he polished the final touches of his latest graphic design project. He’d been in the zone for hours, the kind of intense flow only a passionate creator knows, dreading any interruption. But as the night grew late, fatigue crept in like an unwelcome guest, blurring the vibrant colors and shapes on his screen and drawing him into a hazy exhaustion.

Just as he stretched back in his chair, letting his arms rise above his head to shake off the dull ache in his shoulders, the front door creaked open. Though faint, the sound pulled his attention immediately, stirring a gentle flutter in his chest. He knew who it was: Wonyoung.

She stepped inside, her silhouette soft against the dim hallway light. Her usual radiance had dimmed, replaced by a look of deep exhaustion. Strands of hair framed her face, loosely tousled, hinting at the long hours she’d endured. Dressed in her favorite oversized sweater, slipping off one shoulder, and paired with comfy shorts, her cozy ensemble contrasted starkly with the glitz of her public persona. Tonight, she looked as if the weight of the world had finally settled on her delicate frame.

Her gaze drifted across the room, her steps heavy as she gravitated toward him, perhaps unconsciously drawn by the promise of comfort. When their eyes met, she offered a small, tired smile—a gesture that seemed automatic, though the usual warmth was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted in a warm, low voice, breaking the quiet of the apartment with gentle concern. “Long day?”

Wonyoung let out a soft, tired breath, her smile persisting but not quite reaching her eyes. “Yeah… you wouldn’t believe how exhausting today was. Promotions, photoshoots, fan meetings… I don’t even know how I’m still standing.” Her words, though calm, carried an unmistakable weight, each syllable laced with unspoken exhaustion.

He rose from his desk, the scrape of the chair against the floor seeming louder in the stillness, closing the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close, his embrace both protective and tender, inviting her to let go of whatever she’d been carrying. She melted against him, her body softening as she leaned fully into his warmth, the tension in her shoulders easing as if hoping to dissolve into him.

“You’ve been working so hard, princess. You deserve to rest,” he murmured, gliding a hand over her back in soothing circles, tracing gentle patterns over the soft fabric of her sweater. Each stroke was meant to ease her, to remind her that she didn’t need to be strong right now.

Wonyoung sighed, resting her head against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat become an anchor, grounding her. “I don’t even know if I can relax,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carrying an edge of vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “Everyone always asks me for things, but no one ever asks me what I need. I feel like I’m always giving, and no one’s there to just… take care of me.”

Her words tugged at his heart, and he tightened his embrace, listening fully, letting her be exactly who she was. Tonight, she wasn’t Wonyoung the idol; she was just his girlfriend, stripped of the weight of expectations.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, he murmured, “Tonight, I’m here to take care of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. How about we keep it quiet? I could make some dinner—whatever you’d like?”

She smiled softly but shook her head. “No, thank you… I’m not really hungry. Just too tired to eat, I think.”

He nodded, adjusting his suggestion. “Maybe a massage? Help you relax and ease those tired muscles?”

Wonyoung considered it, then sighed, her gaze drifting. “That sounds nice, but I don’t think I can even sit still long enough. I’d probably fall asleep halfway through.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over her shoulder in a light caress. ���Fair enough. How about a movie, then? We could just put something on, snuggle up on the couch, and you can zone out as much as you need?”

A flicker of warmth crossed her face at the thought, but she shook her head again. “That sounds nice too, but I don’t think I’d even be able to focus. My mind’s just… elsewhere.”

He paused, sensing that none of his suggestions had quite hit the mark. Sliding a gentle hand to her cheek, he met her gaze, his voice tender. “Then tell me, Wonyoung. Whatever you need, just say it. I’m here.”

The world around them seemed to hold its breath, caught in the tender pause that enveloped the pair. Wonyoung, usually so composed and commanding, now appeared as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice, her usual confidence momentarily abandoned. It was in this rare instance of uncertainty that she found the courage to voice her deepest desire.

"Oppa ," she began, her voice a whisper of its usual strength, carrying a hesitance that was seldom heard. "Can we just… be together? Just us."

His response was immediate and heartfelt. A gentle smile graced his lips, his heart warmed by the sincerity of her request. "Of course, Wony. We can just spend time together, no pressure, no work, just us."

The vulnerability in her eyes was palpable, yet it was accompanied by a spark of mischief that hinted at an unexpressed longing. As she stepped closer, her fingers traced an unsteady path along his arm, her touch betraying her nervousness. Oblivious to the full extent of her yearning, he leaned in to bestow a tender kiss upon her forehead, his words a soothing balm to her unspoken needs.

"Just us, no distractions, okay?" he affirmed, his voice a comforting promise.

Wonyoung's fingers anxiously toyed with the hem of his shirt, her courage wavering for but a moment before she mustered the resolve to voice the true nature of her request. With a shy smile that barely contained her anticipation, she looked up at him, her words laced with a boldness that belied her gentle demeanor.

"Oppaa... I-I meant... can we... have... sexy time?"

The surprise that registered on his face was genuine, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in the conversation. He had been prepared to offer her a sanctuary of relaxation and companionship, but this... this was an invitation to a different kind of connection, one that was both intimate and thrilling.

As the initial shock subsided, his gaze softened, and he saw her in an entirely new light. The playful glint in her eyes, the delicate blush that graced her cheeks—it all painted a picture of Wonyoung that was both endearing and alluring. She stood before him, her hands fidgeting with a mixture of nervousness and desire, her lips parted in quiet anticipation of his response.

Understanding dawned on him, and with it came a smile that reflected his deep affection for her. "Ah, Wony," he said with a gentle chuckle, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of her hair. "You want us to... I see, of course baby"

Her affirmation was shy but resolute, her voice barely above a whisper as she laid bare her innermost wishes. "I... I've been really stressed, and I just... I just want you. Just us."

A deep warmth rose within him as he gazed at the woman in his arms, a warmth that radiated through every fiber of his being. She was here with him, stripped of the expectations and perfection the world demanded of her, showing him the truest parts of herself. Her request, so simple yet so vulnerable, spoke volumes about the bond they shared, and he felt his heart swell with love and admiration. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled her closer, his hands finding their place around her waist, fingers pressing into her softly but with purpose. He tilted his head to capture her lips in a kiss that promised everything she might need, murmuring against her mouth, "Whatever you want, just tell me."

With that, the world around them dissolved into a soft blur, distant and forgotten, as Wonyoung melted into his arms. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the light spilling over their entwined bodies and casting shadows that highlighted her delicate curves. He traced his fingers slowly along her back, feeling the subtle tremors beneath her skin, the way her body softened by degrees, her tension easing under his touch. Each stroke coaxed a little more trust from her, even as she wrestled with the restraint that held her in check, a habit formed over years of needing to be perfectly in control.

As his hands began to unfasten the layers of her clothing with gentle care, he could feel her vulnerability like an unspoken word between them. To the world, she was grace personified, a vision of poise and elegance, an idol untouchable in her perfection. Yet, here and now, she was a woman grappling with the desire to shed the weight of that polished image, to surrender the mantle of perfection she wore so effortlessly in the public eye. His fingers moved with the gentleness of someone who understood her inner struggle, his touch a balm, offering her the quiet assurance she needed to let down her guard.

He sensed the battle playing out within her, an invisible tug-of-war between the person she had to be and the one she longed to become in this private space. His lips brushed over her neck, his voice low and soothing. "Wony, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, "but you’re perfect in all the ways that matter. You bring so much beauty and strength into my life."

A shuddered breath escaped her lips as his words settled over her, each one unraveling a bit more of her control. Her hands tightened in the bedsheets, twisting the fabric as she balanced on the razor-thin line between control and surrender. His hands traced over her sides, strong and steady, each movement slow and deliberate, designed to comfort and ignite. "Let go for me, baby, it's okay," he coaxed, his voice a deep, resonant sound that seemed to settle right at the core of her, calling to her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The endearment lingered in the air, a plea and a promise wrapped into one, coaxing her closer to that edge. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought the rising urge to surrender completely, to release everything she held back. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out as a fragile whisper, the vulnerability in her voice breaking through. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can," she admitted, her voice quivering, her brows furrowed in a fleeting expression of frustration and fear, the tension of her resistance etched across her face.

His response was instant and tender. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a gesture of unwavering support that steadied her. "You can, Wony," he assured her, his gaze holding hers, brimming with sincerity. "I see how much you keep it together out there, and that makes me appreciate even more the way you open up with me. It’s such a privilege to be the one who gets to see this side of you." His words were a gentle nudge, affirming his commitment not just to her pleasure but to her peace, his hands holding her as if promising to anchor her.

Trust shone in her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath, his words filling her with a sense of security that was as powerful as it was freeing. Slowly, she let herself relax, allowing him to guide her, his hands continuing their slow, purposeful journey across her skin, each caress a reminder of his deep affection. The pleasure within her built steadily, a growing ache, a tantalizing invitation that beckoned her toward release. Yet, even as she teetered on that edge, the remnants of her control clung to her, a practiced restraint born of habit, a habit he was patiently helping her unravel, piece by piece.

His fingertips traced her skin with a deliberate gentleness, painting a path that left her body flushed, every inch hypersensitive to his touch. The way he moved over her was worshipful, reverent, each stroke of his hand along her curves as if he were discovering her for the first time. She twitched beneath him, her back arching to meet his touch, her breaths shallow and filled with anticipation. Every caress was a testament to how he saw her—not just an idol, but a masterpiece, a person to be cherished in all her vulnerability and strength.

His mouth moved down to lavish her jawline with tender, lingering kisses. He traveled along the column of her throat, the warmth of his breath igniting her senses and sending cascades of goosebumps across her skin. With her head tilted back, she exposed her neck, an unspoken surrender in the tilt of her head, a silent invitation for him to continue. The softness of his mouth, the slow, careful rhythm, filled her with a thrill of arousal she could barely contain, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him, wanting more yet barely able to voice it.

Their lips met then, a slow, searching kiss that unfolded with a blend of tenderness and raw emotion. His mouth moved against hers with a gentle ardor, savoring each moment, each connection, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she drew him closer, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of them suspended in a quiet dance, a sacred exchange of love and vulnerability that allowed her to shed every mask she wore. Here, wrapped in his affection, she found the courage to set down the armor she held so tightly, to accept the freedom he offered.

His mouth trailed lower, each kiss slower, more deliberate, as he left a line of warmth down her body, his fingers pressing gently into her hips to steady her. The closer he came to her core, the more intense her anticipation grew, her breath catching as he settled between her thighs. She felt the tension building inside her, excitement and vulnerability intertwining in equal measure. But as his lips neared her center, a flicker of hesitation stirred within her, a whisper of insecurity breaking through the haze of arousal.

She tensed slightly, her mind rushing to the imperfections she imagined, the things she couldn’t control. In front of him, she felt bare, unfiltered, not the polished, pristine version she presented to the world. Right now, she wasn’t perfect, wasn’t flawless, wasn’t prepared. The thought made her hesitate, and she tried to subtly shift away, her hand moving instinctively to shield herself. “It's not…I’m not—” she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush.

But he paused, sensing the change in her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a gentleness that held her in place. He brushed a comforting hand over her thigh, the touch steady and reassuring, his voice low and soft. "Hey… don’t worry. Right here, you’re exactly as you should be. You don’t need to be anything but yourself with me." He placed a tender kiss on her inner thigh, his words imbued with an acceptance that quieted her worries, the unconditional affection in his gaze anchoring her.

With a breath, she nodded, the tension easing as she allowed herself to relax, feeling the weight of her expectations melt in his presence. His hands settled on her thighs, grounding her, as he placed a soft, reverent kiss at her center, his lips warm and gentle, easing her slowly back into the moment. As his tongue began to trace delicate, slow circles, she felt herself letting go, her hesitations fading beneath the steady rhythm of his movements.

He continued with a tenderness that felt like a vow, his mouth exploring her as though reminding her that she was already perfect to him. Each touch, each gentle press of his mouth, was a wordless reassurance, a reminder that she could be vulnerable here, could let herself be imperfect without fear. His fingers stroked over her skin, guiding her back to herself, and the pleasure started to overtake the remnants of her self-doubt.

Finally, her body began to respond instinctively, hips pressing forward as her breath grew shallower, soft sounds spilling from her lips as she surrendered to the sensation. His mouth continued its worshipful rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge until she could no longer think of anything but the waves of pleasure that built within her, each one stronger than the last. Her hand found its way into his hair, gripping softly as her control slipped, her voice a soft, pleading whisper in the quiet.

In this sacred space, Wonyoung found the courage to relinquish her hold on perfection, to embrace the imperfect beauty of being truly seen and wholeheartedly loved. His unwavering presence and the sanctuary of his affection were the keys that unlocked the gate to her unbridled self. Here, in the sanctity of their bond, Wonyoung was not just an idol, but a woman fully immersed in the depths of love and the freedom it brings.

He paused and replaced his mouth with his fingers. Her warm, moist folds pulsing around his digits, slowly he leaned towards her. The voice that caressed Wonyoung's ears was a balm to her soul, a soft, soothing timbre filled with quiet strength. "It's okay, Wony. You don't have to try to be perfect. I love you just as you are, you’re perfect to me." The words, imbued with unconditional acceptance, were a gentle command that resonated deep within her core.

Wonyoung, the idol worshiped by millions for her flawless poise and ethereal beauty, found herself gasping as the first wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her fingers, once graceful and composed, now gripped the sheets with an urgency that betrayed her facade. The pleasure was a sudden heat, a surge of sensation that ignited her senses and sent ripples of ecstasy coursing through her body. Each pulsating surge overwhelmed her with a delicious thrill, her body instinctively arching towards the source of her bliss, yet her moans remained soft and restrained—a delicate symphony of need barely rising above a whisper.

The world outside ceased to exist. The contrast between the poised idol she presented to the world and the vulnerable girl who yearned to unravel in his arms was stark and dissonant. The weight of expectation, a constant pressure to maintain the image of perfection, loomed over her. Yet, in the sanctity of their embrace, a different desire flickered to life—a longing for the freedom to embrace her innermost yearnings without fear or restraint.

The pleasure surged once more, its potency wrapping around her like a tantalizing embrace. Wonyoung's heart raced, her breath hitching in her throat as she inhaled sharply. The waves of sensation enveloped her, swallowing her whole while her thoughts swirled chaotically, tinged with a subtle desperation. Would he understand the storm of emotions raging within her? Would he cherish both the idol and the girl beneath the surface?

With every pulse of pleasure, she teetered on the edge of release, a dizzying dance between her public persona and her private self. The fear of disappointment clawed at her, but his gentle fingers spoke a language of love that was both soothing and comforting, coaxing her closer to the precipice of surrender. As she hovered on the brink, her body taut as a bowstring, his lips found her ear, and he whispered words of devotion.

"You're so beautiful, so perfect. Let go, my love. Cum for me." The sensual cadence of his words wrapped around her, an undeniable invitation, and she felt the last of her walls tremble, cracking under the weight of his praise. Her body responded instinctively, arching into his touch as he coaxed her closer to the edge. She could feel it building, a molten tension winding tighter with each pulse of pleasure that surged through her, threatening to unmoor her entirely.

Then, with a choked cry, her resolve shattered. The pleasure that swept through her was intense, potent enough to make her gasp, her core clenching rhythmically around his fingers as ecstasy surged, each wave cresting and crashing through her. She trembled, her breaths coming in rapid bursts as she teetered in that blissful space. But even as the release overtook her, rippling outward with undeniable force, there was still a sliver of herself she held back, a trace of resistance lingering at her core, keeping her from fully dissolving into pleasure. It was as if her body had surrendered, yet her heart still lingered, guarded, hovering just beyond the reach of complete vulnerability.

Wave after wave of sensation left her body limp and shivering, her skin flushed, her breaths ragged. And yet, even as she lay in his embrace, reveling in the aftershocks of her release, something deep within her remained untouched, still holding on, as though daring her to surrender wholly next time. She felt the intensity of her release—a vivid, powerful testament to how much she wanted to let go, yet how much further she could fall if only she allowed herself.

Tenderly, he gathered her in his arms as she shuddered through the aftershocks. "That’s it, baby. You’re amazing. So responsive, so trusting. I couldn’t be prouder of you." He rained kisses over her face, her neck, his words a soothing salve to her soul. She clung to him, dizzy and disoriented from the maelstrom of emotions, yet cherished beyond measure. In this moment, she wasn't a fantasy or a fetish, but a woman truly seen and adored for all that she was—a duality of strength and vulnerability, perfectly entwined in the arms of love.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his hands continuing their gentle caress. "You're amazing, Wony." His words, soft as a summer breeze, carried the weight of his admiration and tenderness.

She sighed, her breath still shaky as she came down from the first climax, a testament to the passion they shared. Yet, there was a lingering frustration in her, a shadow of doubt that marred the perfection of the moment. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I don't know why I can't just fully… let go," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel like I'm still holding on…"

He shook his head gently, his fingers deftly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's okay baby," he said softly, his voice full of understanding. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. You've done so much already, I know you trust me, baby, please show it to me." His words, a soothing balm to her troubled heart, seemed to ease the tension from her body.

Her eyes softened at his words, her chest rising and falling with deep, labored breaths. She gave a small nod, her lips curving into a hesitant smile, though there was still a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. He didn’t let go. His hands moved over Wonyoung again, softer this time, each touch deliberate and careful, as though every stroke carried a promise. "Do you have one more for me, princess?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. "Just trust me, Wony. I'm going to help you let go. You don't have to hold anything back."

Wonyoung's breath caught in her throat as she nodded. The tension in her body, so tightly wound, began to loosen under his careful touch. His hands roamed with purpose and pure, unhurried affection. The way he touched her wasn't just intimate; it was reverent, as if he was worshiping every part of her. His whispered praises filled the air between them like a balm, soothing the parts of her that had felt raw for so long. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, then lower, placing gentle, lingering kisses on her chest. He paused, his mouth grazing her nipple, his warmth sending a shiver through her as he focused on the stiff nub.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his lips returning to her neck. "The way you keep going, even when things get tough, it's amazing to watch."

With each word, Wonyoung felt her defenses begin to crumble, the walls she had built around herself slowly breaking apart, leaving her exposed. Her breath hitched as her body responded, but even as she surrendered, a small, aching hesitation remained, a part of her still clinging to control. She wanted to let go, to feel fully, to be vulnerable, yet something held her back—an invisible tether keeping her from completely surrendering.

"I don't know if I can, I don't know how to…" she whispered, her voice shaking, not from fear, but from the overwhelming vulnerability that swelled inside her. She had always been the strong one, the composed one—the one in control. But here, in his arms, she didn't have to be any of those things. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye.

His eyes, warm and filled with love, never left hers. "Honey, I know how hard you work to be strong every day, and I see how much you carry. But here, with me, you don’t have to keep it all together," he whispered, his voice so soft, "I love every side of you—your strength, yes, but also the parts that need tenderness and care. You’ve been strong for so long; it’s okay to let yourself rest and lean on me. I’m here to hold you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, completely, and I’ll always have your back. Let go, even if just for a moment. You’ve earned it, and I’ll be right here through it all."

Something deep within Wonyoung shifted, a missing piece falling into place in a puzzle she hadn’t even known existed. In that charged, breathless moment, her last defenses dissolved. The barriers she had clung to splintered into dust, leaving her bare and vulnerable, her emotions raw and beautiful. Her body softened under his touch, yielding, pressing close, every line of her molding to him as if they’d been designed to fit together. Her heart—her most precious, guarded part—opened entirely, like a flower surrendering to the kiss of the morning sun. Years of hidden hurt and buried longing spilled forth, leaving her exposed and breathless, every nerve alive with sensation.

Her breaths quickened, shallow and uneven, as he pulled her closer, his touch igniting something deep within her, something that had been waiting, yearning to be released. She let out a soft, needy sound, a whispered “Oh…” as his hand traced her spine, sending a delicious shiver down her back. The heat spread through her, coiling tightly, winding up like a spring. His hands roamed over her skin, each stroke a spark, each caress an invitation to let go. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and another soft moan escaped her, higher, pleading. “Mmm… please…” she breathed, the anticipation winding up within her until she could hardly bear it.

As the pleasure built, her voice trembled, rising with each sensation that took her closer to the edge. “Ah—” she gasped as he found that spot, her entire body arching into him. “Yes, I’m cumming” she whimpered, her moans spilling freely, no longer shy, each sound a testament to the rawness of her surrender, the depth of her need. When release finally claimed her, it crashed over her like a tidal wave, an all-consuming flood that left her gasping, body trembling as she clung to him. She let out a keening cry, her voice breaking into soft, shuddering moans, her fingers curling against him as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her, leaving her breathless and dazed.

The pleasure was pure, untainted by guilt or hesitation, a dizzying blend of bliss and vulnerability. She felt herself come undone, a thousand stars scattering behind her closed eyelids, each pulse of pleasure brighter than the last. She gasped, her voice a whisper as her senses dissolved, leaving her floating, utterly open and alive in his arms.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the moment, in him. His hands never stopped their slow, sensual caress, letting her enjoy every last bit of her release. His lips never stopped their sweet murmurs of praise as he held her, supported her, guided her through the waves of bliss that crashed over her again and again.

When she finally stilled, panting and spent in his arms, Wonyoung felt something she hadn't in years—free. Free to be herself, free to feel, free to love. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her cries of pleasure. "Thank you for helping me let go."

He just smiled, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You never have to thank me for that, baby," he murmured, his arms tightening around her. "I'm always here to help you, no matter what."

In the stillness of the night, two souls lay intertwined, wrapped in the embrace of intimacy and comfort. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic cadence of their breaths, akin to a gentle melody that enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth. Wonyoung felt a profound sense of peace that had eluded her for far too long, nestled snugly against his chest.

He looked down at her, marveling at the sheer beauty of the moment as the golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow around them. The tender strokes of his fingers dancing along her back were like a soothing balm, a gentle reminder that she was cherished, easing the weight of her worries and insecurities that often clung to her like a second skin. Each caress felt deliberate, as if he were painting a masterpiece against her skin, and with every touch, she could feel the tension melt away, leaving her breathless and weightless.

Devoid of the pressure and expectations that characterized her public persona, Wonyoung felt free to be simply herself. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, and for once, the gleaming lights and flashing cameras were nothing more than faint memories. In his embrace, she was not the polished idol; she was simply a woman allowing herself to experience vulnerability.

The usual assertiveness of her personality melted into a soft bundle of intimacy. She took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of him, a mix of her favorite cologne and something uniquely his that made her heart flutter. She turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat sync with her own. It was a melody of trust, of safety, allowing her to lower the walls she’d so carefully constructed over the years.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, she shared a rare smile, a smile that spoke of the unguarded joy that danced in the depths of her eyes. In that quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung finally understood that the pressures of the world, the expectations from fans and industry executives, had no claim over this moment. Here, with him, she was stripped of her titles and achievements. She was just Wony — beautifully flawed, wonderfully imperfect, and so deeply human. In the gentle confines of his arms, she felt liberated, ready to embrace every fragment of herself she had kept hidden away.

“I don't know what I did to be so lucky to have you in my life, Thank you so much,” she murmured softly, her words barely breaking the silence, yet carrying an ocean of emotion.

His heart swelled at her gratitude. “You don’t have to thank me, Wony,” he replied, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

With deliberate slowness, he shifted to tuck a blanket around them, ensuring that the warmth of their connection extended beyond just their bodies. Every gesture was measured, an unspoken promise to hold her carefully, to shield her from the chaos of the outside world. As he enveloped her further into the warmth, she exhaled a soft sigh, feeling the cares of the day slip away like grains of sand through her fingers.

The comforting weight of the blanket, combined with his unwavering presence, created an oasis of tranquility. Wonyoung nestled closer, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of him — a blend of warmth, safety, and love. It was a scent that anchored her, reminding her that here, with him, she could fully let go and simply be.

“Your happiness means everything to me,” he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around Wony. “I love taking care of you; it’s my greatest joy.”

In the quiet sanctuary of their shared space, Wonyoung surrendered to the day's final embrace. The weight of hours spent apart now gave way to the serene pull of sleep, a tide of weariness that beckoned her to its peaceful shores. Yet, as the siren call of rest tempted her consciousness, a single, sacred ritual anchored her to the waking world—a phrase that had blossomed into their own secret lexicon, a testament to a bond that defied the physical realm. "Oppaaa… can I have… tucky?" she whispered, her voice a tender plea in the dimly lit room.

The words hung in the air, a delicate invocation, and his heart responded with a symphony of flutters. It was a request that transcended mere comfort; it was the embodiment of a profound craving for closeness, a need that only their unique connection could satisfy. "Of course, baby," he replied, his voice a soothing balm, wrapped in the warmth of a smile that illuminated the shadows.

With meticulous care, he began to undress, each movement a silent vow to honor the sanctity of her comfort. His actions were a dance of devotion, a series of quiet gestures that spoke volumes of his desire to bridge the gap between their bodies while preserving the delicate fabric of her ease.

As Wonyoung positioned herself atop him, her lithe form a perfect complement to his, their bodies began a silent conversation. Her thighs, soft and supple, cradled his hips, while her arms encircled his neck, drawing him into an embrace that promised refuge. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his awaiting form, her slickness guiding him into the heart of her warmth. A gasp, soft and surrendering, escaped her lips as he filled her, stretching her to the brink of pleasure.

In the close warmth of their embrace, Wonyoung's breasts, soft and tender, pressed against the firm contours of his chest. Each breath they shared caused her hardened nipples to graze his skin, a delicate friction that stoked the flames of their desire. Her core, a molten haven, clenched around his length, a rhythmic pulse that echoed the beating of their hearts."

Their dance was unhurried, a languid exploration of the connection that bound them. It was a communion of souls, a testament to the depth of their understanding. With each undulation of Wonyoung's hips, their bodies found solace.

Lost in the comfort of his arms, Wonyoung's sighs mingled with the quiet of the room, a harmony of contentment. Her cheek, nestled in the crook of his neck, inhaled the familiar scent that clung to his skin—a scent that whispered of safety and belonging. Thoughts dissolved into the ether, replaced by the exquisite sensations that coursed through her. Her fingertips, light as a feather's touch, traced the contours of his back, each stroke deepening their connection.

The pleasure that built within her was a slow simmer, a crescendo that threatened to consume them both. Yet, Wonyoung reveled in the anticipation, drawing out the sweet agony of their union. She clung to the moment, unwilling to relinquish the closeness that enveloped them, a closeness that made the world beyond their embrace seem a distant memory.

"You're so perfect," he murmured into her hair, his words a tender confession. "I love you so much. Just like this. Just us." His voice, laden with emotion, was a testament to the depth of his affection. In the stillness of their shared space, their love was a living entity, a force that rendered them invincible in their vulnerability.

Wonyoung smiled at his words, a small, contented grin that reached her eyes as she nuzzled closer. She gently traced slow, lazy patterns across his skin with her fingertips, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath her touch. Each caress brought a fresh wave of calm, a deeper sense of security, and a love that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She had never felt so cherished, so at peace.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, her voice a delicate whisper filled with gratitude, knowing he understood her heart without needing to say more.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he replied, his voice tender as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. There was something deeper in his touch—a promise, a vow of unconditional love and support that she could always count on.

As Wonyoung’s body relaxed fully into his, her breathing slowing, he focused on the simple, quiet joy of having her close. The rhythm of her heartbeat matched the serenity of the room, each gentle beat echoing the contentment swelling in his chest. He realized this wasn’t just an intimate moment; it was their sanctuary, a home they had built within each other where love grew and thrived.

“You make me feel safe,” she whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable, as if confessing a secret.

He smiled, holding her even closer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he replied softly, his voice thick with emotion. “To be the place where you feel at home.”

Wonyoung’s eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion washed over her. She hummed in content, her voice sleepy but full of warmth as she faded into the quiet, but the love in her tone was unmistakable.

Time seemed to stand still. The world outside—with its chaos and noise—faded into a distant memory, leaving only the peaceful calm that wrapped around Wonyoung and him. In this moment, together, they were safe. Together, they were whole.

[yan-lorkai]

Fae/faerie Jade trying to get lost reader's name and her being like '🤨 uh, no, give me yours first, let's trade' without knowing that's basically like betrothing herself with him

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey I believed faes/fairies used to exist when I was kid lol. And I'm telling y'all this because I had a dream quite similar to this fic lololol, it was a good dream tho :>

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

"You're quite charming," he says, his voice soft and almost reverent, as if speaking an undeniable truth. "Precious, even. Why won't you tell me your name?"

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. There's something about the way he asks, the smoothness of his tone, that feels too inviting, too... dangerous. For a second, you study him, his sudden appearance intriguing you.

You cross your arms, trying to appear more confident than you feel. "Uh, no. Mister, you should tell me your name first," you say, thinking you’ve cleverly sidestepped whatever game he’s playing. "Or... We could trade names."

For a moment, his eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face. But then his lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile, one that makes your stomach tighten in a way you can’t quite place. "Ah, a trade, is it?" he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement. "Very well, if that is what you wish... I shall oblige."

He leans in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a brief second, you feel as though the air around you has thickened, charged with something unspoken. When he speaks his name - Jade, like the gem, it’s with a deliberate, almost theatrical grace, each syllable drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. His voice is like silk, and his name feels heavy, lingering in the air between you.

And the sound is almost magical, hypnotic even.

You don't realize it, but the moment you suggested a trade, you unknowingly set the trap he had been waiting for. To exchange names with a fae is to offer something more than just words; it’s an agreement, a binding promise. By giving yours, you would be tying yourself to him, just as he’s doing now.

And the look in his eyes — the way they gleam with that mix of amusement and something darker — tells you that he knows exactly what you've just offered, even if you don't.

When you finally open your mouth to respond, you don’t see the invisible chains that have begun to form around you, nor do you hear the silent vow he’s made to keep you by his side.

"Well," you begin, a bit nervously, trying to shake off the sudden intensity in his eyes. "I guess it’s only fair to share mine now." You tell him your name, and as the words leave your lips, you can't help but notice how his smile widens, sharp and satisfied, like a predator finally closing in on its prey.

“Ah, so that is your name, Yuu,” he repeats, almost reverently, as if tasting it, repeating it again and again as if he was getting used to it. “Beautiful… fitting, even.”

He takes a step closer, and you instinctively take a step back, but he follows, closing the distance again. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me, do you?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying current, a subtle shift that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You blink, confused. “What do you mean?” you ask, feeling a little defensive. “It’s just my name. We traded, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s not just a name,” he replies, tilting his head as if amused by your innocence. “To share a name with a fae is to forge a bond, one that can not easily be broken. You offered a piece of yourself, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I have given you a piece of me in return.”

You stare at him, the realization dawning on you slowly, like the creeping shadow of a storm. You had to have misunderstood what he just said.

“Wait… Are you saying…?” Your words falter as you search his eyes, looking for any sign that he’s joking, but there’s none. The grin on his face is too calm, too knowing, as if he’s been planning this all along.

“Yes, my dear,” he says, his voice soft and almost affectionate, yet there’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “We are bound now, betrothed, if you wish to call it that. You belong to me, just as I belong to you. Isn’t it delightful? Mom and dad will be glad to know you.”

Your heart starts pounding, a mix of disbelief and panic surging through you. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You stammer, shaking your head as if you can undo the words you’ve already spoken. “I didn’t agree to… to this! I can't get married right now.”

He doesn’t seem fazed by your protest. If anything, he looks even more delighted now. “Oh, but we're married now due to fae traditions. The moment you proposed the trade, you sealed your fate. And I have no intention of letting you go, my precious beloved one.”

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch cool but oddly soothing. “Do not fear, Yuu. I shall take care of you, cherish you… just as a good partner should.”

You try to pull away, but his hand cups your cheek, holding you gently in place. “There is no need to run, no need to fight. We are bound by something far stronger than mere words. You wished to know my name, and now… you will never forget it.”

The forest around you feels like it’s closing in, the air thick with something unseen, as if the world itself acknowledges the bond between you. And in his eyes, you see no hint of malice, only a patient, eternal watchfulness, as if he’s content to wait, to let you come to terms with what you’ve unknowingly become a part of.

“I’ll give you time to understand,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a soft, almost tender smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “But know this… I am yours, just as you are mine. And there is no escaping what has been forged tonight... Love.”

[aventurineswife]

Can I request the same boys as ur cold reader fic but with a s/o who is haepaphobic (fear of touch) who allows the boys to finally hold them as they've grown confident enough to surpass their fear? Like they just go up to the boi and silently hold their hand, hug them or lay against them. How'd they react?

-🍭

Hold Me Tight

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, AE!Sunday x Reader, Comfort, Slow Burn, Overcoming Fear, Emotional Growth, Healing Touch, Gentle Romance, Trust and Vulnerability, Supportive Partner, Quiet Moments. Warnings: Mentions of past trauma (haepaphobia, fear of touch), Light emotional angst.

You’ve been sitting together on the balcony of your shared apartment, the evening air cool against your skin. As always, Aventurine's smile was playful, but there was something in his gaze that softened when he noticed the tension in your body. It had taken time for you to feel comfortable around him, but he had always respected your space. Today, however, something inside you shifted.

You approached him cautiously, heart beating faster than usual, but the air felt different. There was something unspoken between you, a promise, a trust that had taken root. Slowly, you extended your hand towards him. His eyes widened, but the smile that bloomed on his face was warm and reassuring. He didn’t say a word, letting your action speak louder than any reassurance he could give.

When your fingers brushed against his, you felt the subtle electricity of contact. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you gently clasped his hand. It was a soft, tentative motion, but Aventurine’s reaction was anything but tentative. He leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes turning to one of deep affection.

"You’ve made a gamble, haven’t you?" he said softly, his voice a comforting mix of teasing and tenderness. "And it seems like it’s paying off."

He didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate. Instead, he gently squeezed your hand, his warmth grounding you in a way words couldn’t. Aventurine’s confidence was a constant, but in this moment, it was your courage that shone the brightest.

The quiet hum of the Astral Express echoed around you both as you sat next to each other in the quiet of the observation room. Dan Heng had always respected your space—he rarely initiated physical contact, understanding your fear. But tonight was different. The train felt peaceful, almost still, as if the universe had slowed just for you.

Without a word, you gently placed your hand over his, just resting it there. The warmth of his skin against yours was enough to make your heart race. Dan Heng looked down at your hand, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the shift in his energy, the way his calmness seemed to embrace your nerves.

After a long pause, he slowly wrapped his fingers around yours, his grip gentle and careful, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. The simple gesture made your chest tighten with a mixture of fear and relief, but it was a fear that slowly melted away under the steadiness of his touch.

“Thank you.” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were thanking him or yourself.

Dan Heng’s voice was soft, almost imperceptible. “I’ve been waiting for this moment… waiting for you.”

In the study room filled with towering stacks of books and papers, you’d always been hesitant. Ratio, for all his brilliance and confidence, respected your space as much as anyone could, though you had seen the way his sharp eyes softened when you lingered nearby.

Today, though, there was something in the air that urged you forward. You had been reading a particularly difficult text, and as if drawn by some unseen force, you found yourself standing beside him. You looked up at him, quietly offering your hand. Your pulse quickened as you waited for him to react.

Ratio blinked, his sharp gaze flicking from your hand to your face, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. For a moment, his intellectual mind seemed to process, then slowly, ever so carefully, he placed his hand over yours. He didn’t pull away immediately, as you’d feared, instead his fingers lightly caressed yours.

“You… are bold,” he mused, his voice soft but undeniably earnest. “This… is new. But it is a challenge I will gladly accept, if you will allow me to teach you the art of trust.”

You didn’t respond verbally; instead, you squeezed his hand gently. His expression shifted from one of calculated assessment to a rare, sincere smile.

The vast expanse of the Xianzhou Luofu stretched out beyond you, but you found yourself in the quiet solace of Jing Yuan’s office. He’d always been a calming presence, the kind that never rushed or pushed you to go beyond what you were comfortable with.

Today, you didn’t want to be rushed. You didn’t want to be pushed at all.

Instead, you walked up to him slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to touch his sleeve. Jing Yuan noticed instantly, his eyes locking with yours. He didn’t move, allowing you the space to decide your next step.

Without warning, you slid your hand down to his, fingers brushing his warm skin. For a moment, you froze, waiting for his reaction. His gaze softened, and a quiet, approving smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without a word, his hand enveloped yours, large and reassuring.

“You’ve taken a step toward me,” Jing Yuan murmured, his voice low and comforting. “And I’ll take a thousand steps toward you, if that’s what it takes.”

You laid your head on his shoulder then, resting against him. There was no pressure, no judgment—only the shared, unspoken promise that he would never push you past your limits.

The Yaoqing district was quiet, a peaceful kind of stillness that only a place of healing could offer. Jiaoqiu, ever the gentle soul, was focused on preparing his latest concoction, his attention absorbed in the delicate task before him. But you were nervous today—your heart raced in the quiet room as you approached him, feeling the weight of your fear and longing to overcome it.

Jiaoqiu looked up from his work as you silently extended your hand towards him. He didn’t move immediately, sensing your uncertainty. But then, after a moment of quiet deliberation, he slowly took your hand in his.

His touch was soft, tender, like he had all the time in the world for you to overcome this fear. Without words, he pulled you gently closer, allowing you to rest against him. His arms were steady around you, offering a sanctuary of warmth and solace.

“Fear is something you need not face alone,” Jiaoqiu whispered, his voice a balm for your restless soul. “I am here, always.”

The soft rhythm of his heartbeat against yours was enough to soothe the storm in your chest. You didn’t need to say anything more—his presence spoke for everything.

The Astral Express was unusually quiet today, the hum of the train providing a soft background to the stillness that enveloped you. Sunday, as always, sat in his usual contemplative silence. His eyes were locked onto the stars outside the window, but you could tell he had noticed your presence.

It had taken time—months, perhaps longer—but now, you were ready. You could feel the steady confidence that had grown within you. You took a step toward him, your heart racing with anticipation, and gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

He turned to you, his piercing gaze searching your face. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. But then, without hesitation, he lowered his hand to rest on top of yours, his touch both firm and gentle.

“I did not expect this,” he said, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But I will accept it, as I accept all things from you.”

His warmth was comforting, though his words carried a tinge of something deeper—something he didn’t often reveal. Slowly, he reached up and cupped your face with both hands, pulling you into a quiet, serene hug. His embrace was surprisingly tender, an unspoken understanding flowing between you both.

“The world is harsh,” Sunday whispered, his voice soft yet resolute. “But with you, perhaps there is another way.”

And in that moment, with your body pressed gently against his, the world outside seemed a little less daunting. You were no longer alone.

[kaciidubs]

Gentle | Monstober Mini Fic

We won't talk about how late I am to everything currently, yeah?

✧ Summary: In which you get to finally indulge in your Orc boyfriend, even if it's just the tip of the iceberg. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.7k ✧ Warnings: Monster fucking, Orc! Chris, smut, fluff, slight size kink, slight humor ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Reader is referred to as Pretty, Pretty Human, Human, slightly edited [I finished this at 3:40am] ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

“Alright, Channie,” you spoke softly, your fingers tugging at the smooth ribbon of your sheer robe, “gentle.”

“Gentle.”

Your heart warmed at the way he parroted your advisory – a softness that was a stark contrast to his otherwise rugged features. 

Anyone in your position would've been fairly scared out of their minds, but you were far from it - this was liberating, exhilarating even. 

An orc and a human - your orc, the man you promised to remain by no matter the difficulties and stigma. 

This type of pairing wasn’t rare per se, but it was certainly less explored due to various... differences, to say the least; if not for the way he completely dwarfed you in sheer height and mass, then for the way he could lift a couch with one hand as if it were as light as a feather. 

Contrasts, like in the way his hand could easily cover your entire face while yours could barely cover the expanse of the line of his jaw to his upper cheekbone.

However, those differences only proved to fuel your desire for him more, and your sentiments were reflected tenfold – that much you were extremely positive about.

“Slowly.” Chris affirmed, the huskiness of his tone spurring goosebumps along your skin.

Nodding, you let the robe slip from your shoulders and fall to your arms, fighting back a smirk as his eyes flicked to the exposed skin. “Slowly – and if you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

His heated gaze met your own sultry stare, a knee-buckling grin accenting his gorgeous tusks. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

Cementing the verbal agreement, you dropped your arms and let the robe flutter to the hardwood floor without a sound, leaving you bare and open to his viewing pleasure.

“Pretty.” Came a breathless sigh, and you weren’t sure if he truly meant to say it out loud as he regarded you with the same look of awe as one would to a radiant sunset.

You stepped away from the pool of fabric and sauntered your way toward the bed, climbing onto the plush mattress before finally making your first form of contact with him ever since you’d entered the room; hooking your leg over his waist and sitting pretty against his abdomen. 

“Hi.” Resting your hands against his chest, you reveled in the warmth that radiated off of his body before a small smirk grew on your lips, “Come here often?”

A strong huff shook your body against his as he rolled his eyes, though his amused smirk didn’t go unnoticed as a large hand trailed along your side before cupping your cheek. “Quiet, come.”

Obliging his request, you allowed yourself to be dragged down into a slow kiss, ever mindful of the tusks that grazed the corners of your lips.

Slow and steady only seemed to last as long as each breath that passed between the two of you - short and waning, while whatever semblance of control began to chip away with every subconscious grind of your hips against his lower stomach. Your desperation was only made worse when you felt the pressure of his tip meet the curve of your ass on one particularly long drag; the large head twitching slightly and the fabric of his boxers slightly damp.

“Channie?” You breathed against his lips, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, your unspoken question translating perfectly with the heat of desire burning within your irises.

He took you in for a moment, eyes jumping between your own and your lips, “Okay.”

That was the last thing you remember properly registering before you found yourself grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat; your brain short circuiting the minute your pussy nestled against the wonderful veins that decorated his length like a textured map. It was heaven - at least, as close to heaven you would be getting as your aching cunt still felt empty, yearning for the final piece of your lover that was so close but still so far away.

“Fuck- ‘M not going anywhere, pretty.” Chris huffed, grunting at the way your nails pressed a little harder into his chest, yet it still wasn’t enough to break skin. “Take your time-”

“Christopher,” you all but whined, pinning him with a look that made his dick throb underneath you, “we take our time when you eat me out, we take our time when you finger me - right now I need you as fast as I can, as hard as I can. Can you please just give it to me like I want?”

Sliding your hips up, your body shivered as the large head of his dick slid through your folds, the smooth skin a welcome sensation against your sensitive clit yet an agonizing reminder of what you’re unable to partake in full.

“Come on, take care of me the way only you can, baby.”

The way only he could - even if it wasn’t to the extent you deserved, you still ached for him, and what type of Orc would he be if he continued to deny his little human what she wanted?

You could sense a shift in the air, a change that caused a spark of electricity to shoot down your spine, but before you could say anything your body jolted forward from a cant of his hips; a fiery glint flashing in his lidded eyes.

“Don’t know if I should call you needy, or greedy,” he murmured, large hands coming to rest on either side of your waist, “always ready for more no matter the limits.” He took the initiative in guiding your hips up the underside of his cock, using you like a toy as his tip bumped against your clit, “Pretty human, can’t get enough of what’s already too much to handle normally - I wonder who spoiled her?”

A short whimper escaped you as his own hips rocked forward, dragging his veiny cock back through your folds in a pace reminiscent of intermittent, languid thrusts.

“Who did this to you, pretty? Hm? Who made you this greedy?”

His goading tone made your pussy throb, clipped gasps tumbling from your lips while you endured the ride he controlled.

“Answer me, human.” He snarled, eyebrows pinching as his intense gaze kept your eyes locked on his own.

“Y-You…” The timidness was foreign to your ears, this new side of your lover completely new to your psyche. “You, Chris.”

A deep rumble reverberated within his chest, a lowly chuckle as his lips curled into a cocky smirk, “Me? No - see, I only give you what I think you can handle, it couldn’t be me.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, “Chris-”

“I’ve only given you enough to keep you satisfied, enough to make sure that your needs were well taken care of,” his faux thrusts grew quicker, slicker with the mixture of precum and arousal that glistened along his dick, “maybe that’s what made you start thinking you could take more - crave more, is that it? Did I ruin my pretty little human?”

“Y-Yes!” Dropping your head forward, you swallowed thickly as your legs twitched at his sides, the stimulation conquering you in ways you’d never felt before. “You ruined me, Channie - C-Can’t even think about going back to a-another human, it wouldn’t be enough.”

His hands flexed, body shuddering with a deep breath as he tried his best to conceal the pride that swelled within him. “Another human, hm? What about another Orc?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No- God, no, it’s only you!”

“Eyes up, pretty.”

Lifting your head, you met his sultry gaze with pleasure glazed eyes.

“Say it again.”

“I-It-” A broken moan tumbled from your lips, your orgasm just on the horizon, “It’s only you - I only want you!”

His eyelids fluttered, hips bucking just a bit harder, “F-Fuck, good girl.”

“I-I’m close, Channie,” you whimpered, your body working overtime to try to overpower his grip on you to garner a fraction of more stimulation, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Go on, pretty - come for me, show me how gorgeous you’d look coming on my cock.”

Your stomach clenched hard enough to make you double over, though his hands kept you steady as your walls fluttered and throbbed, choked breaths shaking your body all the while.

Chris grunted, clenching his jaw as he slid his hips back just enough to nestle his tip against your spasming cunt, daring to press it harder against your entrance in wishful desires of feeling more of your warmth - his eyes fluttering shut as his mind ran wild.

“C-Chris?”

“So close…” He breathed, hips twitching as his conscience fought against his reality. “Y-You’re not the only one ruined, pretty,” his hips continued to rock up, fucking you with the only part of his cock that could remotely fit, “what I wouldn’t give to be inside of you, to feel you fully - my pretty human.”

“Inside…” You parroted breathlessly, one hand sliding to his chest while the other ventured up to tangle in his mussed curls, “To feel me… To come in me…”

His hands squeezed your sides, trembling slightly as he shook his head, “D-Don't.”

“Can you? Like this? Just this once?” You rolled your hips back, wiggling against his tip, “Please, baby - show me how gorgeous you’d look coming inside of me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You felt his cock twitch, his hips bucking up until a loud moan flew past his lips.

The sensation was new, different yet welcomed all the same; the warmth of his seed flooding against your cunt before excessively dripping toward your clit and creating a puddle on his lower stomach.

Your body attempted to press back further but you were stopped by his vice grip, pulling you away so the last wave of his orgasm could paint a few lines up his stomach.

A whine of protest floated through you, “Channie!”

“Pretty,” he deadpanned, blinking hard before opening his eyes to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “you’re getting too greedy now.”

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible.” Huffing out a light laugh, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt some of his cum subsequently drip out of you.

Humming in faux agreement, he nodded, “Well, let’s go get cleaned up and you can tell me all the ways me being irresistible turns you into an insatiable beast.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @bethanysnow,  @skz-smut-reader

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[crescenthistory]

begging for a fic where regulus says “i love you” to reader for the first time and it FLOORS them bc reggie is not one to voice his feelings a lot, much less something as powerful as the feeling of love

listen, when i saw this ask i sat down and wrote this in ONE sitting, THANK you. you probably intended for this to be a scene at the beginning of a relationship, but i instead decided to psychoanalyse my poor darling reg for a few thousands of words and give him a patient partner. hope you'll forgive me lols<3

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, the most ancient and noble black family trauma (including descriptions of abuse and neglect), gn!reader, black brothers angst and reconciliation, sunshine!reader, reader is very patient and understanding with regulus, kinda past bartylus, barty is a hugger here, reg pov so some spiraling, vague implied references to sex (so implied that i believe it's safe for minors, but just putting that out there)

on the tip of my tongue

It’s not that Regulus didn’t love you. Quite the opposite, actually. 

It’s just that love had not been a spoken matter in his life until you barged into it. Love was implicit as much as it was hidden and reserved; something you grabbed greedily at while you had it and rationed carefully over the next few weeks or months, hoping to get by on it. 

For a long time, Regulus thought his mother loved him. She was strict and firm, but when he came to her for advice, she would give it and might even pat him on the cheek if he accepted what she had to say readily enough. He would hold his cheek afterwards and syphon the warmth left from her touch, wishing there was a way for it to stay with him forever.

When he got to Hogwarts and experienced true, unrestrained friendship he realised there was a way for it to stay with him forever – the other party just had to not withhold it. His cheek would be warm if the people who loved him kept holding, kept returning. With them, attention was not something he was occasionally graced with, it was always on him, within easy reach.

It took him a while, but Regulus eventually got used to the physical affection, at least from his friends. He came to expect it and lean into it, which in and of itself felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. There were hugs and pats on the back and tousled hair. There were pretend-scuffles on the quidditch field and the common room. There was that one term in third year where Barty decided he and Regulus simply must learn how to kiss and the boys spent most nights sneaking off into the empty common room and unskillfully, sloppily making out through kisses. There was that one night in fifth year where they picked it back up again. 

Still, with the hands-on approach to love that Barty and Dorcas had and infused into their little safe haven of a friend group, it remained unspoken. There was the occasional “mate” or the nicknames he brought with him from home – “Reg” was fine and while he did not much care for “Reggie”, he let it slide due to the affection it held. The closest they got to spoken love were the promises to fiercely protect each other, to kill and die by each other’s sides if must be. To beat the living daylights out of anyone who lays a finger on the other and then hex the pain to stay with them forever. An oath of loyalty was their "I love you".

Other than them, Sirius had been his one source of affection throughout his life, but as everything else in Grimmauld’s Place it had been quiet. 

Sirius was the perfect big brother, whether Regulus wanted to admit that or not. He held his hand when they crossed the street and held Regulus at night when he cried. Sirius taught him as much as he could, and though he occasionally was arrogant or impatient with his lessons, he didn’t give up on them. Regulus knew he loved Sirius at the very least, even if he had in more recent years questioned if that love was returned.

The problem with Sirius is that Regulus does not know of most of the affection the older boy showed him. Sirius insists that the two spent the majority of their first years attached at the hip, but Regulus struggles to remember much before the age of 12, which you had once told him he might want to look into with a professional at some point. To which Regulus emphasised the “at some point” more than the rest. So any hugs or touches or love Sirius showed him has been long since forgotten. Apart from the bed-sharing; Regulus remembers that vividly. Crawling into his older brother’s bed at night when he had nightmares, hoping Sirius could chase the monsters away. Regulus didn’t think he did it that often, but Sirius swore he once slept an entire three months solely in Sirius’ bed.

The most significant way Sirius loved Regulus, though, was through what he did for him, not to him, which Regulus did not himself see. He was such a good shield between their parents and Regulus that the young boy didn’t even realise the service he provided. Scoldings, blames and beatings – there was nothing Sirius did not take for Regulus.

If Regulus’ childhood was painful enough not to remember, he could not stand the thought of how Sirius’ must have been.

That is part of how he learned not to resent him for leaving Grimmauld’s Place – even that he did in part for Regulus. When left alone with an increasingly vexed Walburga Black, Regulus learnt quickly how severe some punishments can be. Consequently, he learned what Sirius had endured for him, how strong of a shield he had been. 

Sirius knew he could no longer withstand the weight of that house, so he left, in hopes that he could be a better protector for Regulus from afar. Finding a good home full of warmth and smiles, and coaxing Regulus into joining him there under safer circumstances than he himself had. When the two had their infamous heart-to-heart, it was Sirius choking on the words “better protector” that finally broke Regulus – the first time he had cried in front of his older brother since they were little.

Now he knew well that Sirius loved him, beyond most words. And the things they said to each other during that talk where he convinced Regulus to leave might even mean more than a simple “I love you”. Still, it remained unsaid. 

It was simply not tradition for Regulus Black to speak them.

Then, he met you. 

What was that thing James always says? Game-changer? You were that for him.

Somehow, affection just came pouring out of you like you were overflowing with it and just had to share it. With your friends and your family, even strangers – it just came naturally to you. And when Regulus entered your orbit through his reunion with Sirius, you more than happily let that extend to him as well.

It absolutely floored him. 

The first time you said “I love you” to him was long before you got together or before he even had the nerve to actively flirt with you. You ran into him in the hallway and stopped him, trying to squeeze as much conversation as you could out of him in the few minutes you both had between classes. It was evident you were soaking up his presence as if it was truly enjoyable, and it warmed something in him he was only able to name later on. When you had to run, you ended the conversation with a casual “okay, see you later, I love you, bye!”. Regulus was left gaping. Nearly ended up late to McGonagall’s class because of you. 

Saying it as a form of temporary goodbye reminded him of how he used to ration his mother’s touches, it carried him until the next time he saw you. Except next time with you was dinner later the same day, and then breakfast and then hanging out in the library. He never had to wait long, never had to go wanton.

The love kept flowing freely from you in all the ways he had gotten used to over the years and then many more – physical touch, quality time, acts of services, words of affirmation, you checked off the whole list. He began calling you soleil, French for sunshine because of how you shone with that love for everyone. It was a slip of the tongue one day, and when he saw how it made you smile, he just kept calling you that.

With such a loving and lovely creature, Regulus thought he couldn’t help but fall in love with you; he was not at fault for it, you were entirely to blame with your loveliness.

His voice had shook some when he first confided in Sirius about it. The older boy had smiled fondly and joked, “That was not quite what I meant when I told you to make yourself at home with my friends, but I’m glad you’re comfortable.” Regulus argued he in no way shape or form felt comfortable with the emotion, but Sirius would have none of it.

His voice shook even more the first time he told you how lovely you look today, but unlike Sirius, you didn’t notice. You smiled and returned the sentiment with ease. He realised then that he would likely not be able to talk himself into a relationship with you, given his lack of skill and your lack of deducing any intent behind sweet words, so he went the Regulus-route as Sirius had called it.

Meaning, he pursued you through quiet, unwavering loyalty and company, attaching himself at your hip for as long as you seemed comfortable with it. When he realised there was no limit on the amount of time you were willing to spend with him, he went further. 

Regulus went to hold your hand for the first time in Hogsmeade. Looking back on it, you both laughed at how he spent ten whole minutes inching his hand closer and closer to yours, practically holding his breath, awaiting a rejection or harsh response. Ever so slowly, he interlinked his pinky with yours. An opening both for you to take it further or cast him aside, whichever you pleased he would accept. The beaming smile you flashed as you looked up at him then, lacing the rest of your fingers together tightly, never left his mind for long.

Hand holding led to walking arm in arm which led to prolonged hugs which finally, finally found you both sitting in the Astronomy tower, kissing with large, dumb smiles on your faces. The same night you had your first kiss Regulus surmises you probably had your first hundred kisses.

Now, laid in bed beside you, two years into dating, Regulus could not imagine not being comfortable around you. He smiles fondly when he thinks of the boy he was before you decided to simply drown him in affection, but he does not relate to him anymore. There is no place he would rather be than here by your side, in the flat he purchased for the two of you straight out of Hogwarts – the last time he can remember panicking before asking you to take the next step in your relationship – playing idly with your fingers as you hummed some melody he could not place. It felt right.

The one thing that had remained the same throughout your relationship, both before and after it turned romantic, was that you overflowed with “I love you”s and he had not said it once.

You had talked about it before, of course you had. Sirius had given Regulus a stern talking to about communication when you first started going out, unwilling for his baby brother and friend to get hurt by their own stupidity. 

“I don’t know if I can say it,” Regulus had said then. “It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know how.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t need to then,” you had said so simply, through a smile that made his heart spin happily. “I know what I need to know. I like saying my truth because that’s how I am; but I am more than happy to accept you showing yours because that’s how you are. And I love you as you are.”

Regulus had known in his bones that you meant it, and that made it all the more sweeter. He attacked you with kisses after that, relishing in the giggles it drew from you.

“If it ever changes, will you tell me?” Regulus asked after, when you quieted down in each other’s arms. “If you ever need to hear it?”

You had said something about how you “do hear it”, always with your metaphors and abstract ways of viewing things. When Regulus, ever the pragmatist, had insisted on getting an answer to his question because “you know what I mean”, you had promised to tell him. You never did need to because it never changed for you.

It was Regulus it changed for.

In your shared bed, your hand in his as he followed its outline and your bare legs entangled, something deep in him shifted. You were sleepy and content above him, reading some paperback he borrowed you ages ago that you only picked up once you moved in together and all your books were in the same place anyway. He was laying half on top of your chest and staring at you with what had to be love in his eyes because that’s what he felt in his soul. He had been staring for the past half an hour, not even realising it, lost in his train of thought.

He had expected that when he would finally say it, there would be some grand reason, some special moment. Something that would cause that shift, something that required him to voice what he felt and you knew.

There wasn’t; it was just you and him, and he was so unbelievably happy and comfortable. He had tried microdosing love and you ended up giving him a lifetime supply instead. You were everything.

“Sol?” The question drawled out of him, mouth ahead of his brain but heart running miles before both. 

You looked up with a smile, stopping your absentminded humming. “Yeah, love?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and he spent another minute just looking at your face. You let him, indulgent and sweet as ever.

“I love you.”

You froze. The smile remained on your face, the same contentedness there, but your eyes widened and your hand on his back stopped mid-circle. “What?” you whispered.

He kept staring at you with a smile, almost finding humour in your increasingly shocked expression, though some old part of him remained alert for rejection. Which makes no sense, she tells you it every day, he reminded himself. Still, old habits die hard.

You decided to trade one question for another upon his silence and your mental recalibration. “Why?”

“Why?” Regulus repeated through a laugh, as if the thought was incredulous. “Have you met yourself, soleil? Have you seen what you’ve done to me? I’ve always loved you.”

You sat up quickly at that, jostling Regulus up with you, though he was less graceful in the change of position as he did not anticipate it. You looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression. “Not what I meant,” you said then.

Regulus opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what.

“But you didn’t have to,” you blurted out before he could. Rushed, almost frantic. “Don’t say it because you think you have to.”

Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion before they cleared up in realisation of your fear. He shifted to sit closer to you, practically pulling you between his legs, and grasped both your hands softly. They had been hovering between your forms, as if over an injury you did not know how to treat. Slowly, he dragged his thumbs back and forth over your knuckles. “Amour, soleil,” he whispered, emphasising the words with all his might. “I know I don’t have to. I wanted to. I want to, it feels right. I– I love you.”

The second time, the phrase flowed more freely from his tongue. Easily. He found he quite liked the taste.

You opened and closed your mouth twice, eyes flickering all over his face as if to deduce whether you trusted his words. Then, ever so slowly, he saw that smile he loves so much begin to grow over your lips, that looked increasingly more kissable to him.

“Yeah?” you asked him breathily through your oncoming grin.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. “I love you. I always have, you know. But I felt like saying it now.”

Your laughter was almost watery as you squeezed his hands in yours. “I do know. And I love you,” you asserted clearly, as if there had ever been any doubt.

“So I’ve heard.” The cheeky remark was the last thing that left Regulus’ lips before he moved forward and captured yours.

Just like that first kiss in the Astronomy Tower, one led to possibly a hundred more. Giggles and sighs all mixed together into what Regulus was proud to call his life.

A life with you. A life of love.

[mistyorchid]

‧₊˚♱ Logan Howlett Archive ♱˚₊‧

An archive of my fave Logan Howlett fics on Tumblr, with a special section just for Old Man Logan! <3 If you guys love these works as much as I do, interact with the author's post! Reblog, like, comment, the works. Will update! Don't like it, don't read! Fluff/no smut is tagged with ✿. mdni!

Old Man! Logan

one-shots

✦ Double Dicked Down on a Tuesday / @wolvieispunk

You're casual with Joel and Logan. Tonight, you want a threesome you (literally) couldn't walk away from.

✦ from eden / @eupheme

Logan timeline, sorta divergent/fix-it fic, angst, hurt/comfort, everyone is going through it, wound tending, dark thoughts/references to violence/death (aligning with themes in the movie), neurodegenerative disorders (Charles), multiple pov, established relationship, shower sex, oral sex, PiV, feelings

✦ GLORY BOX / @rqnarok

calling old man!logan daddy for the first time ever…

✦ never is a promise / @joelsgoldrush

You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

✦ Silk and Submission / @tteotlma

sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (25-53), degradation, virginity, consent dynamics, intense emotional experiences, body image, possible manipulation, emotional intimacy, potential objectification, light BDSM themes, physical intimacy, power dynamics, explicit language, feelings of nervousness or anxiety related to sexual experiences, and exploration of personal insecurities.

✦ speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life / @moonlight-prose

he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

✦ SUGAR ON THE RIM / @ovaryacted

When Logan comes home after finishing his driving rounds for the night, you help him wind down and enjoy a drink.

✦ taxi driver / @eloquentlytired

tags: taxi driver logan - build up - eventual smut - large age gap ( reader in/over mid 20s and logan in his 50s ) - singular mention of thr0wing up and dr*gging - savior logan - some surface wounds - logan loves calling u sweet girl and sweetheart

✦ the way you want to / @eupheme

situationship, possessive!soft dom logan, daddy kink, teasing/begging, logan taking an educated wish, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mutual unspoken pining, vaginal sex, creampie

✦ untitled / @inkedells

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

drabbles

✦ Ain’t as Good as I Once Was / @lovelybucky1

old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni

✦ Good girl / @i5uckersblog

request for old man! Logan please: he calls the reader his good girl for the first time in bed & he sees the instant affect it has on her

✦ old man!logan obsessing over his pregnant wifey / @rqnarok

smut! mdni. breeding kink. lactation kink. pregnant sex. dom/sub dynamics.

✦ ✿ Something For Himself / @sassypossum

I love this man. He genuinely deserves the softest life…

✦ untitled / @eupheme

logan comes first, so he fucks you with his fingers

✦ ✿ untitled / @flowersforbucky

some angst, touching and sensuality, suggestiveness, insecurity and doubt from logan, comfort and fluff

✦ untitled / @murdrdocs

normal, not insane thoughts being had about fucking old man logan.

Worst! Logan

one-shots

✦ forty five minutes in the closet / @moonlight-prose

an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

✦ room for rent / @hauntedhowlett-writes

logan finds a new roomate.

✦ sniff / @seventeenpins

You catch Logan with your stolen panties.

✦ Til The Sun Turns Black / @lubdubology

Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

✦ i'll love you forever (a momma, you'll be) / @elflutter

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze. You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

Logan & Wade x Reader

one-shots

✦ untitled / @dollfacefantasy

tags: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation

✦ untitled / @avocado-writing

vaguely sub!Logan (he deserves to be taken care of); handjob (logan receiving); p in v sex (Logan giving, reader receiving); p in a sex (Wade giving, Logan receiving); knotting; fluff

✦ woo, my baby's got me all mixed up! / @sceletaflores

t18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering…kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

Everything else! *Origins, X1-3, dofp, etc.

one-shots

✦ dirty little secret / @silverskyeline

logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself.

✦ ✿ Dumb & Poetic / @mcrdvcks

You like Logan, but he likes Jean. Right?

✦ Halloween / @selfcarecap

You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

✦ moanin' & groanin' / @shellshocklove

working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

✦ MUSE [L.H.] / @selfcarecap

Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

✦ Practice / @selfcarecap

Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

✦ PRETTY AS A PRINCESS ♡ / @dollfacefantasy

you and logan have to work on halloween, but on the bright side, that means you get to dress up. and even better, you get to give him a little preview of the costume you've chosen.

✦ ✿ The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony / @gothgoblinbabe

You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

✦ The Wolverine and His Bunny / @rosenclaws

You and Logan have always butted heads and his constant, condescending reminders of your mutation don't help. It's not until your forced to train together and well, the tension is undeniable

✦ Two's Company / @jen-with-a-pen

obligatory MDNI, written on my phone, everyone's an adult and 21+, no smut, open ended, use your imagination, secret relationship/crush vibes, alcohol (wine), sexual tension, again use your imagination

✦ untitled / @selfcarecap

Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

✦ Where is the beast now? / @fungateshortcakes

english is not my first language, porn without plot, submissive Logan, dominant reader, orgasm denial, cockrings, handjobs, dirty talk, slight humiliation, slight praise kink, penis in vagina sex, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, cumming inside, creampie, mommy kink, Logan gets called a good boy/baby/pretty prince, copious amounts of cum, short but filthy

drabbles

✦ Hands Free / @ddejavvu

tsmut, minors dni, mean!logan, drinking, don't like don't read.

✦ thinking about older!boyfriend logan howlett and his sweet little live-in girlfriend… / @cavillscurls

MDNI, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, daddy!kink, dd/lg undertones

✦ untitled / @murdrdocs

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+

✦ untitled / @mcrdvcks

fem!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, insecurities

✦ untitled / @superhoeva

older bf!logan is the kinda guy that wants to treat you to a special night of an oiled massage but gets distracted halfway through with how pretty you glisten in the candlelight.

✦ untitled / @robo-writing

Kinktober Day Six: 70's! Logan - Cock Worship

[andy-15-07]

hi! I love your feyd rautha fics 🥰 can you write one where the reader is pregnant with his child, a female, and he’s upset and cold with the reader because she’s not a male heir? but then, when she’s born, he’s so transfixed by her beauty and just the fact that she’s his, and that he just melts and swears to kill anyone for her?

My precious one

masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The halls of the fortress echoed with an air of tension as Y/n, heavily pregnant with Feyd Rautha's child, moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Feyd, the formidable heir to House Harkonnen, had been distant and cold ever since learning the gender of their unborn child. Tradition demanded a male heir, and Y/n's heart ached with the weight of disappointment as she faced the impending birth of a daughter.

"Y/n," Feyd's voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with discontent as he entered their chambers. "What use is a daughter to the House of Harkonnen? You were to bear me a son, a worthy successor."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Feyd, she is still our child, a part of both of us. She will carry the blood of House Harkonnen."

He scowled, turning away. "A daughter will bring us nothing but weakness. I need an heir who can command respect, instill fear in our enemies. This changes everything."

As the days passed, Feyd distanced himself further, leaving Y/n feeling isolated and burdened. The weight of disappointment settled upon her like a heavy cloak, but she clung to the hope that when their daughter arrived, Feyd's heart would soften.

The day of reckoning came, the air thick with anticipation as Y/n went into labor. Feyd, though present, maintained a stoic silence, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. The labor was arduous, but when the cries of their newborn daughter filled the room, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

"She's here, Feyd," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Our daughter."

Feyd's eyes met the tiny, squirming bundle in Y/n's arms, and for a moment, the hardness in his gaze softened. The baby girl had a delicate beauty that seemed to captivate him, a sight that defied his earlier expectations.

"What shall we name her?" Y/n asked, her heart swelling with love for their precious child.

"Feydra," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a tenderness that surprised them both.

Feydra's arrival sparked a transformation in Feyd. The once cold and distant heir was now consumed by an overwhelming protectiveness and love for his daughter. As he held her for the first time, his fingers traced the contours of her tiny face, and he couldn't help but marvel at her innocence.

"She's ours, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I will do anything to protect her. No harm shall come to our Feydra."

From that moment on, Feyd became an attentive and devoted father. He would spend hours cradling Feydra in his arms, his stern countenance replaced by a softness that only she could evoke. The fortress, once a place of cold authority, became a haven for the blossoming love between father and daughter.

As Feydra grew, Feyd's determination to shield her from the harsh realities of their world intensified. He vowed to eliminate any threat that dared to cast a shadow over her, swearing to protect her with a fierceness that only a father's love could inspire.

One day, as father and daughter strolled through the fortress gardens, Feyd's eyes gleamed with an unspoken promise. "Feydra, my precious one, you are the future of House Harkonnen. No harm will befall you as long as I draw breath. I would destroy worlds to keep you safe."

Feydra, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls, gazed up at her father with adoration. In those moments, Feyd's heart swelled with a love that transcended bloodlines and tradition. The bond between father and daughter had forged a legacy that defied the expectations of House Harkonnen, proving that love could be a force more powerful than any political alliance or familial obligation.

[verstappensrealwife]

Silver Springs - Ex!Oscar Piastri x Singer!Reader

[oscar piastri masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... oscar goes to his ex girlfriends concert after cheating on her.

ʚɞ angst -> fluff? ending.  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 900 words + SMAU

ʚɞ warnings: NOT an oscar ending, cheating, oscar's sisters are made to be much younger (like under 10). lana del rey faceclaim.

ʚɞ poll at end of fic to decide who she dates next!

༻❁༺

When you and Oscar split up, it wasn’t amicable like he told the media. He broke up with you, and you were distraught. Going black out on social media for months before announcing a new single. It wasn’t long before writing the song that you found out the reason it all really ended. He had said, “Mclaren says no more distractions,” You soon found out that just meant “No more you.” 

This revelation came a few weeks later when he was seen posted up with a girl. The timelines of your relationships overlapping. Distraught was now the understatement of the year.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

The release of the single marked a turning point in your narrative. The song, dripping with raw emotion, resonated deeply with listeners. The lyrics were painfully direct, a window into your heartbreak and the betrayal that followed. Fans dissected every line, piecing together the story and speculating about who it was written for. 

The album followed, a cohesive story of love lost and the journey back to self. While some songs still bore the weight of your pain, others hinted at healing, even defiance. Critics hailed it as your most vulnerable and mature work yet. Headlines shifted from speculations about your personal life to accolades about your artistry.

Meanwhile, Oscar stayed silent, perhaps believing the storm would pass. But the scrutiny on him intensified, especially as the timelines between his relationships were publicly examined. The girl he was seen with became a topic of conversation too, though you never once mentioned her. Your silence in interviews about him spoke volumes; you let the music say it all.

As the months passed, you began to flourish in ways that no longer revolved around heartbreak. 

By the time the album tour rolled around, you had fully embraced your own narrative. On stage, in sold-out venues, you exude confidence. The heartbreak that once defined your every move was now just one chapter in a bigger story—a story of resilience, transformation, and unapologetic self-love.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

Oscar’s sisters sat on either side of him, laughing and chatting as they waited for the next song, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on stage. To them, this was just another concert—a chance to see one of the biggest stars of the moment, someone they might have even admired from afar before all of this. They didn’t notice the way your gaze had frozen the moment you spotted him in the crowd. They didn’t feel the heat rising as you stared him down, the room suddenly smaller, suffocating.

The intro to Silver Springs started, and the audience quieted, the opening chords rippling through the venue like an unspoken promise of something extraordinary. As the spotlight shifted back to you, the weight of the moment settled. You gripped the mic tighter, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense. You knew the song would hurt to sing. What you didn’t expect was how much it would hurt him.

You began softly, your voice trembling with emotion

"You could be my silver springs...

Blue-green colors flashing..."

Your eyes found him immediately. The spotlight didn’t extend to his seat, but you didn’t need it. You could feel him, your gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. For a moment, he looked back at you, then quickly away, shifting uncomfortably. His sisters kept chatting, oblivious, swaying gently to the melody.

But as the song built, so did your intensity.

"Time cast a spell on you,

But you won't forget me..."

You leaned into the words, your voice growing sharper, angrier, the crackling edge of your heartbreak evident in every syllable. You didn’t just sing the song—you lived it, every word a pointed accusation. Oscar shifted again, staring at the stage now, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but tense. His sisters seemed utterly at ease, clapping politely during an instrumental break, their chatter not stopping for a moment.

And then the line came:

"I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you..."

You let the words hang in the air, staring directly at him. The audience roared, swept up in the passion of your performance, but you didn’t even register them. This was personal, a message delivered with precision and fury.

Oscar’s sisters finally caught on to the awkward tension between you and him, but they only exchanged confused looks, still clueless as to the weight of what was happening. They turned to him, whispering something, but he didn’t respond. He just sat there, staring at you with a mixture of regret and defiance.

As the song reached its emotional crescendo, you pushed through to the final verse, your voice soaring. By the time the last note faded into silence, you stood there, staring into the dark where he sat, breathing hard, your heart pounding.

The audience erupted into applause, breaking the moment. You straightened, taking a deep breath and allowing a small, almost imperceptible smile to cross your face. You turned and walked offstage for a brief interlude, leaving him there, knowing he’d felt every word.

༻❁༺

༻❁༺

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

I hope this was good 🫣 I’ve not done an SMAU before

Click here to be added to the tags list ❤️ 

tags: @uhhvictoria @anamiad00msday

[kitkatpadywaks]

Arcane fic recs

i'm not over Arcane s2.

Key: 🔥Smut - ❤️ Fluff - 💢 Angst - ❤️‍🩹 Hurt/Comfort

Last Updated: 17th December 2024

Multi Fandom fic recs | Bucky Barnes fic recs | Daryl Dixon fic recs

BED CHEM by @yukioos (viktor x reader) ESPRESSO (BED CHEM PT2)

summary: you and mel walk down the hallways of piltover university when suddenly, you encounter two men trying to break into a professor’s laboratory.

🔥virgin!viktor by @pipthepiper (virgin!viktor x experienced!reader)

thinking about cuddling s1 Viktor ♡ by @juststrawberrytea

It's you in the reflection, not him. by @wheatbreadfuckyeah [Viktor x Reader] Graphite Powder Oh, To Capture You In Pages [Viktor X Reader]

🔥Study Date by @honey-pages (Viktor x Reader) 🔥Weaker (Study Date Part 2) ❤️Tea and Biscuits (Study Date Part 3) ❤️Play Fight (Fluff Fics Part 1) ❤️Kiss Me (Fluff Fics Part 2)

summary: Viktor waits for you in the library for an unexpected study date.

Kindling Sparks by @prettybouquets Golden Hour Confessions

🔥academic rivals by @ihopeinevergetsoberr (viktor x fem!reader) 💢🔥i'm in love with a dying man 🔥do you fancy a quickie?

🔥studying birds and bees by @dadsbongos

summary: viktor, alone and glum, is not comforted by the company of a fellow scientist at a hextech exhibition party. not until you mention taking him home, at least.

🔥Take My Hand by @zerun0 (Viktor x Y/N (Female) ❤️Ivy & Iron

❤️💢🔥The Prophecy by @lokidjarin-7567 (Viktor x You)

summary: When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more.

Late Night Studying by @amaranthine-apollo

Asymmetrical Symphony by @sweetflanfiction (Viktor x gn!reader) pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7

summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Across the River by @am-i-interrupting

summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

🔥❤️‍🩹Viktor x Reader by @bluecookies02 🔥Sub!Viktor x Reader

squeeze you in by @foolinafable (Viktor x reader)

summary: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you

Take A Break by @unoislazy (Viktor x Reader)

summary: Viktor doesn’t want you to be like him. You’re taking a break and you’re gonna like it.

viktor x assistant!reader by @visbacktatto

❤️[4:24 am] what are we? by @aaksuitac

Can you feel anything? by @meownotgood

🔥A 'Quick' Experiment by @supernovalcholism (VIKTOR x GN!READER)

summary: After a long day working in the lab all day, Viktor and you find an anomaly. Another hour in the lab with the man you loved so dearly? Another hour couldn't hurt! Time for science!

Unspoken Rivalry by @supernovalcholism pt2 pt3

Early Morning Whispers by @harbinger-of-enmity (Viktor x GN Reader Drabble(?), brain dump(?)

🔥Keeping Him Company by @grugruel (Viktor x f!reader)

Personal Pigments - Cadmium Yellow Deep Hue by @thefandomsfervent (Viktor x Reader) Burnt Umber (Part 2) Ultramarine Light (Part 3) King's Blue Light (Part 4) Venetian Red (Part 5) Carmine Red (Part 6) Oro Scuro (Part 7) Burnt Sienna (Part 8) Lavender Tinted Gesso (Part 9) Quinacridone Rose (Part 10 - This is now a JayVik (and eventually Mel) x reader fic.)

summary: Heimerdinger forgets to warn the science bros that an artist is coming in to visualize them and Hextech, a collaborative program between a Piltover art school and the academy for some new hall meant to be unveiled at an upcoming progress day. Large paintings can take years to do, with Hextech’s promising growth they are to be started in a preemptive manner.

💢For You, Always by @narnian-neverlander [Viktor x GN!Reader]

summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

strawberry wine by @fushiguro-megloomy (modern au!viktor x artist!reader) 🔥After the Distance

summary: prompt - “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you”

The Handsome Assistant by @galactic-magick (Viktor x Reader) ❤️A Proper Date (Part 2)

summary: You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

🔥💢(feel) whole by @kismetre

summary: ⤷ : in which you make viktor (feel) whole. and hope. and human.

May You Never Forget Me by @inkinflux (Viktor x gn!Reader)

summary: Viktor replays fond memories with his newfound power, though your memory refuses to allow him such peace.

💢❤️🔥Can you do that for me? by @grugruel (ruined!Jayce x f!reader)

summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

🔥i. wildflowers by @zevrra (jayce x reader x viktor) 🔥ii. wildflowers together 🔥iii. wildflowers forever

summary: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

🔥viktor x reader x jayce by @zevrra

summary: fem!reader and jayce help vik “focus” for a speech!

Lab shenanigans by @the-odd-shu (Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!) Hey Hextech, is it gay to cuddle your co-workers? (Part 2)

summary: A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

❤️pick me up, lily flower by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: your low blood pressure takes you down most literally, but your lovely boyfriend is medically trained and in love with you

steb/mage!reader hcs by @vieoeil-riae

I see you more, more, and more by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: Steb, the romantic

🔥must be dreamin' by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: despite having a strong sense of duty, steb is still as easily distracted by you as he was years ago

🔥take you down with me by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: Both of you think the other might have died in the battle for Piltover, so you get emotional and fuck in a broom closet when you see each other again. Sounds fair, no?

🔥get clean, get dirty by @vieoeil-riae (steb/fem!reader)

summary: in the crescendo of a flirt, you finally push the right buttons to put steb's fantasies of your wet body under his touch in motion

🔥how good it feels by @vieoeil-riae (steb/gn!reader)

summary: the thought of you is enough to make steb break his own unspoken rules

🔥˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... by @neuvilette-tea-party (Steb x F!reader)

summary: You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Lovesick by @dulcecita-luzita (Steb/Lovesick Reader)

summary: You are utterly, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with Steb.

Lovesick!Steb by @dulcecita-luzita

summary: Steb is consumed by an overwhelming love!

Softie by @dulcecita-luzita (Steb/Softie Architect Reader)

summary: a cool steady architect turns out to be a hopeless softie.

You get injured. by @choas232 (G/N! Reader x Steb)

summary: What was supposed to be a simple club raid goes horribly, horribly wrong.

❤️(eventual🔥)Le Coeur by @moonstrider9904

summary: The owner of a lovely and coveted coffee shop in Piltover falls in love with the Vastayan enforcer who keeps watch in her shop's surroundings.

💀🔥Ma Meilleure Ennemie by @nyxs2 pt2 pt3 pt4

summary: Silco was at his limit. The last few days had been a whirlwind, made worse by Jinx's eccentricities, which Sevika couldn't control. He was exhausted, his nerves on edge, so, as if it were the most obvious solution, one of his subordinates suggested that he relax… in a brothel. The idea was so offensive that Silco almost killed him right there. But in the end, there he was and unfortunately or fortunately you are the lucky one who will serve him.

[cedarmoonzz]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a small continuing to your Ford fic? I really enjoyed it and tugged my heart strings. I love you work so much and if your able to do that without any issue, I'd love that!😭💜

yes! i love that six fingered cartoon dilf with every fiber of my being!

once more to see you •｡ꪆৎ ˚

continuation of: between the bars followed by: slow like honey

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford x reader

content: angst, stanford's poor attempt at comfort lol

summary: when your fiancé’s episodes of paranoia spiral out of control, you come to a difficult realization.

You’ve always seen yourself as someone grounded in logic. Pragmatic to the bone, you’ve relied on reason and science to navigate life, finding comfort in facts and the concrete reality they bring. But lately, that sense of security has started to unravel. 

The cabin was frigid, its icy air wrapping around you like a shroud, seeping into your very bones despite your efforts to ward off the chill. The socks you wore—a secret purchase made without Stanford’s knowledge—offered little warmth, though they  greatly softened the sound of your steps as you quietly drifted from the bedroom to the kitchen, then to the closet, nursing your third cup of coffee that night. Each breath you took was quick, shallow, as if the cold air was stealing it away. As you finally settled at the desolate kitchen table, a wry thought flickered in your mind: could the layers of plywood and fiberglass beneath you truly muffle the frantic beating of your heart, hiding it from your fiancé’s ever-watchful ear? In your own, the rhythm pounded, echoing like a circle of drums, impossibly loud in the oppressive stillness of the cabin.

Stanford’s paranoia didn’t burst into your lives all at once; it crept in quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a shadow growing longer at dusk. It all began when he developed a peculiar fascination with triangles—a simple, geometric shape that, in his hands, took on a life of its own. He transformed the cabin, once a place of warmth and refuge, into a gallery of trigonometric stained glass, each piece more elaborate, more intricate than the last. At first, you found it endearing, even charming, and you laughed it off as just another of his harmless quirks. You told yourself it was just Stanford being Stanford, his brilliant mind forever chasing new ideas.

But as the days turned into weeks, the triangles began to multiply. Their sharp, precise edges cast strange, fragmented light across your home, turning familiar spaces into something alien, almost unrecognizable. You began to notice how the once-welcoming cabin now felt distorted, its atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. And yet, you didn’t see it for what it was—not at first. You didn’t want to see it. You told yourself it was just the glass, just the way the light hit it, just the way Stanford was channeling his creativity. You ignored the way your stomach twisted with unease, dismissed the creeping dread that settled in your bones.

You shook your head, trying to banish the haunting thoughts that swirled in your mind. There was no time to dwell on what had already happened; what mattered now was moving forward. Rising from your seat, you made your way to the bedroom you and Ford once shared, a space now overshadowed by his office chair, which had become his sanctuary. You reached into the closet, your fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of your thick army jacket. The worn texture offered a rare comfort, a tangible reminder of a time before everything had shifted. As you fumbled through the pockets, your hand closed around a pack of cigarettes—an old habit you had left behind during your second year of graduate school. A fleeting wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingled with regret for the time lost. You slipped the pack back into your pocket and donned the jacket, its sturdy fabric promising some semblance of protection against the biting night winds and the snow that still whirled outside the closed window.

Your gaze then fell upon your boots, left carelessly on the closet floor, caked in mud from past forest excursions with Stanford. You reached down, lifting them with a mixture of sentiment and practicality. With the boots in hand, you carefully descended the stairs, each step deliberate to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the kitchen door, you set the boots down and slipped them on, their familiar weight grounding you in the present. Quietly, you opened the door, the chill of the night air meeting you as you stepped into the darkness, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

You stood on the porch of your home, clad in baggy sweatpants, an oversized coat, and your old brown army boots. The cold night air wrapped around you, but the weight of the familiar clothing offered a small measure of comfort. You instinctively reached into your pocket, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic, like reconnecting with a part of yourself that had been missing. Pulling out a cigarette, you brought it to your lips, and then you fumbled into your other pocket, searching for a long-abandoned lighter. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal as you hoped to find one still with fluid.

After a moment of fishing, you finally found it. With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, the cigarette resting between your fingers as you brought the lighter to your face. The small flame flickered to life, illuminating your face in the darkness as you lit your former vice. You’d given up smoking years ago, recognizing it as a bad coping mechanism, though it had always managed to calm your nerves better than any of the so-called remedies Stanford had suggested—yoga, green tea, or otherwise. Stanford had never missed an opportunity to chide you about it, yet in moments like these, when the world felt overwhelming and uncertain, the familiar warmth of the smoke provided a fleeting solace, a small rebellion against the chaos of your thoughts.

You couldn’t shake the image of your fiancé from your mind. The one person you had always relied on as your rock, your steadfast partner in all things logical and real, now seemed a stranger. He had become obsessed, shining a flashlight into your eyes, searching for something hidden in the depths of your pupils. Each time that harsh beam flickers across your eyes, it chips away at your sense of reality, leaving you to wonder if his strange behavior is a sign of something far darker lurking beneath the surface. The familiar comfort of the cigarette seemed almost to mock the confusion and dread that now defined your days, as if trying to find stability in a world that had become increasingly alien.

“[Y/n].” Ford’s voice sliced through your reverie, its suddenness filling you with an indescribable anxiety. The feeling was sharp and unsettling, a gnawing presence that you couldn't quite classify as rational or otherwise. It wrapped around you like a cold fog, clouding your thoughts and intensifying the sense of disorientation that had already taken root.

He stood behind you in the doorway, the light from behind casting a soft, almost ethereal glow around him. From this angle, you might have thought he looked perfect, a vision of calm and composure that seemed untouched by the chaos of your shared reality. The gentle halo of light made him appear almost otherworldly, a serene figure caught in a moment of stillness.

Yet, his appearance betrayed a different story. His hair was frantic and messy, a wild tangle of curls that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had deepened, etched by sleepless nights and relentless stress. Despite the disarray, there was a softness in his gaze, a look of tenderness you had missed with all your heart. It was a fleeting reminder of the warmth and affection that once defined your relationship, now overshadowed by the encroaching distance and disquiet that had come to dominate your lives.

You had tried so damn hard to stay quiet, to remain out of his way. You'd let him overwork himself to the bone if that’s what he wanted, even though it felt like a slow erosion of everything you once knew. You’d had the argument too many times to care by now, the words always seeming to fall on deaf ears. All you wanted was to avoid the inevitable confrontation, to give him space, even as his obsessive behavior grew ever more unsettling. 

"Stanford," was all you said in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. You lifted the cigarette from your lips, the smoke pooling around you like a hazy veil. As you exhaled, you cast a glance up the staircase, the familiar sight offering no answers, only a silent reminder of the space between you both.

“You’ve started smoking again,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of quiet surprise. The statement lingered in the air, the drifting smoke accentuating the distance between you. It was as if the sight of the cigarette in your hand was a reflection of the changes he could no longer ignore.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The cigarette met your lips once more. You took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs as your eyes remained locked with his. In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, leaving you both suspended in the delicate space between old familiarity and the evolving distance that now defined your relationship.

“Of course I would,” he said, his voice carrying a soft tinge of regret.

You dropped the cigarette into the snow, watching as it hissed and sizzled against the cold ground. With a decisive step, you crushed it underfoot, pressing it into the snow for good measure. The smoldering embers were quickly extinguished, leaving only a faint trace of smoke lingering in the frosty air.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to utter, the word feeling woefully inadequate in the weight of the moment. It hung between you, a simple apology for the complexities that neither of you could fully address.

“It’s cold. You’ll catch your death out here,” he muttered, his voice laced with a blend of concern and weariness. He stepped aside from the doorway, making way for you with a gentle gesture. The warmth from inside seemed to beckon, a stark contrast to the frigid night air.

You looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the moment stretching between you as if everything else had come to a halt. The world outside faded into a blur as snapshots of your relationship flickered through your mind—moments of laughter, shared dreams, and fleeting happiness. With each memory, you found yourself questioning what had gone wrong, what could have been different, and what measures you might have taken to alter the course of events.

In the midst of that frozen silence, a question slipped from your lips before you could even stop yourself: “Ford, are you still in love with me?” The words hung in the air, unexpected and raw, their weight adding a new layer of complexity to the already tense moment.

His head snapped towards you, eyes widening with a shock that seemed to crystallize in the cold night air. His gaze pierced into yours with a fierce intensity, as if your question had struck a chord deep within him. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow of confusion and apprehension, while his mouth tightened into a thin, resolute line. The change in his demeanor was palpable; his posture straightened as though he were bracing himself for a storm.

With a determined stride, he marched to stand beside you in the snow, the door to the house slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. The two of you stood together, the moonlight casting a ghostly glow upon the snow, which reflected a bluish light that danced across the scene. The snow-covered ground sparkled faintly, but the surrounding darkness clung to you both like a shroud.

He stared down at you as you stared at your feet, standing only an arm's length away, the proximity intimate and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft shushing of dormant branches swaying in the wind, their gentle rustling mingling with the quiet stillness of the night. The cold air wrapped around you both, creating a palpable silence that stretched between you, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the snow-laden trees.

His hand reached out, fingers closing gently around your chin. With a deliberate motion, he angled your gaze upward, drawing your eyes away from the snowy expanse at your feet and into his. The touch was firm yet tender, guiding your focus to the depth of his own eyes. It was just like he used to do moments before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes met his, and in that brief, suspended moment, you saw the glistening, unshed tears pooling in his gaze. They shimmered in pale light of the moon, their potential to fall betraying the fragile veneer of his composure. The raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes was a stark contrast to his usual facade, revealing a depth of sorrow and vulnerability that seemed to unravel the very essence of his being.

“Don’t you ever ask that again,” his voice cracked, the words trembling as they escaped his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness both intimate and overwhelming. In that tender contact, you felt a deep ache, missing his touch more than you had admitted to yourself. The warmth of his skin against yours, the vulnerability that he seldom showed, was a poignant reminder of what you had longed for but also feared.

Your breath caught in your throat, the tightness nearly choking you as emotions surged within, rendering you on the brink of tears. Frustration twisted inside you, mingling with a deep-seated ache as you grappled with having surrendered so effortlessly to the solace of his presence. The warmth of Ford’s touch, so familiar and comforting, had shattered your defenses with an almost unbearable intimacy.

In that raw, exposed moment, you recognized a profound truth: you loved Ford with a depth that went beyond reason. You understood him completely, and you would remain steadfast by his side. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process, he would always draw you in. It was a certainty you could not escape.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 10

Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this and following chapter. Details below cut.

Contents: smut, fingering, mild breast play, oral sex (male receiving), mild testicle play.

Somewhere, between the bedroom door and the bed, Kento seems to come to a realization. You feel it in the way his almost desperate touches slow in pace, transforming to burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body.

His message is unspoken, and very clear. He wants this to be perfect. He wants to take his time with you.

You are more than happy to comply.

Your lips part from his with a soft, wet sound in the charged silence of the room. Something about this man, the way he looks at you, touches you, welcomes you wholeheartedly into his life, gives you a confidence you've never felt with any other lover. It leaves you feeling powerful.

He watches in almost pained concentration as you step away from him, eyes never leaving his. You're now wearing just your underwear and you wonder if the light catches your skin as tantalizingly as it does his. You reach behind you to unhook the clasps of your bra, but he stops you, grasping your wrist gently.

"Let me."

The soft desire in his voice flickers over you like a flame. You allow him to turn you, facing the bed, your hair draped forward over one shoulder. His fingertips scrape slightly against your skin as he works the hook, tracing down your sides as the straps slip off your shoulders and fall away.

He steps forward, pressing his body into your back, and you almost tip forward onto the bed from how overwhelming his bare skin feels against yours. He moulds to fit the shape of you, and you make out the shift of his pectorals as he brings his arms around, the subtle scrape of the coarse hairs on his chest against your shoulder blades. His breath is like a furnace against the nape of your neck, and you tilt your head, a soft noise leaving you involuntarily as his mouth descends, opening against the sensitive skin; a promise.

His hands are on the dip of your waist, large palms spanning you, rising, rising. They trace the outline of your breasts, and you rise on tiptoes, head falling back against him with a gasp as he cups them. His grip is firm, caressing, the roughened skin of his palms catching on your over-sensitive nipples as he draws broken little sighs from between your lips.

His breathing is accelerating as he feels you, supple under his touch, feeding on the noises you're making for him. His fingers leave their almost obsessive squeeze and stroke of your flesh and slide lower, under the lace hem of your panties. He pauses as if asking permission, even now, and you place your hands over his, pushing down impatiently.

He huffs a small laugh against your hair and then your panties are gone, slipping down to rest softly at your ankles. You feel completely exposed, and somehow, it arouses you beyond measure, knowing he will be the one looking, tasting, tou -

The breath temporarily leaves your lungs as he lifts you and tosses you gently down on the eiderdown, the small display of strength creating a pleasant throb between your legs. You turn over, taking him in fully as he gets on his knees and crawls across the bed towards you.

The lamplight gleams on his golden hair, mussed and uncharacteristically dishevelled by your touch. The sharp, lined corners of his eyes are softer, the scorching, languid glance drinking you in, but still so earnest, so endearing. He is utterly beautiful, from the powerful shoulders, lean waist, the small hairs that speckle the significant expanse of his chest and trail down, deliciously to the small, sandy tuft above the line of his underwear, to the arms and thighs that ripple with corded sinew, shadows chasing over every defined line visible in the dim intimacy of the bedroom.

You take a small, reverent breath and lie back, surrendering yourself completely as he reaches you, lying on his side against your supine form. He is so warm, so intoxicatingly close, breath fanning out against your collarbone as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, splayed out for him.

He cups your chest again, then grips the flesh firmly, his mouth coming down without warning around your nipple. The cry that leaves your lips spurs him on. Kento never does anything by halves. He gives your breasts his full attention, tongue tracing the rounded contours before descending on your stiffened peaks, mouth engulfing as much as he can take. His teeth grazing against you as he lifts his head each time, making you arch off the bed. He alternates between the left and right, laving them with soft licks and bites, and just when you've gained some semblance of control again, you feel his broad palm slide down your stomach.

"K - Kento - "

"Look. Look at yourself. Please. "

You obey him, raising yourself slightly on your elbows, hair pooling on the mattress behind you. Your thighs part at his approach, as if obeying some primal instinct. You already know how wet he's made you, and he grunts loudly when his hand finds your slick folds, watching you jerk, your mouth opening in a soundless cry. You don't take your eyes off where his fingers are, and your compliance makes his breath come quicker, the stuttering words that leave his lips spiralling up to the ceiling like smoke.

"You're ... darling, so wet - I - please. I want to - "

He is not accustomed to this, to expressing his desire verbally. You can tell. You decide to help him along, as much as you haven't experimented much with this before yourself. You are no virgin, but there are still many things you want to experience with Kento for the first time. Bringing your mouth to his ear, you feel him still slightly as you whisper to him.

"Kento."

"My love?"

"Do you like how I feel?"

"I - of course I - "

Your head drops back on the bed, a soft, alluring smile forming on your lips. His eyes are now trained on you, asking a question. You have his complete attention. Good.

"Can you feel how wet I am?"

He exhales sharply.

"Yes."

His fingers are slowly going to work again, rubbing against your sensitive skin, slipping down, making you gasp as he smears wetness over your already soaking labia.

"K - Kento. So good. Making me feel so ... so good."

"I am?"

"Yes. Want you ... hah ... right there, right there - "

"Here?"

"Yes, God, yes."

Your voice is rising, almost uncontrollably, as those large, strong fingers slide against you with greater firmness, circling your clit, pressing down, spreading you, testing the soft give of your entrance.

"Want to feel you, Kento, please."

"Like this?"

Your petals unfold under his touch, one finger breaching into the heated clasp of your walls.

"Just like that, like that - "

"Come here."

His voice is suddenly rough with want, and he tugs you closer, his mouth coming down on your chest again. You clutch at his shoulders as he adds a second finger, working relentlessly, picking up pace inside the wet heat of you. You are now barely aware of the words that leave your mouth, the soft cries, the wanton encouragement.

"Yes, yes, there. Kento, please ... I - making me feel so - "

He releases your nipple with the soft, wet 'pop' of heavy suction, and now his breath is ghosting over your ear.

"Making your pussy feel good, darling?"

Oh. Oh.

Always such a quick student, this wonderful, wonderful man.

"Yes, so good, so good, I - "

You cut off with a small scream as he curls his fingers inside and you stretch wider against the intruding digits. Where the fuck did he learn -

"My love, your pussy's so tight, so sweet - "

"Oh God, yes - "

"Tight, wet little -"

"Ken - Kento - I'm - "

"Squeezing me so much - "

He is panting as hard as you are now, head dipping down between the litany of his praises to take your nipples roughly into his burning mouth, watching them glisten with his saliva as your back arches high off the bed, your trembling thighs spreading wider apart.

Something white hot is building in your abdomen, between the rhythmic press of his fingers and the added stimulation of his lips. Your clit feels raw, each brush electric, a steady, throbbing pulse that is dragging all of your awareness down, down, to the blossoming between your legs that is now completely under his control.

"I - Kentooo - I'm - "

"That's it. Oh darling, so - you're getting so much ... tighter, I can feel - God, come for me, angel. Come for me. Come with this beautiful pussy, I - want - "

His own words are slightly slurred now, but you can no longer keep your eyes open, no matter how badly you want to see him right then. The peak he is building you to is frightening, a complete loss of control, your hands slipping on a steering wheel, careening of a cliff, that sudden weightless drop you feel when you're asleep, your body taut and shuddering, and -

Your orgasm punches the air out of your chest, diaphragm struggling to keep up with the demand of your lungs. The room around you, the bed beneath you, ceases to exist for a minute, the intensity of the pleasure reverberating all the way to the curl of your toes against the mattress. Your neck feels damp with perspiration, your fingers digging into the mattress above your head, clawed and desperate.

After a minute, you begin to regain your senses, one by one, sound and touch returning before your eyes blearily open to take in the man who's gently bringing you down from those dizzying heights. His hands are now gliding over you, grounding you as he soothingly brushes over your sides, hips, thighs.

You are aware that your throat feels scratchy, your fingers stiff from where they have been clutching the eiderdown. Your breathing is ragged, and sweat is cooling in the valley between your breasts, along with the remnants of his saliva. You realise, with horrifying immediacy, that there is dampness, not just at the corners of your eyes, but collecting at the side of your mouth. As much as you started off feeling confident, you hadn't expected him to reduce you to an embarrassing, drooling, babbling mess with just his fingers.

Your shame is quickly forgotten, though, when you see the tenderness with which he looks at you. Those same fingers that were mercilessly grinding inside you a few minutes ago come up, toward his lips, and no, was he -

Oh, those eyes of his, honey-brown in this light, more alive and softer than you'd ever seen them. His gaze never leaves your face as he takes those digits into his mouth, tasting you, then slowly reaches across and traces your lips. He is still watching as your mouth opens obediently and you graze your teeth languidly over him, tongue swirling around his knuckles.

"Good girl. So beautiful when you come."

You almost lose your hold over reality a second time when he leans forward and laps up the excess moisture that has slipped from the corner of your mouth, a groan rumbling through his chest.

Throughout it all, he had been so focused on giving you pleasure, he had drawn your attention completely away from his own needs. You chide yourself for being so selfish as you glance down, between your bodies and note that he still has his underwear on.

Making a small noise of protest, you lift yourself, having recovered enough to move.

Hands still trembling slightly, you place your palms against his chest, pushing him down on his back. He is clearly pent up, his erection tenting hard against the tight fabric. In spite of the fact that you've just orgasmed, you feel a surprising pulse of arousal at the sight of him.

"Kento ... here, let me."

Biting your lip, you glance at him from under your lashes, spying the infinite hunger with which he watches you. Taking that as permission, you hook your fingers into the waistband of the briefs and pull them away from his body, then down, careful not to jostle his erection. The privilege of stimulus is solely for you; you want him just as delirious with pleasure as you have been.

He catches his breath lightly as the air hits his exposed flesh, and you sit back on your heels momentarily, to take in the image of him. The ridged planes of his abdomen form a wide, clear cut 'V', the darker blonde hair trailing down to the trimmed tuft around the base of his cock. He is curved, thick, a slight turn to the right at the tip, the smooth flesh red and painfully engorged, veins standing out along the length.

You have never seen anything more delicious.

Previous experiences have left you feeling lukewarm about giving pleasure orally, but you want to taste Kento so badly you have to squeeze your knees slightly together. The way you're looking at him is obviously having the desired effect because the swollen head is now touching his belly and he lets out a sharp grunt as you lean forward, his cock twitching slightly as you trail your hands up his thighs. The short, coarse blonde hairs catch between your fingers, the planes of muscle hard and tense.

You lower your head and press kisses softly where your hands pass, the trembling in your own legs a reminder of the pleasure you want to give him. Kento's eyes glaze over slightly, and you've never seen him quite like this before, spread out before you like the choicest buffet, the powerful body that was always so tightly controlled under that suit coming undone beneath you. He is breathing heavily, the skin of his face flushed, trying desperately to keep his gaze fixed on you and what you are doing to him.

You touch him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft, squeezing, testing, and a groan tears from the back of his throat, the longing in that single sound an indication of just how much he's holding back. Always in control, even to the point of submitting to your own desires.

You have patience. You can wait until that changes.

Pearly fluid glistens at his tip, squeezing out further under the soft ministrations of your hand. You taste him; he is slightly salty, musky. The scent pulls a hazy veil down over your mind, and now you are operating on pure instinct. Taking him into your mouth, you press him into the inside of one cheek, watching his head flop back on the mattress, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck. Eyes closed, Adam's apple bobbing with each breathy attempt to regain control, he is the most magnificent feast you have ever had the fortune to behold.

You slide him out, until just the tip remains between your lips, then press him back in. Your pace is slow, allowing him to adjust to the heat of your mouth. The muscles of Kento's thighs clench every time you bob forward. You pause in between to lick him gently from base to tip. The flush has now spread to his chest, sweat glistening on his forehead and the swell and dip on either side of his peaked brown nipples. His deep groans have turned into a soft chant of your praises, spurring you on even more.

"Oh God, please, darling ... just - ah - just, there. Yes. Yes. Your mouth ... ngh ... so sweet. Fucking heavenly. Fuck, I'm - please. Don't stop. Don't. Yes."

Hearing him curse like this for the first time sends a bolt of electricity straight down the front of your body, and you moan around his cock, the vibrations causing him to jerk spasmodically under you. The sweet, filthy encouragement, the hardening grip of his hand on the base of your neck, just below the hairline, is filling you with a sense of elation.

You are doing this to him.

You slip him out of your mouth, rubbing the silky, glistening shaft, then place one hand on his inner thigh, pushing. He glances down, spreading his legs further apart, but slowly, as if not sure why you're requesting it. You run your hand down, to the base, but don't stop there, gently cupping the soft flesh of his sac. He hisses and raises his head, meeting the question in your gaze.

"I - sweetheart, I'll - "

"I know."

"I know, Kento. But I want it. Want you to come in my mouth."

Your keep your voice low, sultry, your fingers stroking him with slow, steady firmness.

The words ignite some kind of inferno behind his eyes, and he props himself on his elbows, gulping before giving you a small nod. You smile and dip your head once more, circling with your tongue, feeling the roll of his testicles within the loose outer skin. You take one into your mouth, suckling with care, and the sound he makes, somewhere between growl and a yelp makes you want to build a little pillow fortress and live between his legs forever.

You alternate between sucking his tip and gently teasing his sac, stroking his length firmly all the while. He is growing hotter, harder inside your fist, twitching now and then, the opaque essence leaking out into your hand. The slick, wet sound of your stroking is building another fire between your own legs, one you'll neglect for now in favour of giving him your full focus.

And God, you never want to look away.

He has now fallen back, unable to support himself on his elbows any longer. One arm extends outwards, fingers grasping the edge of the bed as if his life depends on it. His expression is almost the same as when you kissed for the first time, slightly pained, ecstatic, head pushing back into the mattress. He is much louder now, the sounds he makes gruff and almost animalistic. It turns you on no end to know that Kento, your Kento, the man who lives by professionalism and propriety, is here, with his cock in your mouth, bucking his hips into your face like he can never get enough.

You speed up your strokes, careful to grip him tightly enough such that he doesn't slip out of your palm. You slide a hand under him, marvelling at the sheer muscle that forms his perfect buttocks, and he cries out, hips lifting right off the bed as he twitches, harder than ever, within your grasp. A flood of earthy warmth is suddenly on your tongue and Kento's entire body spasms, muscles tauter than piano wire under your hands. His mouth is wide open, nothing but throaty, half-formed groans emerging. You keep still, allowing him to spend himself, before tilting back your head and swallowing his viscosity, wiping off the underside of your lip.

He slumps heavily back on the bed, and you sit up slowly, watching as a few translucent strands of semen droop from the head of his cock, settling on his stomach. You lean forward and clean him, his warm abdomen clenching under your tongue. He strokes your hair, drawing your head away and you crawl up the bed, making your way to his side.

Kento is looking at you as if you are the last earthly delight he will experience in his lifetime, his cheeks ruddy, strands of gold darkened by sweat sticking to his forehead. He reaches for you with slightly shaky arms, and you curl up into his side, head tucked between his armpit and chest. He is too spent to do much, besides wrap and arm securely around you, his breathing gradually slowing to a more even pace.

His embrace, the heat of his body beside you, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand is so comforting that you must have fallen into a light doze, because a short while later he is tracing shapes on your back gently, whispering to you to wake up.

"Love. Don't you want to get cleaned up?"

You nod, stretching luxuriously, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, and then on your temple. You sit up and he is watching you closely, a slight uncertainty in his posture that makes you take pause. You cup his face between your palms.

"Kento? Everything all right?"

He shifts slightly before clearing his throat.

"I ... well. I haven't had much in the way of ... I mean to say ... was it ... "

Dear God.

"Kento. It was not too much. It was perfect."

He pauses, the muscles of his shoulders losing some of their tension, and a small smile creeps across his face, devastatingly sweet and shy. He slowly eases you to the edge of the bed.

"I see."

"Are you really the same man who asked me if my pussy felt good?"

Kento's head whips around so fast you thought he'd damage a tendon. His expression makes something vast and tender well up in your chest, bursting from your lips in a violent sputter of laughter. He grabs you by the hips, not too tenderly this time, nipping slightly at your ear in reprimand.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"Am I going to be punished, do you think?"

"Very harshly."

His grasp on you is rapidly stirring something else between your bodies, something you had no idea you would be capable of feeling, considering the earth-shattering orgasm he'd given you a short while before.

You stand, and his eyes travel the length of your body, lingering on the curved length of your spine and lower, taking you in with the kind of regard that was far from the gentlemanly nature of his everyday self.

"Are you coming, Kento?"

"I most certainly am."

Your laugh becomes breathy as he rises and wraps his arms around you from behind, a more intimate echo of the way he'd taken you to bed earlier. You speak into the charged silence.

"I thought you were concerned about me going to work tomorrow?"

"I was."

"And now?"

"You said you were going to take it easy at work."

"And that means ... "

His lips are now planting themselves along your shoulder, and he pauses between kisses to whisper to you, voice husky and alight with desire.

"That means you're going to accommodate me, my darling."

"Accommodate you where, Kento?"

"You know where."

"My kitchen, perhaps?"

His soft chuckle stirs the hairs at the base of your neck. His kisses turn to soft bites that make you gasp.

"We needed to get cleaned up," you reprimand him.

Your heart really isn't in it, though. Not when his hands are sliding down your thighs.

"We will."

"You're not helping. Kitchens are delicate areas, you know."

"You're right, love. After all, I've only set foot in yours. And I intend to use every part of your kitchen. Very, very thoroughly."

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan

[cherryobx]

Today

a/n: part 2 of this fic, can be read on its own!

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the morning after getting drunk and trying to kiss your best friend the previous night

warnings: language, one sexual innuendo i think, mentions of getting drunk, being hangover and nausea (but no detailed descriptions)

wc: 1.5k

The sun shines directly into your eyes through the windows of your bedroom and forces you awake. It’s almost painful. You get up to pull down the blinds to make the room dark and being in there bearable. 

You fall back into bed and bury your face in the numerous pillows propped up against the headboard, regretting drinking last night. The headache and nausea are bad but you’ve definitely experienced worse. You’ll live.

You reach for your phone which you usually place on the nightstand for the night, but it isn’t there. Lifting your head from the pillows you squint in confusion. There’s a water bottle, an Advil pill and a piece of paper there instead.

Sitting up, you grab the note first. Rafe’s neat handwriting fills the sticky note.

Had to go home for a sec. I’ll come by later. Make that hangover your bitch. - R

Right, he stayed the night. You smile at that and place it back down on the nightstand before popping the Advil into your mouth and downing almost the entire bottle of water in one go.

Memories from the previous night slowly start flooding in. Best friend’s birthday party. Too much alcohol. Hot tub. Phone ruined by said hot tub. Rafe taking you home. Begging Rafe to kiss you.

Oh my God. You asked your best friend to kiss you while drunk. That is so embarrassing. Even though it’s exactly what you’ve wanted for a while now. You weren’t planning on spilling your feelings to him while drunk like this. How can you look him in the eye when he comes by later knowing that you tried to pursue him romantically last night?

The hangover is now battling with your nerves and it’s not a very good combination. In an attempt to feel like a human again, you get up from bed, brush your teeth, fix your hair as much as possible and remove the makeup from last night and finally change into something other than your pyjamas.

Even those little mundane tasks are a bit difficult as your head spun and pounded simultaneously. You lay back in your bed to catch your breath but drift off instead.

Rafe keeps his word and comes over sometime in the afternoon, after a trip to the nearest technology store and buying you a new phone just like he had promised.

“Hey.” You feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently to wake you up from your slumber.

“Oh, hey.” You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rafe is sitting on the edge of your bed and it’s giving you flashbacks from last night when you two were sitting just like this. But this time the air is different. There’s something unspoken between you two.

He gives you a once over before shoving a small box into your hands. Your eyes fall to your hands in your lap and see a brand new phone in them. It’s the newer model of your previous one and you know for a fact it’s expensive.

“You didn’t.” Disbelief and shock are evident in your tone of voice. 

“I told you I would.” He seems almost proud of himself.

You scoff. “Asshole. I can’t accept this. Take it back.” You attempt to give it back to him but he pulls his hands away and holds them in the air, refusing to take it.

“No. It’s yours.”

“I don’t want it,” you rebut but it’s no use. He refuses to take it back.

“You need it.”

“I could’ve bought one with my own money. I don’t want you spending so much on me. It’s insane, Rafe.”

“I don’t mind spending a little on you once in a while.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like this huge amount of money means nothing to him.

“A little? For fuck’s sake, Rafe, this is a thousand dollar phone! That is way too much.” Your voice is high pitched and desperate. You really can’t accept this. It’s too much. You feel bad for him spending such a sum on you.

“Is it? Don’t really care.”

“Oh my fucking God, you’re impossible!” 

He chuckles. “You love me.”

“I’m about to whoop your fucking ass.”

“Kinky.” He smirks and lays down on his side, body propped up by his forearm and elbow.

You stare at the phone between your hands and then him. You know he won’t budge. Once Rafe has set his mind to something it’s impossible to change it. You also know he won’t take the phone back out of spite. If you don’t want something it’’s exactly what he’ll give you.

“Thank you,” you say, finally giving up. It’s impossible to convince him to take it back.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Your heart tightens at the nickname he uses. It’s not abnormal for him to use nicknames like this for you, but today it feels immensely different.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he asks with a slightly worried tone.

You shake your head. “No. I’ve been too nauseous all morning.”

At that he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his shorts, taps a few buttons and then hands it to you. “Order something then.”

You look at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“Food, sweetheart. Order something. You need to eat,” he insists.

Your first thought is that it’s such a sweet gesture which shows your best friend really cares about you. The second one is that he’s about to spend even more money on you. And that you don’t like.

“Rafe.” 

He knows what this is about but refuses to let you argue in any way. “Shut up and get what you want.” 

You zip your lips and scroll on the app on his phone, looking through the options the restaurants offer and choosing what looks and feels the most appetising at the moment. You decide on just fries and chicken nuggets. Your usual hangover food pick. They somehow taste even better than they normally do when you’re battling a killer headache.

“Classic,” he chuckles as you hand him his phone back and he takes a look at what you chose.

He picks something for himself too and then presses the order button and pays for both of your food.

As you wait for the food to arrive, he offers to help you set up your new, extremely expensive, phone. He scoots next to you on the bed, both of you now sitting beside each other, backs against the headboard and your sides together, touching each other. Your skin tingles where it touches his and the feeling is almost addictive.

He taps away on the screen, focused on getting all your data over to this new phone but you just look at him, taking him in. He’s so into the task in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your soft eyes on him. How you look at him with adoration in your eyes and a tightness in your chest.

The familiar urge to kiss him from last night resurfaces. Didn’t he mention he wanted this too? You’re not sure. What if you remember incorrectly? What if your memory is lying to you or making his promises from last night up?

But the need is so strong and your mind is just telling you to go for it. Is this a bad idea? Too late.

Your hand reaches out before you stop yourself, before you can think twice about your actions. You must be still drunk from last night because where is this sudden courage coming from?

You place your hand on his chin and gently turn his head to face you. His face is full of curiosity and confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you say, apologising in advance for your actions because you don’t know what the aftermath of this will be. Leaning in, you place your lips on his which takes Rafe by surprise.

He’s taken aback for a second and pulls away to look at you. He’s searching your eyes for any hesitation or regret. When he doesn’t find a shred of them there, he drops your new phone from his hands, disregarding it somewhere in the sheets and grabbing your face with both of his hands and reuniting your lips once again, kissing you desperately. Like he needs it to breathe. Like he’s hungry and has been starving for months.

It’s feverish. You’re both satisfying a craving you’ve been trying to ignore for so long and all of those feelings are unleashed into that kiss. 

“Don’t ever fucking apologize for that again,” he says when you break apart to catch your breath. His forehead is resting against yours and it’s so intimate on so many levels you feel lightheaded.

You open your mouth, wholeheartedly intending to apologise again but he stops you in your tracks. A ‘shut up’ leaves his mouth before it’s on yours again, shutting you up very effectively. 

“Ass,” you mumble in between kisses.

“You kiss me with that mouth?” He fakes shock at your words.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and use his tactic to shut him up instead.