#for the same reason his dress is shorter than it should be

[miles-crow]

I saw the Halloween episode and I immediately knew what to do.

Bonus:

Reference:

Originally Billina (Tin Man's chicken) is the princess, but, uh, no.

[jaegerbby]

➳ stick around

--͙[naoya zenin x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 6746

╰┈➤ rundown; naoya thinks you need a daddy who will not believe your stupid lies. you need someone who will keep you in check. someone like him.

╰┈➤ caution; mean! COP! naoya, previous alcohol consumption but yn isn't tipsy/drunk, mentions of drug use in a party (not by yn), daddy kink, age gap (yn is 20 & naoya is 28), degradation (slut, whore, bitch, sex doll), hitting, manhandling, virginity loss, HEAVY misogyny, yn has small boobs, dacryphilia (A LOT of crying), handjob, fingering, VERY inexperienced yn, unprotected sex, rough sex, car sex (doggy & mating press), creampie, dumbification, mentions of a size difference, use of the word cunny (once).

if there are any more warnings i should add please let me know !! not proof read !!

it is almost bewildering how quickly things change. one minute, you are enraptured by the frenzy of a frat party - the first one you have ever been to.

the first time you chose to live a little.

you have heard that phrase one too many times from your friends, the same ones you were surrounded by under flashing lights and pulsing music.

the world was spinning with every drink you should not have consumed.

you started thinking, maybe you could get used to that life.

except here you are, in a police station. alone.

you and 20 other people who are high out of their minds and too intoxicated to be coherent. none of your friends are here.

you start to understand why your parents always fed you words of warning. you would not have been in this position if you had simply listened.

the adrenaline you felt earlier is nothing compared to the regret that settles in your bones. the hum of fluorescent lights is the only sound ringing in your ears and every word said by the people scattered all over the station melds into meaningless murmurs.

the dress you are wearing does little to preserve your modesty. it was easier to wear it when your friends were showering you with compliments but now you are under the leering gaze of police officers. there is nothing innocent about their intentions.

they are all looking at you. except him.

"naoya." a man addresses him. you stop paying attention to their conversation after that.

you see his eyes narrow at the shorter male. it only emphasizes how large he is. every inch of him commands attention. he props his hands on his hips, his broad shoulders pull the fabric of his uniform taunt and his biceps strain against his sleeves.

every ripple of muscle on his back is outlined against perfectly tailored fabric, it hugs his trim waist and your eyes linger too long as he adjusts his gun holster and his arms flex.

every movement is precise and powerful, like it is what he is made for.

he looks otherworldly. he looks unreal.

he is the most handsome man you have ever seen, you do not think another man could possibly exceed his prowess.

the air leaves your lungs when his intense gaze finds yours. it is almost unnerving. it is the first time he has acknowledged your presence, like you were hardly anything worth noticing before. you are insanely cold, you have been shivering for the past hour but since meeting his eyes you have never felt warmer.

he shifts his weight and you swear you forget how to breathe, how to think, you are completely disoriented. you can decipher the firmness of his chest from here, your eyes focusing on the steady rise and fall with every breath he takes. he is built for more than this job, his mere presence announces that.

it is impossible for you to look away. not when everything about him screams control and strength. not when every inch of him is demanding your attention.

and- wait. why are thinking that at a time like this?

you need to get yourself out of this situation. you have long sobered up and naoya might be your best bet. he looks like a good listener, he looks reasonable, he looks decent. unlike them. you would rather plead your case to someone dignified like him than the sleazy men who have been ogling you all night.

you muster up every ounce of courage in your body as you approach him. the minute the other officer leaves, you are in naoya's sight.

he tilts his head in curiosity.

you are a pretty little thing.

"officer naoya." you speak meekly. you are unsure of what to say or where to start. something in him is stirring, something he has never felt before. just who are you and what business do you have saying his name like that?

"you skipping the line?" he quips, the last thing he wants to deal with are some drunk college students. he was against his co-workers busting that stupid party in the first place, there are far more important matters to deal with.

"no." you anxiously refute his words, although that is exactly what you are doing. "i just." you fumble for words, your hands clenching at your sides. naoya thinks you look so fucking stupid right now. "i've been waiting for a while and i really need to know what's going to happen because i've never done anything like this. i've never been in this situation before-"

you keep talking, you are rambling on and on about excuses naoya has heard countless times but the difference is you are genuine. he can hear the shakiness in your voice, he can see how glossy your eyes are. you are fighting tears, your lip is trembling.

there is no denying that lascivious warmth growing within him.

"do you ever shut up?" he sneers, his voice is low and irritated. you flinch at the aggressive tone, your words die on your tongue. "i need to see your id, i don't have all night to listen to you."

although, if he was honest, he likes the sound of your voice. it is not displeasing.

not in the slightest.

he observes you as you fumble for your wallet, you slip him an id. a fake one. one your college friends gave you, they all have one and it was fun when they were buying drinks before that party.

you start to realise that there is absolutely no humour as naoya reads the name off the card.

"i hope you didn't spend money on this, it's really shitty." he rolls his eyes. "where's your real one?"

you think you should protest, you should stand ten toes down that it is real and his accusation is false but naoya does not seem easily convinced.

he is not stupid.

"i don't have it." you left it at home. you will curse yourself from now until thy kingdom come.

he huffs, impression completely unimpressed. he leans back on his desk yet he still towers above you. "what's your name?"

"yn."

naoya tilts his head "any proof?"

"what?"

"can you prove that's your name? or are you lying again?" he sneers, his eyes are accusatory as they look you up and down.

"i'm not lying."

"sure. i'll need contact information for your parents." he has to bite back a grin at the way your panic. "judging by your outfit, they don't seem very present." you are far too distraught to respond to his smart comment.

"why do you need to call them? you can't call them." you are shifting your weight between your legs, you anxiously crack your fingers. oh, you are just a pretty doe eyed thing that has landed right into naoya's lap.

"it's the only way i can verify your identity. do you have something to hide?"

"no but i wasn't suppose to be there. they don't know i was there. please, there has to be something else i can do."

"hm." he leans closer, his arms folded across his chest, his muscles bulging. "underage drinking, drug use, fraud. i don't accept bribes for stupid shit like that."

"i'm not trying to bribe you." you are all choked up. naoya can see the tears springing in your eyes. he can see you anxiously picking at the skin around your nails. you can barely keep eye contact with him.

"sounds like you're trying to mislead the police. you don't seem very bright but i'm sure even you know that's a felony." he cannot help but bite his lip the longer he looks at you. you are swallowing hard, you are fidgeting endlessly. he finds himself noticing how long your lashes are.

"i know what i did was wrong but please don't call them." naoya feels like you need to be taught a lesson. a please does not fix anything.

"you shouldn't have been there if you didn't want mommy and daddy to know." he sees the way you crumble with just a sentence. he wants to see you crumble more, he wants to see what you look like when you are destroyed. "you're not special, every other sorry fucker here is spouting the same bullshit. you can take a seat until you're willing to cooperate."

he would not mind having you in his line of sight for the next few hours. although he doubts you will take that long to break. in a few minutes he expects you to divulge those digits you are so desperate to keep unknown.

and you will be gone and naoya will never see you again.

a pretty thing like you is bound to be too shaken up to ever repeat these rebellious actions.

he feels something tugging on his sleeve, just above his wrist. there is no force behind it. too dainty, too meek. too easy to corrupt.

he looks over his shoulder.

your eyes are all glossy, and pretty.

"please, i'll do anything." naoya likes the desperation in your voice. he likes how softly you are speaking.

naoya wants to make you loud. he wants to know if you would be suppressing the noises you make as he is pounding inside you or if you will lose all restraint. if you will spill every watery moan for him to hear.

his eyes skim over his watch.

"hear what, i'm feeling generous. give me your address and i'll take you home. whatever bullshit excuse you have to tell your parents is your problem." 

---

things change quickly.

one minute you are sitting quietly in the officer's personal audi. the next he is pulling up on the side of the highway and telling you to get in the backseat.

"what?" you fumble, if looks could kill you would be dead because the glare he sends you is poisonous.

you are still far from home and you are panicking. he has your phone. he has a gun. and he is getting out of the car.

you barely remove the seatbelt before he rounds the vehicle and he is aggressively pulling you out. "i know your brain doesn't work but i thought at the very least your ears did."

your eyes are all wide and you are trembling. he can see goosebumps all over your body.

you are so scared. it only makes his cock ache further. he has been hard since you sat down in his car. he glimpsed at you a few times and you were clueless to the fact that your dress rode up so far he could see your underwear.

he towers over you, his hands cupping your face as he invades your space. he is looking at you and he is admiring you. naoya thinks he could adore you if you were not like every other bitch.

his gaze trails over your hair, he smoothes it down before gripping your face harder than he should. he forces your head back so you have no choice but to look at him. he hums, your lashes are long and full, your lips are dry but he can see the residual stain of lipgloss. he wants to feel them against his.

"you're really fuckin' pretty. it's a shame you're a whore." his voice is low. you try to shift away but his grip is bruising. it is an unspoken threat.

"i'm not." your voice is barely audible. you are too petrified to process what is happening.

the corner of his lip tips up in amusement, the look in his dark eyes only worries you more.

"what did you say?" his voice is all sweet, like he is a nice man. he is the furthest thing from it. his right hand strokes your cheek before it harshly connects with your face.

you yelp, your nails digging into his wrists. he is barely touching you but you cannot move.

"you're not a whore?" naoya swipes his thumb over your lips "but these look like they're only good for sucking dick."

he makes you take a step back to look at your scantily clad body. he is no different than those men in the station.

"and this dress." he whistles lowly. "did you go to a party or were you selling pussy on a street corner?" 

you have never been spoken to like this.

"i wouldn't do that." your voice is all broken, he wonders if you are always this quiet.

"how much would it cost to stick my cock in you?" your brows furrow in distress, your lips part but you do not have a response. "you shouldn't charge a lot for used up pussy."

naoya opens the back door to sit you down. he pulls out a thick wad of cash from his back pocket and drops it into your lap. "honestly, a bit pricey for a girl like you."

he sees your lip tremble before he sees the tears. your sniffles are loud though you try not to be. you would have stayed at home if you knew all of this would happen.

you should have known better.

you shift further inside the car. he does not know why you are hiding when there is no where to go.

"c'mon, you wanted to bribe me but i'm the one paying now. you should be happy." his pants are far too tight, it is borderline painful. he is torturing himself just to make you cry a little more. you hate that he looks so handsome, you hate that he smiles and it is perfect. he slips in beside you and you are left flinching as he slams the door.

he takes his gun holster off and places it under the seat before dexterous hands find his belt and open his pants. his teeth pull back in a sneer as he adjusts his cock.

"fuck, c'mere." he lifts his hips to shove his pants just low enough to reveal his cock. you stare in awe at the hefty length, his cock is twitching and throbbing. too long and too thick. liquid seeps from his head and trails downwards over every ridge and every bump and you can see a prominent vein along the underside desperate for any attention.

naoya brings your hand to his cock, a grunt escaping him because your hand is so small it does not even meet around the perimeter of him. he makes you stroke him, he drags your hand over his head to collect the syrupy liquid and makes you coax your hand along his heated member.

your hand is soft, it is so soft and it feels like heaven. he keeps thinking about how your cunt will feel on him. if just your hand is breaking him down so easily, you will decimate him entirely once he stuffs you to the hilt.

he curses, throwing his head back as he starts moving faster, his hips buck up into the space between your hands, his fingers around yours closing tighter.

you glimpse over his expression, he bites down on his full bottom lip before his jaw drops with an elicit moan. he is pretty, you can see the faintest freckles on his cheek and blush decorates his cheeks.

naoya's free hand slips into your hair bringing you closer, his nose brushes yours as he pants "don't stop." his proximity takes away any coherent thought in your head, your tugs at his cock are unsure and uneven but it still has him fucking up into your grasp.

naoya's hand is big, just like he is. his fingers are long but they are thin, his palm has callouses and you feel them as he trails it down your sternum before groping your breast.

"you barely have tits. m'not not into this shit, y'know." he is lying. he is lying because just feeling the soft flesh of your boob in his hand makes his hips stutter. it makes his cock pulse in your hold, the blushed head gets coated with an onslaught of sticky liquid being spewed from his slit.

dextrous fingers hike your dress up, those panties he had been eyeing earlier are finally exposed. they are pink with lace trim, there is a bow in the middle. naoya does not think he has ever been this turned on in his life.

his fingertips brush your stomach before slipping past the hem of your underwear. you let out a soft whimper and suddenly naoya has gained all this bearings even as you touch him. even as you rub his cock over and over again.

he has to keep his eyes on your face.

he has to see your expression when he is stretching you out.

he rubs your slit, you are so wet. how can you be this soaking? how is your pussy leaking this much?

"you like seeing my dick or are you just easy?" his fingers are slipping inside before you can respond. you cannot even gather your thoughts.

he keeps his eyes on your face or he would miss the way you shakily breathe as he fills you. your eyes are glossier, your lids are low and fluttering endlessly. he does not want to deprive himself of seeing your brows knit together or your lips contort to the shape of his name.

he thinks he dies and goes to heaven every time you say his name so innocently with your whore mouth.

he cannot help it, he cannot control himself. this is all your fault. the two digits he has deep in your tight gummy cunt are shoved in at an alarming speed. he is pounding your pussy open and soaking himself in sticky wetness, you like it.

and there is no denying it when you are dripping all over his hand and letting him stretch your tight hole.

naoya is going so fast, you have stopped stroking him, instead your nails are digging into his bicep for dear life. he has a grin on his face, a devious one. you are bucking your hips, you are riding his fingers. you can barely keep yourself upright and the sight of you reduced to nothing but a sex crazed slut is all too delightful.

"what would mommy and daddy think if they saw their little girl like this?" he needs to see your cunt, he needs to know what your pussy looks like when it is taking his fingers or his cock. you barely have any clothes on but somehow it is too much. "where'd you tell them you would be tonight, huh sweetheart?"

his fingers are stroking your silky walls, they are going too deep. your brain has practically liquified. his hand encloses around your throat and he shakes you but he does not stop pulling your pussy apart. a good man would give you a break but naoya never claimed to be one.

he enjoys the way tears are leaking down your face, he likes the way it only messes up your already smudged makeup. "answer me." his voice is gravelling and low and he is close enough that his lips are brushing yours.

he does not know why he is thinking about kissing you. it makes him angry. you are nothing special so why are you in his head? why does he have his fingers stretching you out when you are nothing but a warm body?

"doing a project with my friend." your words are broken by moans, his eyes flick up and down your face. the mess between your legs is all sticky, he can hear every squelch of your pussy as he fucks his fingers inside. "mmngh, naoya." why are you doing that? why are you saying his name like that? it's driving him insane.

"fucking stupid. that's the best lie you could come up with?" his chest is heaving. your legs are trembling and when he slips out, your back arches and your hips move because you simply have no restraint. not anymore.

his fingers have started pruning up and you are all expectant like a ditzy puppy. he knows your cunt is clenching uncontrollably, he knows you are aching to be fucked.

you do not have to worry because he will definitely fulfil your every desire.

"take your clothes off." he squeezes his neglected cock before undoing the buttons of his uniform shirt. you kick off your sneakers, tugging your dress over your head to reveal, soft mounds of flesh that barely swell on your chest.

that should not be such a turn on.

you are looking at him just the same. his biceps were already straining against his shirt but there is more. there is a lot more beneath the fabric. his chest is full, there are faint indentations of abs along his abdomen and veins are evident on his lower stomach. and the lower your eyes go, they find his cock.

"don't act like a prude." he quips the second you head turns away as if you have been scarred. you are tugging down your panties to discard them on the floor of his car. so much slick between your legs that the material practically peels away from your cunt.

naoya shifts to the middle of the backseat, strong hands gripping your body to position you on top of him. it is nice almost, his touch feels gentle.

that is until he shoves you down onto the centre console. he lowly curses, his hands grip the flesh of your ass, roughly groping you before he spreads you open to his prying eyes.

you are a flustered mess, your protests fall on deaf ears.

why would naoya pay attention to you when he is captivated by the sight of your drooling pussy?

it is a hot sticky mess, your hole is begging him to fill it up. with his cock? with his cum? he is stuffing it full with both regardless of what you have to say.

your pussy is leaky and swollen, it is dripping and soaking. naoya will not be able to get this image out of his head. it will never leave his mind.

he feels like if he has you to fuck at the end of every shift he would be a better man.

"your pussy is pretty like your face." he is in a trance, he is delirious, he feels like he can smell your cunt and it is destroying him. he swears the scent is filling his senses and wreaking any bit of his self control.

two thick, lengthy digits are slipped into the vice confines of your syrupy cunt, your back arches at the intrusion but you are squeezing down like you do not want to let go.

he slowly pumps them into you, groaning lowly at the sight of his fingers coated in copious amounts of wetness.

he slips them out to the tips of his digits before roughly pounding them inside of you. you are whining, you are whimpering and he can see how tense your shoulders are.

he is really trying to stretch you out but you are just so fucking tight. there is nothing he can do when all your walls want to do is clench and grip him like a vice.

he cannot wait. he cannot. your pussy clenches down and slurps when he has his fingers deep inside, he does not have anymore resolve.

he settles a large hand on your nape, holding you down as the other taps his reddened tip to your slit.

"you g'na be a good girl for me right? g'na take it like a good bitch?" he huffs, smacking his cock head against your weeping entrance. you are all sensitive and flinching at the feeling. strands of your slick cling to him and then he nestles the tip in your folds. you scream when his hips surge forward and he shoves his thick, heady cock into you.

"it hurts!" you cry, your fingers scramble to grip onto anything in reach. you would probably move if his hand was not searing into your skin and keeping you immobile. he swears he short circuits, his brain blanks and scrambles at the same time. your cunt feels like heaven, you have this oasis between your legs and this is only his first time experiencing it.

he does not think one time could ever be enough.

a part of him has already decided he cannot just have you once and leave you alone. that part of him is already too fond of the feeling of your body.

naoya ignores every whine, every flinch and every cry as he bullies his cock past the small opening of your soaking cunt. he is far too big for you but he does not care. you take it like you are made for it.

"you're so pretty, babygirl. real fucking pretty when you're full of cock." he is at the hilt, he is balls deep in you. he has you wrapped around every inch of him. you are incessantly clenching, you are so tight he loses any semblance of sanity.

he does not wait, no, you do not have any time to adjust even though he is pulling you so wide you are drooling. even though he has you stretched open and you cannot think straight.

he can see every bit of you, he can see your cunt spread around the perimeter of his cock. he can see where he has pulled you apart and opened you too wide.

"how's it feel, girl? got my cock in you raw. think i paid you enough for that." he grins, naoya shallowly pumps his hips into yours. his cock slipping out, the entire length covered in you before he thrusts it deep inside.

both his hands squeeze your waist, his grip is no where near gentle. maybe it should have been a warning because the pace naoya fucks into you with is voracious.

he is moaning, he is moaning louder than the smacks of his muscular body meeting yours. he is moaning loader than your guzzling cunt squelching every single time he slams into you.

it hurts. it hurts.

"fuck, oh fuck. tightest cunt i'ver had. i swear." naoya groans, gripping you tighter before he grits his teeth and he pounds your cunt harder. you can feel the car rocking every time his hips meet yours so hard it stings.

you are squirming under him but he pays no mind, it is not like you can go anywhere because he is so strong.

he is holding you down and fucking you like a sex doll.

you have gone stupid. drool drips from your mouth and there might be hearts in your eyes because his cock is dragging along your pulsing walls and hitting your insides too perfectly.

you never thought it would feel this good.

you never thought of it at all.

"taking it so fucking well, baby." he grunts, his head lolling back and his hips roughly piston to meet yours. "feel so fucking good, you're so fucking good."

you should not enjoy it but you like the word baby rolling off his gruff voice. you like hearing it more than you should.

"never knew there was pussy like this. where the fuck have you been?" a low laugh rumbles in his chest before breaking into something close to a whimper.

"imagine if your daddy knew your project involved getting fucked in a backseat like a whore." he slams into you particularly hard, your back arching and your cry watery as your cunt clenches uncontrollably.

your legs are trembling. naoya can see it.

he fucks your pussy with reckless abandon. sweat has coated your skin and his, the smell of sex is the only thing infiltrating his senses and creamy liquid has started frothy up at the base of his cock.

his brows furrow, you are so soft and pliant under his touch. "hey, you think you can call me daddy?" he does not even realise it crossed his mind until it already escapes his mouth.

it should be concerning that you do not hesitate.

"daddy." you brokenly cry in the prettiest voice that has ever graced his ears. oh. you're crying. he did not realise you were sobbing this much. he almost feels bad.

his hips stutter all because of one simple word.

he did not anticipate you saying it. it is the first time he has ever been called that. he never wanted it, not until you.

but here he is, balls deep in your precious little cunny, that has ruined him entirely and you are crying and you have just called him your daddy.

it lights something inside him that he never knew existed.

"shit, come here." naoya gathers you up in his arms. he binds you up in his embrace and you sits you down with your back flush to his chest.

his cock hits deeper than before and you both shudder at the feeling.

his rough hands coax over your stomach, caressing your body before settling on your breasts. naoya is much bigger than you, in every way.

soft lips find your shoulder, pressing wet kisses to your skin as he savours the feeling of your battered cunt.

naoya grips your jaw, bringing your face to his. tears have made your pretty eyes their home. your lashes are damp and clumped together. you whine when he nuzzles your face.

you just seem so desperate for any bit of his attention.

he should not be cooing at your stained cheeks or snotty nose. he should not be melting because of your pouting.

you can feel him throbbing inside you but you are ignorant to the fact that it is because naoya thinks you are such a pretty crier.

"oh, my baby. don't cry." he sounds so condescending. but you cannot find it in yourself to care because he is pecking your lips and it is the first time you have received that affection from him. you cries become muted.

"just need a few kisses, huh? that's all it takes to shut you up." he is so close and he smells so good and he looks so handsome.

and you have completely lost your mind.

he presses his lips against yours in a soft innocent kiss. it rids your mind of any and every thought.

naoya pulls out of you, you hiss at the feeling, your insides clenching as you are no longer filled to the brim.

he presses you down, your back meeting the cool material of his leather seats and he is on you almost immediately.

this time his mouth finds yours in a messy exchange that you cannot follow.

his tongue is in your mouth and you do not have the slightest clue what to do.

"you're pretty shit at this." he laughs.

he laughs right in your face but he kisses you again, his mouth moving along yours and you try to follow but he feels your teeth scraping his tongue every time he slips the slick muscle in your mouth.

"are you trying to bite my tongue off?" his tone is mocking. tears are still streaming down your face, they never stopped.

you look so embarrassed, you look ashamed.

if naoya was a better man he would conceal the pleased look on his face but he does not even try to suppress his smile.

he leans in again, invading your space. "hey, is this your first time?"

your hands wipe your cheeks, trying to dry the tears but they are endless. they are never ending and it is impossible to ignore him. not when you are stripped bare under him and you are at his mercy.

"i asked you something." he roughly grips your face, shaking you.

"it is." you warble.

it was obvious enough, you have no clue why he needed confirmation.

"why didn't you say anything? i would've left you alone, virgins aren't my thing." his voice is incredulous. like he lacks an ounce of sanity. "or ... did you not want me to leave you alone? is this what you wanted? for me to fuck you brainless? you're really fucking gross." he laughs at you like you are stupid.

naoya swipes his cock head between your sodden pussy lips before he bucks his hips and he is feeding his cock back into your drooling cunt.

"you can tell me. you can tell me that you wanted me to bend you over and fill you with my cock." he huffs, for the second time he has stretched your little hole out and his pelvis is flush to yours.

he kisses you, he kisses you hot and deep and sloppily.

"yeah? you like this. fucking love it cause you're a ditzy whore." he nods and you find yourself nodding too.

he cups the back of your knees, folding you in half and slipping so deep you swear he is touching your cervix.

"daddy. m'too full." there it is again. he falters. he crashes and burns. "daddy, you're too big." your smaller hand pushes at his abdomen. he is unmoving, the veins impressing beneath your palm pulse.

"you like having daddy deep in your guts?" he wrings your hand so meanly you cry before he leans over you and his hips roughly piston to shove his cock way too deep.

he cants his hips, pounding your cunt open. you are such a mess, your pussy is leaking incessantly. pouring copious amounts of liquid that drips between your ass and splatters with every rough fuck of naoya's hips.

it stings as his muscular thighs meet yours but every time you cry or say that it hurts naoya is muffling you with messy kisses.

"you like daddy fucking you like this, huh pretty baby? like it so much, i know you fucking do."

his balls smack against you, they are heavy and sodden in your messy liquid. naoya groans lowly, licking into your mouth as he crowds over you more. his chest heaves, his muscles straining, bulky thighs flex and biceps bulge as he slams into your leaky slit.

"you're really perfect you know that? this slutty cunt was made for my dick." he grunts, his hips stuttering before his grip on you tightens and he goes harder.

harder and faster, sinking in rougher and deeper.

you scream. your nails scraping down his chest before the dig into his back.

naoya wishes he took this stupid shirt off, he wants your nails cutting into his back and desperately ripping through his flesh.

you gasp into each other's mouths, the corner of his lips tipping into a smile as he breathily asks "you g'na let daddy cum in this cunt? g'na let me cream your messy little fuck hole? 

"uh huh." you bob your head before brokenly whining. he clenches his jaw pounding into your cunt with no restraint. you look prettier when you are like this.

naoya likes you obedient, he likes you pliant to his touch and completely for his taking.

he feels you pulsing along every inch of him, he feels you clamp down and grip him so tightly he loses his mind.

your pussy squelches so loudly when she is getting fucked full.

he cannot take it.

his mouth finds yours, he sucks on your tongue, your body rocking beneath his as he slams into you over and over.

your cunt battered and used. and naoya cums so hard he loses control of his hips. his thrusts are unsteady but they are still deep. still go so far his cock hits spots that make you see stars.

your cunt slurps all the sticky, heady cum that naoya is spilling deep inside you.

he has fucked you dumb. you have no thoughts in your head.

he kisses you again. it is not something he would usually do but he likes kissing you. he likes how soft your lips feel on his.

he likes how perfectly you fit with him.

you mutely whine when he drops all his weight on you. naoya is heavy, he shallowly pumps his hips into yours like he has to ensure you have received every drop.

he breathes in your scent, he could get used to your feminine scent mixed with his.

he straightens up, your spent body exposed for his eyes and he slowly pulls out.

syrupy streaks of milky liquid seep out of your stretched hole and naoya shudders at the sight. he needs to see it again.

he needs to have you like this again.

it leaks onto his pristine leather seats and if it were anyone else he would be infuriated.

he cannot find it in himself to be mad at you. 

it was his fault anyway, he shot a load in you. he filled up your pussy and he was the first one to do it.

his eyes rove over the sight before moving off of you. if he stays around you he will get hard again.

he will get hard and then he will keep fucking you and he will never be able to leave you alone.

although he feels like it is already too late.

naoya wipes his cock off with the skimpy fabric of your dress before he gets out of the car. he buttons up his clothes while you're in his backseat being a crybaby.

when he settles in the driver seat you are still unmoving. you look too cute, you are too pretty.

"fuck are you waiting for? get in front, i'm taking you home." you scramble to do as he says. he can see the stains on your dress. he knows it is all his doing.

your puffy eyes and swollen lips. your bruised skin and your crying. he does not think you will ever stop.

it is all his doing.

you are shivering whether it is because you finally came to or because he has the a/c on high, naoya is not sure.

"i'll get you home. where you should've been."

you are barely listening. you have been staring at his hands for a while.

your legs have parted slightly, your cunt bare on his seat and his cum seeping out of you.

it stirs something in him. he wants to lay claim despite doing it already.

naoya feels your nimble fingers experimentally touch his firm bicep, he has half a mind to shrug you off but he does not.

that is all you need to hug his arm to your trembling body and lean your head on his shoulder.

you are still sniffling, he can feel you shaking against him.

you poor little thing.

a hard fucking and no aftercare.

he almost feels bad for you. perhaps, you have made him aware of the heart in his chest because he finds himself pressing soft kisses to your forehead and letting you intertwine your fingers with his.

you are far too naive for your own good.

your eyes are half shut, your body completely lax against him as if he is someone to feel safe around.

he pulls up to your house a moment later, jolting you awake.

you do not even let go of his hand. you glance up, an unsure expression on your face.

naoya was suppose to fuck you. he was suppose to get his fill and send you home in your scanty dress that he turned into a cum rag.

right now, he is not certain if that is what he wants.

naoya thinks you need a daddy who will not believe your stupid lies. you need someone who will keep you in check.

someone like him.

he squeezes your hand, gaining your attention.

you flash him pretty doe eyes and pouted lips.

"if you need a place to stay for the night. you can come by."

your eyes trail over his face and you lean in. usually he would not approve but because it is you he finds himself enjoying your kiss.

"i'll stay with you."

naoya thinks he will stick around.

will def be writing some drabbles for this au !!

[syluxs]

playing with fire

pairing: sylus/reader

words: 3948

summary: at a party full of shady business deals, you’re stuck being your father’s stand-in, just trying to get through it and minding your own business... then there’s sylus--the tall, confident, handsome guy you always look for (he’s the only reason you even tolerate these events). you’ve had a crush on him for ages, and despite your best efforts to try to keep things casual, sylus keeps pushing your buttons.

notes: reader is shorter than sylus, wears a dress

"your father couldn’t make it?"

you turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes even landed on him. sylus stood beside you, red eyes sharp as ever, a glass of wine held loosely between his fingers.

he was taller up close, his presence something you could feel-- an undeniable weight in the air.

"he's busy with something else," you replied smoothly, offering the same polite smile you always did at these events. "so i’m here in his place. again."

sylus hummed, tilting his head slightly. "i’ve noticed."

well, okay. you felt a lump form in ur throat for half a second before you covered it with a sip of champagne.

the party buzzed on around you--shady businessmen all over, deep in conversation, deals being spun between clinks of glasses and quiet laughs. but in this moment, it felt distant, like the noise had faded into the background. thanks to sylus.

you felt his gaze on you before you even looked.

cautiously, your eyes flicked up.

and there it was.

sylus was watching you--watching you in a way that sent something sharp through your chest.

not just looking. not just observing.

it was the kind of gaze that was deliberate. like he was studying you, or maybe something more than that.

your pulse stuttered.

"what are you looking at?" you asked, voice steadier than you felt.

sylus didn’t look away. "nothing."

liar.

you exhaled, turning back to your glass as if that would shield you from whatever this was. "don’t look at me like that," you muttered under your breath. "i’d catch feelings."

okay.

it was meant to be a joke, but the second the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted them. why do you never think before speaking?

because sylus just smiled--slow and amused.

he lifted his glass slightly, voice smooth as silk.

"would that be so bad?"

your fingers tightened slightly around your champagne flute. you weren’t sure if it was the drink warming your skin or the way sylus was still looking at you, like he had already figured out the answer before you even had time to think about it.

"depends," you said, trying to keep your voice even. "are you planning on making me?"

his smile deepened just slightly, it almost imperceptible, but you caught it. sylus was always like this--subtle and calculating, he never lets people see too much. but right now, standing this close, you could see something in his expression that most people never get the chance to.

"well, i don’t make people do anything," he murmured. "but i do enjoy watching them come to their own conclusions."

the air between you felt different now. around you, the party carried on, but it may as well have been on a different planet.

sylus took a step closer, just enough for you to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne and something electric beneath. his gaze flicked over your face, his red eyes taking their time, like he was committing every detail to memory.

"you’re so shameless, staring again," you pointed out, pretending to check the drink in your glass.

"and?"

"and you should stop."

"why?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

you exhaled, shaking your head. "because i really will catch feelings." it was meant to be a joke--again--one of those offhand, sarcastic things you say just to play with fire. but of course, sylus, being the flirty bastard he was, who never wants to lose in this game, latched onto it like you’d handed him a gift.

a low chuckle. "then i suppose you have a decision to make."

sylus lifted his glass again, a silent toast, before taking a slow sip. but even as he walked, just slightly away from you, acting as if the conversation was over, you knew it wasn’t.

not even close.

because even as you tried to focus on something--anything else, you could still feel his presence around you.

the warmth of him, the quiet but heavy weight of his attention. he wasn’t looking at you anymore, not directly, but you knew without a doubt that he was still aware of every move you made.

and then, just when you thought you might finally be able to collect yourself, he spoke behind you.

you barely had time to react before his voice was in your space again, smooth, deep, velverty and entirely too close.

"you know, if you’re already thinking about it," he said, "then you’ve probably already made your choice."

your breath hitched.

you turned around, he smiled at you, then sauntered away again, just like that. you think you caught the knowing glint in his crimson eyes. he was so effortlessly composed.

oh, how you thought that he's so full of himself--but then again, sylus is just that. simply confident, never boastful or arrogant. and sure, maybe you had stroked his ego a little, but honestly--he didn’t need it stroked. the man had every reason to be that confident. still, it was meant to be a joke, of course. just something to get under his skin. but with sylus, the flirty, smooth bastard, that kind of thing only ever seemed to make him worse.

you scrunched your nose and narrowed your eyes, forcing down the warmth threatening to creep up your neck.

two can play this game.

"you really love the sound of your own voice, huh?" you mused, tilting your head. "what would you do if i just ignored you completely?"

sylus smirked. "i’d wait. however long it takes. hopefully, not that long."

your mouth parted, caught somewhere between a scoff and a retort that never quite made it out.

every single time you saw him, without fail, it always ended in this--banter, flirting and teasing, a back-and-forth that neither of you ever truly won.

but even with all the "annoyance" he causes you, even with the way he always found a reason to smooth his way out, you couldn’t deny it.

you liked it.

you liked him.

which was exactly why this was dangerous.

"enjoy the rest of your evening," sylus said, like he hadn’t just sent your heart into a full sprint.

then, with a final glance, he stepped away, slipping back into the crowd with that same impossible grace he always carried.

you let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the way your pulse was still racing.

you should ignore him. you should brush this off like you always did after, convince yourself that this was just another round of your usual banter.

but as your eyes flickered back to him--his tall frame standing effortlessly among the crowd, his crimson gaze glancing back at you for just a second--you knew one thing for certain.

you were in so much trouble.

because even now, even with the thrill of your back-and-forth, you felt it-- the dizzying ache of feelings. and it scared you, a little too much.

because sylus wasn’t just some guy you could flirt with and forget. he was powerful, polished, terrifyingly smart. the most dangerous man in the room, always, wherever. but god, he was also handsome, a gentleman, rich, tall, smelled so good, strong in the way that made your knees weak, and, to make things worse, he loved animals. he wasn’t just out of your league--he was playing a completely different sport.

you weren’t even sure what you were doing here. you were just your father’s daughter attending the party in his stead. sure, your family had money and a bit of influence, but we are talking about sylus here.

he was on a different level entirely.

and you?

well, you were just you.

unthinkable didn’t even begin to cover it.

the party carried on around you, but your mind was elsewhere. no matter how much you tried to ignore it, sylus’ words still echoed in your head.

"then you’ve probably already made your choice."

the way he said it, it was driving you insane. like he already knew exactly how you felt, like he was waiting for you to admit it.

well. if he wanted to play this game, you were going to make it interesting.

your eyes flicked across the room, locking onto sylus with ease. he was speaking to a small group of people, nodding along as one of them droned on about something you were sure was very important. but even from a distance, you saw it--the way his posture never fully relaxed, the way his red eyes flickered your way the second he felt your gaze.

hook, line, and sinker.

you made your move, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease.

as you passed, you let your fingers lightly wrap around his wrist, without a word, you tugged him lightly, your grip firm enough to pull him away from the small group he was conversing with, but without asking for permission. he stiffened for a split second, caught off guard by your sudden actions. his crimson eyes flickered with surprise, his lips parted as if about to speak. but before he could protest, you were already walking toward one of the private lounge rooms tucked away from the chaos of the event, leading him behind you.

his hesitation lasted only a moment, and then, with a subtle but deliberate shift in his stance, he followed, the smoothness of his movements matching the calm composure he always carried. he didn’t resist, but instead of simply letting you lead him by the wrist, he reached and gently adjusted your grip--sliding your hand from his wrist into his own, hands molding together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your brain short-circuited for half a second. it wasn’t what you expected--not the warmth of his palm, not the deliberate intimacy of the gesture. it was soft. dangerously sweet. holy shittery.

but you shook it off. you were the one dragging him away, not the other way around.

your grip tightened slightly, reaffirming control, and you kept walking like your heart wasn’t suddenly throwing a tantrum in your chest. sylus followed in step, hand in yours, as if it had always been that way.

he may have made that smooth annoying move that made your stomach feel things, but you were still the one pulling the strings.

the moment you stepped into the quiet of the lounge, the door clicking softly behind you, you knew you had caught him off guard in a way that neither of you had expected.

you couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

this was a game, and now, you were the one in control.

it was a risk. a bold one. but you had a feeling sylus wasn’t the type to leave things unfinished.

sure enough, it didn’t take long.

you let go of his hand, the door closed itself, clicked shut behind the two of you, and before you could turn, you felt him--his presence was filling the space again, his warmth pressing at your back like a phantom touch. is this some sort of phenomena eveyone feels? or is it just you?

you were breathing quite heavily, heart pounding so fast it felt like it might give out at any moment. you couldn’t tell if it was from the speed-walking or the nerves about what the heck was happening, or both.

of course, you tried not to show it, back still turned to sylus.

"bold move," sylus murmured. "should i be worried, suspicious, what?"

the corners of your lips lifted. finally a bit composed, you turned to face him and tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and shrugged.

"dunno."

honestly, you don't really know, like, for real. this was all impulsive, a reaction to the moment, and you were just doing and saying whatever came to your mind. there was no plan, no script--just the heat of the moment, pulling you along.

"how much self-control do you have?"

he looked at you, and for the first time tonight, you knew you had the upper hand with the way his eyes changed.

you took a step forward and let your gaze drag over him.

tall, refined, handsome, so impossibly composed-- damn.

sylus might have been a master at hiding his emotions, but he's not completely immune. well, actually, he may be immune. sigh. but still, you wanted to try, just to see. maybe he wasn’t immune to you.

"why aren't you answering?" you mused, "you're always in control. always watching."

sylus didn’t move, but his red eyes followed your every tiny motion, whether it was the way your eyes moved, how high the corners of your mouth were lifted, the way your hands were semi-closed-- "observation is an important skill."

"what exactly are you observing now?"

you took another step closer, your eyes dropping from his face to his body, your hand casually reaching for the lapel of his coat--just to feel the texture of the expensive fabric.

his jaw tightened, ever so slightly.

ooh..... got him.

"careful there." sylus said, voice smooth but quieter. "you’re playing quite the game there."

you couldn't help but smile, tilting your head up again to meet his gaze. "oh, sylus," you said, fingers ghosting over his chest before trailing up--light, teasing, just enough to make his breath hitch. "i am the game."

you were acting all confident, but in your mind, you know full well you’ll regret saying crazy stuff like this later. but still. it just comes out, like your mouth is writing checks your heart absolutely cannot cash.

for a second, neither of you moved. the air between you was thick, the tension was heavy. you felt like beads of sweat were going to form on your forehead any moment, despite the air-conditioned room.

then, deliberately--you grabbed the lapel of his coat again and pulled him down to be at your face level.

closer.

closer.

it was an awkward position bcs of the height difference, but who cares. he wasn't complaining, anyway.

your breath fanned against his skin, lips ghosting against his own, and you felt it--the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his gaze flicked between your eyes and your mouth, the way his control almost wavered.

and then--

you pulled away.

not far, just enough to leave a whisper of space, enough to make him feel the loss of warmth.

"hm." you tapped a finger against his chest with a teasing smile on your face. "maybe you’re the one with a decision to make.

his red eyes burned into you, it was impossible to read.

and for the first time all night, sylus was silent.

victory tasted sweet.

you took a step back, smoothing down your dress, dusting it off as if nothing had happened. "good talk," you said breezily, turning toward the door. "see you around, boss man."

you didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching you, still standing there, still processing the very obvious challenge you had just thrown at him.

but one thing was certain--this game was far from over.

the second you left that room, you left the party.

you told yourself it wasn’t because of sylus. you told yourself it wasn’t because your heart was still racing or because the feeling of his breath against your lips was burned into your mind.

but deep down, you knew better.

the moment you stepped into the night air, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

what the hell did you just do?

you had played with fire before, but this was sylus. and you--you--had just leaned in like you were going to kiss him, only to pull away at the last second. and the look in his eyes when you left..... oh, you were so done for.

so when your father got an invitation to another event just three days later, you weren’t exactly thrilled.

"i can’t make it, i have plans with your mother and your grandma." he had told you over breakfast, setting the invitation down beside your plate. "you’ll go in my place, won’t you?"

normally, you wouldn’t mind. these parties were nothing new. but after what had happened with sylus, showing your face again felt like walking straight into a trap.

"do you know if sylus is attending?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

your father shook his head. "no idea. but you told me some time ago that he rarely attends two events in the same week."

you nodded, the memory clicking into place. whether you were tagging along with your dad or showing up on your own, you always found yourself scanning the room for sylus the moment you walked in. you always looked for him first, after all. pathetic little crush of yours.

your father didn’t even question why you asked. he knew you and sylus got along every time you crossed paths, even if it usually involved a fair amount of bantering. still, your father had a quiet suspicion that sylus was fond of you, and he thinks that sylus maybe even sees you a little differently than most. still, he's not quite sure bcs it's sylus.

well, right. right, that made sense. sylus was busy. he had actual business to handle, not just party-hopping.

so you agreed. and you walked into that event thinking you were safe.

you weren’t.

because the moment you stepped into the ballroom, a very familiar presence made itself painfully known.

sylus was there.

and worse--he was looking straight at you.

heat crept up your neck before you could stop it. you immediately turned toward the bar, desperate to get away, to put some distance between you before you completely lost your composure.

but you didn’t even get the chance.

before you could order a drink, before you could breathe, sylus was there, stepping into your space with that same grace.

"you left in a hurry last time," he said, his voice as smooth as ever.

your grip tightened around the glass in your hand. "i was tired."

"oh?" he nodded.

you braced yourself, expecting him to tease you, to call you out, to make some infuriating remark about the way you had clearly run from him.

but instead--

"if you came here just to avoid me, you’re doing a terrible job."

you nearly choked. "i wasn’t--i mean, i didn’t think you’d be here."

you didn't mean to sound a bit pouty, like a little girl, but what the heck. the things this man managed to pull out of you.

sylus raised a brow. "and if you had known?"

you averted your gaze. "i would’ve stayed home."

his lips twitched slightly. "then it’s a good thing you didn’t."

you felt all sorts of movement in your stomach. you needed to say something before you completely lost your ability to function.

"look, about last time," you started, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, "i….. may have went too far. i was just messing around, but i probably shouldn’t have done that. that was unsolicited. so, uh--yeah. sorry."

sylus regarded you for a moment, his red eyes unreadable. then, he exhaled softly.

"no need to apologize."

you blinked. "really? well, okay then."

he stepped just slightly closer--enough to make you feel it, enough to remind you just how much taller he was.

"but if we’re being honest," he said, his voice smoothly invading your personal space, "i’d rather take the initiative."

your breath hitched. "what does that even mean--"

"it means," sylus interrupted smoothly, "that i’d rather be the one asking you out."

huh.

"well, okay?" you stared at him.

he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose like your obliviousness physically pained him. the gesture was exaggerated, feigned annoyance barely hiding the amusement underneath.

"what? hold on. i mean, not to be slow...... but, you’re--are you actually asking me out right now?"

"yes."

no hesitation. no teasing.

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again.

"oh."

sylus’s lips quirked. "that’s all you have to say?"

"no. i mean--yes? i mean--” you sucked in a breath, willing your brain to function. "what the heck? are you serious?"

"i wouldn’t say it if i wasn’t."

he was so calm. so composed. meanwhile, you were seconds away from exploding.

"i just--" you ran a hand through your hair. "i didn’t think you actually--"

“like you? that i’d be interested?” sylus asked, watching you with quiet amusement.

your face burned. "i mean..... yeah?"

he exhaled.

"you really don’t pay enough attention, do you?"

your entire body locked up. tensed. you want to be relaxed, but all of your joints seemed like they were frozen, your internal organs feel like they have become solid.

okay, he did attend two events in the same week.....

before you could react, before you could even process what just happened, sylus straightened again.

"so?" he asked, tilting his head. "do i get a yes or a no?

your heart was hammering. this wasn’t how you expected the night to go. but standing here, looking at him, remembering every single time you had ever caught him staring at you--

you let out a slow breath. oh shit, maybe he does like you too.

however, you wanted to say no. just to spite him. to wipe that smug look off his face.

but god, you liked him. way more than you probably should.

well, whatever.

he could break your heart if he wanted to. he could ruin you. kill you, even. whatever happens, happens.

but instead of saying yes, you lifted your chin. "no."

sylus blinked. "no?"

you crossed your arms, heart still racing. "yeah, not like this. i want a proper confession."

for a moment, he just stared at you, and then something shifted in his gaze. slowly, his lips curved into a smile--one of those rare, genuine ones that didn’t come with a smirk or teasing.

"alright," he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, a little less sure. "i like you. i’ve liked you for a while. you get under my skin, and you drive me a bit insane, but i’d still rather be around you than anyone else.

you watched him, heart racing faster, trying not to show how much his words got to you.

"that proper enough?" he asked, as if he didn't felt an ounce of embarrassment from saying his feelings out loud. but, he needed to say it. to let you know exactly how much he liked you--because you were a bit of a dolt who didn’t want to read between the lines and needed things straightforwardly given to you.

and of course, sylus would willingly do that.

to your surprise, though, his smile faltered a bit. his ears turned a shade of red you’d never seen before, and a pink hue dusted his cheeks.

so sylus can feel a bit of shyness and embarrassment too.

you couldn't help but smile and giggle at the sight, covering your eyes with your hands to show him how amused you were as you let out a laugh.

"uh... yeah, well," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "there. happy now?"

you couldn’t hold it back anymore. you smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "yes."

sylus’s eyes widened for a split second, his smirk returned--this time a little shy, a little less confident--but it was still there, unmistakable.

"good." he said, his voice steady again, but with a hint of something playful.

and just like that, the game had changed completely.

[syluscrows]

You catch him trying on your clothes.

Xavier, Sylus and Zayne

Contents: Fem!reader, fluff, humour, written in the perspective of a shorter reader, size differences mentioned

Xavier

He tries on some of your cute pyjama sets out of curiosity.

Poses Infront of the mirror, making kissy faces, acting all cutesy

when he sees your nightdress in the drawer, he giggles to himself, sliding into it.

He has a slimmer build, so your clothes fit quite well on him

And right at that moment that's when you walk in.

He panics, trying to take it off before you find him, hearing you calling his name throughout the house.

When you find him he looks like he is about to CRY.

"I'm sorry, y/n! I was curious!" He says in a whiney tone.

Poor boy feels SO humiliated, you can practically hear his soul being crushed.

You assure him that he looks adorable, and he looks at you with puppy dog eyes "You think so..?"

Since then, he just shamelessly wears your pyjamas - although he gets a bit embarrassed if you bring up the nightdress again.

Most likely out of the three to do this quite often..

Zayne

You catch him holding your bra up to his chest after you notice he's been in the bedroom for a while.

"What the fuck, Zayne?"

He doesn't seem embarrassed that you caught him, just shrugging and saying "I was measuring the difference in sizing of our chests."

This ends with you peer pressuring him to actually put it on fully

You can only do one of the links up, since you're much smaller than he is.

And here he is, squeezed into your bra while you take pictures, giggling away.

At one point he even starts jokingly posing, and you both end up laughing

He often leaves the house wearing your hoodies, he's never seen a reason why not.

Like Xavier, he does occasionally wear your pyjamas, if they fit him. He insists its because its comforting, and they smell like you.

He's tall, so there are some clothes he refuses to put on, like your dresses. Some of your shirts are practically crop tops on him since he has a tall build.

Sylus

Okay, first of all, this is Sylus after you've gotten VERY VERY close. I don't think the Sylus we meet at the start of his storyline would do this, but when y'all are dating he does anything to make his pookie smile :]

Is just straight up putting your bra on in the SAME ROOM AS YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF YOU. this man is SHAMELESS.

"What do you think?" shifting his eyebrows at you

He isn't phased in the slightly that you've seen him doing this.

If you complain, he just argues back "So you're allowed to wear my clothes, but the same doesn't apply to me?"

He can't actually fit the bra around him, since his chest is so big.

"I should get one of these.."

You ask him to put on a dress? done. He just looks smug as you giggle away at the sight

Of course, he's a very muscular man, so this always ends up with your dresses being damaged or ripping, But he doesn't hesitate to tell you to buy yourself a new one.

He would put on your panties...... and LOOK BETTER THAN YOU DO IN THEM.....

However, unlike the others, he doesn't wear your clothes out or your pyjamas, mainly because they don't fit well enough, and obviously for his pride, he is a man with a damn good fashion sense Afterall.

Mostly just wears your stuff as a joke to make you laugh.

[walkingnearfoxes]

Should Be More Patient (Edward Rutledge x Reader)

NSFW. Warnings for M/F smut, acts of violence/terrorism, dubious consent, threats with knives, and the plot of G20.

He's alive.

You bring your mug of tea to your lips as you watch the news for the third time that day. The chamomile is cold, a gentle reminder that you haven’t been drinking it for the last half hour. You have been too focused on the television. It’s been three weeks since the Cape Town attack, but the press is still coming up with something new to report about it every day. You couldn’t give less of a shit about President Sutton’s interviews or the tours of the newly renovated hotel. You need to know who from the terrorist group was left alive.

Your brother had been a part of the group that took the hotel. He’d left long before the attack, but he was there at its start. The horrors of Afghanistan would not leave him until he took revenge on the powers that put him there. You didn’t blame him for his anger, but you hated him for his choice. He didn’t care much for your opinion for the first few years. It was only when the group’s hatred and greed escalated past their perceived morals that he finally began to see reason. He turned coat, informing on some of the group’s highest-ranking members in exchange for witness protection for himself and your family. Unfortunately, there was one key top member he had “missed.” Edward Rutledge.

It was beyond your understanding how no one could find him. How could a man on several countries’ most wanted lists just disappear? Most news outlets agreed that he was dead, that he either fell to his death or drowned in the waters off South Africa. Without a body, you refused to believe it. You knew Rutledge. He was still out there - and he wasn’t going to stop.

You growl with frustration and turn off the TV. The channel you had settled on was beginning the cycle of interviews with Elena Romano, and you had already seen those three times. You instead move to watch the ocean waves from the window of your small beach house. The move here through witness protection had not been easy for you. Your government changed your entire life to atone for your brother’s mistakes. It wasn’t fair, but you had already faced that anger. Starting over had its perks, including this quiet place you now called home. Still, you weren’t naive enough to think that a new home and a new name removed you from danger.

As if hearing your anxious spiral, there’s a creak from your hallway. Your back goes rigid, and you slowly tiptoe towards it with your mug held tightly between your hands. A makeshift weapon, if need be. Every shadow could be a threat. You follow where the creak had been, your steps quieter than the crashes of the ocean outside. You rest a hand on the wall and press down on one of the floorboards, and it makes the same creaking sound you had heard. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. It was cruel of witness protection to give you such an old and creaky house, but it was still a beachouse. You could count your blessings when they exist. You shake your head and turn around to put your mug away in the kitchen sink.

Edward Rutledge is standing in your doorway. He’s dressed in dirty cargo pants and a simple black t-shirt. His hair is dyed a darker blonde, and his beard is shorter, but it’s unmistakably him. There are scars on him you recognize, and new ones that you don’t. His fingers drum at his sides, and he gives you a crooked smile. “Long time no see, sweetheart.”

You chuck the mug at him. In the time it takes for it to cross the room, you sprint for the kitchen. He dodges the mug with ease and makes a beeline for you just as you grab one of your kitchen knives. By the time the handle is in your hand, his arm is reaching over you to grab your wrist. He holds the blade away from you as far as he can, and the two of you begin a shaking struggle to control the knife. His other hand gives your hair a hard tug backwards, and you let out a cry of pain. The distraction is enough for your grip to loosen, and he rips the blade from you. He keeps one hand in your hair and the other holds the knife tightly to your throat.

“Both hands up,” He growls in your ear. “And don’t think I’m above slicing this pretty little neck.”

You hesitate, a snarl on your lips, but slowly put your hands in the air. Rutledge chuckles next to your ear. “Atta girl…now, if I put this down, are you gonna try and kill me again?”

“Probably.”

Another chuckle. “Friendly reminder that I don’t need this little bread knife to kill you. You wanna try a different answer?”

You debate elbowing him in the back, but that knife is tight to your skin, and you’re sure he has at least one more weapon on his person. You huff your reply. “I won’t try to kill you again. For now.”

“Stubborn as ever, eh?” He murmurs, but removes the knife. He takes a step away from you. “Really should change the codes on your door. Three years and still the same digits?”

You slowly turn to face him. He twirls the knife between his fingers before setting it delicately down on your countertop. You look at if briefly, then turn your attention back to those damned piercing eyes. “What do you want?”

“Not your brother’s head on a plate, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Rutledge replies. When you visibly stiffen, he smirks. “Come on now. If I wanted that bastard dead, he’d be dead already.”

He holds up his hands in a mocking gesture of peace. “I’m here for a change of clothes, a shower, and some familiar company. Can you give that to an old friend?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Rutledge’s lips twitch. “Not really,” He takes a few steps backwards towards the bathroom. “Are my clothes still in the same drawer?”

Your hands clench into tight fists at your side. “Yes.”

“Brilliant,” He moves to turn around but then pauses. He holds out his hand. “Phone, please.”

You scoff as if insulted. “I’m not going to call anyone.”

He says nothing, simply arching his scarred brow higher up his head. You stare him down, but he doesn’t budge. With a huff more akin to appeasing a toddler than a wanted terrorist, you take your phone out of your back pocket and place it in his outstretched hand. He winks at you. “Good girl.”

Your eyes narrow. “You can’t keep me hostage in my own house.”

“I absolutely can and am,” He puts your phone in his back pocket with a tired sigh. “And if you were paying any attention to the news, you’d know it could be much worse.”

~-~

Rutledge has the audacity to hum loudly when he finally gets in your shower. You don’t recognize the tune, but you don’t spend much time trying to figure it out. Instead, you are once again flipping through the news. You fidget anxiously with the remote control in your hands. Someone somewhere must be able to explain how Edward Rutledge was able to make it into your country and your house without any detection. But no. All anyone can seem to focus on is the heroics of Sutton. You glance at your laptop on the coffee table. Maybe you could use that to contact someone. Your brother would surely like to know that the biggest threat to his life is paying you a visit. 

Rutledge comes back in before you can fully formulate what was a half-hearted attempt at help. He’s dressed himself in jeans that still fit him perfectly and has gone without a shirt. You watch him through the window’s reflection as he creeps into the room, whistling that same unrecognizable tune. He takes a seat beside you, far enough to keep your legs from touching but close enough that you can feel his heat. You feel him staring at you, but you keep your eyes on the television screen. He follows your gaze. “What’re we watching, love?”

It’s now showing a new part of the hotel. Various items from the attack - weapons, tattered cloth, ID cards - have been placed along the walls as a memorial. You put the remote down between the two of you. 

“Your greatest failure.”

His low laugh is dangerous. “You know, I remember a shy little thing I met years ago,” He purrs. “She’d help take care of my wounds and keep me fed while her brother and I planned a better world.”

His hand slowly moves to rest over your knee, his fingers creeping up your thigh. “Then, when big bro was off to bed, I’d fuck her stupid ‘til sunrise. What happened to that sweet little girl, eh?”

You keep your eyes on the screen. You don’t look at Rutledge, and you don’t think about the way his hand feels warm and large on your skin. You take a steadying breath. “She realized what a bastard you really are,” You growl in reply. “And she wasn’t going to let you control her life anymore.”

His fingers tighten to gently press into the flesh of your thigh. “I never wanted to control you,” He murmurs. “But you…you could never admit what had to be done.”

Your eyes snap to look at him, and you gesture angrily to the screen. “None of this needed to be done. It was a half-thought idea that got people killed.”

He scoffs, but you recognize that dangerous flare in his gaze. “Mourning a prime minister now?”

“Not just them,” You growl. “Your men. How many of them died because you were stupid enough to think deepfakes would change the world-”

War reflexes grab you by the collar of your shirt. You gasp and squirm, but fighting an angry Rutledge is akin to kicking at water. He drags you onto his lap, situates you so your back is to his naked chest. He cups your jaw tightly and forces you to keep your eyes locked on the television. It’s now playing clips from the attack. It shows Rutledge speaking to the hostages at the start when he was entirely in control, similar to the way he controls you fully now.

“This is because of them. Not me,” Rutledge hisses into your ear. You squirm again, and his free arm comes to curl tightly around your waist. “I wanted a free world. A new start. But here we are, sheep praising the wolves that will eat us alive.”

The clips are now showing Sutton’s takedown of Rutledge’s men. His grip tightens on your jaw. You let out a shaky breath. “What happens now, then?” You murmur, careful not to move this time. “How do we survive?”

“Still working on that, love,” He murmurs, his nose just brushing against the shell of your ear. “Luckily, no one gives a shit about me already. We’ve got time.”

He shifts behind you, and you become aware of his hard cock pressing against the outline of your ass. He growls under his breath and gently thrusts his hips up. Your breath hitches. “Eddie, don’t.”

“Eddie,” Rutledge repeats in a sultry tone you recognize too intimately. The anger from him is fading now, replaced by a ravenous hunger. “Haven’t heard that from you since Cabo. You want me to take you back there, yeah? For old time’s sake?”

He gives another gentle thrust, and you feel your defenses weakening. He’s fully hard now, the growls he makes curling right between your legs. 

“You’re allowed to hate me. Fuck, I hate me too,” Rutledge murmurs. He presses his lips to the crook of your neck. “But give me tonight. Give me one night to make us feel something again.”

It will never be one night, not with him and you. But his hand around your waist is moving to the hem of your shorts, his fingertips just pressing under the waistband. You’re not in control of your senses anymore when you finally answer. “Yes…”

“Good girl,” He kisses your temple as his hand slips easily into your shorts. He bypasses your panties immediately, a slow and familiar slide until his middle finger finds your clit. He’s pressing slow, wet kisses to your neck as he moves his finger in lazy circles. You jolt, but he just hums against your skin and carries on like he has all the time in the world. “You been with anyone else? Anyone else get to feel you like this?”

“No,” You whisper breathlessly, and the response gets his finger to move just a bit faster. You whine, but his grip on you holds firm. “No…just you.”

“Good,” He purrs as he angles his hand further down. “I’ve killed enough men this week already.”

He replaces his middle finger with his thumb so he can push two fingers inside of you. It’s an agonizingly slow slide that leaves you choking on your need. He groans. “Fuuuuuuckin’ hell, sweetheart. This tight little cunt could stop wars.”

His pace is slow, deep, and torturous. He knows how to build you up quickly and then keep you teetering over the edge for as long as he pleases. He doesn’t speed up or slow down, no matter how much you’re squirming on his lap or how hard his cock is now pressing against your ass. He can do this all night and seems perfectly intent on doing so.

“Eddie, please,” You whine, your voice wheezy in want. “Let me come.”

“Right now?” He asks you innocently as he nibbles at your neck. “What’s the rush?”

You purposefully grind yourself back against his cock, earning a hiss from between his teeth. He moves his hand on your jaw down to curl around your neck. He allows you to breathe, but his grip is tight. “Don’t be a brat.”

“Then let me come,” You try again, whimpering when the words do nothing to change his pace. “Eddie, please. I’m sorry. I…I need-”

He shushes you and kisses over a mark he’s left on your neck. “Easy. I’ll let you come. You’re lucky your cunt always puts me in a good mood…”

His thumb presses harder down on your clit and his fingers move just quicker enough. Your climax is hard, loud, and it’s only his grip on your body that keeps you from falling off his lap. He murmurs praise and encouragement into your ear, but you can barely make out the words. He keeps fingering you until you feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. Only then does he suddenly move a hand to your back and push you forward.

You gasp, his strength sending you up and off his lap with ease. Your hands land on the coffee table in front of you to stabilize yourself. He immediately slides in behind you, his hands falling to your waist. “Now, this is a better way to watch television,” He chuckles, smacking your ass before reaching for your shorts and panties. He pulls them down to your knees, decides that’s enough, and frees a hand to reach for his jeans. You hear him undo his zipper, and then his cock is pressing against your hole. His hands both clench on your hips, tight enough to bruise. “You ready?”

Your eyes lift. The news is showing Rutledge with his hands folded in front of him - his original announcement to the world. Your breath hitches as you reply. “Yes.”

He slowly pushes his cock inside of you. His moan is debauched, loud, and relieved. Your hands clench into fists as you adjust to his girth. Ruthless is patient. He stills when fully sheated, his fingers brushing random circles over your ass. Only when you arch your hips back to meet him, the action making you both moan, does he move. He thrusts slowly at first, using his hold on your body to guide you along the length of his dick. He uses your whines and your whimpers to guide his movements, moving faster and deeper when he knows you can take it, when you need it. His hands are tight enough to bruise against your skin as he leans over your back to rut into you like an animal. He’s starved for you.

“Just you and me now, sweetheart. Fuck,” He groans, his relentless pace never stopping, never slowing. “Whatever you want, whatever we fucking want.”

He says it like he isn’t even fully aware of his words, too lost in how tight your pussy sucks him in. Your orgasm takes you by surprise this time, suddenly quaking through you. He feels it and cries out before suddenly pulling out of you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other jerks himself off until he’s spilling against the curve of your ass, all while hissing your name. Your real name. 

Two commercials pass before either of you speak. Rutledge is busy resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder. You stand up slowly, and he follows your motion. “You alright?” He murmurs from behind you.

You slowly turn to look at him. In these moments, he is at his most vulnerable. His blue eyes are wide and cautious, looking you over to see if he did well. You slowly bring a hand up to gently squeeze his forearm. “I need food,” You tell him. “And a shower.”

Rutledge smirks as he kisses your forehead. “Go shower. Ordering pizza won’t get me noticed.”

You let your hand leave him, but his touch lingers along your leg as you move around the couch on shaky legs. You pause a moment as you kick off your shorts, looking back at him. “Can I have my phone back now?”

He chuckles as he opens your laptop. “Oh, definitely not,” He replies as he pulls up a pizza delivery service. Once it’s up, he looks over his shoulder at you with a smirk. “Don’t worry. By the end of tonight, you won’t want me going anywhere.”

[sleepymirko]

. .•°•. . Unspoken comfort . .•°•. .

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

Oliver Aiku shows up at your apartment unannounced, noticing he hasn’t seen you around much lately. What he didn’t expect to hear was that your boyfriend cheated on you...

Word count: 1,4k

Oliver Aiku x fem! Reader

Fluff, slight angst, comfort, friends to ??, Aiku is a player but we're not surprised

Enjoy! (and let me know if there's some errors! English isn't my first language!

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

It was an uneventful day in the middle of fall, and the landscape was dressed in warm colors. However, Oliver could barely admire it as his view was quickly obstructed by the red locks of his friend, Sendou, who sat next to him in the karaoke room, killing time with some friends.

He looked back at his phone, scrolling on his chats when he came across yours. It was nearly three weeks ago the last time you guys talked, Oliver knew that sometimes you don't answer right away for various reasons but.. why he felt like it was a bit strange? Maybe because you were close friends? Maybe he should text you something?

-Did you join some top-secret hibernation society or something? I swear I haven’t seen you in weeks.-

A girl boldly sat on his lap, looking for his attention as he was too busy to notice her at first. "Who are you writing to?" The girl asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "A friend. She's been a bit too evanescent lately."

"Does it matter though? It's not like you have time right now." She said with a sultry smile, gaining the soccer player's attention. "Uh? Really?" He teased as she smirks in response. His phone buzzed and the girl frowned but she was stubborn enough to stay.

-yeah I just don't feel like going out. But I'm doing good-

-you don't feel like it? Sweets I'm pretty sure you barely leave the house-

-..are you bored? Because I'm pretty sure that you remembered me because you were probably scrolling your chats.-

Ouch, that hurt. But now he was sure that something was up.

-ok my bad. I'll be a better friend but you have to remember answering too. This time it was your fault👀-

-I'll be more careful then 🙄-

The interaction was brief enough to make him smile but he thought it was time to check on her. He didn't had to ask the girl to get up that she was already out of sight.

It was definitely time to check if you were going good like you claimed to be. "Already leaving, Oliver?" the girl said, smiling subtly. This girl is resilient, he thought. "Something urgent came up. Really a pity not to have fun with such a pretty thing," he said, smirking as she blushed. "And here I thought I could give you a taste of heaven…" she said, looking at him with her lips slightly pouty.

Oh, what a sweet temptation women are.. he thought.

Somehow, they always managed to make him do what they wanted, but when they were no longer fun, the magic just disappeared. Sometimes, he almost felt bad about it, but the high was too sweet to abandon.

"I'm afraid we have to save this conversation for another day" the soccer player said as he opened the door, leaving a pretty frustrated girl behind. "To me, she seems more than a friend" the girl spat, unable to mask her jealousy any longer. His head turned, but the door was already closed. More than a friend? It wasn't the first time he had heard such words. His previous girlfriends would surely agree—they had said the same thing when he messed up.

But you were a different kind of story. You two were friends because your parents were on good terms, and one thing led to another. You got close pretty easily, maybe thanks to his sisters, who always asked about you. He even taught you how to ride a bike and even how to dye his hair. Strolling through the streets, he glanced back at his phone, rereading the latest messages and chuckling. The walk had been unexpectedly shorter than intended, and he now found himself in front of her door. He knocked and waited for her to open it, confident she would look slightly surprised.

When Y/N opened the door, she was completely taken by surprise. Oliver stood there, unmoving, a signature smirk playing on his perfect features. She noticed he was wearing his soccer jersey, guessing he’d had practice earlier in the day.

“Oliver...?” she half questioned, surprise lacing her voice.

“Who else?” he joked, cracking a smile as she involuntarily mirrored it. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she loved how effortlessly he made her smile—sometimes it felt like he had a spell over her.

“I’m here to check on you, and I must say, you exceeded my expectations. Can I come in?” he asked, stepping slightly closer to her door. Instinctively, she moved to the side, allowing him in.

“Sure... come in,” she said, closing the door behind him.

They walked into the kitchen, and she offered him something to drink. “Why the sudden visit? I’m perfectly fine,” she said, attempting a casual tone.

“That doesn’t look like ‘perfectly fine’ to me,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just feeling a bit down, but it happens sometimes. I’ll get over it eventually,” she replied.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Oliver said, staring at his glass of water, idly turning it in his hands.

“Why is that...?” y/n asked, confused by his skepticism.

“Because you’re not looking at me. And if I need to be more precise, you’re avoiding eye contact,” he said, setting the glass down on the table and scanning her with concern. She felt exposed as his eyes took in the way she glanced everywhere but at him.

C'mon, look at me.. he thought. Just a peek, if you're doing fine, you shouldn't struggle to make eye contact.. right?

There was something about her avoidant mannerisms that he found unnerving, how her hands were buried in the sleeves of her oversized hoodie.

He was craving her gaze, a surging need for her to finally let go of what was holding her hostage.

And then, as if she had been holding her breath for a long time, she finally spoke.

She looked down, her expression carefully masking her emotional state. Her tone was low, every fiber of her being tired and helpless:

"He cheated on me."

How ironic. Of all the people who could have heard her story, it had to be him.

Sure, they were friends, but she knew better than to accept her growing affection for the soccer player. They never talked about love, and she was painfully aware that his lifestyle could easily upset her.

After all, the guy was a cheater too, wasn’t he?

Oliver, on the other hand, was shocked. He should have suspected something, especially with how closed off she had seemed. Now, it felt like an invisible wall had risen between them, and seeing her so miserable stirred an unexpected emotion within him.

He felt an intense urge to punch the guy in the guts for the audacity of pulling such a stunt, but his brain quickly worked against him.

Why are you so mad about this?

You should be the last person to talk.

It's not like you're any different.

He was furious—at himself and at her ex. It was hypocritical, sure, but it made him wonder: would he have done the same?

"Shit, I shouldn't have pressed you. Now I feel like an asshole," he said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"It's okay. We broke up two weeks ago. I feel better now," she said, looking at him, not expecting such a reaction from the soccer player.

Was he... upset?

"So you're telling me that you're okay? When you opened the door, I immediately noticed that something was off. You don't have to play tough. Not with me," he said, his tone stern but carrying a hint of concern.

It was enough to make her tears fall, her castle crumbling down. Oliver didn’t waste time, pulling her into a tight hug.

Strangely enough, she felt like she could finally let it all out—the anger, the sadness, the overwhelming sense of betrayal.

After some time, as they sat on the couch with her still in his arms, she finally relaxed, exhaustion overtaking her.

"Oli, I'm really tired right now... I don't know why. I mean, I slept more than enough last night," she said softly, her voice slow and faint.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and she felt her cheeks flush slightly.

"Then sleep, sweets. When you wake up, I'll still be here. For you."

She looked up at him, only to regret it when his gaze held hers, an unspoken feeling swirling in his eyes that she couldn't identify.

Lowering her head slowly, she let her eyes close, giving rest to both her mind and her racing heart.

Please let me know if something doesn't feel right! Thank you for reading!

[marvelobsessed134]

R bumping into Thor somewhere and immediately getting on her knees and sucking his big Asgardian cock like a good girl should

A loyal servant

THIS MAN IS GENUINELY SO BEAUTIFUL

Pairings: King!Thor x Servant!Fem!Reader

It’s been awhile since I’ve watched any of the Thor movies (I know 😔) so bear with me on how Asgard works and stuff k?

Warnings: oral (m receiving), power imbalance, size kink (obviously, this man is fucking huge), praise, light degradation, mentions of getting caught (but it doesn’t actually happen).

You were a servant for King Odinson, or while he preferred you to call him, Thor. The blonde liked hearing you say his name so that’s what you would call him. Anything to please your king That included sex, as well. You grown to be Thor’s favorite servant. Beautiful, dainty, and the only one that was willing to give him whatever he wanted. You’d trot around in dresses shorter than what women in Asgard usually wear because that was what he expected of you. And you loved it.

On the way to the palace library to make sure all the books were in the correct order, you bumped into your king. His long blonde hair was flowing down past his shoulders, he was in his casual-as casual as a king can get-wear, and had a hungry look in his eyes you knew all too well.

“Oh, Thor! What can I do for you?” You asked with a peppy smile as you looked up at him.

“Lady Y/n, I was just on my way to your quarters.” You knew what that meant, you knew what he was implying.

Your panties dampened at that. You were always so wet and ready for Thor, another reason why he favored you so much. You bit your bottom lip and your eyes traveled down to his very large bulge. “You need me to take care of that?” All he did was nod in a stoic expression and you sunk down to your knees, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. You guys were still in the middle of the hallway, and there was a pretty high chance you guys could get caught. And that turned you on even more.

The king felt the same way because he lifted your chin in his large, calloused hand and said, “Anyone can walk down here and see you on your knees for me. Do you like that, dove? I like it too. Like everyone to see you belong to the King Of Asgard.”

You nodded enthusiastically with a smile before wrapping your hand around his cock and giving it a few pumps before spitting on it and taking it in your mouth. You’ve never been able to fit his whole length in your mouth so you jerked off any part that couldn’t fit down your throat.

The god moaned, tangling his hand in your hair and thrusting his hips towards your mouth. “Fuck, such a good girl. Sucking my cock like a good little whore.” His words made you even more turned on and you were determined to give him his finish.

“Such a tiny little mouth, your pussy is even tinier. Don’t even know how I’m able to get half of me inside.” He groaned, tugging on your hair making your moan onto his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

You pulled off of him to give your throat a rest but he wasn’t having that. Thor forced you back down on his shaft, fucking your face into oblivion. It wander long before you felt him twitch in your mouth before he spilled his seed down your throat. His moan came out more like a roar as he released his cum.

He pulled you off of him and jerked your head up so you could look at him, “Go ahead to the library. I will award you later.”

You nodded and stood up, glad your knees weren’t on the hard marbled floor anymore and watched him tuck himself back inside his pants before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and walking off like nothing happened.

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Graveyard

TF141 x Reader

Summary: A discussion of the Base’s upcoming Halloween celebration leads to the suggestion that Ghost actually participates this year. The question is… will he?

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None(?)

A/N: for @vikki-tikki-tavii 💕 thanks for the request! This definitely felt appropriate for this time of year. I also meant to keep it on the shorter side but ahhh!!! I got so caught up in their back and forth, and the whole vibe of it all! 🙈 I hope you like it! Divider by @kodaswrld ❤️

“Any hints as to what you’re goin’ as?” Kyle asks Johnny from across the room.

“I’m not tellin’! No doubt you’d try an’ copy me,” Johnny responds.

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna show up wearing the same costume,” you joke. Watching the way Kyle’s eyebrow quirks in that telltale way you just know he’s getting annoyed, meanwhile Johnny’s got a wicked smirk on his lips that can only mean he’s up to no good.

“Yeah, right,” Kyle scoffs. He turns back to his paperwork, the three of you in the Command Station respectively doing your menial work. It seems whatever conversation Kyle had tried to stir up about Halloween was fruitless, the room quieting as everyone refocuses.

The familiar sound of heavy footfall matched with the faint squeak of sneakers signals who’s approaching. “LT!” Kyle perks up. The work-related focus didn’t last long, you think. God only knows when the paperwork will finally get done. “You celebrating this year?”

“What? Halloween?” Ghost questions, turning to offer the Captain, who’d only just entered with him, a look. The Lieutenant shakes his head.

“I take it you’re looking forward to this year’s party?” John asks, placing down his water bottle on the counter by the doorway. His brow is still covered in sweat, the two senior officers having been scheduled for their quarterly assessment earlier this afternoon.

“What’s not to like? Handing out candy to the kids, seeing their little costumes-” Kyle leans back in his chair starting to list off all the reasons he loves this holiday.

“Still can’t believe I’m the only one who got Chase from Paw Patrol,” Johnny interrupts, muttering under his breath as he crosses his arms and turns to face the doorway, officially joining the conversation.

“Not all of us have nieces,” you quip, sending him a sarcastic look over your shoulder.

“-The costume contest, and the games? I’ve actually been practicing my apple bobbing the past few days. I’m going to win this year, guarantee it!” Kyle continues.

“Scaring the wee ones takes the cake though,” Johnny chimes in. “Surprised you haven’t signed up to volunteer in the graveyard, LT. Figure you’d like dressing up, all considering,” he jokes.

Every year the Base puts on a Halloween celebration for the community, and while there are different stations where volunteers hand out candy, there’s games, contests, and of course, the makeshift graveyard. It’s akin to that of a haunted house, only, it’s outside, and decorated in mostly lame attempted cardboard headstones, plastic ghosts, and bats. The fog machine certainly adds an eerie element, but what makes it are the volunteers who sign up. While it’s technically only another station to hand out candy, some of the soldiers like to add to the ambiance and scare the people walking through. Johnny definitely seems the type.

Unconsciously, a shocked look crosses your features. Johnny might not be wrong to think so, but to say it?! To Ghost’s face? Oh, hell no. While you look back at Johnny over to Ghost, you find you aren’t the only one shocked. John’s eyes are a little wider than usual, but no one comments.

“Yeah, and what should I go as?” The response from the LT elicits a quiet sigh of relief. You’re glad another physical blowout hadn’t ensued.

A visage of curiosity displays itself across the group’s faces, but it ultimately only takes a moment for people to pitch in.

“Ghostface?” Johnny proposes before shaking his head. “No… too on the nose?” A chuckle follows.

“Thor?” You offer something different.

“Shrek!” Kyle comments.

“I’d rather keep the mask on, if possible,” Ghost mentions.

“Devil?” The Captain questions.

“Death?” Johnny adds, to which you all look at him before looking back at the Lieutenant.

“The Grim Reaper!”

“Grim Reaper,” both you and Kyle voice at the same time. A jovial look is shared before you turn back to the Lieutenant waiting for a response.

“That’s actually quite good,” John approves, arms crossing as he leans against the counter.

“We’ll see,” the Lieutenant responds, not offering up any morsel of rejoice as he takes off his tac-vest and heads over to his locker.

It’s only a week or so later when Halloween finally arrives. And while it’s not the most commonplace celebrated holiday in Europe, it’s one that many have chosen to adopt in favor of its fun and creative festivities. You’d decided to dress up as a cat because it was easy. Draw on some whiskers and a nose, find a headband to go with it, and you’re still abiding by dress code even during the festivities.

Stationed on candy duty with Markowski from the Foreign Intelligence Committee, you both sit by the garage which had been opened up, cleaned, and civilian-proofed for the event. While you’d been chatting with your buddy in hopes of catching up, you spot movement from your peripheral. “Let me guess,” Markowski says, turning on his stool to eye the incoming pair of children. “Rapunzel, and…”

“Pasquel!” The other child shouts excitedly. A smile envelopes your lips as the family approaches and you hand out the candy. “You’re a kitty,” the little girl says to you.

“I am,” you reply. “Have you been having fun?” You ask her in response, yet still attempt to engage the whole family as well.

“Yeah!” Both little girls respond, thankfully. You don’t know what you’d do if they weren’t.

“It’s definitely a lot spookier than last year,” the dad chuckles, “Becca here almost cried because of that Skeleton in the Graveyard,” he teases.

“I thought that was the Grim Reaper,” the mother states, and you laugh despite not knowing exactly. You hadn’t seen all the decorations that the Base had put out this year, but while they never spent the most on extracurricular things like holidays, you know they do tend to upgrade things when the original gets damaged and needs a replacement.

Nevertheless, the family thanks you for your service and heads off to the next group of soldiers stationed at a candy point. It’s only once the night’s getting later that the people start to die down in numbers that you’re able to tag off with Markowski and have a break. Wandering through the grounds you spot people lining up for the costume contest, the cookie decorating station, and the apple-bobbing table.

You decide to go there since you know Kyle happened to get stationed there. Even if he’d been preparing for a few days in advance, you wouldn’t put it past him to keep trying when the line died down. To your surprise, the Captain is there too. “What’re you doing here?” You question, smiling up at the old man. Sure, he didn’t necessarily enjoy these events, but you wondered why he was here instead of watching the game on the telly at home. It’s only so often you all get time off, anyhow.

“I thought I’d pop by after I was done to see what my team’s been up to,” John answers, smiling behind the cup of—no doubt *spiked*—cider in his hands. Part of you wants to chastise him for working on a holiday, while the other part is simply glad to see him. Choosing the latter, a smile graces your features. It’s momentary to, however, as his words dawn on you.

“Wait, Riley’s here?” You ask. It was rare that the Lieutenant would show up to an event, at least that’s what they’d told you. Once you’d joined the team he seemed to make more of an effort, according to the guys. And it was sort of true from what you’d seen. Any time an event would come up, especially a formal one, you’d all have to beg Ghost to join you all. With the promise of free food, drinks, and an early getaway was the only way you’d be able to get him to go.

“You didn’t hear?” Kyle asks excitedly, with a shake of his head. He’d clearly just been dunking his head in the pails considering water flicks off his hair in droplets, hitting your forearm. His eyelashes are wet, and there are still a few beads of water dripping down the side of his face. “He took our advice and volunteered for once!”

“Apparently he’s quite the hit,” John muses, subtly shaking his head at the Sergeant’s silliness. “Did you even manage to get one?” He eyes the pails tacitly.

“Actually, yeah. Won the contest, just like I said I would,” Kyle confesses, holding up the little plastic trophy he’d gotten.

“Guess those kids need to practice more,” you joke, eliciting a laugh from the men. As the quiet settles between the three of you, the sun finally dipping under the horizon leaving you all in the relative dark, your thoughts wander back. “I thought we were meeting at your house to catch the end of the game though?” Even if it isn’t your favorite thing to watch, you enjoy the guys’ company.

“We are, the boys said they’d meet us back here once they cleaned up,” John informs you. With the sun having set, the festivities were definitely coming to an end. It shouldn’t be too much longer.

“I’ve already got it all cleaned up here! Just need to put these back in the garage, if you two wanna go ahead and find them?” Kyle encourages. Considering your station really only had a candy bowl, you’re more than sure Markowski can handle it. Kyle’s partner joins you all, and with the quick emptying of the three pails and a collection of the apples into one, it’d only take the breaking down of a foldable table for them to clean up.

A quick glance at the Captain tells you he’s waiting on you, his brow quirked in that questioning way. He has his answer when you peel off, heading toward where you know, at least, Johnny is. The fog machine is still clearly on as you have to wave your hand in front of your face, the weird somewhat chemical smelling fumes emanating from it turning your stomach. The small plastic fencing is still in place, and while there are maybe one or two fake headstones still sitting around, it doesn’t take long to find Johnny.

“Nice costume,” you compliment, unable to help the teasing smirk from settling on your lips. Eyeing him up and down, he really did put a lot of effort into his costume! He’d clearly cut off the bottom of a pair of jeans, the frayed edges giving it away. Besides the homemade shorts which he’d stuck a tail out the back, he’d left his plaid flannel halfway undone exposing his unruly chest hair, adorned a headband of ears, and a snout tied around his face with a string.

“Why, thank you, Lass,” he responds, sitting the decorations he’d picked up on his hips. “Weren’t we supposed to meet you at Kyle’s though?”

“Yeah, but we got done early, so the Cap’ and I came to get you,” you relay him in on the information. “How was it? Scare a lot of kids this year?”

Johnny chuckles before his eyes light up at the mention of the evening. “Yeah! We actually-”

“Ready?” The Captain’s voice cuts off Johnny’s story as he’d finally caught up. You’d supposed he’d been admiring the details in the decorations.

With a split-second glance over your shoulder you respond. “Yeah! Just gotta find the LT first and then we’re good to go.” Refocused on Johnny and wanting to hear the stories from tonight, his eyes aren’t on you, but over your shoulder on the Captain.

“Found him,” Johnny announces nonchalantly.

“Where?” You ask rhetorically, turning. It’s then that the closeness of a body looming over you sends you reeling back, stumbling, almost falling on your butt. While Johnny tried to catch you, and an embarrassing yelp had left your mouth, you can’t help but purse your lips out of embarrassment as the three men before you cackle.

“Behind you,” the Captain finally answers, coughing in between big breaths of laughter.

Johnny had dropped the cheap decorations, bent over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes in laughter.

However, it’s the loud boisterous laughs coming from the hunched over Grim Reaper before you that does it. The Lieutenant really had taken your advice and dressed up. He’s got a hooded cape on, a plastic scythe, and dawned his usual mask. It’s amusing, really, the way you’d never seen him laugh this hard before, and you can’t help but join in.

“Sorry, I just had to,” the Lieutenant finally apologizes, to which you accept immediately.

“It’s okay, Riley. I’ll just have to get you back,” you taunt. There’s a pat on your back, and you look over your shoulder.

“Good luck with that,” Johnny says down to you before taking the lead on continuing to pick up the last of the decorations.

It’s only as you’ve just helped them get their decorations ready to haul back to the garage when Kyle shows up. Despite it still being a bit foggy, it was easy enough to spot the lot of you. “Did I miss something?” He asks, turning to watch the Captain carry some of the headstones past him.

“Nope,” the Grim Reaper says just behind Kyle’s ear. This elicits the same response it did from you, and you can’t help the laughter that tumbles free.

“He did it to me too, don’t worry,” you finally manage to get out. It’d almost caused you to drop the fog machine you’re carrying in one hand. “Johnny! You’ll never guess what just happened!” You shout after the men a few feet ahead of you, trailing after them. The sooner you’re all done, the sooner you can head to the Captain’s and the usual festivities will ensue. All in all, though, it was a pretty good Halloween, you’d say. It’s not everyday Ghost dresses up, let alone scares half the team.

~~~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo , @ohdamnadam , @penelopepine

[sc0tters]

Enough is Enough | Sidney Crosby

summary: when you push Sidney to his limits, he decides to teach you a lesson.

trope: dads friend

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual scenes, p in v, oral (m receiving!), legal age gap (reader is in college!), degradation, fingering, swearing.

word count: 2.49k

authors note: I’m gonna start this off with saying that the reader x dad friend trope is not one that everyone will like so if you don’t, don’t read it! oh and @hischierhaze should seriously like never leave me unattended ever again, cause this was a lot. To find the rest of the cellly you can see the masterlist here!

This was meant to be the summer of rehabilitation for you.

Your dad wanted you to recover after a year at university that almost landed you in jail on more than one occasion. As he was at his wits end with you lashing out.

Sidney was meant to be someone who could talk some sense into you, but as he stayed up waiting for a fourth night in a row for you to return with not even a word or a heads up to where you were. He realised he was on the end of a losing battle.

Before he’d just remind you to tell him about where you went but tonight as his anger mixed with the whiskey on his tongue Sidney saw your shorts and crop top and it caused him to lose it “where have you been kid?” He asked turning on the light in the living room as you looked like a deer in headlights “out Sid.” It was the same answer you gave him each time “some of the guys wanted to go get drinks.” You explained with a shrug moving to push past him.

Sidney stopped you as he wrapped his hand around your arm “we aren’t done here y/n.” The hockey player shook his head as he looked down at you “you either tell me where you are going or you don’t go out at all.” His voice was strict reminding you about his angry side.

Yet instead you found it amusing as you laughed “you gonna ground me or something?” You smiled rolling your eyes causing his grip around your arm to tighten “really should when you act and dress like this.” His free hands fingers dragged over the end of your shirt.

It made you frown “like what Sid?” You pressed his buttons as you pulled away from him “see you thought of something so say it.” Your arms crossed as you tilted your hips to the side.

Sidney pushed his hand through his hair as his nostrils flared “god you are such a wimp.” You spat shaking your head as he stood in silence watching as you walked to the stairs “you’re acting like a slut okay!” Sidney groaned honestly deciding that you were the reason why he decided not to have kids.

As you both soaked in the reality of what he had said “y/n wa-” Sidney tried to get himself out of the hole he had fallen into you were too fast running up the stairs to then shut your bedroom door with a slam “I’ll show him what a fucking slut is.” You mumbled looking at yourself in the mirror one last time with a smirk on your face.

Over the next few days that was exactly what you did. Sidney knew you were doing it to get under his skin as he watched your outfits grow tighter and shorter as your behaviour grew more present. You were now flirting with guys in front of his face, from the man in the grocery store to the neighbours son. What killed him was how he was forced to bite his tongue.

But when you eventually walked out of your room in this yellow bikini and nothing more than a baseball jersey that you left unbuttoned. Sidney didn’t think he had much more that he could take until he realised an important factor, that bikini top didn’t have cups. So as you walked into the kitchen after tanning outside Sidney knew he had to take defeat “so could you?” You asked waiting for his answer.

Sidney felt his cheeks turn warm as he shook his head “can you repeat that f’me?” He asked realising that he had missed what you said “asked if you could put some sun screen on my back before I go back out?” You repeated yourself as you sucked at the popsicle between your lips.

He nodded looking away as his pants strangely grew tight “y-yeah sure.” Sidney stammered as the first place he looked ended up being your breasts causing you to smirk “they look good in this one don’t they?” You brought your hands brush down your waist.

It made Sidney cough “I saw you staring at them, there’s no need to be ashamed.” You cooed stepping closer to him “we shouldn’t.” His voice was coarse as he tried to step away from you.

But the hockey player stood against the counter now trapped “all I’m saying is that you do what you want and touch them.” You used your fingers to trace over your nipples that were clear under your top “they are just begging for you.” You knew you were playing with fire as your teeth caught your lower lip between them.

Sidney felt himself grunt “my dad said he wanted you to help me out after all.” Your voice was soft as you used your fathers words “you’re gonna get me into so much fucking trouble.” The hockey player groaned nervously lifting his hand “there you go.” You cooed as you helped bring his hand to cup the one side of your bikini.

He loved feeling how his large hand was able to fit your entire breast in it “fuck baby.” The hockey player watched his thumb drag over the aching nub “need more Sid.” You whined placing your hand on top of his.

The hockey player nodded sucking at his teeth “what would your dad say if he saw you begging like this?” It stroked his ego as he brought his other hand up to repeat his actions on your other nipple as well “happy I’m not in trouble.” You found the situation amusing as you smiled “oh but you are baby.” Before you could question what Sidney meant he spun you around and pressed your chest against the kitchen counter.

It made you gasp as his hand kept your torso from pushing up “you think you could get away wearing this?” The hockey player used his opposite hand to hook under the waistband of the panties letting it snap against your skin “answer the question.” He snapped making you whimper “no Sid.” You shook your head struggling to think of where you could put your hands as Sidney moved to stand behind you.

He loved his angle seeing how vulnerable you were in front of him “wanted to piss you off.” You explained in a soft tone trying to stop him from hearing you “and you still think I should make you feel good?” Sidney laughed at your naivety “I can be good!” You nodded excitedly as you agreed “we will see about that.” Sidney mumbled sucking at the lobe of your ear.

It should have made you hang your head in shame how you pushed your ass against his crotch “the last few days have been hell.” He grunted squeezing the skin of your ass before he slapped it “what are you gonna do about it?” You gasped feeling him massage the previously abused skin.

Sidney felt his cock grow even harder as he pulled you back up so you could look at him “gonna finally shut this mouth up.” His hand pushed you to the ground as you dropped to your knees.

Your mouth watered as you watched him undo the strings of his shorts before he hooked his fingers into the waist pushing them to the ground to reveal his cock that stretched out the front of his boxers “look at you all excited.” The hockey player smirked as he watched you bring your hands up to trace your fingers around his boner “don’t tease me baby or else I’ll leave you looking all desperate on the floor.” His words made you whimper as you finally did what he wanted and revealed his cock as his boxers follow the same way his shorts did to the floor.

You knew Sidney would have been big but as you licked the swollen tip of his cock you began to wonder if you could take all of him “thin ice y/n.” His voice grew angry as he stared you down. It made you nice as you wrapped your lips around his cock forcing as much of his length into your mouth.

Sidney groaned feeling your tongue against the bottom of his cock “your mouth is so good.” He muttered watching your head begin to bob “you’re taking me to so well.” The boy cooed bringing his hands to your hair making a makeshift ponytail.

It helped him guide your movements forcing you to take more of him “fuck.” Sidney whined as you swirled his cock in your mouth and your throat constricted around the tip of his cock as you took all of him.

He felt his eyes roll back as you gagged “Sid,” your voice was muffled as your fingers slid down your stomach and into your bikini bottoms so you could tease your clit.

As Sidney began fucking your throat he felt himself grow dazed “looking so pretty down there.” The boy dragged his fingers through your hair to your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes “finally being a good girl f’me.” Just as the hockey player said that you mewled at the feeling of your fingers against your clit.

It made Sidney think you craved praise but instead when he saw your body shifting over nothing it made him pull you up by your chin “you really are a naughty girl.” The hockey player sighed shaking his head as he pressed his hand against your slick bottoms.

Before you could attempt to apologise Sidney kissed your lips as he picked you up finally setting you onto the counter as you looked at him. It felt suffocating as his tongue slid into your mouth not caring as he could taste some of his salty precum on your tongue “gonna fuck you like the slut that you are.” His hand lay a smack to your ass causing you to jump as you nodded.

Anticipation filled your veins as he peppered kisses down your neck whilst he undid the strings on your bottoms “up.” He offered causing you to force your hips upward so he could move your bottoms away.

His cock stood dangerously close to your cunt as he pulled you to the edge of the counter “you want this baby?” Sidney asked using the tip to tease your clit “fuck yes.” You nodded as he finally decided that teasing you was now too much for him.

You gasped as Sidney bottomed you out, not taking the time to let you adjust “god.” You groaned as your eyes screwed shut “it’s just me y/n.” The hockey player placed his hands on your hips as your legs locked around his waist.

Feeling nice Sidney stopped giving you the moment to let your cunt stretch around his cock “need you to move.” You forced the words out as you tapped his side now feeling him bottom you out “knew this cunt would be just as good as your mouth.” The hockey player kissed your lips as he caught your lower lip between his teeth eating a whine from you.

His thrusts began to quicken as he craved the sound of your moans “all yours.” You moaned pecking his lips “you realised being a slut ain’t no fun now?” Sidney laughed as you cupped your breasts trying to bring yourself more pleasure.

You fidgeted at the bikini material as he shook his head “slut f’you.” You whined as his hands replaced yours “let’s get this off.” Sidney grew irritated as he eventually ended up ripping the fabric apart “Sid!” You scoffed seeing your top now sat in two pieces.

His nose brushed over yours “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs more if you’ll let me rip them like that.” The kitchen felt hot as the windows were open meaning that anyone who walked past would have heard the acts that were going on in there. But somehow that made you feel so powerful “can rip ‘em all.” You nodded tugging your fingers through his curls when he lowered his lips to your nipples.

Sidney swirled his tongue around your sensitive buds making you clench around his cock “you liking this baby?” He locked his eyes with yours as his teeth grazed your nipple when your phone began to ring from the side of the counter.

It made you look with wide eyes “i-it’s my dad.” You croaked making his cock throb “answer it doll.” Sidney used every pet name in his arsenal as you remained frozen “answer or I stop.” His warning was enough to make you reach over to grab your phone.

On the other side you hear your dad breathing as you answered “hey princess how are you?” The cheeriness in his voice made you feel sick as you gripped at your phone “I’m good daddy.” The last word was moaned followed by a cough as you tried to cover yourself up.

Sidney smirked moving his lips from your nipple to your neck “look what do you want?” You complained tightening your legs around Sidney’s waist “just checking in, is Sid keeping you busy?” The hockey player let out a soft laugh as he heard the words “yeah gotta go!” You were quick to hang up as Sidney placed his fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take you long until you arched your back against the counter “you close?” Sidney asked pecking your lips “so close.” You nodded biting your lip as you went quiet “if you want to come you’re going to have to apologise.” The hockey player warned making you nod.

Skin slapping echoed through your mind “didn’t mean to be a bad girl Sid.” You cried as your skin felt hot even with the marble beneath you “promise to be your good girl forever.” The claim was bold but in that moment you planned on keeping your side of it “let me ruin this pussy for all of those college kids back home.” You moaned at his possessive tone.

All you could do was nod “it’s all yours Sid.” That sent him over the edge “milk my cock baby when you fucking come.” His order made you gasp in pleasure.

Your legs shook as incoherent whines came from your lips as you come “fuck!” You cried as you felt Sidney come shortly after you did.

His hand pressed against the counter next to you to make sure that he didn’t collapse “there you go pretty girl.” As the hockey player let his cock slide out of your soaked cunt it was quickly replaced with his fingers that pushed both of your releases back into your core “surely you didn’t think I’d let you misbehave that easily now did you?” Sidney had a devilish smirk as he began to finger you.

You were in for a long day.

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.

[f0point5]

What if I told you I’m back?

This was a request but tumblr ate, you’ll all just have to believe me. Someone asked for a Max POV during the best friend era. So, I decided to go with this one ✨set 16th April 2018✨ the day after the Chinese GP, because I feel like we don’t talk enough about the early friendship.

I hope this finds its way to whoever sent in the ask and that you enjoy it 🫶

Max almost turns around three times on the way to your building.

The first time, it’s when he realises it’s late, gone ten p.m. on a Monday, you might be asleep. He should go home and come by tomorrow. But you’re a night owl, you won’t be asleep.

The second time, he thinks you won’t be asleep, but you won’t be expecting company. He hasn’t even texted, and he should have, but he left his phone in his jacket which he gave to his concierge to send upstairs with his bags. He shouldn’t intrude. But he’s not exactly company, he’s seen you in your pyjamas, it’s not like he’s suggesting you go out.

The third time, it’s the absurdity of the situation that gives him pause. He hadn’t even set foot in his building before setting off to yours. After three and a half weeks away one more night shouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe you’ll think he’s a bit strange. But equally, it shouldn’t be a big deal to just see you for a minute, right? If only just to give you your present.

He’s surprised by much he found himself missing you. It’s not like he hasn’t been used to being away from his friends and family his whole life, it’s not even like you didn’t talk while he was away. You talked a lot. But, he rationalises, he’d got used to having you around during winter break, you’d hardly been apart. You’d even come home to his mum’s with him just before Christmas. Your presence, your perfume, your way never letting him finish a sentence, it was all normal to him now. It wasn’t that he needed it, just that he had had to learn how to be without it, and that had been harder than anticipated. The last time he’d done that he was eight.

It only occurs to him now, as your building comes into view, that you might not feel the same way. You’d said you’d missed him countless times in the last three and a half weeks, but that didn’t signify. After all, he’d said it maybe twice and he here he was, asleep on his feet but at your door because he didn’t want to go home without seeing you.

He should just go home.

“Max?” No turning back now. He turns around to see you, dressed in a pretty blouse and a short skirt, teetering towards him on stiletto heels. “Maxy, Maxy, Maxy,”

You collide with him before he has a chance to laugh at the way you were squealing like a child. He hugs you back, holding you up when you lift your feet off the floor for a second. He’s half expecting you to smell like a distillery, unable and unwilling to comprehend that your reaction is all your own. But all he smells is your perfume, and it feels like Christmas all over again.

“Hey,” he says, lowering you to the ground and finally getting a good look at you. Your hair’s a little shorter, your face is- no, you couldn’t have gotten prettier. You’re a bit more tanned.

“I thought you were still in China,” you say, squeezing his shoulders. “You look so hungry, have you lost weight?”

“I just got back,” he says with a shrug. You’re almost his height in your heels, he notices for no discernible reason.

You take in his no doubt plane-rumpled appearance. “Did you come straight here?”

“Uh,” he clears his throat. He’s not going to admit that when you’re giving him a warranted look of confusion, but he doesn’t want to lie either. “I brought you a present.” He holds up the package, wrapped poorly on the flight home. Even the flight attendant had given him a sympathetic look as she watched him struggle.

“Aw, thanks,” you say, pressing your key fob against the censor and pulling open the door before Max can get to it. “Come up,”

“Are you sure?”

You give him an incredulous look, lit up by the golden glow of your lobby lights. “Of course,”

You tell him about the dinner you were just getting back from when he arrived, all the way up to your flat. Some people would find it odd or even rude that Max has been a continent away, racing the fastest cars on the planet in front of millions of people, and yet you’re perfectly at ease taking time to talk about your overly creamy pasta. Max likes it, relishes it, even. You’ve never seen him or his job as anything special. He went to work, you went to dinner. It’s normal. Just friends catching up.

You let him into your flat, heading straight for the kitchen, and Max takes the same seat at the breakfast island that he always does. He idly wonders if anyone else has sat in it since he’s been away.

“But then it’s not exactly Naples, you what can you expect. Sometimes I think the French sabotage Italian food on purpose,” you say, filling a wine glass with water from your fridge dispenser. “Great race, by the way. Glad my voodoo worked,”

Max scoffs. “So, you didn’t watch it,” he shakes his head as if that will help the memories fade quicker.

“I did. Got up at the crack of dawn and everything. And I cursed your car not to win,“ you say with a mischievous grin, pulling out a can of red bull from the fridge.

Max frowns. “What the fuck?”

“You can’t win when I’m not there to see it,” you declare, handing him the Red Bull. He reaches to take it, but you don’t let go until he looks at you. “I’d have been devastated,”

For the first time in his life, Max is actually half glad he didn’t win a race.

He chuckles, opening the can with one hand while sliding the gift along the counter towards you with the other.

“Well, I want to win,” he says, as you start picking at the copious amount of sellotape. “So you’ll just have to come to all the races,”

He’s surprised how much he means that.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Maxy. Oh my God, you can’t wrap for shit,” you say, finally managing to pull apart first Max’s wrapping, and then the box containing the, “Chopsticks?”

“Very fancy chopsticks,” Max explains. He points to the set of dark wood chopsticks you’re holding, gesturing to the intricate gold figures entwined on the top. “See, one set has dragons and one set has a phoenix? They’re famous in Chinese mythology. The guy said to give It to someone you like, they’re supposed to bring luck. Or something. I didn’t really understand his English,”

You stare at them for a while, a sort of bewildered smile on your face, and Max almost slaps himself. He should have just bought you a handbag. They had a Chanel in China. Why didn’t he just listen to his dad? This sentimental shit is weird and embarrassing and he should have just gone home.

“So,” you say, using the chopsticks to point at Max accusingly as you smirk at him. “You like me now? Who would have thought? After all those years of telling everyone how annoying I was, you like enough to want me to have good luck,”

“You-“ Max fights the urge to argue.

That smug look on your face still triggers him something awful. But behind it is someone who has become important to him. It’s not just that you know things about him that even he’s forgotten, it’s that he doesn’t want there ever be anything you don’t know about him. You him laugh, and he never wants to see you cry, and he’s used to being reviled and admired, and even liked, but you’re the only person who’s ever made him feel this understood.

“You’re my best friend,”

Once, he might have been embarrassed that you don’t say it back, but just like you know him, he knows you now, too. You grin at him, sipping your water as you look at him over the rim of your glass.

“Well, despite the fact that this whole chopstick story sounds like the beginning of an Indiana Jones movie, they’re beautiful, and I love them, and I promise I will only ever use them to eat Chinese food with you,” you say, putting the chopsticks back in their box. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

Max doesn’t say anything, fiddling with the can again, and you sigh.

“When are you leaving again?”

“Um,” he hesitates, like if he doesn’t say it then it won’t happen. He gives up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Thursday. Going to the UK for some work and then straight to Baku,”

“Oh,” your face, falls, and you toy with the stem of your glass, only for a few seconds, before you shrug. “Well, we should have dinner before you go, and then-“

“Do you-“ He cuts himself off, because he knows he should think about this more, but then you’re looking at him and he’s done thinking. “Do you want to come?”

“To the UK?”

“Yeah,” Max mumbles, looking down at his Red Bull as his fingers fiddle with the tab. “And to Baku,” he glances up to see your reaction, “and, I mean, anywhere,” he adds a shrug, because, obviously, the invitation is totally casual.

You shrug back. “Okay,”

He can hear his dad already, complaining about how you’re a distraction, you bring cameras and drama, how Max gives you too much of his attention on race weekends. But there’s worse things than Jos’s moaning, like not seeing you for another two weeks.

He barely has time to think about that before a Chinese takeout menu slides into his vision. He looks up at you, confused. “Didn’t you eat?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like you have in about a week. You are starting to get Cillian Murphy cheekbones,” you grimace. Max has no idea who that is but based on your face he doesn’t want to look like him. “And besides, I want to test out these magic chopsticks,”

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

The Hunt

Shouma Toriashi X reader ( chapter 1)

Word count: 1163

TW: not really just so strong language…

Summary: life as we know it can change in an instant, and so do feelings and the people you meet.

MASTERLIST

chapter 2

A/N: HEY GUYS this is just a small project I wanted to start! I just got done reading the manga so I’m going to re-read it and hopefully I can better depict the characters better!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY ( p.s. DONT WORRY IM GOING TO HOP BACK ONTO MY OLD STORIES OF L AND LEVI! )

It was another day of school and homework on homework that’s been passed out.. I never understood why they bombard us like we don’t have other classes to work on.i look over to see Yoshino already walking towards my desk, with that I sit up straight ready to hear what she has to say .

“ hey Y/N do you want to come over? Shouma and I are going to study together?” Yoshino asks while putting both her palms flat against my desk and looks down at me.

“ oh yeah sure..” I nod in agreement. Behind me is shouma but he’s usually in his own world .

“Great, well I guess this is where we part ways, we’ll meet at the school entrance after this period.” With a firm nod Yoshino walks away and out of the once shared classroom we had. I stare at the class room door watch as students walk out together all looking the same as the other. Ever since I was younger I saw majority of everyone the same. Bland and simple, each face the same as the last.

At first glance people might look at us and think what an Odd group, then again we are really only each others friends. But it was for the first time that I saw people. I saw character in both Yoshino and Shouma. Deep in thought I shake out of it, and With that I get up and gather my things getting ready for the next class, physical education.

Oh how I dreaded that class, simply because it’s where both shouma and I lose our cool.

“ Hey” you kick Shouma’s chair to grab his attention. “ get up before we miss our last class.” With a look that could kill Shouma glared at me but gets up to follow.

I finally changed into the PE outfit but as always the bottoms are just too short. “ are you kidding Me I literally got then in a bigger size to hopefully be longer!! CURSE YOU ABNORMALLY LONG LEGS!”

You and Yoshino are one of the tallest girls in your class, in the whole school in fact and everything you’ve come to wear has always been an issue with length. With a sigh I muster up the courage to leave the changing room, and to my disappointment none other than Toriashi Shouma is waiting outside the female dressing room.

“Couldn’t find any shorter shorts Y/N?”

“Shut up Toriashi, these are the longest pair I have.” I huff walking away from him.

Today was a game of volleyball, not my favorite but one that i can stand. That is until I found out Shouma is on my team! Ugh I swear if I lose because of him, he’s dead meat.

“ better not fuck this up Shouma.”

“ Don’t worry, maybe if you had a bigger ass I’d be distracted.”

How dare he… that’s it he’s dead. I try to ignore his comment and walk to my center position like the team agreed on, waiting for the game to start.

During the whole game I could feel someone’s eyes on me, analyzing every movement. I should be used to it, considering being friends with Yoshino, she has hundreds of eyes watching her every move anytime we go out in public. But this gaze is different .. much different.

As the game continues on, And like always Shouma and I are fighting for dominance on our side of the court.

“ you idiot, I said it was mine! Why did you jump forward!”

“ because it was clearly in my side Y/N”

“ no it was not Shouma and you know it! You did it on purpose, there was no reason for you to be that close to my back!”

Mid game while we were taking the 3 min break trying to switch sides of the court, Shouma comes up wrapping something around my hips.

“ what are you doing?” I look down at what’s around my hips and up to the person who’s hands are tying The Jacket into a knot.

“ just keep it on”

“ Shouma you’re supposed to keep your arms covered” I whisper yell at him, I swear he never used his brain.

“Just keep it on.” He mumbles before walking away, with a sigh I just brush it off and try to focus on the game. Shouma has always been so annoying like my brother. Always trying to boss me around and oh does it make my blood boil. What makes me more upset is i always try my best to make sure he’s always covered at all times and no tattoos peak through, but he just doesn’t care.

The game finally ends and I walk up to him ready to hand him his jacket back.

“ here take it ba—.”

“ I said keep it on Y/A.”

“ the game is over, I’m giving it back to you now.”

“ No, go change, once you are changed you can give it back.” He grabs the sleeves of the jacket and ties it back firmly around my hips. I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m just going to listen to him.

“ I said take your damn jacket bastard!” I untie the jacket and chunk it at him and walk away back into the changing room. This man infuriates me, it’s not like I wasn’t Thankful but I will not be bossed around, especially by him! Who does he think he is , my father?

I quickly change out of my outfit and back to my regular uniform once I’m showered and clean. With that I grab my bag and belongings and walk out the changing room, that is until I see what looks like a fight about to happen.

“ Keep your eyes and comments to yourself.” Shouma is holding one of our male classmates against a wall. I can only imagine why this is happening.

“ Shouma that’s enough, let's go.” I grab his other hand that was free and pull him away from the poor boy. The thing about Shouma, he’s well behaved for the most part, but there are times where he’s a ticking time bomb.

“ This is why I tell you to cover up your tattoos, if you don’t want people looking Listen to me.”

“ and the next time I tell you to keep the jacket ,listen to me. There won’t be a next time actually, next time you’re wearing my jogging pants.” He fights back with an attitude in his tone.

“ Like hell I am, they are too big on me.”

“ i don’t care.”

“ I’m not going to wear them, focus on covering your tattoos and stop focusing on me.” I bite back with the same attitude.

“ and rather they focus on my tattoos and not on your whole legs!”

“ Hey, what’s going on guys? You guys can be heard miles away.” Yashino walks up to where I and Shouma are standing .

“ He’s blaming me that my shorts are too short. That’s what he’s complaining about Yashino .”

“ Excuse me ? Shouma do you think we want to be this tall where nothing fits!” Yoshino jumps into the argument.

“ I’m not blaming anyone, both you and Y/N need to just wear pants instead during physical education.” Shouma closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“ you don’t tell us what to do!” Both Yoshino and I yell in unison.

“ you know what… I don’t give a fuck , lets just go home for fuck sakes.” Shouma pushed through, leading the way back to both him and Yoshino’s place.

[i-am-baechu]

✎ᝰ. Diamond Tears ⁞ J. Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook wants to re-do how he asked Y/N's hand in marriage.

Part of ‘ His Fan Girl universe

The more Jungkook thought about it, the more he realized he never had a proper moment to ask Y/N to be his wife. With everything that was happening, he kind of just asked her and she said yes. There was no special moment between (according to him). He showed her the ring and the rest was history. She deserved more.

He ran his fingers through his hair roughly and Taehyung raised his eyebrow at him, "What's wrong?"

"I need to ask Y/N to marry me."

Taehyung gave him a confused look, "She has a ring? You already did it...so what the hell are you talking about?"

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head, "I need to do it better. I didn't give her a speech...I kind of just asked her. I need to do something."

"Your anniversary is coming up...do something."

Jungkook sat up and clapped his hands, "Tae, your a genius for once in your life."

"Thanks..wait...COME BACK HERE!"

"I have to go to Y/N~ BYYYEEE!"

Three weeks later, Jungkook booked a restaurant that served all of Y/N's favorite food. He felt nervous again. This time it was for real. This time was different.

Y/N fixed the bottom of her dress skirt and walked out of the bathroom to see Jungkook staring at himself in the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at his nervous face and walked towards him. She rubbed his shoulders gently causing him to jump, "Are you okay?"

Jungkook nodded his head and stared down at his shoes. He couldn't look her in the eye or he would just melt, "I'm okay. I'm excited for tonight."

She smiled at this and kissed the side of his head, "Happy three years to us."

He smiled to himself and turned around to face her. He couldn't help himself after hearing that. Three years of being love, how could you not stare at the person you love? She looked up at him and he was met with the same eyes that gave him a home on days that he felt like he had nothing. He pushed some hair back and kissed the tip of her nose, "Happy three years to us. I love you so much, my wife."

"I love you more."

"Impossible. We should go before I change my mind."

"Change your mind?"

He leaned down to her neck to place a quick kiss, "I would throw you on the bed and have my way with you."

Y/N's face felt hot and she hit him on his shoulder, "L-Let's go."

Y/N kept looking at Jungkook with a worried look. She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of his on the table, "Kook. Tell me what's wrong." Jungkook sighed and moved his hand away from hers. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. She glanced at the box and then back at him, "What-"

"I love you. I love you so much that...it took me hours to come up with a shorter version with how much I love you. I can't imagine my life without you and honestly before you, I-I was still lost. Thinking back, i didn't have much of a future. I had future comebacks but that's all I was. A idol with a dream but then I realized something...I'm a person that can have more than one dream. Your my dream, Y/N. The dream that I always craved for but never really searched for because I was scared. I was so scared to find that love that could make me a better person. I didn't think I deserved it..."

"Jungkook..."

He got down on his knee and Y/N let out a small laugh, "Y/N, your the reason I survive...if you let me...I'll take your laughter and tears and I'll make them my souvenirs. Your the meaning of my life, L/N Y/N, will you do the honor on becoming my wife?"

She wiped away some tears and Jungkook couldn't help but get distracted with the tears that reflected so bright like diamonds. She let out a small laugh, "Jungkook, I'm already-"

"Y/N..."

She saw the look in his eyes and she smiled at him with tears rolling down her face, "I would love to marry you Jeon Jungkook."

[letsgoletsgetit08]

home for the holidaze

summary: Seonghwa promised Yunho he wouldn't sleep with his half-brother, Hongjoong, while he is in town for an extended holiday sabbatical. He quickly realizes how idiotic of a promise it was to make.

warnings: mdni, dom!hongjoong x sub!seonghwa, recreational drug use

word count: 10,706

ao3 link: home for the holidaze

“Just whatever you do, please don't sleep with my brother.” Yunho warned Seonghwa with a serious expression. Seonghwa rolled his eyes. He remembered Hongjoong from growing up in the same neighborhood as the two of them. Though Hongjoong was closer to Seonghwa's age, he had ended up befriending Yunho instead. Hongjoong had been sent to an elite private boarding school across the country and they barely saw him except at holidays. He was shorter than his little brother (they had different moms) and Seonghwa always recalled him as being rather stuffy, uptight, very serious about doing his assigned reading over holiday breaks, where Yunho and Seonghwa were more inclined to sneak off to smoke weed at the playground.

Seonghwa was only half listening, very focused on Animal Crossing, “Yeah, I get it, no offense but I'm really not interested. He is way too uptight for me.”

Yunho sighed, seeming relieved, “Okay,” he turned towards the door, “Okay. Cool. I'm gonna go get him from the airport, then. You still down to meet up later for dinner?”

“Sure, just send me the location and a time.” Seonghwa said a little dismissively. 

“Sweet!” Yunho walked through the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Later!” 

Seonghwa had virtual trees to shake and rooms to design. It was his day off and he planned to take advantage of it fully by getting stoned and playing Animal Crossing until his eyes were the things crossing instead. Then he would probably re-watch Empire Strikes Back for the hundredth time. He had been a little reclusive lately. His breakup with Yeji was affecting him more than he'd like to admit. He knew Yunho had noticed and had tried to help. He also knew that six months should have been enough time to get over a relationship half that length. But he was really struggling with the part where he was the one rejected. Not to brag or anything, but he had always been the rejector, never the rejectee. It certainly had given him empathy to those he had broken up with in the past. This sucked. And the guilt of that realization - how he now understood how those he had broken up with had felt - also wasn't helping. He wanted to, was finally ready to break out of his funk. At least mentally. But it was like his body wasn't ready to listen yet. He would stare and stare at the dust bunnies on his floor and get so icked out by them that he felt almost angry. But he still couldn't convince his body to get up and vacuum. He was a very tidy person so it made things like that even more frustrating. A layer of dust on the coffee table was holding his attention more than the credits rolling on his movie, his phone lighting up with a notification was the only thing that shook him out of his stupor. 

Yucifer

Joongie picked that ramen restaurant we used to like downtown. See you there in 30? 

Me

Alrighty

Sweatpants had felt like a completely reasonable option for one of their favorite old haunts. That was, until he saw Hongjoong. Looking very put together for someone who just spent nearly ten hours on a plane. Dressed in slacks, an expensive looking sweater, and designer loafers. Intellectual property law was a lucrative career, evidently. What was more surprising was that he looked so stylish. Growing up, he had stuck to polo shirts and khakis with ugly dress shoes that looked like they belonged to someone forty years his senior who shopped exclusively at Walmart. Practical. Already a tiny adult by his early teenage years. 

Seonghwa felt weirdly exposed in comparison, though he was just as clothed as his companions. He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the table, trying in vain to become a little more put together before he was spotted. 

Too late. 

“Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong called, trying to catch his eye. 

Seonghwa met his gaze sheepishly, feeling embarrassed to be under the spotlight, “Kim Hongjoong. Good to see you, man.”

Yunho scooted over in the booth so that Seonghwa could sit across from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong’s whole demeanor was different from Seonghwa's memory. Where he had once been full of nervous, high-strung energy, he was now calm, almost intense. Cool and confident. 

It was… something.

If Hongjoong noticed that Seonghwa was currently clawing his way out of a deep depressive cycle, he didn't let on. Seonghwa felt like he was being studied, but not in a bad way. Just maybe in a way that made him nervous that he would break his promise to Yunho. 

Hongjoong was the first thing that had truly piqued his interest in half a year. And he had agreed not to sleep with him. Because he was a fool, probably. 

“When do you go back to Sydney?” The question rushed out of Seonghwa’s mouth before he could stop it, realizing it probably sounded rude. 

Hongjoong laughed, “Ready to get rid of me already?”

Seonghwa blushed, “No, no. Sorry. I realize how that sounded. I'm happy you're here. Staying with us.” His gut twisted at the last part. Hongjoong. Staying into their guest bedroom. Their rooms were jack-and-jill, connected by a shared bathroom. 

“I'll be here at least through New Years. I'm taking an extended vacation.”

Fuck. It was October 3rd. Three months.

Maybe Hongjoong was straight. Maybe it wouldn't be an issue. 

It was an issue. 

Hongjoong seemed to be hell-bent on trying to not-so-subtly flirt with Seonghwa all night. 

“Yeah, work has been hard.” Hongjoong’s foot was out of his loafer, tracing up Seonghwa’s ankle, “My days are long.” A wink that Yunho had conveniently missed. 

He was sure Hongjoong would have stopped if Seonghwa had given any indication he wasn't into it. Unfortunately, he was very into it. His breathing became hard to regulate, cheeks flushing, both things easy enough to place blame upon the alcohol they were drinking over the appropriate place for blame - Hongjoong's foot working its way further up his leg. When it reached the junction of his inner thigh, Seonghwa stood up abruptly, mumbling a mostly coherent excuse about needing the bathroom. 

Once in there, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to get it together. He took a few steadying breaths and washed his hands before heading back out, trying to keep Yunho's voice in his head, asking him to not sleep with his brother. He hadn't expected wanting to so badly when he agreed without second thought earlier. How was he supposed to know Hongjoong had grown out of his awkward stuck-up goody two shoes phase and into… whatever the fuck he was now. Hot. Domineering. Interesting. Confident but not cocky. Did he mention hot? So fucking hot. 

“Everything okay?” Hongjoong asked, eyebrow cocked, sly smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, uh.” Seonghwa sat down, crossed his legs, gave Hongjoong a look he hoped conveyed that they should cool it for now, “Yeah, all good.” 

“Perfect.” Hongjoong said, “I already took care of the bill. You guys ready to head out?” 

“You didn't have to do that, Joong.” Yunho told him. 

“I know,” Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa when he spoke next, “but I wanted to.” 

Seonghwa wished he had an excuse to not ride back with the two of them, but he had taken the train there and there was no reason to not let Yunho drive him when they were all going to the same place. Hongjoong rode up front, which Seonghwa was grateful for. Though under different (read: literally any other) circumstances, he would have been happy for the man to ride in the back with him. In his lap. Fingers in his mouth, even. 

His mouth watered at the thought of it. 

It was going to be a long fucking three months. 

Once back at their apartment, Seonghwa and Yunho helped Hongjoong carry his belongings from the car into the guest bedroom, the man in question thanking them before saying he was going to go ahead and turn in for the night, citing jet lag as his excuse. 

Seonghwa didn't expect to see him again, and he also wasn't used to sharing his bathroom, so he was quite startled when he opened the unlocked door to reveal a shirtless Hongjoong brushing his teeth at the sink closest to his respective room. He was in thin light blue sleep pants, but his tattoos were the most surprising thing. His half sleeve had been hidden by his sweater earlier, but the design was bold and beautiful, just like its owner.  

Seonghwa was probably gaping at him for too long before he shook out of it, “Shit! Sorry. Not used to someone being in here. I can just-”

Hongjoong stared at him as he leaned down to spit in the sink, breaking eye contact at the very last second, taking his time finishing up before finally wiping his mouth and turning towards the guest room, his bedroom (Seonghwa would have to get used to thinking of it as that), calling a very nonchalant, “All yours,” over his shoulder as he exited. 

All of that lead up for… nothing? 

What sort of mind games was he playing? 

Hands suddenly landing on his waist startled the hell out of Seonghwa as he fixed himself an omelet the next morning, nearly causing him to flop his breakfast onto the burner.

“Smells good,” Hongjoong whispered into his ear.

Yunho was already at work. Seonghwa was closing at the bar that night so he had most of the day free. He had gotten up early after a fitful sleep, and began finally cleaning like he had been trying to force himself to do for a month now. It felt good. 

“Want one?” He tried not to let on what Hongjoong’s touch was doing to his brain. He was probably failing miserably, “I'll make a second one. I don't mind.”

“Mmh, how very domestic of you, dear.” Hongjoong all but growled in his ear. 

Jesus. The butterflies’ wings caught on fire in his abdomen. He subconsciously leaned back into Hongjoong's embrace, pliant in his hands. 

“Do you still take your coffee with half and half?” He managed to get out through shaking breaths. 

“What a good memory you have.” Hongjoong whispered, lips ghosting down his neck, not actually making contact, only teasing, making him shiver. His presence was gone as soon as it had come, leaving Seonghwa feeling almost crazy for thinking it had happened in the first place. 

He finished preparing both omelets and fixed their coffees, setting all of them on their little dining table. Hongjoong chose to sit directly across from him, making sure Seonghwa could watch him enjoy the food he had prepared. 

Hongjoong didn't make any more moves though, and after they were finished, he cleared the table before Seonghwa could protest, thanking him for breakfast, practically dismissing him. 

“I hope I won't bother you by cleaning. I go into work around 3pm so I won't be a nuisance for too long.” Seonghwa didn't know why he was telling him his plans for the day.

“No bother at all.” Hongjoong spoke to him while washing the dishes but didn't look up, “Where do you work?”

“Oh. Um. It's a bar called The Bar is Low. Near uptown. It's not really a gay bar but I guess we attract a certain clientele.” He was rambling. 

“Yes, I can imagine you attract a certain clientele.” Hongjoong said it like he was implying the customers were there for Seonghwa alone. 

“Well. Joke is on them because I'm not interested.” Seonghwa answered dryly. 

“No? You're not gay?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Ha! No, no. I'm definitely bi. I'm just not interested in dating anyone right now. Haven't been for almost six months now.”

“Bad breakup?” 

Seonghwa felt tears well up behind his eyes, which pissed him off. He thought he was done crying about it by now. He answered, hoping his voice didn't sound too thick with the looming tears, “Yeah. Not been the best year for me.” 

“Mmh. Well. You deserve to be with someone who sees your value, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong said it so casually, glancing over his shoulder as he did. 

Seonghwa picked nonexistent lint off of his t-shirt rather than make eye contact, mumbled a “Thank you,” under his breath, trying to swallow the tears down. 

Hongjoong was too damn astute, though. 

“Hey, whoa, I'm sorry,” he dried his hands in a hurry, now finished with the dishes, “Come here.” He rushed over, pulling Seonghwa in for a hug. Seonghwa began sobbing embarrassingly hard, soaking Hongjoong’s shirt, choking out apologies, “God, I'm sorry, I haven't cried about it in weeks. Fuck.”

“Shh,” Hongjoong rubbed soothing circles on his back, “Don't apologize for having feelings, honey. You're okay.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa repeated himself despite the instructions he had just gotten, pulling away from the hug. 

Hongjoong reached up to wipe his face dry with a gentle thumb, repeating himself, “You're okay. Hey, look at me.”

Seonghwa obeyed, finding the other's eyes to be softer than he'd seen them so far. 

“I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. I didn't know about the breakup.” Hongjoong offered, hand still on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa swallowed, “No. Um. I don't mind.” He thought he was probably blushing profusely, using every brain cell he had left to keep his eyes locked with Hongjoong's, “I like the attention.” He admitted, so quietly he barely heard it himself. 

“Noted.” Hongjoong’s thumb traced his jawline, “You’re in control here, Hwa. I want you to know that. Just say the word. Either way. And I'll stop. Slow down. Or… I'll start in earnest. But it's up to you how this goes, darling.” 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Seonghwa managed to choke out, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. Too bad he was still chicken shit scared, “Um. I'm gonna. Go. Uh. Clean. Sorry about your shirt.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Stop apologizing. I'll see you later.” He stepped back, leaving Seonghwa room to step away and head towards his room.

And he did clean. As soon as he got off to the thought of Hongjoong, fingers stuffed in his mouth and music blaring to muffle the noises. Maybe he left the bathroom door connected to his room open just a tiny crack, though. Maybe he hoped Hongjoong had caught a glimpse. 

“Need a re-make for table eleven on the fly, please!” Wooyoung’s voice broke through Seonghwa’s thoughts. He had been drying the same glass for who knows how long, lost deep in thought about a certain new roommate of his. 

“Hwa!” Wooyoung pleaded from the expo area. 

“Sorry!” Seonghwa strided over, “What’s wrong with these?” The martinis looked perfectly fine to him.

“They swear those are gin. They ordered vodka.” Wooyoung explained.

Seonghwa grabbed a cocktail straw and dipped it into one of the martinis in front of him, stoppering the end with his thumb and dropping the liquid into his mouth.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s gin. In my defense, vodka martinis should be criminal.” He said as he began shoveling ice and pouring water into two clean martini glasses to chill them before making the drinks. 

“I like vodka martinis.” Wooyoung defended himself. “Bone dry and slutty filthy dirty.”

Seonghwa scrunched his nose in disgust, “You just like olive juice. And this is why they only let people with good palates be bartenders.”

Wooyoung brushed his split-dyed hair out of his eyes, pouting, “I have a good palate! It’s just different. And you got this job because the manager said he was afraid you’d kill him if he didn’t let you bartend!” 

“And I might have! Fuck waiting tables. Bartender privilege is amazing in comparison.”

“Who was going to kill me?” A deep voice rounded the corner of the kitchen into the bar. 

“He was, Yeosang! Not me. I’d never. You’re too pretty.” Wooyoung batted his lashes at his work crush. 

Yeosang blushed, trying to contain his smile, his face turning pink to match the birthmark by his eye. He tied his neon green hair back into a half-up, purposely avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze, “You really shouldn’t flirt with your manager, Wooyo.”

Wooyoung landed a firm smack on Yeosang’s ass as he passed by, before placing the correctly made martinis on his tray and sauntering away.

They thought no one knew they had been sleeping together. They were stupid. And horrible at hiding it. 

Wooyoung reappeared a few minutes later, “So what’s got your brain on a different planet tonight?” He asked, leaning across the bar, nosy as ever. 

“Yunho’s brother is in town. For like three months” He said, not intending to elaborate, but knowing Wooyoung would pry until he got it out of him anyway. 

“The stick-in-the-mud twink attorney?” 

“The very one.” Seonghwa sighed, resuming his task of drying dishes. It was slow that night. He had mainly been doing side work, not so much actually making drinks. 

“What, is he secretly hot or something?” Wooyoung was stabbing cocktail cherries onto a sword-shaped toothpick. 

“Very astute.” Seonghwa placed the cherries down on the rail below the bar back where they belonged before resuming his task. 

Wooyoung ate the cherries on his toothpick and leaned over the bar to retrieve the jar, “Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” Seonghwa swatted Wooyoung’s hand away, “Hey! Enough with the cherries. Because Yunho specifically made me promise not to sleep with him!”

Wooyoung waited until his back was turned to snatch the jar, hiding it under the bar this time as he fished more cherries out, “So? Just do it anyway. That’s what I would do. Isn’t he just visiting? Do it and ask for forgiveness later.” He tried to put the jar back before Seonghwa noticed. 

“Did you just-?”

“No? Just what?” Wooyoung said around a mouthful of cherries.

“You’re such a little brat.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. Really, he was quite fond of his coworker. He made it nearly impossible not to like him. 

“You love me.” Wooyoung trotted away to clear the only table they had had in over an hour. Tuesday nights were like this. Yeosang would probably cut him soon and take over bartending for the rest of the night to save on labor costs. And so he could close with Wooyoung and make out in the back. Whatever. Saturday nights always made up for a whole slow week. 

Seonghwa picked up takeout on his way home and had just sat down at the kitchen table to eat it when his phone lit up with a notification. 

Yucifer

Crashing at Mingi’s tonight. Just a head’s up. Feel free to toss my laundry on my bed if you need the dryer. 

Me

Thanks man, later.

He tucked into his food, trying to not let his mind spiral at the thought of being home alone with Hongjoong that night. A few minutes later, his phone lit up again

[Unsaved Number]

Looks like it’s just us tonight.

Me

Hongjoong?

[Unsaved Number]

The one and only

Wanna get stoned and watch a movie

Me

Kim Hongjoong does illicit substances now? Since when?

Evil Man

Shut up. And Hurry up. Shower and brush your teeth and meet me on the couch in 30

Heat coiled in Seonghwa’s gut. He hated how much he liked how bossy Hongjoong was acting.

Me

Aye, aye, captain

Evil Man

Nevermind I decided I hate you

Me

Wait, no, come back. What about “yes, sir”?

Evil Man

Much better.

Me

Yes, sir

Evil Man

Mmh, I could get used to that

Seonghwa didn’t necessarily think Wooyoung gave out the best advice. But after the year he’d had so far, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Two fingers deep inside of himself in the shower, thinking of Hongjoong’s instructions the whole time, he was more sure of his decision than ever. He had never ever broken a promise to Yunho. Sure, he felt a little bad about it, but Yunho would have to understand that he hadn’t felt so alive in months. He needed this. 

He sat staring at his collection of sex toys in his bedside table drawer for too long, wasting time, risking being late, before finally selecting his favorite butt plug, guiding it inside with practiced ease. Another risk, but screw it. 

He finally emerged from his bedroom dressed in the shortest silk sleep shorts he owned. Light silver. A matching silk babydoll shirt, trimmed with black lace, on top, hair wavy and messy after his shower. The outfit was probably too much. Yeji had had a habit of making him feel weird about his good looks, not on purpose, he was sure, but in a way that read as her being intimidated and wanting to be the “pretty” one in the relationship. But he liked feeling pretty. He wanted to be told he was pretty, but he felt silly asking for it. So he felt a little embarrassed as he walked (slightly awkwardly) out of his room into the living room. 

All of his fears were quickly erased at the look on Hongjoong’s face as he emerged. He was wearing the same light blue pants from last night, dark hair swept off of his forehead, the planes of his chest visible through his thin black t-shirt. 

“Oh, darling. Look at you. All of this for me?” Hongjoong asked, beckoning him over, patting his lap. 

Seonghwa nodded as he straddled his lap gingerly, trying his best to avoid jostling around too much or else the plug would be uncomfortable. 

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Hongjoong instructed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yes, sir. All for you.” Seonghwa replied, his voice low, a little raspy from his nerves. 

“Lucky me.” Hongjoong whispered, hands roaming Seonghwa’s body, thumb grazing his nipple on its way down, making Seonghwa’s breath catch in his throat, before landing on his hip, which he gave a small squeeze, “You’re exquisite, angel.” His hand continued down, landing on Seonghwa’s ass cheek, fingertips pulling him apart ever so slightly. Seonghwa squeaked out a tiny moan at the sensation, senses heightened with the object he was playing host to. 

“I got myself ready for you in the shower.” He admitted, forehead tipping down to Hongjoong’s as the man kneaded the soft flesh underneath his hand. 

“Trying to be teacher’s pet are we?” Hongjoong teased as his hand found its way under the silky fabric of Seonghwa’s shorts, fingers dipping in the soft crevice before they discovered the exposed part of the plug, “Oh. Well, look at you. A little presumptuous, no?”

“Sorry.” Heat flooded Seonghwa’s cheeks, the embarrassment suddenly almost overwhelming, tears threatening to build in his eyes. 

“No, no, no,” Hongjoong tilted his chin up with his other hand, “Uh-uh. I love it. Don’t get in your own head. I’m thrilled you picked up on my lead and even more so that you’re here, presenting yourself to me like this. It’s so hot, baby. I promise. I won’t tease so much, I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay.” Seonghwa murmured, still recovering.

“We can stop any time, promise.” Hongjoong kissed his cheek to seal the contract. 

“I don’t want to stop. I just feel a little bad because I promised Yunho I wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what? Sleep with me?” Hongjoong asked, petting Seonghwa’s hair. 

“Mhm.”

“Oh, baby. He has been talking you up to me for months now. He didn’t explicitly mention the breakup, but I figured it was something like that.” Hongjoong laughed, “He probably told you that so this would feel forbidden or something. I get the feeling you like to do the opposite of what you’re told, typically. When you’re feeling more like yourself, no? I mean does he have a habit of crashing at Mingi’s? My guess is he thinks this will help you get over your ex. He’s a schemer like that.”

Oh. OH. 

“Well. I feel stupid.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t.” Hongjoong pulled him to his chest, kissed the top of his head, “You’re not stupid, you’re a good friend. You’re just out of sorts. And that’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good, Seonghwa. Will you let me?”

Seonghwa steeled himself, sitting up to look at Hongjoong, “Yes. Please. I want that so bad.”

Hongjoong smiled, his eyes beginning to turn back to their original dark, lustful state, “Good. I’m glad. Because you look good enough to eat right now and I might go crazy if I can’t have you.”

Blood rushed south at his words, suddenly nothing felt nearly as important as pleasing the man underneath him, “You can have me. Please have me.” He pleaded, hips swiveling into Hongjoong’s at the thought of it. 

“Oh, I plan on it.” Hongjoong’s hand returned to grab his ass, guiding him to grind down again, “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together again so that the only word you can remember how to say is my name.”

Fuck. 

“Yes, please. I want that, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa all but begged, continuing to move his hips as the other guided them, their quickly hardening cocks rolling together tantalizingly. 

“Come here, then, pretty.” Hongjoong whispered, finally pulling him in for a kiss. 

Seonghwa felt his brain go fuzzy. The kiss was deliberate, measured. He wasn't going to give Seonghwa too much at once, preferring to take his time, draw it out. Seonghwa was more accustomed to heated, passionate sex. Clothes ripped off in a whirlwind. Rushing towards the finish line without taking in the scenery. 

Seonghwa tried to lean in more to deepen the kiss but Hongjoong pushed him back gently, “No, baby. Let me. You just let me take care of you. Can you be good for me?”

Seonghwa wanted him so bad, could have taken him in one go right there, easily. But he was very interested in letting him lead, “Okay, yes.” He sighed, “Yes, sir.” He corrected himself. 

“Good boy,” Hongjoong stroked his hair, “So good for me.” 

Seonghwa preened at the praise, leaning into the other's hand. 

Hongjoong reached for something on the table beside the couch, producing a small, light blue intricate weed pipe, already packed and ready to go, as well as a gold zippo, engraved with his initials, “Still wanna smoke?” 

“Sure, if you do.” Seonghwa offered. 

“I do. I want to shotgun with you.” 

“Look at you, Kim Hongjoong! Full of surprises.” Seonghwa teased him.

Hongjoong’s face turned devious, “I'm not the one who is about to be full of something, jagi.” He trailed his hand down Seonghwa's face, thumb tracing over his bottom lip before using both hands to take the first hit from the pipe. Once he freed one hand again, he reached up and pressed at the spot where Seonghwa’s jaw hinged, asking him to open up. He obliged and let his face be pulled towards Hongjoong's, lips so close they were almost touching. He took the hit, inhaling greedily like it was oxygen. 

“Your turn, love.” Hongjoong handed Seonghwa the pipe as he exhaled. 

Seonghwa took his hit and leaned in to pass it along to Hongjoong. Time passed slowly as the high began to hit and he exhaled into Hongjoon's mouth. The latter barely let him fully release the hit before he was crashing their lips together, this time with more need, fervently. Seonghwa blindly placed the pipe down on the table beside them, not caring much how it landed. Nothing else was important right now. 

He felt Hongjoong’s fingers latch into his hair, tugging it slightly as he turned his head to the side, tongue teasing the seam of his lips before finally probing inside, eliciting an embarrassingly needy whine from somewhere deep inside Seonghwa’s chest. Seonghwa's tongue sparred with Hongjoong's until the latter caught it and sucked on it, nearly sending Seonghwa into a dizzy spiral of pleasure. 

Hongjoong pulled back abruptly, “Bed. Now.” He commanded. Seonghwa got up, his thighs shaky from straddling Hongjoong for who knows how long. 

“Mine or yours?” Seonghwa asked as he grabbed Hongjoong'a hand, leading them towards their connected bedrooms.

“Yours, gorgeous. I'm not even unpacked yet.” 

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa simpered, loving being bossed around. 

“Kneel on the bed for me, darling.” Hongjoong instructed. 

Seonghwa did as he was told, hands in his lap, ass resting on his heels. 

He watched as Hongjoong stripped in front of him, maintaining eye contact as much as was possible, leaving his crisp linen boxers for last, peeling them off slowly, releasing his fully-hard cock. It was lovely, not braggadociously large but well-proportioned, nicely formed, and flushed pretty pink. Seonghwa was apparently staring at it with stars in his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Hongjoong asked as he stroked himself, walking towards the bed. 

“Yes, sir. Want you in my mouth. Can I? Please?” Seonghwa asked, peering up at him through his thick eyelashes. 

Hongjoong smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He climbed up onto the bed in front of Seonghwa, kneeling but raised up so his cock was level with Seonghwa’s eager mouth. 

“You can pull my hair.” Seonghwa offered as he took Hongjoong’s length into his hand, “I like to know if I'm doing well.”

“I'll be sure you know how well you're doing, beautiful.” Hongjoong smiled as he stroked Seonghwa’s hair. 

Seonghwa licked his lips, glad the weed hadn't hit so hard to have given him dry mouth, and began licking the tender underside of Hongjoong’s tip before working it inside genuinely. 

Hongjoong moaned as Seonghwa sucked him in, hollowing out his cheeks, hitting his soft palate. He felt his hair be tugged on, “God, yes, baby. Just like that.” Hongjoong praised from above. 

Seonghwa hummed at the praise, setting a pace, bobbing his head and working his tongue in time with the strokes. He could feel Hongjoong's hips stuttering, trying not to fuck his face, getting close to his release. Suddenly, Hongjoong pulled on his hair, backing up a little, “You're going to make me cum like that, baby.” His hand caressed his cheek, “And as much as I'd like that, I really want to cum inside you.” 

“Yes. God. I want that.” Seonghwa stared up at him knowing he probably already looked fucked out with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. 

Hongjoong chuckled, “Mmh so eager. You're dangerous, little bunny.” 

Seonghwa let himself be pushed back onto the mattress, “Dangerous?”

“Very. You're going to have me tempted to keep you.” Hongjoong's hands grabbed Seonghwa’s wrists, pinned them up by his head as he leaned down to kiss him once more, caging him in, not allowing a reply. He came up for air and dismounted, following a hunch for supplies, looking towards Seonghwa as his hand landed on the drawer pull of his bedside table. Seonghwa nodded, confirming the location of the lube and condoms. Hongjoong gathered them and placed them within reach on the bed beside Seonghwa before climbing back in, kneeling between his parted legs.

Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong dove in, kissing his neck, making his way down to his chest where he mouthed and licked at his still-covered nipples, the friction of the now-damp fabric driving him insane. His top was gathered up by practiced hands, torso bared for further exploration. Hongjoong's breath was warm as he kissed down his happy trail before coming up long enough to peel his tiny shorts off, tossing them to the side before resuming his kisses, landing everywhere except for his painfully hard, leaking cock. 

“Mmh, look at you.” Hongjoong cooed, “You're so stunning, Seonghwa.” 

“Thank you.” Seonghwa gasped, his breath catching as Hongjoong's deft fingers found his plug once again, grasping the base and teasing it in and out with tiny movements that had Seonghwa’s back arching off the bed. 

“Oh fuck, please.” Seonghwa begged, writhing on the bed at the sensation. 

“Please, what, jagiya?” Hongjoong purred, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted, “Use your words, gorgeous.” 

“Please, need you to fuck me, sir.” 

Hongjoong took his time removing the plug, leaving Seonghwa clenching around nothing, feeling extremely empty. 

“Well. Since you're begging so nice.” Hongjoong rolled on the condom like it was second nature, following it with plenty of lube. 

Hongjoong grasped Seonghwa’s length in one hand, barely applying pressure, and teased everywhere except his eagerly awaiting ring of muscle with his own cock, guided by his other hand. 

Seonghwa was sweating now, desperate in his anticipation, letting out a soft whine. 

Hongjoong smiled knowingly down at him, “Shh, darling. I know. I don't mean to be cruel, you're just so lovely, all strung out for me. But I think you've earned this.” 

Seonghwa thought he might have ascended to a different astral plane at the stretch of Hongjoong pushing inside. It was delectable. He had never felt so precious, so worshipped by anyone before. He took Hongjoong easily, adoring how perfectly full he felt once the man was buried deep inside of him. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel amazing.” Hongjoong gasped, unable to help the movement of his hips as he began fucking Seonghwa in earnest. 

“God, yes, right there, Joong.” Seonghwa gasped as Hongjoong found his prostate. “Not gonna last long like this.” 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me when I tell you to, baby?” Hongjoong asked, voice strained from the effort. 

“Yes, sir. Please. Fuck.” Seonghwa mewled. 

Hongjoong stroked him in time with his thrusts, his hips beginning to falter as he reached the edge of his own release, “Go ahead, darling. Show me how pretty you are when I make you cum.” 

Seonghwa obeyed, panting out Hongjoong's name as he came all over his hand and his own chest. 

“Fuck, yes. That's it, baby.” Hongjoong worked him through his aftershocks, before trying to pull out. 

“No!” Seonghwa gasped, definitely overstimulated, but needing Hongjoong to follow through on his promise, “Inside! Please. I can take it.”

Hongjoong didn't reply, but his eyebrow furrowed as he accepted Seonghwa’s plea, fucking into him hard and fast before finally reaching his own orgasm, spilling into the condom with a shaky breath. He took his time pulling out, falling to the bed beside Seonghwa, gathering him to his chest and stroking his hair while praising him sweetly, “Thank you, baby. You were so good for me. Took me so well. So, so good.” Hongjoong kissed his head, squeezing him tight to make sure he knew he was cared for and appreciated. 

Seonghwa felt tears escape, warm as they traveled down his cheeks, unable to hold them back. Hongjoong didn't even bat an eye, just coddled and comforted him, “Shh, jagi, it's okay. Let it out. You're okay. I've got you.” 

“Sorry.” Seonghwa sniffled, “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Hongjoong tilted his head up to meet his eyes, “Hey. Nothing is wrong with you, baby. You're perfect. It's normal to react like this after sex like that. Especially if it was your first time in a while. Okay? Nothing is wrong with you, Seonghwa.” He kissed the tears off of his cheeks, “Absolutely nothing.”

Seonghwa managed to compose himself and Hongjoong started to sit up, but Seonghwa panicked, “Wait, where are you going? Please don't leave!”

Hongjoong smiled, smoothing his hair, “I'm not going anywhere, angel. I just wanted to go start us a shower. Okay? I can stay here for a little longer, too, if you want.”

“Just a few more minutes? Sorry. I'm a mess.”

“No, sweetheart. You're not. I'll stay as long as you need.” 

A few minutes passed and Seonghwa finally convinced himself to let Hongjoong start the shower, soon returning to collect him from the bed. Hongjoong held him gently as he washed his body, fingers soft as they washed his hair. Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel sad, already mourning the fact that Hongjoong would be leaving in three months. What had once felt like an eternity now felt entirely too short. 

“Joong?” He asked as the other was putting down the hairdryer. 

“What's up?” 

“I'm scared.”

“Of what, honey?” Hongjoong’s eyebrow furrowed once again. 

“I'm scared I'll grow attached.” He took a shaky breath, “I'm scared I already have.”

Hongjoong smiled, a hint of sadness behind his eyes, “It's okay, Hwa. No one ever wants to keep me around for very long. I'm sure by the time I'm leaving you'll be glad for it.” 

“Why do you say that?” Seonghwa asked, suddenly concerned.

“It's just never not been true.” Hongjoong shrugged. 

“And what if I want to keep you?” Seonghwa asked timidly. 

“Then we'll talk about it when we get there. If we get there.” Hongjoong answered simply. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Seonghwa asked, reaching for the man’s hand, so delicate and pretty for someone so intense. 

“Of course I will, Hwa.” Hongjoong promised, “Anything you want.” 

Hongjoong fit so perfectly nestled in Seonghwa's arms that he knew as soon as the other fell asleep, he would never be able to bear letting him go. He couldn't stand the thought of him moving back to Australia. Unless he was going in his suitcase. It wasn't like he had a whole lot going on here. Was that crazy? Move halfway across the world to be with someone whom two days ago, he had sworn he would have no interest in sleeping with? He decided to let his subconscious mind work that one out, finally meeting the sweet embrace of sleep. 

“Slut.” Something hit Seonghwa’s face. “Whore.” Again. “Harlot.” Yunho's voice. “Promise breaker.” He was throwing Cheerios at the two of them, still curled up in bed together. “Jezebel.” 

“Fuck off, Yunho.” Seonghwa grumbled, seeking asylum under his comforter. 

“No! You're the Skanky McBetrayerface!” Yunho whined, obviously joking, but still being a nuisance, just because he could. 

“Yun.” Hongjoong sighed, “I told him you were scheming. Now please, fuck off. I'm trying to give your roommate some morning dick.” 

“Ew.” Yunho's voice held genuine disgust, “Fine. But hey, Seonghwa. Don't say I didn't warn you when he drives you crazy in a few weeks!” 

“Please fuck all the way off before I let your brother penetrate me in front of you!” Seonghwa called, already beginning to straddle Hongjoong from underneath the covers. 

“Okay fine. You guys are mean.” Yunho stomped off dramatically, playing the part of youngest sibling remarkably well. 

“Um actually, can I fuck you this time?” Seonghwa asked after removing his mouth from the pulse point under Hongjoong’s jaw. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, by all means.”

Hongjoong was bouncing on his dick and Seonghwa felt amazing but the two of them kept bursting into fits of giggles as they were trying desperately to be quiet for Yunho's sake. Eventually, Seonghwa had to pull out and take him from behind so they could finish, seeing as every time they made eye contact, it devolved into laughter immediately. 

It was proving quite handy for their bedrooms to share a bathroom. 

As the weeks went on though, they pretty much only stayed in Seonghwa’s bed. Hongjoong unpacked very slowly, almost like he thought at any point he would be asked to leave. 

The comment that both he and Yunho had made about getting sick of him kept rattling around in the back of his mind, making less and less sense as he got to know the man better. 

Sure, Hongjoong liked knowing his whereabouts. He could see maybe how some people might find that to be overbearing or controlling. But in all honesty, Seonghwa liked it. He liked that someone cared enough to keep tabs on him like that. Hongjoong liked to read. A lot. He read non-fiction. Historical non-fiction. And the newspaper. He was very serious about the crosswords. He didn’t go out a whole lot. And sure, he was bad about spending his money on clothes rather than saving it. Seonghwa saw what could have been perceived as flaws, but to him, they were endearing. He was growing so incredibly fond. And the sex had only gotten better as time went on. 

Hongjoong came by the bar for the first time on Halloween. He was picking Seonghwa up after work to go to the party his old friend from boarding school, Jongho, had invited him to. They were going dressed as sexy Lincoln and sexy John Wilkes Booth. It was stupid. But it was funny to them. 

“Is that the hot brother?” Wooyoung asked as he waited at the bar for Seonghwa to prepare the drinks for his table. 

“Who?” Seonghwa asked, not knowing Hongjoong was there yet, haven’t having had time to check his phone all night due to how busy they were.

“The Booth to your Lincoln over there at the end of the bar.”

Hongjoong was there looking handsome as ever, if not a little goofy, and nervous for some reason. 

“Oh, Yeah. That is definitely him!” Seonghwa answered, sighing at how adorable he found the man. 

“Okay, yeah. I get it. He’s hot.” Wooyoung leaned in, “Is he like crazy dominant in bed? Because he looks like he would cannibalize anyone who looked at you for too long.”

“I am not dignifying that with an answer.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, “But. Um. Yeah. It’s kind of incredibly hot.”

“Oh, I get it. Yeosang is territorial, too. I think it’s probably not something everyone is into. Yeosang apologized for being that way a lot when we first started hooking up. But I kept reassuring him that I like it. It’s hot. It’s nice to feel wanted like that.” Wooyoung was staring off into space, obviously deep in thought about Yeosang. 

“Hm. Yeah. That’s exactly it. Maybe that’s what they meant…”

“What who meant?” Wooyoung asked, curious as ever.

“Hongjoong and Yunho. They both said something to the effect of knowing that I would eventually get sick of Hongjoong. I think they were talking about him being possessive. But you’re right. I think it’s very, very attractive.” Seonghwa was actually getting a little hot and bothered just at the thought of it. 

“Okay, ew. Stop drooling. Can you please leave now? I like watching Yeosang bartend and I can’t do that if you’re here. Plus you’ve already made beaucoup tips.” He shook their oversized tip jar. It was true. It was nearly brimming over with cash and he saw plenty of bigger bills in there. 

“Slut.” He fished the cash out, “Okay byeeee!” He called after pocketing his tips and closing out his drawer, collecting Hongjoong on his way out. 

Jongho’s place was super cool, modern and expensive, looking like somewhere a Bond villain might reside, and the man himself was a little cold at first but quickly warmed up to Seonghwa the longer they spent together. Everyone loved their outfits. One man, Jongho’s friend, San, really liked Abe Lincoln, apparently. He kept touching his costume and leaning in, clearly not one to hold his alcohol well. Seonghwa didn't think he was flirting, really, mostly because he had seen him interact with plenty of others the same way that night. He figured the man was just touchy and friendly. Hongjoong spotted them talking and came over to snake his arm around Seonghwa’s waist. “Hi, baby.” Hongjoong all but sneered at San as he spoke, “Making friends?” He asked before pulling Seonghwa in for a messy kiss. Once released, Seonghwa watched as the man’s cat-like features went through a series of emotions, from confusion to understanding to acceptance, walking away with a small wave. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I felt the need to do that.” Hongjoong said, shaking his head and stepping away from Seonghwa. 

“What? It doesn’t bother me, Joongie.” Seonghwa offered, reaching for him again.

Hongjoong took another step away, “No. I need to stop. I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk away, but Seonghwa caught his arm.

“Hey, whoa. Can we go somewhere and talk about this, please?”

“I know we haven’t been here long but can we go home if we’re going to talk about it?” Hongjoong asked, looking up at Seonghwa apologetically. 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Of course we can, baby.” Seonghwa reassured him. 

Hongjoong stared out the window in the backseat of the Uber the whole drive back to their apartment. He let Seonghwa hold his hand, but that was about it. Seonghwa’s mind was racing the entire way there. When they finally got back, he suggested they get showered and changed and meet in the living room afterwards. Hongjoong nodded, still refusing to make eye contact. Seonghwa showered quickly and changed clothes before heading into the kitchen to put on some water to make tea. Two cups of lavender chamomile with honey. He didn’t know if Hongjoong liked tea, but the ritual of making it helped calm his nerves anyway. By the time he carried the tea cups over to the coffee table in the living room, Hongjoong was finally emerging, face pink from being scrubbed clean, hair still wet, wearing one of Seonghwa’s sweatshirts he had evidently left in his room, looking rather small and vulnerable in it, seeing as it was big on him. 

“Come here,” Seonghwa offered, patting the couch beside him, “I made tea, does that sound good?”

Hongjoong sat down beside him on the couch, not touching him, but nodding at the offer of a hot beverage. Seonghwa handed him the mug carefully, warning that it was hot, trying to study his face, but remaining patient. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said after taking a sip, “This is nice. I don’t know why you’re being so kind to me.”

“Hongjoong, no offense, but what the fuck are you talking about?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely confused. 

“I…” Hongjoong finally met his eyes, looking completely distraught, “I don’t know where to start. I have some bad habits that I’m trying to break. But it’s hard. And I thought I was over them. Thought I could control them with you. Obviously I’m just as insane as I used to be.”

“First of all, you’re not insane. Second, can you elaborate? What habits?” Seonghwa dared to place a hand on the other’s knee to try to comfort him. 

Hongjoong took a deep breath, “I had a bad breakup, too. A few years ago. He cheated on me, made me think it was my fault, somehow. I stayed in it way too long trying to be ‘better’, be who he needed me to be to stay happy. But that was never going to happen. I should have known. There was no pleasing him. He swore up and down that he had stopped seeing the other guy but I knew he was lying and I ended up following him to prove myself right. I should have just fucking let it go. But then I confirmed it. After that, the harder I tried to cling on to him, the more distant he got. I wish I would have had enough self respect to just leave, but I was so stubborn. Ever since then, I have been kinda paranoid in relationships. It’s not that I can’t trust, it’s just that everything kind of feels like a threat, I guess. So I like knowing where my partner is. I like everyone else knowing they’re mine. That kind of behavior is typically a turn-off to people. That’s what I meant when I said I would scare you off. And when those feelings came up tonight after seeing you talking to San… I don’t even have any claim to you, Seonghwa. And I still couldn’t hold it together. I’m so fucking frustrated with myself.” Tears streaked down his face at the last part.

Seonghwa carefully removed the tea cup out of his hands, placed it on the coffee table, and pulled the man into his lap. It was his turn to comfort. 

“Oh, Joong. You’re okay, baby.” He stroked his hair, rubbed circles on his back, “Hey,” he leaned back slightly so he could look the other in the eye, “Look at me. No one I’ve ever been with has cared enough about me to ask my whereabouts. They parade me around because I’m a pretty object to be shown off. The possessiveness you’ve shown so far… I like it, Hongjoong. I was just talking to my co-worker about it at the bar when he saw you there, looking like you would happily murder anyone who dared to look at me for too long. Do I see how it could turn toxic? Sure, but I don’t think you’re toxic, Hongjoong. I think we both have some flaws. And I think we’re both adults who can work through them, if we want to. Personally, I want to. Have you balked at all any of the times I’ve been a hot mess after getting emotional? No. You’ve just helped me through it. And I would do the same for you, happily. As far as a ‘claim’ to me goes. Hongjoong. I want that. I know you thought you would scare me off but I knew after that first night, I want this with you. I know you have to go back to Australia and I honestly don’t know what it would look like, but I really, really want to try. I want to be yours, baby. Please. Let me.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment like he thought he might burst out into laughter and yell ‘Sike!’ in his face or something. But of course, he didn’t. Seonghwa was dead serious. 

“You want me to claim you?” He asked, finally, eyes now dry and turning dark with desire. 

“Yes, baby. Please. Want everyone to know who I belong to.” Seonghwa felt heat stirring deep in his abdomen. 

“So I can mark you?”

“Yes. God, yes. Anywhere you want.” Seonghwa’s hands trailed down Hongjoong’s flank, desperate to touch him. 

“I’m going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” Hongjoong growled, pulling them both to their feet, abandoning their tea in favor of heading to Seonghwa’s bedroom. 

Hongjoong had left marks all over Seonghwa’s neck and down his thighs as he opened him up. 

“Are you clean? Can I take you raw? Please?” Seonghwa begged as Hongjoong reached for the condom. 

“I am. Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I said I wanted to be claimed. Want you to stuff me full, get me pregnant, baby. Wanna feel you leak out of me.” He was babbling, but he meant every word. 

“Christ, Hwa.” Hongjoong grunted as he applied lube before pulling Seonghwa into his lap, guiding him down carefully onto his cock, chest to chest as they made love, Seonghwa’s own dick pinned between their torsos. They caught their release simultaneously, foreheads pressed together, panting versions of each other’s names. 

They had to change the sheets after their shower. 

Later, in bed together, Seonghwa tried to confess his feelings. 

“Hongjoong?” He asked timidly from his spot on the man’s chest. 

“Hm?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He said it so quietly he was afraid Hongjoong hadn’t heard.

“Baby… you’re just feeling good from the sex. Tell me again in the morning if you still feel that way, okay? I don’t want you to say something you don’t mean. You still barely know me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I know how I feel.” He was feeling a little stubborn then, “I will tell you in the morning. Because I mean it.”

“Okay, darling. Get some sleep.” Hongjoong whispered, stroking his back in time with his breaths. 

“G’night.” Seonghwa replied, brain already foggy, half asleep.

“Goodnight, my little bunny.” Hongjoong kissed the crown of his head. 

Seonghwa woke up alone. He knew Hongjoong was gone. He could just feel it. The note on his bedside table only confirmed his fears. 

Seonghwa,

I’m sorry. You deserve better than what I can offer. I’m sure you will hate me for this, but I promise you, it’s for the best. You should be with someone who isn’t an obsessed, paranoid, possessive asshole. I hope you know I cherished every moment we spent together. You’re really something special. You will heal and move on and be glad that you didn’t tie yourself to me. Promise. Take care of yourself. 

-Hongjoong 

Seonghwa called into work that night. 

Then he called into work for the rest of the week, until Wooyoung became so concerned that he came by the apartment to make sure Seonghwa was alive. After explaining what happened, Wooyoung was uncharacteristically kind and attentive, nearly protective of him on their shifts together. It was nice. It made Seonghwa almost feel like a person again. 

November came and passed and he was completely numb to all of it. All he did was sleep, work, and play Animal Crossing. Yunho felt bad, like it was his fault somehow. Tried to make it up to him in little ways. Made sure he was fed and watered. It wasn’t until after Thanksgiving that he forced him out of the house. 

“We’re going to Mingi’s for a late Friendsgiving. Come on. Here,” Yunho tossed him a sweater and some jeans, “Boots and scarf, too, it’s going to snow. I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m serious, Hwa.” He stood in the doorway, ensuring Seonghwa actually got dressed. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to be around people. Wooyoung and Yeosang were friends with Mingi, apparently, and although he saw them several times per week, it was nice seeing them outside of that context, curled up together on the couch, able to be openly together outside of the bar. Mingi had pulled him into a big bear hug despite them not being very close, and it almost made him cry. He was a good hugger. And it was the first physical affection he’d had in a month. He was sure he looked rough, haggard, face gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t even been able to call it a breakup this time, but it felt like one. Worse than one. 

But being here, with people who cared for him, and good food, sparkling wine, he began feeling some semblance of normality again. They were half an hour into a game of Catan when the doorbell rang, Mingi's black labrador retriever, Chicken, barked at the noise until Mingi opened the door to reveal Jongho and San. How they all knew each other, Seonghwa had no idea. But the two were holding hands and he realized just how silly Hongjoong had been at the party. Jongho seemed just as surprised to see him.

“Oh, hey. Nice to see you again.” He offered, shaking Seonghwa’s hand. 

“You, too.” Seonghwa answered, not really knowing if it was truthful or not.

“You look almost as bad as Hongjoong has when he facetimes with me.” Jongho chuckled. 

“Oh. You’ve talked to him?” He didn’t know why he was surprised. They were friends, afterall. 

“I’ve definitely talked to him. Well, he does most of the talking. He’s being very stupid, though. I keep telling him he was wrong for what he did and he needs to get his shit together and apologize profusely. He has a job offer here, you know. He’s just getting in his own way. I get it, he’s scared. But I still stand by him being very, very stupid.” 

“He what?” Seonghwa was confused. 

“You didn’t know?” Jongho looked at him sympathetically, “Sorry. Yeah. My company offered him a job. It was part of the reason he came to town. He declined when he fled the scene, but they haven’t stopped pursuing him. He’s like prodogiously good at his job.” 

“What the fuck.” Seonghwa felt even more betrayed than ever. 

“Yeah. Like I said. Very stupid” Jongho patted his arm, trying to be comforting, but mostly failing. 

Seonghwa snuck outside while everyone was distracted by the newcomers and made a phone call. He didn’t know if Hongjoong had him blocked or not because he hadn’t bothered to try to reach out, but he tried anyway. It rang five times before there was an answer.

“Hello?” Hongjoong’s voice sounded groggy but Seonghwa didn’t care enough to think about the time difference then. Fat snowflakes were falling on his face. He let them melt there, not bothering to wipe them away. 

“Kim Hongjoong. You fucking coward. You have until New Years before I block you. I’m so fucking mad at you. Don’t make me fly to Sydney, you son of a bitch. Come home. Take the job. That’s a threat. Come home and beg me to take you back before I change my mind on giving you another chance. I want you, you stupid idiot. Grow up. Get it together. Hurry the fuck up and get here.” 

“Seonghwa? I-”

“I said hurry the fuck up.” Seonghwa hung up the phone, feeling a little smug as he walked back inside. 

It was a beautiful white Christmas morning. Clear and cold, almost two feet of snow on the ground. Seonghwa had spent the whole day before cleaning his depression nest, feeling very confident that Hongjoong would show up any day now. Seonghwa had laid in bed for a while that morning, reading, drinking coffee, and enjoying the sight of snow falling outside the window. There was a knock at his bedroom door. He padded over in his slippers and Christmas tree patterned flannel pajama set to open it. 

Hongjoong stood in the doorway, holding a beautifully wrapped gift in his hand, snow-flecked beanie still on his head, nose pink from the cold. 

“Oh, hi. Took you long enough.” Seonghwa tried to be stern but couldn't hold back his smile. 

“You're happy to see me? You're something else, Park Seonghwa. You should be trying to throttle me right now.” Hongjoong said, a little sheepishly. 

“I should, but I'd like to hear you out first. You're too pretty to die young.” Seonghwa moved out of the doorway so he could come inside. 

“I, um. Made you something.” Hongjoong handed him the box as they sat side by side on Seonghwa’s bed, “It's not much. But I kinda learned how to crochet while I was gone.”

Seonghwa peeled the tape carefully, not wanting to waste the pretty paper. Inside was a box, which he opened to reveal a crocheted hat. It was soft and pink with floppy bunny ears on top. He loved it. 

“For my bunny.” Hongjoong said, giggling as Seonghwa tried it on. It fit perfectly. 

“Thank you, I love it, Hongjoong. But I hope you don't think this makes up for things.” 

“No, no, no. God no. Definitely not.” Hongjoong was practically tripping over his words. 

“Well. You're here. I'm all ears,” Seonghwa reached up to the bunny ears on his head, “Quite literally.” 

Hongjoong took a steadying breath, “Seonghwa. I'm so fucking sorry. I thought I knew what was best for you. For us. I panicked. I know that you said we could work through it. But I got this notion that I needed to protect you from myself. I don't think I would have been so scared had I not liked you so much. Then you said you were in love with me and I started to spiral.” He reached for Seonghwa's hands, eyes pleading as he continued, “But Seonghwa. You were right. I'm such a coward. I never ever should have run away like that. The fact that you had to be the one to call me and snap me out of it makes me sick. I honestly can't believe you'd even consider giving me another chance. But I had to try. My time here was the highlight of my year. I'm-” His hand reached up to caress Seonghwa's cheek. Seonghwa let him, and he continued, “I'm in love with you. If you'll give me another chance, I intend to prove to you every single day just how true that is. I'll call right now and accept the job. I just want to treat you right. How you deserve. And you deserve the absolute best. I can't promise you that I'll be perfect, but I will promise to always do my best. If you need time to think about it-” 

Seonghwa cut him off by kissing him. He didn't need to hear any more. He pulled back before it could get any more intense. 

“Sorry. You made me wait almost two whole months to do that.” Seonghwa scolded him, mostly joking, “I don't need time, baby. I want you right now. I'm still so mad at you, but I know you'll make it right. I'm willing to trust you, Hongjoong. Because I'm very much in love with you, too. I want to hear about your stupid history books. I want to help you with your crosswords. I want you to keep tabs on me and I want everyone to know that I belong to you. And I want you to call and accept that job, but first I want to take you right here on this bed until you forget you ever left in the first place.” 

“Get over here then.” Hongjoong instructed. 

It was just like their first time, Seonghwa underneath Hongjoong, crying out as he neared his release, back arching off the bed as Hongjoong nailed his prostate over and over. He had insisted on keeping the bunny hat on. 

“Come on, baby, go ahead. Let go for me, gorgeous.” Hongjoong instructed. 

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa cried out as he came.

Hongjoong worked him through it, following quickly behind, “Yes, there we go. Fuck. Seonghwa-” He finished inside, Seonghwa loving the feeling of the warmth spreading uncontained deep in his abdomen.

They lay panting together on Seonghwa’s bed, Hongjoong tracing patterns on his back as they recovered. 

“What's with the bunny thing, anyway? I mean, I like it, I think it's really cute, actually, but it seems a little random.” Seonghwa inquired. 

Hongjoong sat up slightly, “You don't remember?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. 

“It was the only time you and Yunho convinced me to go to the playground with you on winter break.” He chuckled as he recalled the memory, “I took one hit and was a giggling mess. You guys made fun of me relentlessly. Then we saw a squirrel chase a bunny off, away from his acorns, chattering at it aggressively. I looked at you and said ‘I'm the squirrel.’ You nodded and said, ‘I'm the bunny.’ And then this big golden retriever had gotten loose from his leash and chased them both off and we cracked up, agreeing that that was Yunho.” 

“Oh my god, I do remember that! I can't believe I forgot!” Seonghwa sat up to kiss Hongjoong on the nose, “I also can't believe you remembered.” 

“I've thought of you as a bunny ever since then.” Hongjoong admitted.

“That's stupid.” Seonghwa squeezed him closer, “And adorable. I love you.”

“I love you, my little bunny.” 

New Years Eve was spent at Hongjoong’s new apartment, sort of a combined housewarming party. To everyone's surprise, Yunho and Mingi kissed as the clock struck twelve, far too passionately to just be friendly. 

“Are you guys-?” Hongjoong asked them when they finally came up for air. 

“Us?” Mingi asked, “Oh! Yeah. For a while now. We just weren't loud about it because of what you and Seonghwa were going through.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa and Hongjoong said in unison. 

“Well, um, congrats!” Seonghwa raised his champagne glass. 

“Cheers!” Yunho called, “To happy endings and new beginnings.”

“Cheers!” They echoed him. 

Later that night, after exploring every viable surface from which to have sex upon in Hongjoong’s new apartment, they lay in bed together, both too excited to sleep yet.

“What do you think about adopting?” Seonghwa asked as he stroked Hongjoong’s back, who was curled into his chest. 

“Like… a child?”

Seonghwa snickered at the obvious high pitched inflection his voice had taken as he asked the question, “No, silly. I was thinking a cat. Or maybe a rabbit.” 

Hongjoong kissed his chest where he could reach, “A bunny for my bunny. I think that's a great idea.” 

They adopted one the next day. Named her Squirrel because they were so funny. Funny, and very, very much in love.

[phia-myth]

Hi! Can u please talk more abt Helen, Menelaus & Paris in ur AU? C:

omg thanks for asking!

(i should warn that helen comes with trigger warnings. i’ll put a warning before whatever bullet point mentions something of note)

so helen is sort of a cliche high school movie popular girl. she’s beautiful, she’s wealthy, she’s smart. she’s not a huge fan of the attention and she prefers to just stick with her twin clytemnestra and her cousin penelope, but she guesses it can’t be helped

paris has been pursuing her for a while and she’s not thrilled about it. he’s far too insistent and pushy. she much prefers menelaus who she was partnered with on an assignment. they like each other but menelaus knows helen has a rep of not liking people who are too pushy with her. helen knows menelaus likes her but clytemnestra and agamemnon are having a nasty breakup and for obvious reasons dating her twin’s ex’s brother is a messy situation she does NOT want to be involved in

have i mentioned menelaus is shorter than helen bc he is and i like it very much.

helen is a fairly tall girl (around 5’10) and menelaus is a cool 5’5, which is short but not as short as odysseus who’s 5’3.

(bless)

don’t let his height fool you he is on the wrestling team and he is on the wrestling team for a REASON.

having said that he 100% wears socks and crocs to class. he dresses like a loser next to helen who’s like

perfect hair perfect clothes perfect makeup

helen and clytemnestra are rly tight with their brothers who are ALSO twins. you know them you love them. castor and pollux. people thought they were quadruplets but luckily for leda they were not

iphigenia, electra, orestes, chrysothemis and hermione do exist, but for obvious reasons they’re not their kids they’re kids about pyrrhus’ age who are their cousins. they‘re still protective of them don’t get me wrong. it’s the whole reason clytemnestra and agamemnon break up. call that shit the orestea on the remix

menelaus is a year younger than agamemnon and they have a love-hate relationship going on. it’s mostly generational trauma. and agamemnon.

which reminds me menelaus and agamemnon have had a go of it. their dad atreus was arrested for attempting to murder his brother after he found out his wife was having an affair with him. since then thyestes (the brother) and aerope (the ex wife) have been married but it’s not doing so hot.

as you can see that does wonders for menelaus and agamemnon’s perspective on relationships. they just go in opposite directions with it.

agamemnon repeats the cycle menelaus fears the cycle it’s a tale as old as time

um… so… speaking of bad relationships…

at one point clytemnestra and penelope’s Boy Problems™️ overlap (clytemnestra’s having a messy breakup, penelope’s boyfriend is having something of an awakening) so they decide to go to a party

(TW: RAPE) helen gets separated from them and paris takes this opportunity to dr drug and rape her. clytemnestra and penelope find her and they go straight to their parents who are obviously outraged. they take her to court but the court rules that, since paris has been courting her and there were no witnesses and no way to prove she hadn’t taken the drug of her own accord, that paris wasn’t in the wrong and actually helen should marry paris and drop out of high school. they threaten to sue helen and her family for emotional damages if she doesn’t

(this is your friendly reminder that this is still an ancient civilisation in the modern era and women’s rights have very blurred lines. in this world such a sentence is about the same morality level as being legally ruled a housewife. women’s rights are in place, but there are a lot of exploits that allow corrupt courts to keep backwards rulings based on technicalities and loopholes)

obviously this is ridiculously backwards so helen’s parents take it to a higher court which overrules this decision and nobody’s getting sued. all things considered the whole issue ends quite quickly. the only issue is that paris gets off with only paying a fine and the school not allowing them to be in the same classes to minimise contact

but obviously paris is paris so the situation just kind of dissolves into him provoking menelaus (since he’s not allowed near helen). then he’d hide behind hector as soon as menelaus or one of his friends try to absolutely pummel him. the trojan war is essentially menelaus and co trying to beat paris up, hector beating them up back, and then they all end up in detention

in case you’re wondering how hector feels about all of this: he doesn’t support paris — in fact quite the opposite — but when his brother is using him as essentially a human shield and people start punching him to get to paris, he’s obviously going to punch back

anyway it’s a whole mess. everyone’s fighting. clytemnestra and cassandra are having an enemies to lovers romance— wait who said that?!

the whole thing ends when paris accidentally ends up in the same room as helen but odysseus manages to convince a teacher that he did it on purpose and he gets expelled and suddenly there’s no fighting in the hallways anymore woah

the things odysseus does not only for bros but also to win back his girl it’s crazy

helen and menelaus take things slow for obvious reasons

but they do go on nice dates where they hold hands and leave room for artemis

i should mention that this one is a storyline i haven’t solidified and some things may change!

[miorrtae]

*.༘⋆ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓

PT. 1 ☪︎ PT. 2

The chandelier above the dining table flickered with soft amber light, refracting against the crystal glasses lined up like soldiers. Everything gleamed. Not with warmth, but with intention. As if the room had been staged rather than lived in.

Y/N sat at her vanity, curling a final strand of hair into place. She wore a satin dress the color of moonlight—elegant, demure, impossible to look away from. It hugged her body like a whisper and did exactly what it was supposed to do: suggest, never declare.

She stared into the mirror and tilted her head. Her lipstick was perfect, her eyeliner sharp enough to cut. Still, something felt… off. Not about her appearance—she was always flawless—but in the air. Heavy. Like a storm was hiding just behind the walls.

From the next room, the sound of jazz fluttered in—something cool and hollow, like a Miles Davis record played too slow. Her husband had picked it, of course. He always chose the music. The guests. The temperature of the evening.

Y/N stood, smoothing her dress over her hips.

“Darling?” he called from the other room. His voice had that rich, practiced warmth—like a radio host or a politician. “You almost ready?”

She stepped into the doorway, already smiling. “Coming.”

He was by the bar, dressed in a crisp tuxedo, swirling something golden in a glass. Handsome. Controlled. The kind of man people described with words like respected, charming, solid.

And he loved her—or so he said. So he showed. He reminded her often. That he had chosen her. That she was unlike anyone else. That no one would ever really understand her but him.

She had believed him. She still did.

He turned, eyes sliding over her in quiet approval. “Beautiful,” he said simply. “Just like I like you.”

The air held the scent of fresh lilies and something more artificial—polished wood, lemon oil, and whatever cologne her husband had dabbed at his throat. Y/N caught it as she walked past him, the edge of his presence brushing against her like silk drawn taut.

He didn’t touch her waist, but he didn’t have to. His attention did the same thing.

“Gerald and Mae just pulled up,” he murmured, glancing at his watch though he already knew the time. “They’re early, as usual.”

Y/N gave a soft hum of agreement, stepping toward the entryway, her heels whispering across the floor. She passed the mirror in the hallway and didn’t look at herself. She knew what she looked like. She’d spent years learning how to be looked at.

The first knock was polite. The second was shorter.

By the third, the door was open and Gerald was beaming beneath his salt-and-pepper hair, a cigar already tucked into the corner of his mouth. “There she is,” he said, not even waiting to be invited in. “The most radiant woman in the city, and the only reason I tolerate your husband.”

“Don’t be charming, Gerald. You’ll confuse me,” Y/N said, and he barked out a laugh.

Mae followed him in, all soft pearls and hard eyes. She kissed Y/N on both cheeks like they were closer than they were.

More guests arrived. The house began to fill—not with chaos, but with practiced energy. Men loosened their ties halfway, just enough to seem casual. Women tilted their heads when they laughed. Every gesture had a cadence.

Y/N moved through it all like silk in water.

At some point, her husband poured her another drink. She didn’t remember finishing the first.

“You’ve outdone yourself again,” someone told him. “You really should have gone into politics.”

He smiled without teeth. “One must have the stomach for it.”

Y/N’s glass tilted in her hand. From across the room, she watched him talk—one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing smoothly. He laughed at the right moments. He complimented the women without lingering. He asked about children he didn’t care about. He played the part so well it was easy to forget it was a part.

The jazz slowed.

A quiet lull fell over the group as someone reached for a new record, and the needle scratched faintly before the next track came on—low, moody saxophone, rich and full.

That was when she heard it.

The name.

Not loud. Not emphasized. Just… placed.

“…Hyeri’s back, did you hear?”

Y/N didn’t turn her head, but her ears pricked.

She didn’t know who said it. Only that someone responded with an uncertain, “Is that so?”

A pause. Then: “I think she’s coming tonight.”

Just like that, the moment passed. Someone laughed. Someone changed the subject. A cork popped.

Y/N’s glass had stilled in her hand.

She turned toward her husband—but he was already looking at her.

Not directly. Just past her shoulder. As if he’d been watching her before she moved.

He gave her a small smile. One she couldn’t quite read. Then turned back to Gerald with a chuckle and a shake of his head, brushing the conversation away like dust from a sleeve.

Y/N didn’t ask.

She didn’t know why she wanted to.

But suddenly the dress felt tighter. The music too loud. The air too warm.

And somewhere, under the perfume and laughter and polite conversation, she felt it again.

That storm.

Still behind the walls.

Still coming.

The wine kept flowing. Someone put a hand on her lower back when they laughed too hard. Someone else complimented her earrings twice in the same hour. Time blurred—not unpleasantly, but without weight.

Y/N found herself on the balcony after a while, her drink gone but the glass still in her hand. The breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders. Below, the garden lights glowed faintly under the trees, casting strange, gold shadows.

From inside, a burst of laughter rose—her husband’s voice in the middle of it. The sound threaded through the air like something meant for someone else.

She didn’t join him.

The silence out here was different. It didn’t ask anything of her.

Her fingers traced the edge of the glass absently, and for the first time all evening, her thoughts drifted toward the name again.

Hyeri.

She didn’t know what she expected it to sound like. Something sharper, maybe. More dramatic. But it had arrived gently, almost passively, as if the name had always been there, just waiting to be said aloud.

And her husband’s reaction—no reaction, really. That was what made it stand out.

He’d always been excellent at omission. There was an art to the things he didn’t say.

Y/N leaned against the railing and stared out into the dark, wondering—not suspiciously, not yet—but with a kind of… poetic curiosity. Like a character in someone else’s novel, aware that something was coming but not yet sure if it was tragedy or revelation.

The sliding door opened behind her.

She didn’t turn.

He stepped beside her, close but not touching. “It’s getting cold.”

“Not really.”

He watched her for a moment, then followed her gaze out into the dark. “You disappeared on me.”

“You seemed entertained.”

He smiled. “They always ask where you’ve gone.”

Y/N looked at him. His profile in the low light was sharp and unreadable. The kind of face made for headlines and portraits. A man who could sell sincerity like a product.

“They said someone named Hyeri might be coming,” she said quietly, as if the name didn’t matter.

He took a slow breath. “Probably just gossip. You know how people are.”

“She was a friend of yours?”

His pause was careful.

“Once,” he said. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

And that was all. Nothing in his tone invited more. The silence that followed was final—not heavy, but precisely measured.

Y/N nodded. “She sounds interesting.”

He glanced at her. “You’re more interesting.”

The compliment landed, soft and mechanical. Like he’d plucked it from a drawer.

She smiled anyway. “You always know what to say.”

And yet, something about the quiet that followed felt like a question left unanswered.

Behind them, the party buzzed on.

But out here, in the dark, beneath the flicker of lights and the weight of things unspoken, Y/N let her smile slip away.

Just for a moment.

A breath lingered in the air between them, hanging like an unfinished sentence. The kind of silence that felt less like peace and more like waiting.

Y/N turned her head slightly, her eyes scanning his face for something more than the careful mask he always wore. Something raw, maybe. A glimpse of the man he had been before he had become this polished version of himself. The version that always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.

But he was unreadable.

And she—well, she had spent years learning how to read people, but never him.

She felt the weight of the night again. Something pressing against her chest, as if it wanted to speak but was too afraid to do so.

“Do you ever think about the past?” she asked before she could stop herself.

His eyes flicked to hers. “We’re living in the present, darling.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. The drink was gone now. She hadn’t even noticed it empty.

“Of course,” she said, her voice softer than she’d meant it to be. “Silly question.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm in the faintest of gestures—familiar, but distant. It was a movement she’d learned to accept, because it was all she had ever known.

“I’ll be inside in a moment,” he said. “You coming back in?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickered back to the house, to the party still in full swing, to the faces she had come to know by name, to the one face she still couldn’t read.

But then she turned back to him, giving him that smile—the one she always gave. The one he expected.

“I’ll be in shortly,” she said, her voice steady.

She watched him go back inside, his figure blending into the shadows.

And when he was gone, she let herself take one more deep breath, the kind that felt like she was inhaling something far older than the night itself.

The storm was still there, waiting.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel its pull.

The glass in Y/N’s hand had begun to sweat, her fingers slipping slightly along the curve of it as condensation gathered in the evening chill. She stared at it, wondering absently how long she’d been standing there. How long it took, exactly, for something to feel like permanence.

Behind her, the party carried on. Laughter in pockets, clinks of glass, the low thrum of music wrapping around it all like ribbon. She could step back inside and become her again—his version of her. The one who smiled on cue and knew how to listen without hearing, how to glide through conversations like a breeze that left no trace.

But her body didn’t move.

Instead, she leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the railing, the hem of her dress catching in the wind like breath. Below, the garden stretched out in curated beauty—hedges manicured, lights timed to glow just so. Everything meant to be seen. Nothing wild.

She tried to picture Hyeri in a place like this.

Couldn’t.

The name kept unfolding inside her, slow and strange. A name with weight. With texture. She wondered if Hyeri had ever stood here, in this same spot, years ago, watching the same wind pull through the trees. If she had once been the one in the moon-colored dress.

A sharp laugh rang from inside, pulling Y/N’s gaze back toward the windows. Her husband was with Gerald again, hands moving as he told a story. The group was enraptured. He had that gift—making everyone feel like they were in on something special.

She knew that look, the slight tilt of his head, the pacing of his words. She’d studied it. Worn it like a second skin when needed.

But something in her resisted it now. Not in anger. Not even in sadness.

Just… in awareness.

The door behind her slid open again.

This time, it was Mae.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Didn’t know you were out here.”

Y/N turned, smiled lightly. “Needed some air.”

Mae stepped forward with a practiced sort of grace, her heels never quite clicking against the stone. She carried a fresh drink in one hand, the stem of the glass kissed with red from her lipstick.

“They’re all obsessed with him, you know,” Mae said, nodding toward the window.

Y/N didn’t pretend not to know who she meant.

Mae leaned on the railing beside her, eyes scanning the garden. “I always wondered what it was like. Being married to someone who commands a room just by breathing.”

There was no bite in the words. Only curiosity. Maybe envy.

Y/N took a slow breath. “You get used to it.”

Mae smiled, just a little. “That’s what you say when something stops feeling strange but never starts feeling right.”

The words sank between them like stones in water.

“I heard Hyeri’s name earlier,” Mae added casually. Too casually.

Y/N looked at her. “Did you know her?”

Mae’s lips parted, like she might say no. But instead, she said, “Everyone knew her. Or thought they did.”

She took a sip of her drink, eyes far away now. “She had this… quality. Like she saw things the rest of us missed. She didn’t dress to impress. Didn’t say the right things at dinner. But when she was in a room, people noticed. And not because she was trying to be noticed, either. That was the part that made people nervous.”

Y/N was quiet.

“She left suddenly,” Mae continued. “No announcement. Just vanished. Some people said she was sick. Others said she fell in love and moved away. But I think…” She hesitated. “I think she saw something. Something she didn’t want to be part of anymore.”

Y/N’s pulse ticked in her throat.

She wanted to ask what. What Hyeri had seen. What Mae meant. But before she could, Mae straightened and downed the rest of her drink in one smooth motion.

“I should go back in,” she said. “Gerald gets anxious when I’m gone too long. Like I might start thinking.”

She gave Y/N a tight smile—wry, elegant, tired—and turned back toward the door.

Before she stepped inside, she paused.

“If she does come tonight,” Mae said without turning around, “don’t ask him about her. Not really. He won’t lie. But he won’t tell the truth, either.”

Then she slipped inside, swallowed by the light.

Y/N stood still for a long moment, the wind brushing over her shoulders like a question.

She looked back out at the garden, then up—at the sky, at the faint, blurred stars barely visible through the city glow. And she wondered, for the first time in a long time, if she remembered how to want something.

Not politely. Not passively.

But truly.

The glass in her hand trembled slightly as she set it down on the railing.

Inside, a new record spun up—slower this time, darker. A woman’s voice, low and smoky, singing of something lost.

Y/N didn’t move.

She was still listening for the storm.