#greetings from the denial town

[dear-aubade]

Kisses After Midnight

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Smut

Summary: Joel gets back from a long patrol in the middle of the night. It’s clear that his baby missed him very much.

Notes: smut, sub!reader, soft!dom!joel, praise, dirty talk, unprotected piv, Joel calls reader every pet name in the book, teasing, slight orgasm denial, dd/lg vibes sorta (but no use of ‘daddy’), let’s play a game called how many times can the author use the word ‘sweet’ in one fic

For it being the end of the world, you and Joel had a pretty good life. He’d been in Jackson for about eight months—eight months in which he gave his heart to the sweetest little thing to ever walk the earth.

Your very existence seemed to be a mockery of the times you lived in. You were soft and sweet, edges not yet roughed. He didn’t know how you’d gone so long staying as doe-eyed as you did—hell, he didn’t know how you ended up with him. He felt far too…jaded. Far too rough to be with someone so beautiful and untainted.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He still remembered the first day you knocked on his door, asking in your honey-sweet voice, I told Maria I’d give you a tour of the town. Is that alright, Mr. Miller? Oh, he’d just about died then.

Things only took off from there. Something would break in your house, and he’d be called over to fix it. Then you would bring him some bread you baked as a thank you, and then he’d say, Well this is too nice, darlin.’ Why don’t you let me return the favor by putting some shelves up in your living room? He’d seen the piles of books at your bedside—your love of reading deserved to be displayed.

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel just…fit. Something clicked, and soon he was moving into your pretty little house, placing kisses to your pretty little lips, waking up pressed against pretty little you.

Yes, for the end of the world, you and Joel were doing quite nicely.

Except on long patrol days, that is. Oh, Joel knew how much you hated it. Now that you’d gotten used to sleeping in Joel’s arms you didn’t want to give it up, not even for a single night.

But Joel had a part to play in the community—he couldn’t stop working, no matter how much he wished he could spend all his time with you. He’d press kisses to your quivering bottom lip, murmuring reassurances that he would be back the very next night.

Which brought him to now. He’d spent a day and a half out in the cold with Tommy scanning for Clickers, thinking about his princess the entire time ice and wind battered his face. Finally, after a day and a half without seeing you, he was shaking the snow off his jacket and stepping inside your shared home.

Joel was quiet as he took off his shoes and shed his outer layers before heading upstairs. Once inside your room he stripped down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside you. He wrapped his large arm around your body, pulling you into him and was delighted to find you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, then placed a kiss in your hair. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

You let out a soft yawn, still groggy and half-asleep. “Hm?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. “Wake up, pretty baby.” Normally Joel would never wake you up in the middle of the night, but you had explicitly asked him to do so every time he got back from a long patrol. He still remembered your teary eyes the morning after the one time he’d tried to let you sleep and just greet you in the morning. He’d never tried again after that.

Now you began to really stir, blinking your eyes as you looked up at him with a soft, sleepy pout that he wanted to kiss. However, it melted away when your eyes grew a little more alert. “Joel?”

He brushed the hair from your face. “Mhmm. I’m home,” he whispered before kissing you soundly on the mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes dancing over your face. “I missed my gorgeous girl’s eyes…and those lips, especially.”

You leaned up to plant another firm kiss to his mouth before holding to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, letting out a soft breath of something almost like relief.

He kept you pressed to the warmth of his body, “Was my little girl lonely ‘round here?” he murmured, rubbing your back gently.

You nodded into his neck. “Missed you.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, holding you close. “I’m right here now.” His sweet thing. His nose brushed along your jaw and neck, taking in your scent. “Let me ease that pretty little mind a bit, hm?”

Your breath hitched and you nodded, eyes getting a little more glossy…

“C’mere, babygirl…” he whispered, cradling the back of your head to pull your lips to his. Joel’s hands roamed over the curves of your body, mapping out each and every familiar piece of you, his palms warm and strong against your skin. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you parted your mouth in a gasp to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Joel soon broke the kiss, panting softly before he started trailing his lips down your throat and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as he went. “Missed that pretty little voice,” he murmured in that low voice of his. “Can you use it again for me sweetheart?” Joel knew how you got when he spoke to you like this. He knew you would be putty beneath him in no time.

You nodded, letting out a strained, “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed your back to the mattress so you were looking up at him. “Use your words, babygirl,” he reminded, dipping to kiss up your throat again. “Or do I need to make you?” His teeth caught on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

You gasped. “I-I can use ‘em.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling away to look at your face, studying your expression. His fingertips brushed the edge of your neckline. “Can I take all this off, baby?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide. “Yes Joel, please.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “So polite.” With that he got to work, pulling the shirt over your head with one swift tug, leaving you bare beneath him. He looked you over greedily, tracing his hands over your sides, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, eyes falling over your body. “Look at my sweet baby.”

You let out a soft whine of impatience, but Joel cut you off. “Ah—you gonna be a good girl?” He knew you would be. You always were. He just liked hearing it from your strawberry lips.

You nodded, eyes doe-like. “Yes, promise!”

He smiled. “Always listen so well for me.” He sat up a little to remove his own shirt and throw it to the floor, but swiftly leaned back down to kiss you deeply. You tasted like honey on his tongue and his hands slipped along your sides to rest on your hips, locking you in place.

You uselessly tried to buck against his strong hold, trying to press the apex of your thighs closer to his, but he was having none of it. He chuckled. “Needy girl…always gotta have me ‘s close as possible, hm? So greedy, baby.” His sentence was punctuated by a nip to your neck.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“I know darlin’, I know.” Such a soft, sweet voice you had. He met your big, glassy eyes as his fingertips dragged along your neck….your collarbone…until he grasped one of your breasts with his large hand.

He silenced your gasp with his kisses. His sweet girl—so sensitive, you were. You whimpered into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over the peak of your breast.

How had he been apart from you so long?

You were aching. Joel always likes taking his time with you, you knew that, but sometimes all you wanted him to do was pin you down and ravish you instead of playing you like his favorite instrument, stringing his fingers along each little spot that would make you sing….

Joel’s warm mouth closed around your breast and you let out another soft whimper as he flicked his tongue over the peak. Your hands were in his hair, threading through the salt-and-pepper curls while his tongue and teeth were at work.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel,” you whined, voice quivering.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’m gonna give you what you need.” His fingertips dragged down the center of your tummy, drifting farther and farther below…

“Oh,” Joel cooed, and you moaned softly as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”

You felt like you could cry from the need, the white hot flames that needed to be fanned and then extinguished. “Joel—”

“I’ll take care of you, darlin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His thumb found purchase on your bundle of nerves and you keened, arching your back, trying to get closer closer closer while he stoked the fire between your legs. He held you the whole time, murmuring how beautiful you were, how pretty your little voice was, how good you were being for him.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling; the thread of your very being was fraying, coming apart as you climbed higher, higher—

He removed his hand.

Oh, you whined at that, your climax being ripped away so cruelly and carelessly. “No, no, Joel I—”

“Shh, shh baby.” He quieted your protests with a kiss. “I just had to get you ready for me—want you to finish around my cock.”

His bluntness made you squirm, and you’d been so lost in your pleasure that you hadn’t realized you could feel his hardness against your hip, thick and heavy.

Joel shucked down his boxers and tossed them to the side while you lay there waiting, aching for that fullness you knew so well—

You squealed as he tapped the wet tip of his length against the bud atop your slit.

He chuckled and silenced your high-pitched noises with gentle shushing. “I gotcha, honey,” he murmured.

Then he slid inside.

Joel let out a soft groan next to your ear as he fully sheathed himself within your wetness. “So tight for me baby—“ He cut off with another grunt, sliding out before pushing right back in.

He was so big, his strong arms holding you as he rocked his hips, filling you up, up, up until you swear you could feel him in your tummy. Your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with every thrust.

“My baby,” he crooned, ducking his head to kiss along your neck and shower you with praises as he held you to him. “My sweet babygirl. Missed you so much out on the trail, thought about your pretty little pussy the whole time—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as the tip of Joel’s hardness tickled that spot deep inside that had your toes curling.

He chuckled. “Is that the spot, baby?” He pointedly thrust again, making you moan, and grinned knowingly. “Oh, I think it is, hm?” He picked up his pace again, hitting that spot over and over and over.

You felt something start to coil in your lower belly, something familiar and white-hot. Joel reached down to rub circles into your clit, which made you let out a high-pitched whimper and clench around his length.

You were babbling mindlessly, thoughts empty save for him and how good he was making you feel. “Joel, Joel, I—oh please—I need—”

“I know what you need babygirl.” His teeth caught on your earlobe as he kept his pace. “Can feel—fuck—can feel you clamping down on me. You gonna finish for me already?”

You nodded, your lips parted in a silent gasp of need, eyes big and wide as you whined out a desperate, “Mhmm!”

You bucked your hips into his, and this time when you felt your legs tighten, your breath fail, your tummy coil, Joel murmured hushed affirmatives you your jaw and neck and ear—

You cried out as you fell over the edge. Your back arched, your muscles seized, and your vision blurred with overwhelmed tears as you felt the warmth of Joel finishing inside you soon after.

“That’s it sweetie—fuck, so good for me, such a good girl falling apart on my cock, taking me so well—”

You were letting out desperate needy noises, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as the crackling heat lingered.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, claiming your lips, swallowing your whines with his mouth. “You did so good baby, so good….look at you, my pretty girl, my baby….”

Your body went lax, melting against him, each coo and murmur bringing you deeper under.

“That’s it…I’ve gotcha…” Joel maneuvered you as if you were light as a feather so that you were laying side by side, still connected, him still thick and warm inside of you.

Completely blissed out, you nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around you. Your eyes drooped.

“Tired already, babygirl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, darlin’. Just fall back to sleep. I’ll be holdin’ you the whole night through.”

Soon the fog overtook your mind completely and you drifted off, comforted by the knowledge that your Joel was home again.

[maewphoria]

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⌗⠀양정원⠀⠀CAT⠀DISTRIBUTION⠀SYSTEM⠀꒰⠀PT.1⠀꒱

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SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?

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pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader. featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon). word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀2.241k genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.) warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything. mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, this will be my very first enhypen au / fanfic here in tumblr. i will be cutting this fanfic in multiple parts instead of posting it all at once because it already has a word count of 40k. i am still new to this so i will surely make mistakes. please be patient with me and i hope you guys enjoy my work. this story will be added to my masterlist. also, don't even try copy-pasting my work into an ai detection website, because i already tried it and it still said that parts of it was written by ai, even though i literally wrote it on my phone in front of my cousin. likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

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library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part two.

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“are you completely certain you have everything, sweetheart?” your mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice tinged with both worry and affection. you can’t help but chuckle softly, rolling your eyes in fond exasperation as you roll two suitcases out through the front door.

behind you, she follows closely, reciting the list of college essentials she helped you pack, while your father lingers not far behind.

“mom, for the tenth time—literally—you packed with me. you know i’ve got everything,” you reply, turning to face her. she frowns slightly, reluctantly folding her list and slipping it into her pocket.

she reaches for your hands and clasps them tightly, as though letting go meant letting you go forever. “i’m sorry, sweetie. i just can’t help but worry. i’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.

you felt your heart ache as you pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her as tight as you can. “oh, mom...” you murmured, voice muffled in her hair, “i’m going to miss you, too. and dad. and everyone. but this isn’t goodbye forever, okay? it’s just college—four years, tops. i’ll be back before you even realize i’m gone.” you reassured her while smiling.

“is it my turn now?” came your dad’s voice from behind, cutting through the moment with the kind of comedic timing only he had. you turned to him, confused.

“yes, honey, go ahead,” your mother says with a small smile, eyes still misty.

he cleared his throat, stepped forward like he was preparing a speech, and asked, “are you absolutely certain the place you’re renting is fully furnished?”

you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the practicality of his concern, but nodded. “yeah, dad. it is. i saw the pictures online, and the landlord sent us updated ones too. you showed them to me, remember?”

“it’s got the basics: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, a little dining area, even a mini walk-in closet. and a balcony,” you added, lifting your eyebrows as if that would finally put his mind at ease. “some furniture’s getting delivered tomorrow, but other than that, i’m all set.”

still, you know deep down they won’t stop worrying—not really. it’s just what parents do.

so you took their hands, holding them like you were anchoring the three of you in that little moment.

“mom. dad. i know you're worried. i really do. and i get it. but i have to do this—for me. for my future. remember how we talked about this?” you said softly, giving their hands a small swing.

they sighed, looking down at the pavement as if it held some kind of comfort. your mom’s lips trembled as she said, “i just can’t believe my baby girl’s going to college. it feels like just yesterday you were painting rocks in daycare and telling us they were ‘magical artifacts.’”

you laughed as she started to cry again, and without missing a beat, your dad stepped forward, wrapping the both of you in a warm, protective hug. the three of you stood there for a few seconds in silence—breathing each other in like this was the last chance you’d get.

“i promise i’ll visit when i can,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “and if anything happens, i’ll come running back home. always.”

your mom sniffled loudly, then pulled away just enough to cup your cheek. “nothing will happen to you. you hear me? you’re going to be fine. just... don’t stress too much. and don’t let yunjin drag you into too many parties. you know how she is.”

your dad nodded in agreement. “yeah. remember—college is about studying, not setting new records for the number of red cups you can balance.”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “you guys are unbelievable. i’m your daughter, remember? i’ve got at least some common sense.”

“barely,” your dad muttered, and you playfully elbowed him in the ribs.

amidst the bittersweet laughter, the sound of a car pulling up interrupts the moment.

“oh! that’s my uber,” you say, adjusting your backpack. “dad, can you help with my suitcases?”

“on it, bud,” he said, already hoisting both bags with that exaggerated dad-strength that never failed to impress you.

he waved to the driver, who rolled up to the curb. the trunk popped open, and your dad loaded everything in then dusted off his hands and turned back. “is that everything?” he asked.

“yes, dad. i’m going to college, not new york fashion week,” you tease, earning amused chuckles from both of them.

they escort you to the car, your mom opening the door for you. but as you settled in, she suddenly tapped gently on your window. you roll it down.

“yes, mom?”

she leaned in. “sir,” she said, addressing the uber driver with a gravity that made you look at her in confusion, “if my daughter says she’s feeling dizzy or needs a break, please pull over.”

“also, you’re going to the right address, yes?” your dad added, stepping in like he was interrogating a suspect.

you let out a groan and sank into your seat, using your backpack as a shield to hide your face. “guys, seriously...”

“and don’t drive too fast or weave between cars,” your mom continued. “please drive safely. she’s very precious cargo.”

“okay mom! dad! i love you both! please let the poor man do his job,” you said quickly, waving goodbye before whispering to the driver, “you can go now. before they make me wear bubble wrap.”

the driver chuckles as the car pulls away. you lean out the window, waving until your parents become small figures in the distance.

“i’ll call when i get there!” you shout back before sinking into your seat, heart full and heavy all at once. you breathe in slowly, gaze drifting out the window.

you can do this. it’s not going to be that hard... right?

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after what felt like an eternity of winding roads, shifting scenery, and the soft hum of tires against asphalt, you finally arrived. the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the building that would now be your new home for the next four years of your life.

you turned your head toward the window, eyes tracing the unfamiliar landscape, taking it all in—wide sidewalks dappled in sunlight, joggers weaving between pedestrians, laughter spilling from a group of cyclists, someone playing fetch with a very enthusiastic golden retriever.

the air held a certain freedom you hadn't even realized you'd been craving until now. it smelled like possibility, like the beginning of something beautifully unknown.

“alright, ma’am. we’ve arrived. would you like help with your suitcases?” the driver’s voice interrupted gently, his tone patient, practiced.

you blinked yourself out of your daze, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror before answering, “yes, please. just to the entrance would be great. thank you.”

you stepped out of the car, greeted by the sight of the tall, clean-lined building. you took a breath—deep, grounding—then turned to help the driver with your bags. the two of you wheeled the suitcases together toward the entrance.

you then turned to him, pulling out a small amount of cash. “thank you so much. really. and here—this is a little extra for putting up with my parents earlier.”

he let out a warm laugh as he accepted the tip. “ah, it was nothing. i’ve got kids myself. i know how it feels to watch them grow up.”

you smiled, heart swelling. “well, if they’ve got a dad like you, i’m sure they’re growing up wonderfully.”

“that’s kind of you to say. stay safe, ma’am.”

“you too, please drive safely,” you said with a grateful nod, before turning your attention to the double glass doors ahead of you. “alright... let’s do this.”

you mumbled to yourself as you wrestled your bags inside. the first thing that greeted you was the hum of the lobby’s air conditioner and a wall of metallic lockers neatly lined up to your right.

“oh thank god, elevators,” you sighed, eyeing the silver doors to the side. but before you headed up, you pulled out your phone to reread your landlord’s message, squinting at the little instructions tucked inside a cheerful block of text.

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landlord 🏘️: good day, miss y/n. here are a few instructions before entering your apartment. on the first floor, you’ll see multiple lockers designated for deliveries and mail. please locate locker no.508. that will be your personal locker. inside, you’ll find the keys for all the doors inside your apartment and all necessary passcodes, especially the passcode of your apartment. the passcode to unlock your locker is 0628. thank you again for choosing us. we hope you enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.

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with a determined nod, you pocketed your phone and made your way through the lobby towards the right where the lockers are. polished silver doors with numbers engraved in neat rows. you scanned quickly until your eyes landed on 508.

you keyed in the code with a quiet click, and the locker door swung open.

inside were all the essentials: a set of keys, neatly labeled passcodes on a printed sheet, a few manuals for the appliances, and a small envelope titled 'welcome to your new home'.

“keys, check. passcodes, check. instructions, check. emotionally prepared? debatable,” you muttered, collecting everything before shutting the locker.

you hauled your bags into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. the soft hum of the elevator was oddly comforting, a brief moment of stillness.

the doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing an empty, serene corridor lined with identical doors. you walked slowly, counting off the numbers until you reached 508 once again—this time, your door.

you typed in the passcode, heart thudding with an unfamiliar mix of nerves and excitement. a soft beep, a click, and the door opened.

your eyes widen.

“oh god. this is really happening,” you whispered, stepping inside.

the apartment was... perfect. minimal but welcoming, clean lines and cozy corners. the sunlight streamed in from the windows, dancing across the hardwood floors.

you grinned, walking deeper into your new space. “it’s even better in person! it really has everything i—wait... the balcony!” your voice shot up an octave, already halfway to the glass doors.

you threw your backpack aside and stepped out onto the balcony. the breeze kissed your skin as you exhaled slowly, taking in the view. you pulled out your phone and took a handful of photos—one of the scenery, one of the sky, two of your grinning face—ready to send them to your parents with a reassuring caption.

you were about to hit send when you heard a small sound, high and soft.

“meow.”

you froze.

you turn, the sight before you making you gasp. sitting on the next apartment's balcony is the fluffiest calico cat you’ve ever seen. “oh my gosh, hi sweet angel– no, wait! don’t jump–” but it’s too late. with the grace of a furry ninja, she leapt from one balcony to yours, landing with a perfect thud and zero regrets.

you blinked. “well. who am i to reject a royal visit?”

you kneel and gently stroke her fur before completely sitting down on the floor. “what’s your name?” you murmur. as if on cue, the cat shifts, revealing her collar. “yami? aww, what a lovely name.”

she nestled into your lap like you were long-lost friends. you let out a delighted gasp, “oh no. not the cuteness. you’re too powerful,” you whispered, gently running your fingers through her fur, trying not to explode from cuteness aggression. the last thing you wanted was to scare her away.

you had no idea how much time passed. minutes? hours? you didn’t care. it was just you and yami, and the world could wait.

until—

“yami?”

you flinched.

the voice was male. close. way too close. and getting closer.

you got startled, which in turn startled the cat—violating the sacred cat law: if a cat sits on your lap, you don’t move. ever. but you did. and now you felt like an unforgivable criminal.

“yami,” the voice called again, now just on the other side of the glass. “there you are. what are you doing? hanging out on our neighbor’s balcony again?”

you peeked ever so slightly through the curtain. the guy was in a hoodie, the hood over his head, and pajama pants, hair sticking out, probably tousled like he’d just woken up. he also sounded young so he's probably close to your age. he crouched down and scratched yami behind the ears, completely unaware of your presence.

“are you excited to meet our new neighbor?” he asked the cat, who meowed back in response, tail flicking happily.

he laughed to himself and disappeared back into his apartment.

you exhale, not realizing you’d held your breath. ‘why did i even hide?’ you scold yourself. ‘i didn’t do anything wrong.’

shaking the embarrassment away, you pull your suitcases into your bedroom. it’s bare, except for a mattress, blanket, and a few pillows. your furniture will arrive tomorrow.

you sigh and begin to unpack, preparing to shower and change into something more comfortable.

“this is going to be a long month,” you murmur to yourself, unaware that this—this quiet, chaotic beginning—was only the start.

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taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia (taglist is still open) final note⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed, part two will be posted next saturday. thank you so much for reading.

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©⠀mæwphoria⠀|⠀all works belong to me. strictly do not plagiarize, copy, translate, paraphrase, rewrite or repost my works on any other platforms. if it's inspiration gained from my work then it's appreciated and i wish you good luck with your own stories. thank you.

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officer

Summary: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different.

Word Count: 7.2K (she got away from me real fast)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (It's implied that Javi got the snip, we're good y'all), oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, sex toys, roleplay (kind of? Javi's got access to handcuffs and you're giving him enough attitude to bring out the brat tamer in him 😵‍💫), rough sex, creampie, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom!javi (but still the same sweet, soft Javi that we all know and love who loves his wife), a sprinkle of a breeding kink (because it's trademark at this point), heavy on the praise kink, sexting, safe word/consent (hawt), spanking (not that hard), one AFFECTIONATE use of slut!, Javi is our aftercare king (are we surprised? no.) Javi's mouth is so filthy I'm washing my own out with soap, I'm not gonna lie to y'all, this is NASTY and I don't think I've ever put this many warnings for something lmao (also, still fluff and dad!Javi because I say so)

A/N: ....... Soooooooo, yeahhhhhhhh. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written 🤠 Steppin' a little out of my normal comfort zone for this one- idk what's in the water this month, but I think someone may have to come put me out to pasture pretty soon!!!! Checking myself into horny prison with a life sentence!!!!! I hope you guys enjoy, I know it's different than the norm, but lemme know what you think 🥺 Thanks for supporting me through my horny endeavors, ily all!!!

The days of chasing down bad guys and capturing criminals were a thing of the past for Javier Peña- at this point, the closet he'd come to his past life in Columbia in his position at the Laredo Sheriff's Department was using every ounce of patience he had to deal with his knuckle headed co-workers whenever they did something stupid.

While the job title "Border Protections Consultant" provided Javi with a much quieter and calmer life than working as a DEA agent, when his daughters had asked him to come in for Career Day, their classmates were convinced that he might as well have been straight out of "Men in Black."

Unfortunately for the other parents who had decided to show, Javi's appearance had out shadowed any of the other jobs after his daughters classes had learned he worked for the Police Department to help catch "bad guys" (even if the better part of the class had decided to ignore the fact he wasn't the one physically going out to stop them).

After showing off some cool accessories he had brought with him from the department and sharing some watered down, age appropriate stories to make his presentation more interesting, the Peña girls were the talk of the town at Alma Pierce Elementary, riding the high of being dubbed "The Kids With the Coolest Dad" by everyone in their class, especially after he signed them out early with promises of slushies before heading home.

So when Javi and the girls arrived back to the house, it was no shock to you that your daughters were still beaming with excitement about their dad's celebrity appearance.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Lucy, your oldest squealed as she burst through the door, dropping her backpack with a thud to greet you in the kitchen, "Dad had the best job at all of Career Day. All the kids in my class said he was the coolest one."

"Oh was he now?" You smirked, watching as Javi and your other two daughters, Elliot and Harper, trailed behind Lucy, equally beaming with excitement.

"Yeah! That's what all the kids in my class said too!" Elliot exclaimed, plopping herself down next to her sister at one of the barstools at your kitchen island.

"Me too!" Harper added, finding her usual spot next to her sisters.

"Looks like someone's reached celebrity status." You giggled, playfully raising your eyebrows at Javi as he came to greet you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other dropped his work bag on the countertop, pulling you closer for a kiss.

"What's a celebrity?" Harper asked, staring at her sisters in confusion.

"Someone who's like, really famous." Lucy answered, Elliot nodding adamantly in agreement that her dad was, in fact, their elementary school's newest celebrity.

"So I take it the presentation went well then?" You asked, shrugging at Javi, trying not to blush with pride from his daughter's admiration.

"Guess so." Javi replied, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it next to his bag, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows before reaching in one of your cabinets to grab a glass of water.

"Dad told our class about how he helps catch bad guys and put them in jail, for like, forever."

"And he told everyone about how a long time ago, before he was old, that he used to go run through the streets and catch people and put them in handcuffs!"

"He even brought in handcuffs for everyone to see!"

The last comment most definitely caught your attention, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head at Javi, trying your best to keep from letting a suspicious smirk spread across your face.

"Oh? Daddy brought handcuffs? Daddy doesn't normally use handcuffs at his job. I wish I would have gotten to see them."

While your girls would have never noticed anything unusual about your question, Javi was nearly choking on the sip of water he had just taken, very clearly understanding the implications of what you had just asked, coughing a few times as he tried to compose himself.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Harper asked, looking at Javi with concern.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm good, baby. Just didn't know Mommy wanted to um- wanted to see my handcuffs so badly." Javi stammered, glancing over at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"You should show her! They're really cool, Mom!" Lucy proposed, her sisters nodding along in agreement, blissfully unaware of the tension rapidly thickening between you and Javi.

"Um- y-yeah, maybe later, Lu." Javi stuttered, still keeping eye contact with you as he answered his daughter, "Why don't you guys um- why don't you guys go play outside for a little bit."

"Really?! Before homework?!" Elliot squealed in surprise and delight.

"Yeah, go- go play. Mom and I will come get you guys in a few."

Javi could barely finish his sentence before your girls were sprinting to the backyard, leaving you and your husband alone in the kitchen in a silent stare down until the backdoor was shut behind them.

"Man, you must reallllyy wanna show me those handcuffs, Javi." You cooed, tongue darting out of your mouth as you bit down on your lip, getting a kick out of how rattled one little comment had made him.

"You better be careful with that shit, Hermosa." Javi groaned, stepping towards you, hands sliding down your back until they were groping your ass, slowly kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

"Yeah? Or what? You gonna use them on me?" You mewled, whispering in Javi's ear, the hot breath of your words making him audibly moan, taking a deep inhale and exhale to try and keep from busting right then and there.

"Jesus fucking christ- If you're gonna keep teasing me like this, then maybe I fucking should." Javi sighed, pulling you closer to feel the bulge hardening in his slacks, pressed against your thigh.

"Is that a threat, or a promise, Officer?"

At this point, you knew you were playing dirty, but you couldn't help hit, sultry smile spread across your lips at the way Javi's jaw had gone slack, practically hitting the floor in horny disbelief that your night was about to take such drastic turn.

"Depends, has sido una chica mala (have you been a bad girl)?" Javi hummed, voice rumbling deep in his chest as his grip around you tightened, eyes growing dark with lust, watching you play innocent, batting your lashes up at him.

"Para ti? Si. (For you? Yes.)"

Letting out a low, quite laugh, Javi shook his head before reaching one of his hands up, wrapping his fingers around your jaw and top half of your neck, forcing your gaze up at him and his smug snarl.

"Then it's a promise." He paused, the two of you staring at each other with a silent thrill of excitement pulsing through your veins. "Go pack the girl's bags, I'm dropping them off at my Dad's."

"Javi, are you sure? It's a Friday night, we can't just drop them at your dad's like this last minute. What if he-"

"Talked to him earlier this week. I know he's not busy. Even if he was, he'd drop whatever it was to have a sleepover with the girls. Like I really need to twist his arm to watch them."

"Okay, well what are we gonna tell him when he asks why we're dropping them off unplanned?" You retorted, knowing Javi wasn't wrong, but feeling bad for springing your girls unsuspectingly onto your father-in-law.

"That it's an emergency." Javi shrugged, his mouth working faster than his brain to find an answer to your question.

"Being horny isn't an emergency, Jav." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your husband.

"I'll figure something out. And if you keep talking like that to me, it most definitely is an emergency." Javi smirked, gaze of his reassuring, sweet brown eyes winning you over with ease.

"Okay. Go call your dad, I'll get the girls ready." You grinned, anticipation bursting at your seams as Javi raced to the back door, throwing it open to yell out to your daughters.

"Pollitas (little chickens)! Come inside, we're going to Abuelo's!"

The two of you were convinced you'd never worked faster to get your daughters out the door, frantically throwing together their sleepover bags with their help before Javi was nearly tossing them into his truck, the girls none the wiser and happy as could be to have a surprise sleepover with Chucho.

"Thanks again for watchin' em, Pops. We'll come pick them up in the morning." Javi nodded, giving his dad a quick hug after dropping off Lucy, Elliot and Harper, who had blessed him with a short and sweet goodbye as they rushed off to the barn to go feed the horses, leaving Javi to part ways with his dad.

"Of course, hijo. You know I love having mis nietas (my granddaughters) here, even when it's a surprise. I must have missed it on the phone, but what was so urgent? Not that I'm complaining." Chucho asked, resting his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, patiently waiting for his son's response.

"It um- something uh- something came up, and I-" Javi stammered, face turning bright red as his eyes darted towards the ground, trying to come up with some sort of bold faced lie off the top of his head before his dad cut him off.

"I thought I done getting grandkids?" Chucho smirked, relishing in Javi's uncomfortability, having a sneaking suspicion exactly why his son had made such a quick and urgent request.

"Jesus, Dad..." Javi sighed, burying his face in his hands to try and hide his embarrassment, not confirming or denying his father's acquisitions.

"Makes me happy to know you two are still very much in love." Chucho chuckled, patting his son on the back.

"Okay, I'm gonna go now," Javi huffed, scrunching his face in shame, giving his dad one more awkward hug before trotting back to his truck, "Thanks, Pops."

"Don't mention it, Javier. Take your time tomorrow. Tell your wonderful wife I say hello and that I hope the two of you have a fun night toget-"

"Jesus Christ... Bye, dad." Javi groaned, climbing into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming the door behind him as Chucho disappeared into the house, giddily laughing to himself.

Meanwhile, while Javi was busy dropping off the girls (insisting that you didn't come, because he'd have zero self control if you did), you had decided to go digging through the back of your underwear drawer, looking to find something to surprise Javi with when he returned home.

You pulled out a few choices, tossing them onto your bed to browse through before finding a black, lacy set you had almost forgotten about- the delicate, barely there, see through lace of the bra paired with the equally as skimpy thong seeming like an ideal option for the night ahead of you.

If you weren't already thrumming with enough anticipation as you changed into your new attire, your phone lit up on your nightstand, buzzing as Javi's name popped up on the screen.

Javi: Leaving Pops. Be back in 20.

You stared up at the clock, quietly calculating Javi's arrival time before you were interrupted by another vibration.

Javi: Wait on the bed for me. Don't touch yourself until I'm back.

You could almost hear Javi's voice, commanding you with just enough sternness, but not enough to stop you from pushing the limits just a little.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up your camera, dropping to your knees in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, seductively posing to tease just enough of your surprise to get Javi home to you in 12 minutes instead of 20.

You: Yeah? And what if I do? 😉

You smirked as you sent your text and picture, giggling to yourself at Javi's near immediate response.

Javi: Fuck me. You're so fucking sexy.

Javi: Your pussy's all mine tonight. Be a good girl and do what you're told. Bad girls get punished.

You: Maybe I wanna be punished 😏

Javi: Careful what you wish for baby. See u soon.

You could already feel your stomach swelling with arousal, your text messages alone beginning to soak a damp patch into the lace of your thong, making the fabric clinging around your swollen and puffy pussy, leaving you with a throbbing ache between your legs.

You wandered over to your nightstand, searching around the back, just like you had done with your dresser, looking through the few toys kept there. It had been a while since any of them had made an appearance in your bedroom, not because you or Javi were opposed to it, but because with how religiously Javi wanted to be the one who made you feel good, it wasn't often they were going to use unless you were uncontrollably horny and Javi wasn't home.

And even though at this point he'd be home in 15 minutes, right now, you found yourself in both of those categories, the added layer of seeing if he'd make good on his threat only turning you on more.

With the way your clit was throbbing and cunt clenching around nothing, you opted for your rabbit vibrator, climbing into bed with the toy as you settled yourself into the pillows, lying on your back and spreading your legs to try and ease the ache between them.

You ran the head of the toy over the soaked fabric of your panties a few times before pulling the damp lace to the side, shuttering as it brushed against your clit. With how wet you were from want, you easily slid the tip of the toy into your entrance, sinking it deeper into your pussy until the smaller end was hitting against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whimpered at the sensation- still feeling no where near as good as what Javi would, but finally easing the fluttering of your pussy and throbbing of your clit was enough to give you temporary relief for now.

You thanked whatever lucky stars were out there in the universe that your vibrator had battery power left, clicking it on to feel the low hum shoot through your lower half, making you squirm against the sheets.

You lazily dragged the vibrator in and out of your heat, just enough to prod against your g-spot without leaving your clit untouched, imagining Javi's length thrusting in and out of you while the worn pads of his fingers circled your throbbing nub, whispering filthy, sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you.

"That's it, pretty girl. Make yourself feel good. So fucking wet, making such a mess for me."

You threw your head back on the pillow, clamping your eyes shut as you let the scene continue you to play out in your head, turning up the intensity of your vibrator as you rocked it faster and deeper into your cunt.

"You're taking it so well, baby. My good girl. There you go. Pretty little pussy wants to cum so bad, huh? Greedy thing couldn't wait for me to take care of her like I asked?"

You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you could have sworn you'd heard Javi speaking to you. Too lost in your imagination, you didn't stop, feeling your orgasm beginning to creep through your body. So lost, that you didn't hear the heavy footsteps padding their way to the edge of the bed or broad body looming over you.

"Just couldn't wait until I got back, huh?"

Your eyes shot open, the all too familiar low and sultry laugh much too real for you to have imagined, looking up to see Javi standing over you, hands on his hips as he watched you fuck yourself on your vibrator.

"Javi! J-jesus, baby. You scared the shit outta me." You huffed, trying to catch your breath as you scrambled to turn off your vibrator, whining at the loss as you pulled the soaking toy out of you, sitting up straighter on the bed.

"Wouldn't have scared the shit out of you if you did what you were told." Javi tutted, smirking to himself, "You gonna be a good girl and do what you're told, or am I gonna have to teach my pretty little wife a lesson about following directions?"

Before you could say anything, Javi was grabbing you by the hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your legs dangled off the mattress, letting him lean in to give you a desperate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing in a messy fight. With his hands frantically roaming your body, tracing over your lacy silhouette, he pulled away from your kiss just enough to let the words of his whisper dance against your skin.

"Donut. If it's too much. Repeat it back to me."

"Donut." You moaned, nodding your head in agreement at your safe word.

"You promise you'll tell me if it's too much? I don't wanna hurt you, amor." Javi asked, the familiar sweet and sensitive concern of your husband unveiling itself through your facade, puppy eyes locking with yours for confirmation.

"I promise. Damelo, Papi. (Give it to me, Daddy). "

As soon as your eyes locked in harmony, giving Javi your promise, the once sweet and innocent gaze had now turned to something much darker, the brown of his pupils pooling with lust, reaching behind you to grab the vibrator laying on the comforter, still covered in your slick.

Dropping to his knees, Javi parted your thighs, settling himself between them to admire the wet, puffy mess you had already made by yourself, running his fingers over the lacy fabric that had been barely covering it up, tugging it tight like a rubber band before letting it slap against your pussy, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you.

"She's crying for me, isn't she, baby? Poor thing. Trying to fuck yourself on this, wishing it was my cock, weren't you?" Javi scolded mockingly, turning on the vibrator and running it through your folds, teasing you everywhere but where you wanted to be touched.

"Y-yes. Wanna cum all around your cock, Javi." You moaned, face scrunching as he slid the toy up and down your weeping slit.

"But bad girls don't always get what they want, do they? Sometimes," He paused, slipping the toy into your hole until the longer curve was flushed to your g-spot and the shorter to your clit, "sometimes, they have to beg for what they want. You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?"

"Make me."

The words rolled off your tongue with a bratty confidence, a challenge you knew damn well he'd accept. Javi turned on the vibrator, cranking it up to it's highest setting, tongue running over his teeth as he watched your body jolt, grabbing fist fulls of your bedsheets to brace yourself.

"Oh fuck-" You muttered, swallowing hard, trying to suppress the shock of pleasure that had ignited in you as the vibrator thrummed at full force, Javi pushing it right up against the soft spongy spot inside he knew drove you wild, making sure the other part of the toy stayed nestled between your folds.

Javi could see your pussy beginning to flutter, clenching tighter around the toy as arousal began to seep out of your hole, pressing the vibrator deeper into you, only egging your impending orgasm on further.

"I know you wanna cum, baby. Ask nicely before I make you beg for it." Javi groaned, the hand not holding the vibrator now digging into your hip, holding you in place.

"N-no." You stammered, confidence wavering as you felt the tingle at the base of your spine start to spread rapidly through your body. Gripping tighter onto the tangled sheets, you felt your legs begin to tremble, cunt clamping down around the toy, about to cross the finish line until-

"Fuck! Nononono, Javi- fuck!" You cried out, whimpering as Javi yanked the vibrator from your cunt, leaving you empty and aching, the near high of your almost orgasm quickly dissipating.

"What's it gonna be, Hermosa? You gonna be good for me now?" Javi mewled, snarky smile spread between his lips watching your chest heave with heavy breaths after leaving you on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck- No. Make me, Javi." You huffed back, trying to keep cocky as if you weren't seconds away from crumbling under his touch.

Javi's response was nothing but a low laugh to himself, turning the vibrator back on high and stuffing it into your hole, fucking you with it more intensely than before. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, jaw going slack as the feeling of the fullness and buzzing consumed you, putting you back on edge of where you just were moments ago.

The only thought you could process was how close you were cumming, cunt throbbing and pulsing around your vibrator, body trembling with need as the coil in your stomach was about to snap.

"J-Javi, Javi, I-" You stammered, trying to string together a coherent sentence.

"What, baby? You gonna cum?" Javi asked, taunting you with his tone.

You tried your best to nod your head, nearly there, thinking that Javi would give in, only to let out another wanton cry as he pulled out the vibrator again, even more desperate and empty than before.

"Fuckfuckfuck! No, fuck! Javi, no-" You sobbed, white knuckling your sheets, bucking your hips into nothing, "Javi, let me cum. I wanna- fuck- I wanna cum!"

"Brats don't get to cum, cariño." Javi tutted, tossing the vibrator to the edge of the bed, caging your body under his, teeth nipping across your skin, hands cupping your lace covered breasts, fingers slipping under the fabric to tweak your pebbled nipples while his mouth met yours. "You want it? You get on your knees and beg for it like a good girl."

"And what if I don't? What if I don't wanna listen, Agent Peña?" You retorted, staring up at him with a devilish grin, trying to egg him on enough to reach for the handcuffs he had dangling out of the back of his pants pocket.

Reaching down to snake your hand between your bodies to try and rub your clit, you were stopped in your tracks, Javi wrapping is hand firmly around your wrist, grabbing it, and your other free arm to pin both your wrists to the bed above your head in his grasp.

He paused for a moment, looking down at you for a silent confirmation that you were comfortable with what was about to happen next, both of your heart beats pounding in your ears as you gave him a subtle, but adamant nod, biting down on your bottom lip with a sultry grin.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Fuck me-" He murmured to himself, trying to keep from laughing under his breath from pure exhilarated elation, breaking his stern facade. After a brief moment of self-composure, Javi was digging in the back pocket of his slacks, pulling out the shiny, silver pair of handcuffs that had gotten you in this position in the first place. "Either you listen, or I make you fucking listen, Hermosa."

"I'm sorry, Officer, I never have been a good listener." You cooed, batting your lashes and pouting at him with the big doe eyes and plush bottom lip, watching something animalistic begin to consume him.

In a sudden and frantic dance of limbs, Javi was clipping his handcuffs around your wrists, leaving enough room to wiggle them without pain in the confines of the cool metal, but with nowhere near enough room you were breaking free from them without his help. Bringing your now locked arms from above your head to in front of your chest, Javi was manhandling you off the edge of the bed to the ground, settling you to your knees in front of him.

A feverish thrill ran through you as you watched Javi undo his belt, metal buckle clanging as he shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, his painfully hard cock springing free, slapping against his stomach and leaving a trail of precum on the bottom of his shirt.

Your mouth watered as you watched his length bob in front of you, wishing your hands were free to wrap your fingers around his base, stroking him while you lubed him up with your spit and his precum before taking him into your mouth. Instead, it was Javi running his hand along his shaft, the other reaching down to thumb at your bottom lip, coaxing your jaw to go slack for him.

"Open." He commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tongue as you stuck it out, the warm and salty dribble of his precum leaking into your mouth.

Javi gleamed watching as your thighs clenched together beneath you, wiggling to try and give yourself any kind of friction as your slick coated the inside of your legs. He ran his hand across your cheek, cradling the back of your head as he ran his fingers through your messy hair, grabbing a fist full near the base of your neck to yank your gaze up at him.

"Could have cum by now if weren't gonna be sucha brat, baby girl. I know you want me to fuck you so bad. You wish that I was stuffed so fucking deep inside you, huh? But you're so fucking greedy for my cock, you'll take it wherever I give it to you, won't you?" Javi huffed, nostrils flaring as you nodded your head, his tip still resting on your tongue before your lips wrapped around the head of his shaft, taking him into your mouth as your tongue ran along the length of the thick vein pulsing in his cock.

With a subtle shift of his hips, Javi was thrusting himself deeper inside your throat, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, the curls at his base filling your nostrils with his sweet and musky scent.

“So greedy, you'll let me fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, won't you?” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching you fill with his length, "You're gonna be a good girl and let me stuff your throat so full of my cock that it'll fuck that bratty mouth right out of you, won't it, hermosa?"

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head while he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You nodded your head, looking up at him with teeth gritted and eyes darkened, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull, so demanding yet desperate at the same time.

"And after I fuck your mouth, I'm gonna fuck the brat out of you with my tongue," he paused, drawing back to slam his dick to the back of your throat, "I'm gonna fuck you with my cock," He paused again, repeating the motion, wetness dripping down your eyes and mouth from your tears and saliva, "I'm gonna fuck you 'till you're begging me to stop, because who does this pussy belong to, baby?"

Jerking back his hips, he freed his cock from your mouth, leaving you coughing as you tried to clear your throat, completed wrecked in the best way, the thick and musky tang of him still lingering on your tongue.

"It's yours, Javi. My pussy is yours, baby." You whimpered, your mask of cocky confidence now fading to reveal rampant your need and want, your pussy too painfully aching to hide it any longer.

Javi grunted, lifting you off the ground to guide you to your bed, letting your back bounce against the mattress as Javi once again settled between your thighs, slinging your legs over his broad shoulders.

You looked down to see his eyes widen as he admired the absolute wreck that had pooled between your legs, slick smearing your cunt and the inside of your thighs, pussy so swollen and shiny that you were convinced you had never been this worked up in your life without any sort of relief.

"Say it again, baby. Whose pussy is this?" Javi mewled, licking a long, flat stroke across your cunt.

"Y-yours, Javi." You moaned, bucking your hips into Javi's face, desperate for more.

"Louder, cariño. Let me hear who this pussy belongs to." The movement of his tongue repeated, this time added a few more broad strips, draping his hand across your stomach to hold you in place.

"Y-you! Oh fuck- It belongs to you, Javi! " You cried out, writhing under his touch, egging on the primal and possessive part of his brain.

"Do think you finally deserve to cum, hermosa? Poor pussy made such a fucking mess, I can feel her throbbing for me, baby." Javi taunted mockingly between licks of your cunt. "Beg for it, Osita. Beg for it like the filthy girl I know you are only for me."

There was no use in fighting it anymore, every shred of fight you had left in you had disappeared, leaving you a sobbing, whimpering mess, so dire to cum, you would have cried and plead for hours on end if that's what it would have taken for you to finally get what you wanted.

"P-please, Javi, please. Please, baby, I'll be good. Fuck- please make cum. Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Fuck!"

Your sobs were cut off as Javi dove between your legs, the slow and monotonous licks of your pussy now turning into him devouring you, sloppily eating you out like it was his last meal on earth, and he wasn't leaving a fucking crumb behind.

The way his mouth sucked and lapped at your clit had the coil in your spine that had been tightening over and over again for what felt like hours now reaching a near breaking point. Your wrists were straining against the handcuffs still clasped below your hands, writhing and thrashing under Javi's touch, wishing that you had something to grab onto to ground yourself.

"Fuck, Javi, Fuck- don't stop baby, please- ohmygod- I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-ahhhhhh!"

Your pent up orgasm crashed through you like a tsunami, every inch of your body radiating with such intense pleasure that you could feel your legs shaking around Javi's head, sobbing out with relief while you gushed arousal into his mouth, going limp with ecstasy.

But to your surprise, the sensation between your legs continued, Javi still relentlessly drinking you up, his pace unfaltering as he worked you through your high, clearly determined to make you cum again.

Latching his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, Javi sucked at your clit with a feverish intensity, fingertips gripping into your hips to keep you in place and hold you against the bed, keeping you right where he wanted you until he had you crumbling under his touch.

It wasn't long before the tingle at the base of your spine was building rapidly again, your pussy fluttering and throbbing, so sensitive from how long you had waited for release of your last orgasm that you could feel your second building just as fast as your first.

"I'm gonna- fuck- Javi, I'm gonna cum again, oh my- fuck- fuckfuckfuck!" You sobbed, limbs feeling like Jello as your next high hit you, eyes rolling to the back of your head, cumming so hard you were convinced you were seeing stars.

With your eyes scrunched shut, you hadn't seen Javi pulling away, shedding his shirt before grabbing your hips to flip you over, maneuvering you so your locked arms were outstretched in front of you and your chest pressed to the mattress, the firm grip returning to your hips to raise your ass in the air, wet and puffy pussy on display for him as he hovered at the edge of the bed behind you.

"Pussy's so fucking sweet, hermosa." Javi hummed, swiping two fingers through your folds and collecting your slick from your still trembling cunt, caging his body over yours as his other hand wrapped around your neck and jaw, pulling you up to flush your back against his chest, tacky with his sweat.

"Taste." He ordered, bringing the two shiny fingers to your lips, dipping them into your mouth while your tongue swirled around, tangy and sticky arousal filling your senses. "Think she's ready for me, baby? Or should I fuck you with my fingers until you're begging for my cock?"

"N-no, I want it, p-please, wanna cum around your cock so bad. Wanna feel you Javi, please." You whimpered, swallowing hard with Javi's palm still gently splayed around your throat.

"Okay," Javi paused, reaching down to grab the base of his shaft, coating his length with your arousal as he ran it up and down your slit until the blunt head of his tip was notching into your entrance, "but this greedy little cunt is gonna take everything I have to give her, understand?"

"Mhmmhmmm-" You nodded against his skin, whining as he sunk the rest of his length inside you, the sweet sting of his stretch setting you ablaze.

"Fuckkkk-" Javi muttered under his breath, pressing his body weight into you to force your chest back down to he bed and ass back up, running his hands over it, massaging the plump flesh before bringing a flat hand down to it, smacking it just hard enough to make you whimper.

"Dirty fucking girl. You loved getting fucked like this, don't you? Getting fucked like the pretty little slut you are just for me." Javi huffed through gritted teeth, giving your ass another smack as he dragged his cock out of your cunt before ramming it back into you.

"Mhmmmmmmhhhh- fuck- Just for- oh fuck- just for you, Javi."

He began to set a punishing pace, pounding into your g-spot, making sure that every thrust was flushed with your ass so that you took every inch of him inside you, practically punching the air out of your lungs with every stroke.

Javi felt so full inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was all consuming, the position he had you in opening you up to take as much as he could give. Your fingers tugged at the sheets, handcuffs rubbing against your wrists as you tried to brace yourself, so worked up and overwhelmed that you were nearly drooling onto the bed.

The noises coating the walls of your bedroom were unspeakably lewd- the wet squelching of your pussy, Javi's balls slapping against your ass, the wanton moans and grunts with every push and pull making your room sound borderline pornographic.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, fluttering around Javi's cock as he rammed into you, your legs beginning to tremble as you could sense your third orgasm creeping through your body. With how sensitive you were, you knew the wiry hairs around the base of Javi's shaft rubbing your clit would be enough to push you over the edge again, wishing you could reach back to grab Javi's hip, digging your fingertips into his tanned and sweat-ridden skin while you came.

"Javiiiiiiii- Fuck, fuck, fuck- I'm so c-close- Don't stop, don't stop, don't, Fuck!"

With each orgasm that crashed through you, your body became more and more loose, feeling like you were melting and floating all at once, all consumed by your dizzying high while Javi's pace remained steady, fucking you through collapse.

"That's my girl. Cum all over me. Let me feel you, baby." Javi smirked, giving your ass another smack as you cried out his name, too wrecked to let any other words form in your brain besides his.

Still staying stuffed inside you, Javi was scooping his arms around your front, one splayed across your middle to keep you upright as your sat back on your knees, the other back around your neck and jaw, tilting your head to lean back on his shoulder while he sucked at your pulse point.

You were all but sobbing at this point, pathetic whimpers and moans rumbling from your chest with each deep thrust of Javi's cock only intensifying as his fingers reached down to circle your clit, so sensitive that just the presence of his hand pressing around your nerve bundle had you crying out for him.

Your face was flushed with heat, sweat beading down your temples with the warmth of Javi's chest pressed against your back, feeling your heartbeat pound so loud you could feel it in your ears.

"It's too much- fuckfuckfuck- it's too much, Javi." You whined, the pitch of your voice registering higher and higher with each word that came spilling from your mouth, starting to squirm in his grasp. Your movement only made him tighten his grip, forearm pressing into your stomach and fingers locking around your jaw as he whispered in your ear.

"Nuh uh. This is what you wanted, remember, baby?" Javi tutted, somehow feeling like he was fucking into you even deeper than before, "You're gonna take what I give you. You're gonna cum for me one more time. Cum for me one more time and then I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me that I'm gonna leak out of you for days and make sure you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to."

The pads of his fingers pressed more firmly into your clit as they circled faster and faster, each snap of his hips crashing into your g-spot, the volume of your cries growing so loud, you had never been more thankful you didn't have any neighbors close by you were worried about hearing you.

"You're taking me so well, baby. C'mon, just one more, Hermosa. Be a good girl and give me one more. I know you can take it. Take it, take it, take it-" He groaned, chanting with each thrust with a low rumble in his throat, bearing his gritted teeth and flared nostrils as he fucked into you, knowing with the way your pussy was gripping him like a vice, you didn't need much more to get where he wanted you to go.

"Javi, Javi, Javi, Javijavijavijaviiiiii-ahhhhhh! Fuck!"

You were convinced that if Javi hadn't been holding you down, you would have floated away, cumming so hard that your vision went white, everything around you feeling like it was moving in slow motion as pleasure swept through every inch of your body, slumping into Javi, now finally chasing his own high.

"Did so good for me, baby. So fucking good." Javi praised, voice sweetening softly as he held you pressed to his chest, kissing and nipping at the damp skin on your shoulder. "Gonna fuck you so full of my cum. Bet you wish I could still knock you up, huh? Let everyone know who you belong to. Let them know that this perfect little pussy is all mine. I'm- oh fuck- I'm so fucking close. Feels so fucking good. Mierda- I love you so muc-ahhhhhhh-"

Javi's incoherent babbles were cut off by a final stutter of his hips, balls drawing up into his stomach as he spilled deep inside of you, warm ropes of his cum painting your velvety walls.

Still keeping himself stuffed inside you, you could feel the mix of your spend seeping out your spent hole and down your thighs, the dripping only exacerbated by the heavy heaving and panting of both of your chests, rising and falling in sync, so blissfully fucked out from your highs.

After a few seconds, Javi came to, pulling out of you with a hiss, reaching over the side of the bed to shuffle through his pants pockets, digging up the keys to the handcuffs and unlocking your wrists, gently kissing them where the metal had left red marks on your skin.

"Lay down, baby girl, lemme take care of you, okay?" Javi cooed, the flip of his demeanor instantly switching back to tender and soft, pressing a kiss into your messy hair as he shuffled to your ensuite, coming back with a warm washcloth to gently wipe up the mess between your legs.

"You've taken care of me plenty, Javier Peña. I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for the next week." You giggled softy, still giving your heart rate a chance to come down to normal.

Javi tossed the washcloth into the hamper next to your bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close to lay your head on his chest, tracing dainty circles with his thumb across your skin. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much? Sorry if I got carried away or-"

"Javi! Baby, why are you apologizing?" You asked, looking up at Javi as you felt his shoulders shrug beneath you.

"I just- I don't ever wanna hurt you, Hermosa.

"If you're trying to get me to stroke your ego and tell you that you have a huge dick, then yes, you do." You teased, the two of you softly snorting while Javi rolled his eyes at you.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Javi huffed, giving you a playful nudge.

"You take such good care of me, Jav. I know you would never mean to hurt me. Besides, I asked and you delivered. This was hot as fuck. This honestly may be a top 5 of all time." You smirked, nudging him right back.

"Yeah? God, you're so fucking sexy. We still got it after all these years, huh?" Javi smiled, pulling you closer to his chest, tickling you with kisses across your face.

"Yeah we do. Although maybe next time we get some more comfortable handcuffs. Those things do not feel good."

"Honey, they're meant to be used on actual criminals breaking the law. They're not supposed to be comfortable." Javi teased, laughing at your suggestion.

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, a peaceful and content quiet washing over you, basking in the warmth each other's bodies tangled together in a mess between your sheets.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what, Osita?"

"I don't know- having a more exciting job, getting to handcuff actual criminals, not just your wife. I just- I know that you always say how different and boring your job is now, and if you ever wanted to go back to doing something like what you used to then-" Before you could finish your thought, Javi was cutting you off with a passionate kiss, gently cradling your cheek in his palm, looking at you with those sweet brown eyes you loved so much.

"I don't ever miss it. My boring office job gave me a life where I have the most beautiful, amazing wife and daughters. There's nothing in the world that would ever make me even have a chance of giving that up. Besides..." Javi paused, sneaky smirk spread across his face.

"Besides what, Jav?"

"Using the handcuffs on you is way more fun."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[shadowkoo]

Up In Flames - Part 2

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 2 = 23.8k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

→ READ PART 1 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

Last night was a wake-up call. Seungcheol can’t let himself be completely derailed just because of the gravitational pull he feels toward you. Right? That would be crazy…

And yet, as if the universe wasn’t done tormenting him (he still can’t believe the timing of that phone call) he’d gotten another gut punch soon after you took Kate’s call. A text from Mingyu.

Hey, don’t forget about the open spot at Station 17. Interview’s yours if you want it. Come crash with me until then.

In the heat of the moment, still spiraling from nearly losing control with you, Seungcheol had said yes. Told Mingyu he’d be there by tomorrow, which is, technically, today.

Now, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, he wonders if that was the right move. Or if he’s making a huge mistake by leaving.

Or, worse, if staying would be an even bigger one.

…

You wake up alone, not that you expected Seungcheol to climb into your bed during the night, but still, waking up to some slow, lazy morning sex wouldn’t have been the worst thing.

Instead, the only thing greeting you is the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. You smile, stretching as you sit up. Nothing better than breakfast together… and then finishing what we started last night.

With that thought lingering, you climb out of bed and head to the kitchen, excitement bubbling in your chest.

"Morning," you say, sliding onto a stool at the island, watching as he flips the last pancake onto a plate. You expect him to turn, grin at you, maybe tease you about last night, maybe even pick up where you left off.

But he doesn’t.

Something’s off. He seems stiffer than usual, his movements too careful. Your stomach twists.

It’s only when he finally turns around and sets a plate of pancakes in front of you that he drops the bomb.

"I'm leaving today."

You blink. "What?"

"I…figured some stuff out, and I have to be somewhere in a few hours."

You stare at him, waiting for something more. An explanation that makes sense. A reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. Because while you believe him, you also know this has everything to do with last night. And that realization stings.

But you won’t ask. You won’t embarrass yourself like that.

Your pride flares, masking the disappointment sinking into your bones. "I don’t want your pity pancakes," you mutter, pushing the plate back toward him. "Have a safe drive wherever you’re going."

Then, without another word, you turn and disappear into your room, slamming the door behind you.

Part of you hopes he’ll come after you. That he’ll barge in, apologize, explain himself. The other part just wants to be left alone to lick your wounds in peace.

But when you finally gather the courage to come out for an adult conversation, you’re met with nothing but silence.

And an empty house. He left. Without saying goodbye.

Mika whines by the front door, already missing him too.

2 Days Since Seungcheol

The longest two days of your life.

You don’t know if you’re more pissed off or hurt. One minute, you wish you could scream at him "Are you a fucking idiot?" Another part of you wishes you could say "I've fallen so hard for you." Then, you’re convincing yourself that he’s not worth the energy. If he wanted to explain himself, he would’ve. If he cared as much as you do, he wouldn’t have left in the first place.

But then your brain betrays you, reminding you of every touch, every look, every fucking moment that made you feel alive in his presence. And just like that, you’re back to square one, seething, heartbroken, and in desperate need of a distraction.

Unfortunately, waiting for a response from your team isn’t the ideal way to keep your mind occupied. You sent over the latest chapters last night with a simple message: This is the creative direction I’m going with. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to learn to. Otherwise, I’ll take my books elsewhere.

The most assertive you’ve ever been. It felt good to take control, to stand your ground. You channeled all your frustration over Seungcheol into that email, and now all that’s left to do is wait.

Since Kate and Jun are supposed to be arriving sometime today, you’ve spent the last few hours cleaning. Anything to keep yourself busy. The kitchen is spotless, the living room dust-free, and now you’re finishing up in the bedrooms.

As you strip the sheets off the bed, a familiar scent lingers in the fabric. Cedarwood and a subtle musk.

Seungcheol.

You freeze, the breath knocked out of you by something as simple as a goddamn bedsheet. It still smells like him. You close your eyes for a moment, gripping the fabric tighter. As much as you want to erase every trace of him, the idea of washing this last piece of him away feels... unbearable.

“Goddamn it, Cheol,” you whisper, voice trembling.

You shake yourself out of it, throwing the sheets into the hamper with more force than necessary. He left. You need to get over it.

But as you grab fresh linens from the closet, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Your heart stutters.

Maybe it’s him. Maybe he got your number from Jun and he’s finally come to his senses, finally realized what a complete asshole move it was to disappear like that.

You practically lunge for your phone, but when you see the sender, your stomach drops.

Not Seungcheol.

Just your editor.

And the message?

A single thumbs-up emoji.

You stare at it, heat rising in your chest. After everything, after putting your foot down, after fighting for your creative vision—this is their response?

No feedback. No acknowledgment. Just a fucking thumbs-up?

A new kind of anger burns through you, one that has nothing to do with Seungcheol.

Needless to say, by the time Kate and Junhui step through the front door, the house is spotless. You’ve spent the last several hours scrubbing, dusting, and organizing—anything to keep yourself from spiraling.

“Hi! I’ve missed you!” Kate beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

You cling to her for a second longer than usual, grounding yourself in the comfort of familiarity.

“What have you been up to? And where’s Seungcheol?” she asks, glancing around as if expecting him to walk out of the kitchen at any moment.

Your stomach twists. They don’t know.

“He left,” you say flatly. “The next morning after you called last.”

Jun sets their bags down, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a look you can’t quite decipher. It’s not surprise, not exactly. More like…concern. Like he already knows there’s more to the story than he’s willing to share.

Kate, however, is instantly thrown. “He what?” Her brows knit together as she takes in your expression, your tired eyes, the way you’re hugging yourself. Realization dawns, and before you can blink, she’s pulling you into another hug.

“Oh honey, come here.”

The warmth of her arms around you, the softness in her voice, it’s enough to break whatever fragile hold you had on your emotions. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the whole story spills out.

Every last detail.

From the way he kissed you like he was starving, to the way he pulled away like you’d burned him. The way he left that morning without so much as a goodbye. The way you woke up thinking—no, hoping—you’d get another chance, only to figure out he already made plans to leave.

Kate listens intently, nodding along, her expression shifting between shock, outrage, and deep-seated frustration.

“Okay,” she says finally, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but…maybe he left because he does care.”

You blink. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jun, who has been quietly watching from the sidelines, finally speaks up. “I mean, it sounds like he panicked. Like he felt something real and it freaked him out.”

Kate nods. “And instead of dealing with it like an adult, he ran.”

You scoff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well, he could have at least said something instead of disappearing like a coward.”

“True,” Jun agrees, “but maybe this isn’t over. If you want to get in touch with him—”

You shake your head. “No. He made his choice. And I’m not going to sit around waiting for him to un-make it.”

Kate studies you for a long moment, then sighs. “Okay. Then let’s get your mind off of it. You need a distraction.”

Jun grins, raising a bottle. “Lucky for you, we brought wine.”

Kate settles onto the couch, shooting her husband a sideways glance as he pours three generous glasses. “Oh, and by the way,” she says casually, “when you text Coups next, tell him I think he’s an ass.”

“Kate!” you groan, your head snapping up.

“What?” she shrugs. “He is.”

You sigh, turning to Jun. “Please don’t say anything to him. I’m already mortified about the whole situation. Clearly, I misread everything, and there’s no need to harass him about it. Really.” You drop your face into your hands. “In fact, I’d love to just forget it ever happened.”

Kate rubs a soothing hand over your back, but you don’t miss the way she exchanges a knowing look with her husband.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, her voice gentle but far too agreeable. “Whatever you want.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Kate…”

“What?” she says innocently, sipping her wine.

Jun clears his throat, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

They’re definitely going to discuss this later.

Five Days Since Seeing You

Seungcheol completed his interview earlier this week, though the term interview is generous. He was practically a shoo-in for the open position. It was more of a formality, a final box to check before officially signing his contract. And just like that, he became the newest firefighter at Station 17.

The guys have been great; they’re so welcoming and easygoing, treating him like he’s been there for years. The transition has been smooth, the work familiar, the routine comforting.

Everything is going great.

And yet, he can’t shake this feeling weighing him down.

Because as much as he should be excited about this new chapter, all he can think about is how much he wants to tell you about it.

He knows he fucked up by leaving. He was panicking, and in the moment, it felt like the only way out. Staying meant inevitably hurting you in the future. Leaving meant hurting you now. Either way, you’d get hurt. He’d hurt you by breaking a promise, something he can’t afford to do right now. Not with his previously delicate state. Not when he’s just finally started to heal.

With a sigh, he leans back in his truck seat, staring up at the office sign in front of him.

He’s really not looking forward to today.

To finalize his transition onto the team, the fire chief required a mandatory meeting with a therapist, a standard “head check” to ensure he was mentally fit for duty.

Normally, he’d be seeing the station’s staffed therapist, Dr. Xu Minghao, but apparently, his schedule was packed this week. So instead, Seungcheol was assigned an outside source for evaluation.

He runs a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

Of all the things he wanted to do today, sitting in a sterile office, talking about his feelings with a stranger, ranked dead last.

Stepping out of his truck, he locks it and waits for the remaining car to drive by before crossing the road.

“Wow, someone’s gonna slip on that, they should put some salt out,” he says to himself, noticing how icy a section of the sidewalk is, hidden from the sun.

He sighs again, realizing he’s trying to find anything to avoid heading inside.

Get it done and over with ‘Cheol.

With one final groan, he forces himself to step into the office.

The session is more exhausting than he expected. The therapist is sharp, reading between the lines of everything he says, sensing the weight he refuses to fully unpack.

He shifts uncomfortably as she prods at the fire that still haunts him. The way the smoke had swallowed the house. The way the screams had cut off too soon. The way he’d clawed through debris, lungs burning, only to come up short.

She listens, nodding as she takes notes, before finally meeting his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

That’s what everyone tells him.

But he knows better. He wasn’t the one who set the fire, but he could have tried harder, could have pushed his limits just a little more. Maybe then…

His throat tightens.

“You can blame yourself for life, and they’ll still be dead, Seungcheol.” The therapist’s voice is firm but not unkind. “You can either accept that, grieve, and learn how to move forward. Or you can let this tear apart your life. It’s up to you.”

He looks away, jaw clenching.

After a pause, she signs off on his paperwork. “I’m clearing you for duty, but I highly recommend biweekly follow-ups with Dr. Xu.” She meets his eyes again, unyielding. “I’ll reach out to your chief myself, so don’t think you’re getting out of this. You need this, Seungcheol. You need to deal with your PTSD before it deals with you.”

His fingers tighten into fists on his lap. He nods once.

Seungcheol picks up the papers and drags himself out of the therapy room, his mind heavy and clouded, the weight of the session still pressing down on him. He heads toward the reception area, and that’s when he sees you. His heart lurches in his chest.

You’re a few steps ahead outside the door; maybe it’s the way the tension between you both always seems to linger, or maybe it’s just instinct, but something causes you to turn around, and your eyes meet his.

For a split second, time seems to freeze, and Seungcheol’s heart pounds in his ears. He’s not prepared for this. He has no idea how you’ll react, no idea what to say or do. The regret he feels for walking away hits him like a wave, but there’s no time to address it.

As his thoughts spiral, his eyes dart down. He sees the icy patch on the ground just in time, but it’s too late. You’re already stepping onto it, your foot slipping from under you.

Everything happens in slow motion as Seungcheol’s breath catches and his warning dies in his throat as you fall, your body jerking violently before gravity yanks you down. Your head hits the pavement with a sickening crack, and all the air rushes from his lungs.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes, scrambling to your side, hands already reaching for you. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

You blink up at him, dazed, and then like flipping a switch, your eyes harden into sharp slits.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap, shoving his hands off. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”

His stomach twists at your hostility, but he backs off, hands hovering just in case.

You manage to push yourself upright, wincing as you touch the back of your head. Seungcheol clenches his fists to keep from reaching for you again.

Then, as if just processing the situation, you narrow your eyes even further. “What are you even doing here?”

Seungcheol swallows. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not now, not like this. But he can’t exactly lie, not when the evidence is all around him.

“I had an appointment,” he admits, voice low.

Your brows knit together. “Here?”

He nods.

Realization dawns across your face, and for a second your expression softens. Then it’s gone, replaced by guarded skepticism.

“Right,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask if you’re okay, wants to reach for you again, but he can feel the walls between you, thick and impenetrable.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head once more before muttering, “Whatever. See you around, Seungcheol.”

Hearing you use his actual name and not one of your creative nicknames stings more than he’d like to admit. You turn on your heel, walking away from him without a word, leaving Seungcheol standing there in the cold, his heart heavy in his chest. He watches you take a few steps, but then, just like that, you stumble again.

Before you even have a chance to catch yourself, Seungcheol is by your side, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really should get checked out. You could have a concussion, or worse,” he says, his voice more insistent than he intends it to be.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m not going to the ER or urgent care. I’ve got enough on my plate today without wasting hours in a waiting room.”

Seungcheol doesn’t back down. “Then at least come with me to the station. I’ve got guys there with more medical training than I have. They can take a look at you.”

You sigh heavily, frustration clouding your expression. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope,” he says firmly, meeting your gaze, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not leaving my sight. Not until you get checked out.” And even after that.

…

The ride back to the station feels suffocatingly silent. Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale from the tension. His mind is a chaotic whirl of worst-case scenarios; brain bleeds, fractured skulls, aneurysm. Every time he glances at you, his stomach twists in anxiety.

He’s brought you to the station, not because he wants to, but because he has to make sure you’re okay. He can’t live with the idea that something’s wrong, something he missed. The place he’s been trying to settle into now feels like a blur as he focuses only on getting you seen by someone qualified.

“We need someone to look her over right now,” Seungcheol says as he helps you inside, his voice clipped, his urgency clear.

Within seconds, someone rushes over, immediately assessing the situation. He’s dark-haired and familiar, locking eyes with Seungcheol.

“She slipped on an ice patch and hit her head pretty hard. She was unsteady after,” Seungcheol explains, the worry still evident in his tone.

You recognize him immediately, it’s the same man who had been there during your power line incident. He offers a small, knowing smile as he addresses you.

“You must have a thing for danger,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, his voice warm. “Alright, follow my finger for me, yeah?”

You nod, rolling your eyes in a way that lets him know you’re not in the mood for jokes, but you follow the instructions anyway. Mingyu finishes checking you over thoroughly, testing for the usual concussion symptoms. His hands are steady as he works, and he even checks for a few other things just to put Seungcheol’s mind at ease.

Through the whole process, you can feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you, his body tense and watchful as he waits for the all-clear.

“Well, good news, no concussion,” one of the firefighters says, giving you a reassuring smile. “But you’re probably going to have a killer headache for the rest of the day, at least.” He stands up and nods, "I’ll grab you some pain relievers and an ice pack."

You almost beg him not to leave. You don’t know if you can handle being alone with Seungcheol right now. The tension is too much, and there’s so much left unsaid. But for some reason, none of the words feel right.

As the firefighter leaves, you can feel the weight of the silence. You don’t want to, but you have to say something.

“Sorry I was so short with you earlier,” you start, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was surprised to see you again. You left so suddenly, and I... I just assumed you wanted to forget everything that happened between us.”

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, his expression tense and worn. He sighs heavily, his eyes dark with regret. “I didn’t want to leave,” he admits, his voice low and heavy with the burden of unspoken words. “I thought it would be best, though. I just… I didn’t want to make promises to you that I couldn’t keep.” His gaze flickers down to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again, filled with vulnerability and uncertainty. “I’m not sure what I want, and I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

The admission hangs in the air between you. The walls that you built to keep him distant start to crumble, but it’s not enough to tear them down entirely. Not yet.

“I missed you,” Seungcheol says, the words slipping out before he can stop them, vulnerable in a way you haven’t heard from him before.

You meet his eyes, feeling the familiar ache twist in your chest. The urge to reach out, but you hold yourself back.

“Well…what now?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended, unsure where things go from here.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, eyes softening as he looks at you. “I’ll leave it up to you,” he says. “Can I see your phone?”

You hesitate for just a moment, then dig around in your purse, your fingers brushing over the edges of your phone. You unlock it, hand it to him, and watch as he taps away at the screen.

When he hands it back to you, your heart skips a beat.

He’s added himself to your contacts. Cheolie now sits with a flame emoji beside his number. You stare at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips before you can stop it.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You have my number. You can use it if you want...or you can pretend you’ve never met me.” His eyes search yours, a hint of hope behind the layers of uncertainty. “But I’m really hoping it’s the latter.”

You laugh softly, a mix of relief and confusion washing over you. “I don’t think I could forget you, even if I wanted to.” You glance down at your phone again, the flame emoji burning a little brighter than it should.

The sun is shining brightly today, casting a golden glow over the city. Its warmth seeps into your skin as you stroll down the sidewalk, Mika prancing ahead, her tail wagging with every step. The fresh air fills your lungs, momentarily easing the tension that’s been sitting in your chest all week.

It’s been seven days since you last saw Seungcheol. Seven days since he handed you the reins, giving you the choice of whether to reach out.

You haven’t wanted to.

Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You’ve definitely wanted to. You’ve hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d like to admit, especially late at night when the loneliness creeps in.

But texting him just because you miss him doesn’t feel like the right move. You both need a real conversation, and between book cover meetings, deadlines, and endless revisions, the right time just hasn’t come up yet.

You sigh, wondering if you should just break the ice and say hi.

Then, suddenly, your phone rings. Always interrupting your thoughts. You glance at the screen and answer, barely getting out a greeting before a clipped, professional voice cuts through.

"We’d like to see you this afternoon to discuss your book."

You blink, caught off guard. Getting called into your publisher’s office unexpectedly isn’t usually a good sign. Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you push it down. You can handle this.

The only problem? You’re downtown, window shopping with Mika, and you know you can’t bring her inside. One of the admins has a severe dog allergy, and there’s no way they’ll make an exception.

You quickly fire off a message in your friend group chat, hoping someone can watch her for an hour.

Hey, urgent favor! Can anyone watch Mika for a bit? Got a last-minute meeting.

One by one, the replies roll in. Busy, sorry, stuck at work, wish I could.

Ugh. This is not good. You glance down at Mika, who looks up at you with wide, trusting eyes. An idea creeps into your mind—one you immediately push away.

No. You can’t.

Can you?

You chew on your lip, staring at your phone like it holds the answer. After a deep breath, you sigh and send a quick message before you can second-guess yourself.

A quick twenty minutes later, he rounds the corner. Your heart does an embarrassing little flip when you see Seungcheol, who looks just as effortlessly handsome as ever.

Mika notices him at the same time you do, her tail wagging frantically as she yaps in excitement.

“Hi,” he says, stepping close, his lips brushing your cheek in a brief but familiar gesture.

You exhale, tension leaving your body just a little. “I’m so sorry for asking, but thank you for showing up. You’re literally saving the day, thank you so much.”

His eyes soften. “I’ll always show up,” he says simply, taking Mika’s leash from your hand. “Here, let me take her.”

You hesitate for just a second, watching as he effortlessly soothes Mika, scratching behind her ears.

“Good luck in your meeting,” he adds, his voice warm.

As you turn to go, you glance back once more. He’s already walking off with Mika, talking to her like she understands every word. The sight tugs at something deep inside you, something warm, something dangerous.

Shaking your head, willing yourself to focus. You have a meeting to get through. But damn, that man makes it hard to think straight.

You walk the short distance to your publisher’s building, each step making your heart beat a little faster. The elevator ride up feels both too quick and too slow, carrying you to a floor you’ve spent countless hours on.

The receptionist greets you with a warm smile. “Hi, Miss Y/N. Let me gather the team and let them know you’ve arrived.”

You nod, offering a polite smile as she picks up the phone. Within moments, she gestures toward the hall. “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Here goes nothing.

You take a steadying breath and walk down the familiar hallway, knocking lightly before stepping inside. “Hi, everyone, thanks for waiting,” you say, slipping into a chair. Your hands rest on the table, steady despite the nerves buzzing under your skin. “I know we have different ideas about how this book should play out, but as the main creative in the room, I want to emphasize that I want this to work just as much as you all do. So let’s discuss.”

You brace yourself for pushback, but instead, the head editor at the head of the table smiles.

“Thank you for making time to see us in person,” she begins. “We have a very important update to share with you.”

You straighten in your seat, anxiety prickling at your spine.

“We gave the draft of your book to a subgroup of readers to get their initial reactions…” She pauses, dragging out the suspense. “And you were right.”

Your breath catches.

“Almost everyone had the same thing to say, this book is somehow even better than the first. And that’s not something we get to say often.”

For a second, all you can do is blink.

They…loved it?

The weight that’s been pressing on your chest for weeks suddenly lifts, leaving you lightheaded.

You let out a breathless laugh, barely able to contain your shock. “Wait, really?”

The editor nods. “Really. We still have a few minor tweaks to discuss, but overall, the response was overwhelmingly positive.”

Relief floods through you, mixing with a spark of pride. You fought for this version of the story, for your vision, and it paid off.

“Basically, we just want to confirm some plot details and fix potential inconsistencies, and then you’re free to finish writing. The sooner, the better, I might add,” your agent says with a knowing wink, her subtle way of saying she’s proud of you for standing your ground.

You blink, still processing. “So, just to make sure I’m hearing this right… you don’t want me to scrap the chapters and start over?”

“Of course not,” the editor reassures you. “Based on early reviewer notes, we strongly believe sales will surpass expectations.”

She slides a thick stack of papers across the table. It’s filled with feedback, page after page of praise from the test readers.

Your heart pounds as you skim the first note.

If you thought the first book was otherworldly, you’re in for a big surprise with this one. The characters have grown so much, and I truly felt like I was right there in the fight with them.

Another one reads:

I can’t wait for this to be released so I can buy several copies. So dang good.

You exhale sharply, overwhelmed. Looking up, you find a room full of expectant gazes, waiting for your reaction.

“Wow, I—uh.” You shake your head, speechless. “Wow.”

The team chuckles, clearly pleased.

“We figured you’d like to read those,” your agent says warmly. “Feel free to take them home.”

You nod, gripping the papers a little tighter as if they might disappear.

“How about we go through our questions now and then leave you to it?”

You square your shoulders, a fresh wave of determination surging through you. “Sounds good.”

This is really happening.

…

Seungcheol sits on the park bench, one arm draped over the backrest as he scans the path for you. Mika sits obediently at his feet, tail thumping against the ground every so often as she watches the world go by.

He wasn’t expecting your message earlier. After your last conversation at the fire station, he figured you needed space, maybe even a clean break. But when you said you needed help, he didn’t hesitate to figure out what he could do. He would’ve done just about anything.

Watching Mika on his day off hardly counted as a favor. Plus, even if he had been working today, he would’ve just taken her to the station. The guys all love dogs and Mika? She’d eat up the attention.

Then, finally, he sees you.

You’re walking toward him with a bounce in your step, that breathtaking smile stretching across your face. His heart clenches at the sight, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while.

“Hey,” he says, standing up as you approach. “How’d the meeting go?”

Before he can react, you launch yourself into his arms.

He barely has a second to process before instinct kicks in. His arms wrap around you securely, lifting you off the ground like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of you, the way you fit so perfectly in his hold, it makes his chest ache.

“It went so well! Oh my god,” you gush, your excitement bubbling over. “They gave the rough draft to some readers, and they all loved it!”

Your arms tighten around his neck, and he holds you just a little closer, just a little longer, savoring the moment as long as it will last.

“Of course they loved it,” he says, setting you down gently once you finally loosen your grip. His hands linger for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let go.

Mika, not one to be left out, jumps up against your leg, her little paws pressing insistently as if demanding her fair share of attention. You laugh, bending down to scratch behind her ears before turning back to Seungcheol.

“Thanks again for helping out,” you say, sincerity laced in every word. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” he replies easily, then adds with a smile, “I missed my girls.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. You hesitate for a second before asking, “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, giving you his full attention.

“That thing you said the other day—about not being sure what you wanted and not wanting to drag me into it—was that just in general? Like, you weren’t sure about anything in your life? Or were you talking about a relationship specifically?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, clearly impressed by your directness. Then he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Damn, woman. Straight to the point,” he teases, picking up Mika’s leash in one hand. With the other, he reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers effortlessly as the two of you start walking out of the park.

He takes a breath, carefully choosing his words. “At first, I thought it would be better if we just stayed friends,” he admits. “I told myself it’d be easier that way. Safer for the both of us.”

A pause. A small squeeze to your hand.

“But the more I’m around you, the more I realize that’s impossible. I’m so unbelievably attracted to you. And it’s not just that, you see me. And honestly?” He turns to look at you with a knowing smile, his voice dropping into something softer, more certain.

“The thought of you going on more dates with losers who don’t deserve you makes me want to throw hands.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending a shiver up your spine. “Especially when we both know I’m the only one for you.”

He hadn’t exactly planned on being that brutally honest, but if you were going to be vulnerable with that direct of a question, the least he could do was return the favor.

Because the truth is, he knows he’s the only one for you. Just like you’re the only one for him.

“Does hearing me say that freak you out?” he asks, searching your expression, hoping you’re not about to bolt.

“No.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “Actually, it’s relieving to hear.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “I think I’d probably go a little crazy if you started seeing someone else too. I don’t like the idea of you being the hero in someone else’s story.”

His chest tightens, something warm and fierce settling in his ribs.

You reach your apartment building and climb the steps to the front door before turning to face him. “This is me.”

He nods, glancing at Mika, who wags her tail happily.

“Do you want to come up?”

“Just to let Mika inside,” he starts, but then hesitates, shifting on his feet. He rubs the back of his neck before meeting your gaze. “I know it’s last minute, but…I’d love to have dinner with you. Unless you already have plans tonight?”

Hope flickers in his eyes, cautious but steady, and suddenly, you know exactly what your answer is.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, unlocking your door with a growing smile.

Mika bolts inside, immediately rummaging through her toys before dragging her favorite one onto her bed.

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms without hesitation, shutting the door behind him. His eyes scan your apartment; it’s cozy, well-kept yet lived-in, aside from Mika’s spilled toy bin. It’s very you.

Your smile grows even bigger. “Okay, wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”

You disappear into your bedroom, and when you return, you have a cardigan draped over your arm. “Just in case it gets cold later.”

But before he can respond, you close the space between you and press your lips to his.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that since you came to save me earlier today,” you confess against his mouth.

His hands find your waist as he pulls you in for another, this time deeper, slower, and time stops. Nothing else exists in this moment.

His lips move against yours in a way that leaves you breathless, your fingers curling into his shirt to keep yourself upright.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests lightly against yours, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“C’mon,” he says, voice low and warm, “I know a great sushi place.”

Dinner feels easy, like slipping back into something familiar yet exciting. The conversation flows effortlessly as you both catch up.

Seungcheol tells you about his week, most of it spent training, pushing himself harder than ever. “The meeting with the therapist was the last step so I could start going on calls with the team,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed the action. The change in pace will be good for me.”

You nod, genuinely happy for him. “That’s great, Cheol. I can tell you’re excited.”

“I am,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s been a long time coming.”

You take a sip of your drink before offering your own update. “Kate and Jun came home earlier than expected,” you tell him, watching his reaction. “And, uh… Kate might hate you just a little bit.”

His grin falters slightly. “Yeah…she might have sent me a rather interesting text about personally castrating me the next time she sees me if I haven’t apologized to you before she finds me.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I told her I was already working on a plan to win you back.”

“Oh? And what’s the plan?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t spoil the surprise,” he teases. “But let’s just say it involves a lot of groveling.”

You laugh, then add, “Well, don’t forget about Mika. You have to make it up to her too.”

He leans back in his chair, smug. “Oh, Mika already forgave me. We shared some blueberries earlier while you were in your meeting.”

Your mouth falls open in mock betrayal. “She never shares her blueberries with me.”

“What can I say?” He smirks, shrugging. “She and I have an understanding.”

“Unbelievable,” you huff, though the amused smile on your lips betrays your true feelings. You love that he adores Mika just as much as she adores him.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both focus on your meals. The restaurant hums with the growing chatter of other diners, the clinking of glasses adding to the cozy atmosphere. The food is delicious, and the company is even better.

You take a sip of your drink, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “So, I have another question for you.”

Seungcheol lifts his gaze, his eyes warm with curiosity as he picks up another bite. He gives you a small nod, silently encouraging you to continue.

“As you might have figured out by now, I’m the kind of person who needs clarity. If I don’t have all the details, my brain starts filling in the gaps, and that never ends well.” You exhale, rolling your drink between your hands. “I also know it’s probably way too soon to bring this up, but if I don’t, I’ll overthink it until I drive myself crazy.”

Seungcheol finishes chewing, setting his chopsticks down as he leans forward slightly, giving you his full attention. “First of all, you don’t have to hesitate to ask me anything,” he says, voice steady. “I’d rather talk things through than have you overthink and stress yourself out.”

His words soothe some of your nerves, but the anticipation is still there.

Seungcheol tilts his head, his expression soft but attentive. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, picking up on your nervous energy.

You sign, then take the plunge. “Are we…dating now? Or starting a relationship?”

His brows furrow slightly. “Is there a difference?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I mean…yeah, kind of? But I guess it depends on who you ask. Some people see dating as casual, while a relationship is more serious. I just—” you pause, suddenly aware that you’re rambling. “I don’t need some big, grand definition. I just want to know where your head is at. About us.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel your chest tighten. The ‘what are we’ conversation has never gone well in your past relationships, and despite how comfortable Seungcheol makes you feel, the fear of rejection still lingers.

He exhales through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know much about modern dating labels, but if going on dates, wanting to kiss you all the time, and spending as much of my free time in your presence as possible means that we’re dating, then yeah, we’re dating.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“But more than that,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I want us to be something real. I don’t want to waste time playing guessing games or pretending we’re something we’re not. So if you’re asking whether we’re in a relationship?” He tilts his head slightly, considering. “I’d say we’re at the beginning of one, if that’s what you want too.”

The knot in your stomach eases, replaced by something warm and fluttery. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks across your face.

“That’s how I feel too.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go this time.” His grin mirrors yours, warm and full of certainty. Then, after a brief pause, his expression turns just a touch more serious. “Actually, I have a question for you in return.”

You lift your eyes and meet his, intrigued. “Yeah?”

He leans in slightly, his eyes staying locked onto yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

“I’m asking because I take this seriously. And also,” his lips twitch into a smirk, “so that pretty little brain of yours doesn’t fry.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“Well?” He lifts a brow, waiting.

You don’t need to think twice. “Yes, Cheoliepop. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His smirk softens into something sweeter, filled with sincerity and promise. "Good," he says, voice low and warm. But then, his expression shifts as his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, his eyes flicking to the screen. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

He looks up at you, his face tinged with regret. "Sorry, that’s my pager app for the station."

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing what’s coming. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah," he exhales, frustration flickering in his eyes. "I’m really sorry, but I have to head out now. They need a lot of extra hands. Can I call you later?"

You smile, trying to hide the slight pang of disappointment. "It’s okay, really. And yes, please do."

Standing up, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet and leaves it on the table.

"That’s not necessary," you protest, shaking your head. "I’ve got it, go save the day, or night, whatever."

He shoots you a look that says, don't even think about it and shakes his head. "My girl never pays," he says firmly, his grin returning. "Bye, baby."

With a wink, he heads out, leaving you to watch him go, your heart doing a little flutter at the way he treats you.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Mingyu teases as Seungcheol rushes into the locker room, pulling on his gear with impressive speed.

"It’s been 8 minutes since I got paged," Seungcheol shoots back, his voice laced with amusement. "I think that’s pretty damn good, considering." He quickly straps on his helmet. "First one already leave?"

"Yeah, Engine 13 rolled out a few minutes ago. We’re just waiting on Wonwoo and the Rookie. None of us were supposed to be on call tonight, but a shopping center across the city has an unnoticed gas leak that’s now a full-on blaze. Two other stations are already there and called for backup."

Seungcheol nods, tugging the zipper of his overalls up and stepping into his boots. His focus sharpens as he prepares himself mentally for what’s to come.

“There you are,” Mingyu says, pointing at Wonwoo and Vernon as they practically sprint to their lockers.

Yunho, one of the station’s firefighter engineers, whistles as the last of them gear up. "Let’s move, crew!"

Within moments, everyone loads up into the truck. The sirens blare to life as they race toward the fire, the adrenaline already kicking in.

"You haven’t stopped smiling since I got here tonight," Vernon observes, squinting as the red hue from the flashing lights dances across his face. "Just that happy to see me again so soon, or because you finally got cleared earlier today?"

"You wish," Seungcheol teases, bumping his shoulder against Vernon’s, who’s sitting next to him.

Wonwoo tilts his head; thinking as he reads, and recognizes, Seungcheol’s face. "Who is she?"

"Who’s who?" Seungcheol asks, his grin betraying him, making it impossible to hide the obvious answer.

Mingyu laughs, pointing a finger at Seungcheol. "It’s the girl he brought here after she slipped on the ice, right?"

"Ahhh," Wonwoo says with a knowing look, "I thought I sensed something there."

"Yeah, well, we made it official tonight," Seungcheol admits, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

Mingyu kicks Seungcheol’s boot with a grin. "Good for you, man. You deserve to be happy."

Seungcheol smiles, grateful for the support, but his focus shifts as the fire engine pulls up to the scene.

The building is ablaze. Flames roar up to the sky, swallowing the structure whole.

Their fire chief, already standing with personnel from the other stations, breaks away from the group and heads toward the newly arrived team. He quickly briefs the firefighters, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding in front of them. Seungcheol’s focus sharpens as he steps forward, ready to jump into action.

"Everyone who was scheduled to work tonight has been accounted for," the fire chief announces, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. He surveys the scene, the flames still raging high, a testament to the severity of the situation. "The only concern we have now is a potential person who might’ve been waiting on a delivery out back. We have no confirmation, but it’s a possibility. There's a service entrance on the south side of the building, and I want two of you there to check it out immediately."

Seungcheol stands at attention, nodding as he quickly glances at Mingyu and the others. "I’ll go," he volunteers, already moving toward the south side.

"I’ll go with you," Mingyu replies without hesitation, catching up to him as they head for the back of the building.

The chief doesn’t waste time. "The rest of you, let's join the others and focus on knocking down these flames from the front. We need to contain the fire before it spreads further. Get in there and hit it hard."

"Got it, Chief," Wonwoo responds, his voice firm but calm. He slaps his gloves together, ready to move. Vernon, standing beside him, gives a quick thumbs-up, and the pair heads toward the front of the building, their steps steady and synchronized.

The team moves quickly, and efficiently, their skills are evident in every step they take. Seungcheol can feel the adrenaline surge through him as he secures his face mask, the weight of it grounding him, bringing clarity amidst the chaos. The sirens blare in the background, but his focus is on the building ahead; the flames, the smoke, the crackling heat that pulsates from the structure.

As Seungcheol and Mingyu move further into the danger zone, the heat begins to creep toward them as they reach the service door. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to get it open. He kicks it a few times, the metal groaning under the force, and they step inside, immediately hit by a fresh wall of heat and smoke.

The air is thick, stinging with the mixed smell of burning wood, plastic, and metal. Seungcheol’s vision blurs from the smoke, but the fire-resistant gear does its job. His breathing is steady, his focus unbroken. There’s no time for hesitation, no space for doubt. He’s seen fires like this before, and the weight of each decision bears down on him as he forces his body to move faster, his senses heightened to every crackle and shift in the air around him.

"We need to check every side room back here," Mingyu says, his voice low but urgent as they near the entrance. "Make sure if anyone's in there, they know we’re here."

Seungcheol nods, motioning for Mingyu to follow. They’re already scanning for signs of life, flashes of movement, any indication that someone might still be inside. They move swiftly through the dimly lit back hallway, their flashlights piercing the smoke. Each door they pass is carefully checked.

"Nothing yet," Seungcheol mutters, though he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The building creaks ominously, and the heat intensifies as they round the corner.

Mingyu splits off, his figure disappearing into the haze of smoke. Seungcheol’s heartbeat quickens. He knows the risks; fire, smoke inhalation, the unpredictability of a building on the verge of collapse. But this is what he’s trained for.

As he moves deeper into the building, he calls out, "Hello? Is anyone in here? We’re here to help!"

Suddenly, a muffled noise, like someone’s cough, pierces through the roar of the fire. Seungcheol’s heart races.

It sounds like it's coming from the storage room ahead. He quickens his pace, adrenaline surging as he approaches the door to the storage room. It’s slightly ajar, and the sound of coughing grows louder.

"Hello?" Seungcheol calls out, his voice firm, commanding.

A faint reply, weak but unmistakable, echoes back. "Help… please."

The heat intensifies, but he pushes forward, moving debris out of his way. His flashlight cuts through the darkness, landing on shattered glass, scorched furniture, and the faintest outline of a figure near an overturned file cabinet. His pulse spikes.

"Mingyu! I’ve got someone!" Seungcheol shouts into his radio, and then yells out, "Over here!"

Mingyu’s voice crackles through the radio, "Copy that. I’m on my way."

As he gets closer, Seungcheol sees that the person is covered in dust and soot, struggling to breathe. Seungcheol’s heart lurches, but he doesn’t waste time.

He rushes toward the figure, carefully lifting them into his arms, feeling the weight of the person’s body. It’s a woman, unconscious but breathing, her skin warm but not burned. He calls out again, voice urgent, but steady.

“Mingyu, she’s alive! I’m getting her out!"

"Got you," Mingyu replies, quickly appearing from the smoke like a shadow, ready to help. He moves to the other side of her, offering his shoulder for support.

Together, they move swiftly, holding the woman between them as they maneuver through the building, dodging debris that falls from above. The sound of the fire crackling is deafening now, but they don’t stop. There’s no time to waste.

As they approach the door, Seungcheol hears the loud, alarming sound of the building creaking, and the ground shifts beneath his feet. The structure is weakening.

"We need to get out now!" Mingyu says, his voice sharp.

They make it outside just as the first signs of the building’s collapse start to echo through the air. The woman is handed off to the paramedics waiting outside with a stretcher. Seungcheol takes a deep breath, grateful that they made it out in time.

"Nice work, Cheol," Mingyu says with a grin, his voice filled with relief.

Seungcheol nods, wiping sweat from his brow, though it’s hard to tell if it’s from the heat of the fire or the weight of the mission. Despite the exhaustion, there’s a quiet pride in Seungcheol’s chest. She’s alive.

The team is still working at the front, battling the flames as the building begins to crumble. Seungcheol and Mingyu make their way back, and the fire chief nods in approval. Seungcheol lets out a long breath, his body still humming with adrenaline.

“Good work,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You guys did great.”

Seungcheol doesn’t have time for celebration. His eyes are already scanning the burning building, making sure his team is safe and the fire is under control.

But as the flames begin to die down, and the last of the smoke starts to clear, Seungcheol allows himself a brief moment of relief. They’ve done their job. They’ve saved a life tonight. And that’s what matters most.

“Can we get a table on the patio? It’s too nice to be stuck inside,” Kate asks the hostess as you both approach the cute, bistro-style restaurant. The woman nods with a polite smile, grabbing two menus before leading you to a cozy table in the fenced-in patio area.

The space is adorned with string lights and various colored potted plants, offering the perfect blend of a trendy atmosphere and eclectic style. From here, you have a prime view of the street, ideal for people watching as pedestrians stroll past, some lost in conversation, others in a hurry.

“This was a great idea,” you say as you settle into your chair. “I’m starving.”

Kate grins, flipping open her menu. “I’m just glad you were free for lunch today. Feels like we’ve barely had time to breathe since getting back.” She sighs, leaning back slightly. “I can’t believe it’s already been almost a month since the heart attack. It feels like everything’s been stuck on fast-forward.”

You nod, completely understanding where she’s coming from. It’s been a nonstop whirlwind since everything happened. It’s nice to take a break and relax, even if it’s just for an hour.

The waitress arrives with two glasses of water, the condensation beading along the sides as she sets them down. “Are you ready to order?” she asks with a friendly smile.

After quickly scanning the menu one last time, you both place your orders, opting for fresh, light dishes that match the warm afternoon. The waitress jots everything down before disappearing inside, leaving you and Kate to continue your conversation.

Your talk meanders effortlessly from one topic to the next; updates on work, the latest drama in your friend group, and Kate’s lingering frustration over unpacking all her things after getting home. It’s easy, natural, the way it always is with her.

When the food finally arrives, Kate practically beams. “God, this looks divine,” she says, wasting no time in picking up her sandwich and taking a big bite. Her eyes flutter shut briefly in appreciation before she gives you a satisfied nod of approval.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you eat, occasionally breaking it to point out stylish outfits worn by pedestrians passing by. For the first time in a while, life is going pretty well.

Excuse yourself for a bathroom visit, you make your way inside, relieved to find no line. After washing your hands and taking a deep breath, you head back toward the patio, ready to enjoy the rest of your lunch.

Just as you step outside, a tall figure moves in front of you, blocking your path. You stop short, and as you lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, your stomach twists with recognition.

Daniel. Your ex.

“Hi,” he greets smoothly, a smile on his lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

You arch a brow, unimpressed. “Wish I could say the same,” you deadpan, stepping to the side in an attempt to move past him.

He shifts just as quickly, blocking you again.

From your table, Kate catches sight of the interaction, her expression hardening as she starts to push back her chair. You give her a quick shake of your head, silently telling her you’ve got this.

She hesitates but stays put, eyes locked on Daniel like she’s already planning how to rip into him if he tries anything.

“About?” You scoff, already exasperated. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He exhales like he’s been rehearsing this moment. “I miss you. I wish things could go back to how they were.”

A humorless laugh escapes you. “Oh, you mean when I was blissfully unaware of your cheating? When I spent a week crying after I caught you? Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ve wasted enough time on you.”

You shift your gaze away, your patience wearing thin. That’s when you spot a familiar figure across the street, broad shoulders and that confident stride you’d recognize anywhere.

Seungcheol.

He’s just stepped out of an apartment complex, following a couple of other firemen. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his head lifts, scanning the area. The second he spots you, a smile tugs at his lips. You wave, instantly tuning out whatever nonsense Daniel is still rambling about.

Seungcheol’s smile falters as his eyes flick to the man standing a little too close to you. His jaw ticks, his easy going demeanor shifting into something more guarded. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the tension; your standoffish stance, Daniel’s pleading expression. Seungcheol can tell there’s history there, and though he trusts you, a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest.

Without hesitation, he starts making his way over.

“Hi, baby,” Seungcheol grins, leaning over the short patio fence to kiss you. He’ll admit he might have lingered a little longer than necessary, just to make a point. A point that says, She’s taken. Move along.

His lips press firmly against yours, warm and sure, the faint scent of smoke clinging to his uniform. It’s familiar, comforting. When you finally pull back, you glance around only to realize Daniel is gone. Good.

Seungcheol follows your gaze, catching sight of your ex retreating into the restaurant. His brow lifts in silent question, but he doesn’t push. He knows you’ll tell him if it matters.

Instead, he asks. “Can I come over later?”

“Sure,” you muse, tilting your head with a playful smirk. “But only if you bring dinner. I’ll take care of dessert.” Your voice is light, but the meaning behind your words is unmistakable, the teasing glint in your eyes makes sure of that.

Seungcheol’s gaze darkens just a fraction, his smirk growing. “Dangerous offer, baby,” he murmurs, voice dipping low enough that only you can hear. “Deal.”

Kate clears her throat, dragging his attention away from you. He finally acknowledges her with a lazy grin. “Hi, Kate. Bye, Kate.”

She waves, practically buzzing with amusement. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here for the entertainment. Five stars, by the way.”

The firetruck rounds the corner from where it must’ve been parked, sirens off but lights still flashing. Mingyu leans halfway out of the passenger-side window, grinning like he just caught Seungcheol red-handed.

“Come on, lover boy! We’ve got another call!” he shouts, his voice carrying across the street.

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Guess I gotta go,” he says, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Stay safe,” you murmur, already missing him.

“Always.” He flashes you one last smile before jogging toward the truck and hopping in. The moment the door shuts, Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at him, and the truck pulls away, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a silly smile.

Seungcheol shows up at your doorstep with burgers and fries, the scent of crispy, salty goodness filling the air. Your plan for the night had been simple; share dinner, maybe find a movie to watch, and ease into the evening.

But the second you see him, every ounce of restraint flies out the window. His white tee hugs his broad chest, jeans slung low on his hips, and hair slightly tousled from the night air.

You barely give him a chance to say hello before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside, your lips finding his the moment the door clicks shut. He lets out a surprised chuckle, but quickly recovers, kissing you back with just as much urgency.

The forgotten bag of food lands on the table as he wraps his arms around you, allowing you to guide him toward the bedroom. The second the back of his knees hit the mattress, he pulls you down with him, flipping you underneath him with ease.

“So much for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning.

You tug him closer, breathless. “You can have me first. Then the burger.”

Luckily, he feels the same way. This moment is long overdue.

Seungcheol’s hands explore your body with a slow, tantalizing touch. His fingers trailing over your skin as he eases your shirt over your head. His gaze darkens with desire as he drinks you in before shrugging off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles you adore.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, pressing against the firm warmth of his skin. He shivers under your touch, his breath hitching as your fingers trace over the hard lines of his body, mapping every ridge and dip like you want to memorize him.

He rolls his hips into yours, his voice thick with want. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give you exactly that.”

Your breath hitches as heat pools low in your stomach. “I want you to kiss me,” you murmur, guiding his hand lower before whispering, “here.”

His darkened eyes flick up to yours, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “My pleasure.”

He tugs your pants down with ease, eyes darkening when he sees the damp spot already forming on your panties. His fingers trace over the fabric, teasing, before applying the slightest pressure. The friction makes you gasp, your body arching toward him on instinct.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You want me to taste you that bad?”

Your desperate nod is all the encouragement he needs. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he slides them down, groaning at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit. The first stroke makes you shudder, a whimper past your lips.

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. “So perfect,” he praises, spreading you open. His tongue works expertly, flicking, circling, teasing. The pressure of his nose against your clit makes your thighs tremble as he devours you like he was made for this.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, your back arching as pleasure coils tighter and tighter. “God, that feels so good, Cheol,” you moan, thighs threatening to clamp around his head.

But he doesn’t let up. Not when he knows you’re close, not when he’s determined to make you unravel beneath him, again and again.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. The vibration sends a jolt through your body, and you can’t hold back the broken moan that escapes your lips. Your hips roll against his mouth, desperate, chasing the pleasure that’s building so intensely it’s almost unbearable.

And then, pure, white-hot bliss. The coil inside you snaps, pleasure rippling through your body like a shockwave. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and his name spills from your lips like a prayer.

But Seungcheol isn’t done.

He holds you in place, hands gripping your hips as his tongue continues its merciless assault. He’s ravenous, devouring every wave, every twitch of your body, every moan that falls from your parted lips.

It’s overwhelming, too much. But somehow not enough, and just as you try to catch your breath, another orgasm crashes over you, even more intense than the last. Your body clenches, vision goes dark for a moment as you cry out his name. “Seungcheol!” you gasp, your voice wrecked from pleasure.

When you finally go limp, your body spent and trembling, Seungcheol presses one last kiss against your inner thigh before resting his head there. His dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with emotion. His nose and chin glistening with your release as he smirks, his voice husky and dripping with satisfaction.

“You’re unreal.”

He leans up, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and intoxicating that it leaves you breathless. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, only adding to the fire burning between you. Arousal thrums through your veins as you reach between your bodies, palming his stiff length through the rough denim. The heat of him, even through the fabric, makes you ache with need.

“My turn,” you purr, pushing him back until he’s sitting up, your mouth watering at the thought of taking him deep.

But Seungcheol only grins, dark and full of mischief, before flipping you effortlessly onto your back again, caging you beneath him. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, his voice low and dripping with promise. “Tonight is all about you. I’ve got some making up to do, remember?”

His lips find yours once more, kissing you slow and deep before trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a scorching path in his wake. When he reaches your chest, his hands skillfully slip behind your back, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion.

He groans as your bare skin is finally revealed to him, his gaze darkening with hunger. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before taking one of your hardened peaks into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue swirls around you, sucking just enough to make you arch into him, a needy whimper escaping your lips.

His free hand slides down your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin as he worships you, intent on unraveling you piece by piece.

You grab his arm just before his fingers can slip between your legs, your grip tight, your breathing uneven. “As much as I’d love to feel your fingers there,” you pant, your voice desperate, “I need your cock in me before I lose my mind.”

Seungcheol hesitates, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. His mouth opens, as if he’s about to protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Please, Seungcheol,” you plead, your voice dripping with need. “Fuck me. I need you so bad. I’m going crazy.”

His grin is slow and teasing, his dark eyes flickering with amusement and pure desire. “You’re supposed to make me work for it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, savoring your impatience.

“Fuck that,” you whimper, your hands already undoing his pants, shoving them down his hips with urgency. “I already know it’s going to be so good, and I can’t wait any longer. I’ve needed you since that night in the hot tub. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Your confession makes his cock throb painfully. The memory of that night, your soaked skin, the way you had looked at him, only fueling his desire. He swears under his breath, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself between them.

He strokes himself twice, eyes never leaving yours, drinking in the way you shudder with anticipation beneath him. “I’ve needed you since then too,” he groans, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you just for a second longer.

Then, without further hesitation, he thrusts into you, burying himself in one deep, slow stroke.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he groans, voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as your walls clench around him. "I promise."

“You stretch me so fucking good, oh my god,” you moan, your head tilting back against the pillows as he pulls out just enough to slam back into you, filling you to the hilt.

Seungcheol groans, the sound guttural, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body takes him so perfectly. So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect. His hands roam over your curves before gripping your hips, using them as leverage to thrust even deeper.

The flames between you grow hotter, consuming you both as your bodies move in perfect sync like you were made for this, made for each other.

His breathing is heavy, lips brushing against your jaw before he captures your wrists in one strong hand, pinning them above your head against the mattress. “Hold still for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with command and lust.

You whimper at the sudden control, your walls clenching around him in response. “Fuck,” he hisses, his grip tightening just slightly as his hips snap against yours with increasing intensity.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body arching beneath him. The slick sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the symphony of your moans and his groans.

His free hand trails down your body, his fingertips ghosting over your skin before pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles.

“Cheol—” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils tight in your core, the tension threatening to snap at any moment.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his lips brushing over your parted ones. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your body obeys his command, trembling as pleasure surges through you. Your walls tighten around him, milking every inch of his cock as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Seungcheol groans, his grip tightening on your wrists as he slows his thrusts, guiding you through the aftershocks, keeping you grounded while you catch your breath.

He watches you, completely wrecked beneath him, your body glowing with satisfaction, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale. And yet, the way your eyes meet his, filled with hunger, tells him you're not done.

“Come in me,” you whisper, voice dripping with desperation, fingers curling into his biceps. “I’m all yours to claim.”

His body tenses at your words, his restraint snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself inside you. The heat of his release floods through your center, your walls fluttering around him as he spills every drop.

He collapses over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, pressing his forehead against yours as he tries to steady his breath. A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in, deeply kissing you.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, possessive.

You hum in agreement, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Yours.”

You lay there together, limbs tangled, basking in the lingering warmth of each other's bodies. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. And the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing is the only sound filling the quiet. Seungcheol presses a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring unspoken emotions into it.

Eventually, he pulls away with a soft sigh and sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. He disappears into your bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth, kneeling between your legs. His touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully wipes away his release spilling from your folds, making sure you’re comfortable before tending to himself.

You watch him, your heart swelling at the quiet intimacy of it all.

When he’s finished, you sit up slowly, a blissed-out smile stretching across your face. “That,” you begin, “Was so worth the wait.”

He chuckles, tossing the washcloth aside. “Glad to know I met expectations.”

“Please,” you snort, standing to grab a clean pair of panties. You swipe his discarded t-shirt off the floor and throw it on, the hem skimming your upper thighs. “You surpassed every single one.”

Seungcheol smirks, eyes trailing your frame as you move around the room. You catch his gaze and raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muses, leaning back on his hands. “Just admiring the view.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you grab his hand and tug him toward the kitchen. “Come on, I need a french fry in my life. You wanna eat out here, or should I bring it back to bed?”

“You can’t eat in bed,” he scolds lightly.

You shrug. “I do it all the time.”

He shakes his head but follows you out anyway, pulling his boxers back on.

Once the burgers and fries are plated, you both settle on the couch. You hand him a plate before digging in, barely pausing between bites. Seungcheol watches you with amusement, but when you’re not looking, he sneakily drops a fry down for Mika, who’s curled up in her favorite blanket. The pup wags her tail and happily munches on her secret treat.

“Post-sex burgers kinda slap, I’m not gonna lie,” you say, taking another big bite.

Seungcheol doesn’t respond right away, too busy watching you with an expression so soft it borders on devastating. He knows he’s in deep, he has been since the moment he met you. Loving you this much is dangerous, but fuck, it’s so worth the inevitable heartache and future pain he’s setting himself up for.

The following morning, Seungcheol stirs awake at the faint rustling of movement beside him. Still half-asleep, he instinctively reaches out to pull you back into his arms. It’s way too early to be getting up, but his hands find empty sheets. His brows furrow as he cracks his eyes open, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

You're standing by the dresser, slipping on a pair of leggings, your hair thrown up into a clip.

“Good morning, Seungshine.”

His heart swells at the nickname, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Mmm, morning. Going somewhere, gorgeous?” His deep, raspy morning voice sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Just a quick run to the pharmacy. I’ll be back in a few.” You lean down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “Don’t get up.”

He hums against your lips but narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What for?”

You straighten, grinning. “Well, if you recall, we ended the night with a big bang, no puns intended. But I don’t take my birth control as consistently as I should, so just to be safe, I’m grabbing a Plan B.”

The realization hits him like a freight train. His eyes widen as he sits up abruptly, pushing the covers off. “Shit—I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask last night.” He scrambles for his jeans. “I’ll come with you—and I’m paying for it. Obviously.”

You chuckle at his flustered state, shaking your head. “Cheol, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he insists, standing and pulling his jeans on. “That should’ve been a conversation before we went at it like animals.” He runs a hand across his face, exhaling sharply. “I feel like an asshole.”

You step closer, moving his hands to cup his face in yours. “You’re not an asshole. We got caught up in the moment, it happens. But we’re handling it now, and that’s what matters.”

He studies you for a moment before sighing, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Still. I wanna come with you.”

You arch a brow. “You sure you wanna be seen in public, bright and early, in the pharmacy aisle buying Plan B?”

He deadpans, “I’m a firefighter, babe. I run into burning buildings for a living. You think I’m scared of the contraceptive aisle?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fair enough, but you really don’t need to come. I begged for it. And, honestly? I’d beg you to come inside me again because that was so fucking hot.” You give him a teasing grin before adding, “But yeah, just to be safe, I’ll pick one up. Don’t worry, babe.” You flash him a reassuring smile. And the truth is, you’re not upset about it. Shit happens. You wouldn’t change a thing about last night.

But Seungcheol’s face softens with concern, and he shakes his head. “It’s not right, no. If I wasn’t in such a rush last night, I would’ve remembered the condoms in my wallet. But I didn’t, so I’m gonna take care of this and fix it.” His voice carries a mix of guilt and determination, and you can see it’s eating him up inside.

You gently touch his arm, trying to ease his frustration. “Cheol, seriously. There’s nothing to fix. It’s okay.”

His jaw tightens, frustration falling across his features. The sound of him exhaling sharply fills the room. He feels like he’s messed up, and it’s killing him. But then, seeing the look on your face, he softens, his anger shifting to self-recrimination. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I don’t mean to argue. I’m just frustrated with myself. I should’ve used protection, that won’t happen again.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his stiffened posture. He doesn’t immediately return the hug, his muscles tight with guilt.

“Cheol, get out of your head,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his back. “We’re good. I’m not mad at you. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Sorry,” he breathes out, his voice full of self-disappointment. “I don’t like messing up.” He pulls away slightly, looking at you with a half-hearted smile. “I’m gonna head to the gym and blow off some steam before my shift. Call me later?”

You nod, offering him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course.”

He gives you one last, lingering kiss on the forehead before grabbing his gym bag and heading for the door. His footsteps fade, but the weight of his thoughts lingers in the room. You just hope he knows that everything is okay.

…

Seungcheol arrives at the station early, eager to clear his mind with a good workout. As soon as he walks in, he spots Vernon already warming up, and they exchange a quick greeting before diving into their routines. Seungcheol starts with his usual heavy dumbbell reps, the weight feels almost too light as his mind drifts away from the frustration of earlier.

His focus sharpens as he moves onto sprints on the treadmill, feeling the burn in his legs, and finally finishes with some deadlifts. Each rep clears a bit more of the tension from his shoulders, his thoughts slowly settling into a rhythm.

It’s only when he checks his phone to switch the song playing through his headphones that his heart drops. There’s a text from you, simple and straightforward: Got the pill, already took it.

The frustration from earlier resurfaces instantly, a knot tightening in his chest. His jaw clenches as he finishes the last set of deadlifts, his mind whirring with thoughts of how to fix things, but also realizing that fixing things isn't always the solution.

“Dang, dude,” Vernon whistles from across the room, clearly noticing the shift in Seungcheol’s demeanor. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Seungcheol lets out a frustrated breath, wiping his face with a towel before flinging it over his shoulder. “You could say that,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Y/N and I argued this morning. She wasn’t having it when I tried to fix something, solve a problem, whatever you wanna call it.”

Vernon raises an eyebrow, setting down his weights. “Oof. Sounds like you’ve met your match, man. Mr. Fix-It’s getting his ass handed to him by Miss Independent, huh?”

Seungcheol runs his hand across his neck, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “Yeah, and it’s infuriating sometimes. She’s clumsy by nature, which I absolutely adore, but she won’t ask for help, even when I offer. I don’t mind helping. I want to. If a problem arises I want to jump in and solve it. Hell, I’d love to do anything to make her day easier, but she just won’t let me. It drives me crazy. I’m trying to be a good boyfriend, but she’s just...so stubborn.”

Vernon chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s all women for you.”

Seungcheol shoots him a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vernon leans against the wall, looking over at him with a knowing smirk. “You’re learning the hard way. It’s like, no matter how much you want to help, they’ll still want to do it themselves. It’s part of the charm...and the frustration.”

Seungcheol snorts, running a hand through his hair again. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s like she wants to carry the weight of the world herself, even if I’m standing right here, ready to take some of it.”

Vernon pats him on the back, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “Dude, you’re gonna have to accept that. It’s just how it goes. Just try not to lose your mind over it. You’re not gonna win this one, so don’t let it eat you up.”

Seungcheol nods, letting the advice sink in. Maybe Vernon’s right, maybe this is just one of those things he has to let go of. But damn, it’s hard when all he wants to do is help, especially when he’s so used to fixing everything around him.

Your latest meeting with your publisher went better than you could’ve ever imagined. Over coffee downtown, she told you the great news: your editor approved the final draft of your novel, and it's officially being sent to the press.

In three months, thousands of copies will be printed, bound, and sent out to stores across the world. The feeling of seeing your work finally come to life is overwhelming, and you can't wait to share the news with Seungcheol.

You rush to the station, eager to surprise him. As soon as you walk in, you spot the sweet receptionist at her desk and flash her a bright smile.

“Hey, Y/N! Seungcheol’s in the garage.”

“Thanks!” you call back, your excitement bubbling up as you head toward the garage.

“Mika!” comes the familiar chorus of voices from the station’s crew. Everyone loves your husky, and she loves their attention. She prances around, soaking up the affection before running straight for Wonwoo, ready for a round of frisbee. He takes her out back, tossing the frisbee with a grin as she happily chases it down.

You walk into the garage just as Seungcheol is finishing up something on a truck. Before you can get his attention, he’s already spotted you. He moves swiftly, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. His lips find the spot just below your ear, planting a soft kiss there.

“What do I owe the pleasure?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “I didn’t think I’d see you until after I finished this 48-hour shift.”

You can’t help but laugh, the happiness of the moment bubbling out of you. “Well, I couldn’t wait to see you. I have some huge news!” You tilt your head to catch his gaze. His smile widens at the sound of your enthusiasm.

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly intrigued.

“The book’s officially being printed,” you say, the excitement rushing out in a stream of words. “They approved it, Seungcheol. In three months, it’ll be out in stores!”

Seungcheol freezes, his arms tightening around you as the realization sinks in. “No way.” His voice is filled with awe. “You did it, Y/N.” He turns you around, looking you in the eyes, a thrilled smile on his face. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You beam, feeling the weight of everything you’ve worked for finally come to fruition. His words only make it feel more real. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. You’re the one who told me to write for myself.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, his hands sliding down to rest at your waist. “So, what’s the next step? Are you gonna do a book tour or something?”

You shrug playfully. “I’m still figuring that part out, but for now, I just wanted to celebrate with you and share the news.”

His grin is sinful, full of mischief and raw desire. “Well, I think I know the perfect way to celebrate.”

Before you can ask what he means, Seungcheol takes your hand and tugs you between two fire trucks, tucking you into the dimly lit space where the shadows provide just enough secrecy. Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his expression. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire body practically radiating heat.

The second you’re in position, he crashes his lips to yours His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper against his mouth. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, tilting your head to take even more of you.

Then, using his pure strength, he lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the cool, hard metal of the fire truck. You gasp at the contrast between his burning body and the icy steel. His hips press between your legs, and you can feel him, thick and heavy, even through the layers separating you.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groans, his voice rough with restraint.

Your head spins. “Here?” you whisper, glancing to the side, your nerves and excitement blending together.

He pulls back slightly, his breath fanning over your lips. “Only if you want to.”

God, it’s reckless. You could get caught. But something about the idea of Seungcheol taking you right here, in the middle of his workplace, with his crew just yards away, has arousal pooling between your thighs. It’s like a scene ripped straight from one of your books, and you can’t help but bite your lip, nodding frantically.

A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”

His hands slide under your skirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs before pushing the fabric up to bunch around your hips. You shiver in anticipation as he unzips his pants, the sound sharp in the quiet space. Your breath stutters when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and tucking them into one of his pockets.

The cool air hits your damp heat before his fingers find you. He lets out a low curse. “So wet for me already.” His voice is pure sin, dripping with desire.

Then, he reaches into another zipper pocket, pulling out a small foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, grinning as he rolls the condom onto his aching length.

“As wild and unpredictable as you are, I’ve learned my lesson.” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are dark. “So, I always keep a condom on hand. This is my surprise sex stash.” He taps the pocket he pulled it from.

A breathy laugh escapes you, the absurdity of it making your stomach flutter. “That’s so hot, but also so funny.”

He chuckles, “What can I say? I like to be prepared.” Your laughter quickly turns into soft mewls as he rubs his cock through your folds.

And then, without warning, he thrusts into you, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that has you gasping against his lips.

He grits his teeth, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out inside you. His breath comes out in a ragged groan as he mutters, “Always a perfect fucking fit.” The praise sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your walls fluttering around him in response.

Then he starts to move. Hard, fast, relentless. His hips snap into yours with an intensity that has your head falling back against the truck, the metal vibrating with each powerful thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, every nerve in your body is on fire, and you can do nothing but take it, your body molding to his as he fucks you into oblivion.

The sounds of your wetness mixed with his grunts echo dangerously in the garage, and a sudden thrill shoots through you at the realization of how exposed you are. Anyone could walk in. Any second now, someone could round the corner and—

A strangled moan tears from your lips, loud and uncontrollable.

Seungcheol reacts instantly, his free hand flying up to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds threatening to give you away. His other hand remains firm on your waist, guiding your movements as he thrusts deeper, angling perfectly to brush against that sweet, devastating spot inside you.

“Shh, baby,” he rasps against your ear, voice thick with arousal and amusement. “Unless you want them to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

His words send a violent shudder through your body, your nails sinking into his shoulders as you cling to him. His pace only grows rougher, more desperate, like he needs to push you over the edge. And with the way his cock is slamming into you, dragging against your most sensitive spot with every stroke, you know you won’t last much longer.

Your muffled whimpers vibrate against his palm, your body trembling as that familiar coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.

“Fuck,” he grunts, thrusts growing erratic. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You’re right there, teetering on the edge, the tension in your core threatening to snap at any second.

And then—he thrusts particularly deep, his name slipping from your lips against his palm as you shatter around him, your entire body convulsing as pleasure washes over you in overwhelming waves.

Seungcheol tenses, a deep groan tearing from his throat as his release crashes over him. His hips stutter, pressing flush against you as he spills into the condom, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs.

His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “I swear, it’s better every time.” He kisses you, slow and deep, as if trying to make the moment last a little longer.

Gently, he lowers you back onto your shaky legs, steadying you with firm hands as he smooths down your skirt to cover your still-throbbing core. You blink up at him, dazed, before holding out a hand expectantly. “My panties?”

Seungcheol’s grin turns downright wicked as he pulls his pants back up around his hips. “Nope. Those are mine now.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Consider them a souvenir.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Fine. But only because my legs are too wobbly to fight you for them.” You shake your head, still trying to regain some semblance of composure. “How the hell did you even hold me up for that long? Guess I gotta start calling you Swole Cheol.”

He throws his head back in laughter, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Damn right, baby. Now, let’s get you out of here before someone starts wondering why you look so thoroughly fucked.”

He watches you walk away, a satisfied smirk lingering on his lips as you glance back with a knowing look. Once you're out of sight, he releases a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before making his way to the locker room.

With a sigh, he disposes of the soiled condom, shaking his head at himself. You’re insatiable, Choi Seungcheol. But who could blame him when it came to you? His body already aches for another round, the memory of your warmth and the way you came undone around him burned into his mind.

Unfortunately, that will have to wait until tonight. For now, a very cold shower is in order.

After finishing his grueling 48-hour shift, Seungcheol finally gets to clock out. But instead of heading straight home to crash, he shoots you a text.

Come over?

You don’t hesitate. Obviously.

You haven’t seen his place yet, and curiosity buzzes through you as you drive over. When you arrive, he’s already waiting at the door, wearing nothing but gray sweats you silently pray he never gets rid of, and a tired smile that still somehow makes your stomach flip.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, stepping aside to let you and Mika in. His place is warm and inviting, all dark wood and soft lighting, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

You barely get a chance to take in your surroundings before he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you slow and deep like he’s been starved for you.

You don’t make it past the couch. Neither do your clothes.

He lays you down, hovering over you, taking his time worshipping your body. It’s sweet and slow, his lips tracing every inch of your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he sinks into you, rocking into you with a steady rhythm that has your toes curling.

Then, for the next round, he carries you to his bed. Where you take control by straddling him, rolling your hips just right. His hands roam your body, his praises spilling from his lips like he can’t help himself. “You ride me so fucking well,” he groans, his grip tightening as he watches you fall apart above him.

And just when he thinks he’s spent, you pull him into the shower, pressing your chest against the cool tile as he takes you from behind, water cascading over both of you.

By the time you tumble back into his bed, tangled in the sheets, your limbs are heavy with exhaustion. Seungcheol pulls you onto his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

He presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hum sleepily, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “At least you’ll go happy.”

With a breathy chuckle, he tightens his arms around you. Sleep takes him quickly, and you follow soon after, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

You sleep soundly for the next couple of hours, wrapped in warmth, the steady rise and fall of Seungcheol’s chest beneath your cheek lulling you into the deepest rest you’ve had in weeks. His scent surrounds you; fresh soap, faint cologne, something inherently him.

But then, movement stirs beside you.

A restless twitch. A sharp inhale. A quiet, broken, “No.”

Your brows knit together as you lift your head, immediately sensing the distress rolling off him in waves. His muscles tense beneath your palm, his fingers gripping the sheets as his breaths grow shallow. Another boom cracks through the night, lightning flashing across the room, illuminating the crease in his brow, and the tremble in his lips.

Then he whispers it, his voice thick with anguish.

"Please don’t be dead."

Your heart clenches. You realize what’s happening in an instant, he’s trapped in another nightmare, reliving something dark, something that still haunts him.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur softly, placing your palm over his racing heart. “You’re dreaming. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

But then another crack of thunder rattles the walls, and his body jerks violently as his eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. His breath comes in quick, panicked gasps, and for a moment, he’s not here. He’s somewhere else, somewhere terrible.

“Cheol, it’s me,” you say quickly, sitting up beside him. “I’m here.”

His gaze darts around the room as if searching for danger, for confirmation that the horrors of his dream weren’t real. Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky, and you see it, the sheer panic in his eyes, the way his entire frame trembles.

Without hesitation, you press your hands over his ears, shielding him from the roaring thunder. He lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans into your touch. Slowly, gently, you guide him back down onto the bed, keeping your hands in place, anchoring him.

“It’s just a storm,” you whisper. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He listens, inhales deeply, exhales slower. Again. And again. Until the tremors in his body ease, until his chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm.

Minutes pass before his grip on you loosens, before his exhausted body succumbs to sleep once more. You stay like that, curled against him, watching over him, your fingers trailing soothing patterns on his skin.

…

The morning light filters softly through his windows, casting a golden glow over Seungcheol’s bare shoulders as he sits across from you at the kitchen table, fingers curled around his coffee mug. The night’s storm has long since passed, but the weight of it still lingers in the air between you.

You take a careful sip, watching him as Mika eats the last of her breakfast. He hasn’t said much since waking up, just his usual quiet “Morning, gorgeous” and a kiss to your forehead before brewing your coffee exactly how you like it. But there’s a tension in his shoulders, a faraway look in his eyes that hasn’t faded since last night.

You set your mug down. “You were really freaked out last night,” you say gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s okay if you aren’t ready to.”

He exhales through his nose, his grip on the mug tightening. You see the war happening in his head, his instinct to protect you from the darkness in him battling against his desire to be honest with you. To not keep things hidden.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“That storm...the thunder, the lightning, it took me back,” he admits, voice rough. “There was this wildfire a few months ago. A lightning strike started it. We had barely any warning before it spread out of control.” He pauses, jaw tensing. “A family refused to evacuate. I begged them to go, promised I’d do everything I could to protect their home. But the wind...it changed direction so fast, faster than anyone could’ve predicted.” His knuckles whiten around his cup. “By the time we got back there...it was too late.”

Your heart clenches at the raw anguish in his voice, the way his eyes flicker with a pain so deep it’s nearly unbearable to witness.

“They didn’t make it?” you ask softly.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “No one did,” he murmurs. “When we found them, they were still holding onto their baby.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I broke my promise.”

Tears prick your own eyes at the thought, at the unbearable weight he’s carried with him all this time. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

“Cheol,” you whisper, squeezing gently. “You did everything you could.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, red-rimmed and filled with regret and guilt. “Did I?” he rasps. “Because I should’ve convinced them. I should’ve been able to make them leave. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“They chose to stay,” you remind him softly.

“They didn’t know any better,” he counters, voice thick with guilt. “They were scared, and I should’ve—” He stops, dragging a hand down his face as he blinks back the tears threatening to spill. “I live with that every damn day. Knowing I couldn’t save them. That I had to carry their bodies out instead.”

The silence between you is heavy, but you don’t rush to fill it. Instead, you shift your chair closer, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffens for half a second before melting into you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“You carry so much,” you murmur, fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. “More than anyone ever should. But you’re human, Cheol. You can’t save everyone.”

He exhales shakily, nodding against you. “I just wish I could.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “And that’s what makes you you.”

For the first time that morning, he lets himself break. And you hold him through it all.

You refuse to let him go, arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders as he holds you just as fiercely. His breath is steadying now, though his heartbeat still pounds beneath your fingertips. You don’t say anything; just stay there, grounding him, letting him know he’s not alone.

Then, a sharp alarm cuts through the air. Seungcheol’s phone buzzes insistently against the table, and the moment ends. He exhales deeply, hesitating for just a second before he pulls back to check the screen. His brows knit together, and his entire demeanor shifts.

“I gotta go,” he murmurs, jaw tightening. “House fire.” Uncanny timing.

His movements are swift as he grabs his keys, slipping on his jacket quickly after. He kisses you once, lingering just a little longer than usual, before crouching to ruffle Mika’s fur. “You stay here and keep your mom company, okay?” The husky wags her tail, oblivious to the tension in the air.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” he tells you, pausing at the door. “Though...I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something heavy. Like a part of him isn’t sure he’ll be back at all.

“That’s okay, I have to pick up my new car at some point today. Be safe,” you whisper, and he nods before he’s out the door, disappearing into the early morning light.

When Seungcheol arrives at the station, the usual buzz of activity is nowhere to be found. Instead, the air is thick, weighed down by everyone’s mood. They move in near silence, expressions grim as they gear up. There’s no room for jokes or casual banter this morning.

The fire must be bad.

It doesn’t take long before the trucks are roaring down the streets, sirens wailing. Seungcheol watches the city blur past through the windshield, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the strap of his harness. His mind drifts back to the wildfire, to the storm, to last night’s memories clawing at the edges of his mind.

Not again.

The moment they arrive on the scene, it’s clear just how dire the situation is. Flames engulf the upper floors of a residential building, thick black smoke pouring from shattered windows. Panicked screams echo through the street as people scramble outside, clutching children, pets, whatever they could grab before escaping.

“Two confirmed still inside,” their Chief barks as they hop off the truck, already securing their oxygen masks.

Seungcheol’s pulse kicks into overdrive.

Two people.

That’s all it takes for him to lose his grip on rational thought.

Adrenaline surges through his veins as he storms toward the entrance, ignoring the heat licking at his skin. The radio crackles in his ear with orders, but they barely register. He has one mission.

Get them out.

“Coups, wait—” someone calls behind him, but he’s already gone, disappearing into the inferno.

Inside, it’s a warzone of collapsing debris and searing flames. Visibility is nearly zero, but he pushes forward, relying on instinct. His breaths come in controlled, measured gasps as he scans the smoke-filled hallway.

A cough. A desperate sound.

There.

He finds them huddled in a bedroom, an older woman shielding a teenage boy with her body. Their faces are streaked with soot, eyes wide with terror.

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol says, voice firm. “I’m getting you out of here.”

The woman clings to him as he hoists the boy onto his back, securing his grip before turning toward the exit. But just as they reach the hallway, an explosion rattles the structure, sending a shower of debris crashing down below them. The floor beneath them groans ominously.

“Shit,” he grits out, adjusting his hold. “Hold on.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Breaking protocol entirely, Seungcheol barrels forward, his mind laser-focused on getting the trapped family to safety. He moves quickly, weaving through the fiery chaos, dodging falling beams and blistering flames that seem to reach out for him. His breath is ragged, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but nothing will stop him—nothing. Not the heat, not the smoke, not even the ever-encroaching collapse of the building around him.

Then, a massive beam crashes down onto his shoulder, the impact so brutal that a sharp cry of pain is forced from his lips. He staggers but pushes through, gritting his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him down. His shoulder burns like hell, but he won’t stop, not when the woman’s terrified eyes are locked on him, desperate for his help.

“Cheol!” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the fog of pain, and Seungcheol knows what’s coming even before his friend is fully in view.

“Do you have a death wish?” Mingyu barks, his tone sharp with concern as he catches up, the rest of the unit trailing behind him.

Seungcheol grits his teeth, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“You guys shouldn’t be in here,” he growls, eyes scanning the wreckage. The staircase is gone, replaced by nothing but broken wood and twisted metal. He shifts the woman in his arms, her fragile weight barely noticeable compared to the responsibility pressing down on his chest.

“Neither should you,” Wonwoo shoots back, annoyance lining his voice as he surveys the scene. “We wait for orders then comply, remember? Protocol.”

Seungcheol shoots him a scowl, shaking his head. “Then why did you follow?” He’s out of breath, but his tone is still biting. The words tumble out without thinking.

“We weren’t going to let you die in here,” Vernon huffs, catching the woman in his arms with a grunt, before nodding to Seungcheol. The teenage boy is next, and Seungcheol carefully lowers him down to safety.

The unit works quickly, their frustration visible, but they all know this is the harsh reality of their job. As Seungcheol is helped down next, Mingyu’s eyes stay fixed on his shoulder, unable to ignore the way Seungcheol’s fingers are tightly gripping his own arm, gloves tight across his knuckles from the pain he's clearly trying to hide.

Seungcheol catches his stare, his expression darkening. The warning is clear in his eyes. Don’t fucking say a thing.

Mingyu swallows hard, but he says nothing. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t push the issue. Seungcheol’s pride, his reckless courage, has always been part of him. And right now, no amount of scolding will change what’s already been done.

The fire rages behind them, a constant roar of destruction, but Seungcheol keeps his focus, pushing through the pain in his shoulder. The family is safe, that’s all that matters. For now, anyway.

As they burst through the door, the mother and son gasp for fresh air, the paramedics rushing in to attend to them. But Seungcheol barely registers the relief in their faces before the harsh crackling of his radio fills the air. He tenses, hearing the fury behind it, and before he can react, a voice booms from behind him.

“Choi Seungcheol, what the fuck was that?” He turns sharply to see Captain Namjoon storming toward him, absolutely livid.

“You ignored a direct order, you reckless idiot—”

But Seungcheol doesn't flinch, doesn't care. Not when he glances back at the boy, clutching his mother, both of them alive and safe. That’s what matters to him.

The Chief interrupts, his voice cold and authoritative as he steps in front of Seungcheol. “You willingly put yourself and your unit at risk. Disciplinary action will be discussed tomorrow in front of a panel to decide your reprimand for misconduct. You’re dismissed. Get back to the station.”

Seungcheol’s heart sinks, but he knows better than to argue now. What’s done is done.

A slight worry settles in your gut as you glance at the clock, noting that the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. You haven’t heard from Seungcheol since he left early this morning. You know his job is demanding, but the silence gnaws at you, twisting your thoughts into worst-case scenarios.

You try to distract yourself. You’ve run all your errands, picked up your new car from the dealership, and taken Mika on a long walk in the park. But now, there’s nothing left to occupy your mind. The restlessness builds, gnawing at your thoughts until you can’t sit still any longer.

You decide to drive to the station, thinking that maybe if you wait there, you’ll see Seungcheol when the trucks return. At least then you can breathe a little easier. You leave Mika safely tucked in your apartment, lock up, and head for the station. The closer you get, the more your nerves spark.

But when you pull up and see the big garage doors closed, your stomach drops. That means the trucks are already parked back inside.

Your pulse quickens as you lock your car, your mind racing with questions. You rush through the door, barely noticing the soft murmur of voices inside. When you round the corner, you bump into Mingyu just outside the locker room door.

His eyes meet yours, his usual laid-back demeanor momentarily replaced by a flicker of concern. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, concerned about your current state, even though his exhaustion is evident.

A flood of worry surges through you as you look at Mingyu, your mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. “How long have you guys been back? Did Seungcheol get mandated to stay for overtime? Or is he hurt?”

Mingyu gives you a look, one that’s part confusion, part understanding, as he puts the pieces together. He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard from him?” he asks, his voice softening as he realizes the depth of your concern.

You shake your head quickly, panic creeping in. "No. He didn’t text me like he was supposed to.”

Mingyu pauses, processing the situation. “He returned from the call this afternoon,” he finally says, his tone thoughtful. “The rest of us got back around dinner time and he was already gone by then. I assumed he was already with you.” He pulls his phone out, texting someone quickly. “Let me check with a few people. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

His attempt at reassurance does little to ease the anxiety knotting in your stomach. You let out a breath as he directs you to sit down, and you follow him into the rec room. The worn-out chairs and tables, so familiar to Seungcheol’s coworkers, suddenly feel out of place in the heavy silence hanging between you. Mingyu sits across from you at the table, his fingers drumming anxiously on the surface.

“Why was he the first one back?” you ask, trying to piece together the timeline in your head.

Mingyu’s eyes shift away for a moment, his face tightening, and you can see the hesitation on his features. “I—” He stops himself, clearly uncertain of how much to say. After a long pause, he meets your gaze again, the heaviness in his eyes unmistakable.

“What is it?” you press, your voice rising with urgency. You can feel it now, a gnawing sense that something happened, something bad. “Is he hurt?”

Mingyu’s fingers hover over his phone as he glances down, hesitation clear in the tightness of his posture. After a tense moment, he finally meets your gaze, his voice softer than usual, almost reluctant.

“He…he wasn’t in the best shape when he got back,” he starts, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “They had to take him to the infirmary. Just a minor shoulder injury…” His voice trails off, as if he’s holding something back.

Your heart skips a beat, but you can’t help pressing for more. The knot in your stomach tightens as dread creeps into your thoughts. “There’s more?” you ask, your voice shaky with worry.

Mingyu sighs, his expression unreadable as he shifts in his seat. “He pulled a reckless move today,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to his phone again. “Chief forced him to leave after breaking orders. Seungcheol wasn’t supposed to go in like that. He didn’t wait for backup, didn’t follow the plan…” He sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Vernon answered, he’s with Coups right now. They’re at Shooters. The bar on Fifth.”

Shooter’s. The last place you ever expected to hear about when Seungcheol’s name was involved, especially after what Mingyu just told you.

“Should I go to him?” you ask, standing up as the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your legs feel like they’re made of lead, but your heart is racing. All you can think about is getting to Seungcheol, making sure he’s okay, whatever happened today.

Mingyu looks at you, his eyes soft with sympathy. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think you should. Don’t push him too hard though. He’s not exactly in the best mood.”

You nod, already grabbing your keys from your bag. You’re out the door before another thought can settle in, your mind only focused on reaching Seungcheol.

When you walk in, the thumping rock music and the rhythmic clink of glasses vibrate through the air, filling your ears as you scan the dimly lit room. Your gaze lands on Seungcheol immediately, his broad frame slumped against the bar, his head hanging low as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.

Beside him, Vernon sits quietly, his eyes flicking between you and Seungcheol, sensing the brewing tension before it even fully settles.

“Hey, Y/N,” Vernon greets you with a small smile, but his eyes flick to Seungcheol, reading the situation before it can spiral out of control.

As soon as Seungcheol hears your name, his head jerks up like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His eyes glaze over with a mix of exhaustion and frustration, meet yours, and you can tell he doesn’t want to deal with you right now.

But there’s no way around it. You’re here. And you’re not leaving without talking this through. Vernon takes one last look between you two before silently slipping away, giving you both space to talk.

You sit next to Seungcheol, your presence undeniable, and cross your arms as you wait for him to acknowledge you. He doesn’t.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” you ask, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended.

Seungcheol doesn’t even look at you, lifting his glass to his lips and taking another long swig of whiskey, his silence only making your frustration boil over. "No," he finally grunts in response, not even bothering to meet your eyes.

“Mingyu let me know you were here,” you continue, your voice now firm, cutting through the tension between you two. “After I went to the station, worried because you didn’t come home. And he kindly informed me that you’ve been back from that house fire call for hours."

At your words, Seungcheol’s grip on the glass tightens, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold back the storm. The non-answer he gives you only stokes the fire inside you, and you can feel your patience wearing thin.

His stubbornness frustrates you more than anything, but you refuse to let this go.

“Did you act out today because it was another family? Do you feel like you owed it to the universe to save them, no matter the cost?”

His glare could cut through steel. “Don’t,” he snaps, his voice low and hard.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Seungcheol, it’s not your fault. They chose to stay behind. You can’t carry that burden. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone, especially when it’s out of your hands.”

But as you watch him, his arm in a sling, the frustration bubbles up inside you. It’s like he’s determined to destroy himself for a past he can’t change.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, frustration edging into your voice. “Why did you forget all rational thought? You never break orders. You know the risks. You could’ve died today. Along with that mother and her son, since you were too focused on your own guilt to consider the usual risks, like weak spots. What if she’d fallen through the floor? What if her son had to watch her die right in front of him because you were in such a rush to right a wrong? Sure, you saved them this time, but what you did was just as reckless as it was selfish. You made it about yourself, Seungcheol. You let your past mistakes dictate your actions and put everything else on the line. You put your team, your friends, and your own life in danger.”

The words hang heavy between you, your chest rising and falling with the weight of them. You wait for him to say something, anything, but the silence stretches on.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel better now?” you bite out, anger and hurt lacing your tone. “I already know the answer to that, seeing you sitting here, ignoring me.”

His fist slams down on the counter, the sound sharp and final. “Enough!” His voice cracks with the tension, and the glass in his hand shatters into pieces on the counter.

Instinctively, your hands reach for the broken glass, not thinking, but the jagged edge cuts through your skin before you can pull away.

"Shit" you mutter, more to yourself than him, as you suck in a sharp breath, pressing napkins to the small wound on your hand. The blood stains the white paper, and you can feel your emotions boiling over.

Seungcheol's voice erupts, raw and jagged, his words like acid. “See? This is exactly what I mean,” he spits. “You’re pissed at me for saving lives today, for doing my job, but look at you. You can’t even get your own shit together! You want to lecture me, but you’re over here falling apart at the smallest thing. How many times do I have to save you, huh? You always come to me with your problems, needing me to fix everything for you. And what do I get in return?”

His hands slam against the bar, his knuckles turning white as his gaze hardens as if he’s trying to bury his emotions behind the anger. "Just go away, Y/N. I can't fix you right now. I can't fix anything about you or me. So just go.”

His words are like a slap, cold and unforgiving, making you recoil. And they leave a burning sting in their wake. The sting isn’t just from the cut; it’s from the weight of his accusation. You take a breath, steadying yourself as you step back, holding the napkin tighter against your palm, trying to hold back the tears.

Without another word, you turn and leave, feeling the heat of the moment suffocating you. He can clean up his own damn mess, because you’ve done all you can.

Seungcheol’s disciplinary panel finally came to a decision today. The verdict hits him hard. Two weeks without pay, and he's benched from responding to fires for the same period. He knows it’s deserved—hell, he was honestly expecting more.

But it still stings. It’s a reminder of how far he pushed everything, how much he screwed up. But deep down, he knows it could’ve been worse. It’s not the worst punishment he could’ve gotten, but it sure as hell feels like a taste of it.

What stings even more, though, is that you’ve been gone for three days. Three days where you won’t answer his calls, won’t reply to his texts, won’t answer your door. He leaves each attempt feeling worse than the last.

And it’s his fault. He knows it. The words he threw at you, the way he pushed you away…he deserves this. He deserves you leaving him, walking away, because he fucked it all up.

He heads to lunch in a haze of guilt, dragging his feet, already dreading the conversation with Jun. He agreed to meet him, mostly because he couldn’t avoid it anymore. But Jun, as usual, knows more than he’s letting on.

Seungcheol is surprised that Jun has Mika with him

“What’s with the dog?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he sits down.

“I’m watching her while Y/N and Kate are away for the weekend. A resort and spa,” Jun starts, his voice low, careful. “After everything that happened, she needed a break. A well-deserved one.”

Seungcheol's stomach drops, a sickening feeling twisting inside him. “You heard?”

Jun’s gaze softens a little, before nodding.

He hesitates for a split second before the truth spills out. “Yeah, I was working at the hospital when Y/N was getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s entire world shifts. The air leaves his lungs as his mind struggles to process what Jun is saying. “What?” The word comes out as a whisper, hoarse, the shock of it hitting him like a physical blow. “What happened? She…she got hurt?”

“She cut her hand. On the glass. From the broken drink you threw.”

The words cut through him like a knife, deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. He can feel the weight of his actions, the damage they’ve caused, crashing into him all at once. His breath hitches as he imagines the moment you had to deal with that—alone, after he pushed you away, after he made you feel small.

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking down at the table, unable to meet Jun’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Jun’s gaze hardens, but his tone is gentle. “I know, man. But you need to figure out how to make things right.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, frustration clawing at him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything’s gone up in fucking flames.” His voice cracks slightly, the weight of it settling in his chest like concrete. “She has to know I didn’t mean it. Right? She has to understand. She’s never too much for me to fix. I’m not… I’m not like this. I never meant to hurt her.”

Jun studies him for a long moment before he asks the question that Seungcheol hasn’t fully allowed himself to think about yet.

“You love her, don’t you?”

The question hits him like a shot to the chest, a truth he’s been running from but can’t escape. Seungcheol exhales sharply, his eyes drifting to Mika, who’s sitting at his feet, head tilted in confusion. “Yeah,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I love her. And I’m scared…I’m scared I’ve lost her for good this time.”

…

The scent of eucalyptus and lavender fills the air, meant to be soothing, but it does nothing to settle the storm raging inside you. The spa worker carefully places cooling eye masks over your lids, letting the skincare seep into your skin, and for a moment, you try to ease yourself into relaxation.

But it’s useless.

You shift restlessly on the plush lounge chair, arms crossing and uncrossing, letting out sharp, annoyed exhales every few minutes. At first, the sadness was all-consuming, a crushing weight that settled deep in your chest. But now? Now, you're just pissy.

It’s not like you ever asked Seungcheol for constant help. If anything, you’ve proven that you can handle things on your own, pushing back every time he tried to coddle you. You told him, over and over again, that you weren’t some helpless damsel in distress. That you didn’t need fixing.

And yet, that night, he made it seem like you were a burden. Like you were too much. Like he was exhausted from having to save you.

Your fingers twitch into fists at the thought, and if he were standing in front of you right now, you’d be seriously tempted to kick his ass.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Kate drawls beside you, not even bothering to lift her eye mask. “You’re getting more worked up by the minute. This is supposed to be relaxing, remember?”

Her voice is teasing, but you know she gets it. She knows how badly you want to scream, to shake Seungcheol and make him understand just how much he hurt you. Hell, Kate probably wants to kick his ass, too.

Frustrated, you rip the eye masks off, only to immediately wince as pain flares through your palm. Your stitches pull, a sharp sting running through your hand. You glance down at them, at the neat, dark lines slicing across your skin. A physical reminder of just how much things have spiraled.

You swallow hard, jaw tightening as Mingyu’s words echo in your head.

Don’t push him too far.

But you did.

And now, you don’t know if there’s anything left to fix.

You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the lounge chair. The plush robe feels suffocating, the scent of essential oils dizzying rather than calming.

“I’m heading back to the room,” you announce, already reaching for your slippers. “I can’t relax in here. I need to watch some trashy reality TV to feel better about my life.”

Kate lifts her eye mask just enough to peek at you, one brow arching. “You sure? We’ve got a whole hour left. The hot stone massage is next. You want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, no, you stay and enjoy the rest of the appointment. You actually deserve this.”

Kate sits up slightly, skepticism written all over her face. “Y/N—”

“I just need to clear my head,” you cut in gently. “I’ll be fine. I just…need a break from all this self-care happy mindset crap.”

She huffs a laugh, but you see the concern lingering in her eyes. “Fine. But if you start drafting an angry text to Seungcheol, I will come drag your ass back here.”

You hold up your injured hand. “Hard to text when my dominant hand is stitched up.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of an angry, one-handed rant,” she quips, settling back into her chair. “Now go, enjoy your reality TV, and for the love of God, don’t think about your emotionally constipated firefighter ex for at least an hour.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head as you make your way toward the exit. But as you step out into the hallway, the weight of everything crashes back down, pressing into your chest like a vice.

You’re not sure if an hour—or even a whole weekend—is going to be enough to stop thinking about Seungcheol.

…

Seungcheol had never been above swallowing his pride when it truly mattered, and right now, nothing mattered more than seeing you.

So he begged. Literally begged Junhui to drive him to the resort. He didn’t care how pathetic it made him look, all he needed was a chance. The smallest sliver of hope that he hadn’t completely destroyed everything between you.

Jun, with his soft heart, eventually caved, wanting everything to work out in the end. Forever the optimist. He muttered something about how Kate was definitely going to chew him out for enabling this, but deep down, he wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t a lost cause. That maybe Seungcheol could fix what he broke.

And so, Girls’ Weekend was about to be crashed.

As soon as they pull up to the resort, Seungcheol wastes no time heading inside. His pulse pounds with every step, his injured arm stiff in its sling, but he doesn’t let it slow him down.

And then, just his luck—he runs right into Kate.

She’s standing in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, arms crossed the moment she spots him. Her eyes narrow into sharp, unforgiving slits.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” she demands, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Actually—how are you even here?”

Seungcheol, already bracing himself for impact, exhales sharply. “Jun drove.”

Kate’s gaze flicks past him, and when she spots Jun lingering a few feet away, looking guilty as hell, her glare sharpens. “Seriously, Jun?”

Jun shrugs. “He begged.”

Kate rolls her eyes before turning her wrath back on Seungcheol. “Unbelievable. You do realize this is a spa weekend, right? As in, a Seungcheol-free weekend?”

“I just need to talk to her,” he says, voice raw with something dangerously close to desperation. “Please, Kate. Just tell me where she is.”

Kate scoffs, arms tightening over her chest. “Oh, you think I’m just gonna hand her over to you after everything?” She shakes her head. “Not happening.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, frustration and regret simmering in his chest. “I know I fucked up. But I need to see her. I need to—”

“What you need is an ass-kicking,” Kate cuts in sharply, stepping closer with fire in her eyes. “And maybe a damn class on how to properly handle your emotions instead of acting like a fucking toddler.”

Seungcheol flinches but doesn’t argue. He knows she’s right.

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice rough with defeat. “I handled everything wrong—worse than wrong. But please, Kate, I need to fix this. I can’t wait another day without telling her how sorry I am.” His voice wavers, raw and unguarded. “And how much I love her. How much I don’t want to live without her.”

Kate’s sharp gaze falters, just for a second.

Her arms are still crossed, her stance still firm, but there’s the faintest flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

She wants to stay angry. Seungcheol knows that, but he also knows Kate isn’t heartless. She’s seen how much you’ve been hurting, but she can also see it now—the weight of regret pressing down on him, the exhaustion in his face, the way his hand fists at his side like he’s barely keeping himself from falling apart.

She sighs, exasperated. “God, I hate you for making me feel bad for you right now.”

Seungcheol exhales, not quite relief, but something close.

Kate’s eyes dart away, toward the hallway leading to your room. Then she looks back at him. “She’s pissed at you, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“She’s been trying not to think about you.”

“I know.”

Kate sighs again, this time heavier, before rubbing her temples. “If I send you to her room, and you fuck this up any worse, I will personally make sure you regret it.”

Seungcheol nods without hesitation. “I know.”

Kate looks him over one last time, eyes narrowing. Then, begrudgingly, caves.

“Room 413,” she mutters. “Good luck.”

Seungcheol doesn’t waste another second.

The knock at the door startles you. You quickly wipe away the lingering tears, sniffing as you straighten up. You’re expecting Kate, probably coming to check on you, and the last thing you want is for her to see you crying again. You’ve already done enough of that.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you pull open the door—

—and freeze.

Seungcheol stands on the other side, looking as wrecked as you feel. His eyes are red-rimmed, exhaustion and regret etched deep into the lines of his face. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him.

Your stomach twists violently. Especially when you notice his shoulder sling.

Before you can react, before you can slam the door like every part of you is screaming to do, he speaks.

“Before you close the door in my face,” he says, voice tight with desperation, “please—just let me apologize.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even if you don’t want to hear it, even if you never want to see me again after this, you deserve a face-to-face apology for how I treated you that night.”

His voice wavers, raw and unguarded, and for a second, just a second, your heart wants to soften.

But then the memory of his words that night…How many times do I have to save you? Those words claw their way back to the surface, and the anger simmers all over again.

Your grip on the door tightens, but you don’t close it.

Seungcheol takes that as a good sign, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

His voice trembles, raw and unguarded, as he begins. “I am so sorry. There’s nothing I can say that will erase what I did, the cruelty of my words, or the way I made you feel that night. But I can tell you this—I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

He swallows hard, eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing about you needs to be fixed. Nothing. You are perfect exactly as you are, and I hate myself for ever making you feel otherwise. I love everything about you. Your clumsy quirks, the way you refuse help even when you clearly need it, the way you care so much, sometimes more than you should.” He exhales shakily. “I love you. And if you let me, I will spend forever proving it to you, making sure you feel as loved and seen as you always make me feel.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Seungcheol reacts instinctively, his thumb brushing it away before he cradles your face in his palm. His touch is warm, familiar, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “I know I hurt you. And if you need time, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes because I know you are the only one for me.” His voice cracks, a tear slipping from his own eyes now. “If it’s not you, it’s no one.”

His hand falls away as he takes a step back. Shoulders slumping, he turns, ready to walk away.

And that’s when you realize, you can’t let him go.

“Wait,” you choke out, the word escaping before you can think twice.

Seungcheol halts, spinning around just as you launch yourself into his arms. He barely has a second to react before you’re clutching onto him with everything you have, burying your face into his neck as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

His free arm wraps around you instantly, holding you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip even a fraction. His entire body relaxes, melting into yours as he exhales a deep, shuddering breath.

Without a word, he lifts you off the ground, carrying you back inside your room before the door closes and locks you both out.

Because this time, neither of you are walking away.

“I love you,” he breathes, and then his lips are on yours. desperate, searching, like he’s been starving for this moment. And maybe he has. It feels like an eternity since he’s last kissed you, since he’s last held you like this.

The warmth of his words sinks into your heart, dissolving the last remnants of anger, replacing them with something softer. Something inevitable.

“I love you too,” you confess against his lips, your hands framing his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones as you pull him back in.

Your kisses grow frantic, heated. All the tension, heartbreak, longing, all of it crashes into this moment. Seungcheol groans as he presses you back against the nearest surface, his fingers digging into your waist after he slips off his sling. He’s nearly recovered anyway.

You suddenly pull back, breathless. “Wait,” you pant, your hands still fisting the fabric of his shirt.

His eyes flicker with concern, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You glance around the room. “Where’s Kate?”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “She left with Jun. He was my ride here.”

Relief floods through you, followed immediately by something more electric. “Good,” you murmur, and before he can say another word, your hands find the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head and tossing it aside.

Seungcheol barely has time to react before you’re pulling him back in, pressing your lips to his with renewed desire. He groans against your mouth, his hands roaming over your back, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

He carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress with a gentleness that contradicts the sheer desperation in his touch. His lips barely leave yours as he presses his body against yours, hands mapping the familiar curves of your skin like he’s trying to commit them to memory all over again.

Your movements are frantic, both of you tugging at clothes with a sense of urgency like you need to feel each other, skin to skin, to truly believe that this is real. That this is happening.

But then, just as things are escalating, Seungcheol suddenly tenses. “Wait,” he rasps, his forehead dropping against yours as he forces himself to pull back. “Fuck, wait.” His breathing is ragged as he lifts himself off you, every muscle in his body straining with restraint.

You blink up at him, dazed. “What—?”

“As much as I would love to continue, I don’t have a condom on me,” he admits, voice thick with frustration. He runs a hand down his face, clearly cursing himself. “I wasn’t even sure you’d speak to me. I didn’t plan this far ahead.”

For a split second, he braces himself for frustration or disappointment from you. Instead, a small, amused chuckle slips past your lips.

He frowns. “What’s funny?”

You tilt your head toward your purse, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I have some in there.”

His eyes dart to the bag, then back to you, skepticism flashing across his face. “In your purse?”

You nod. “Yes, Cheol. In my purse. Feel free to check.”

Still looking slightly suspicious, he reaches for the bag and unzips it, peering inside. His brows shoot up when he spots a neatly lined row of condoms tucked away in an inner pocket.

“Why the fuck do you have a whole stash in here?” he asks, holding up the small strip like it personally offended him.

You laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows. “For unplanned moments like this,” you tease, eyes twinkling. “So you can knock that look off your face.”

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. “And what look is that?”

“The one where you’re wondering if I’ve been using them with someone else.” Your expression softens as your hand dips down between your legs, his eyes following the movement. Your fingers tease your entrance and you say, “I’m yours, remember?”

Something in him snaps at that. His grip tightens around the condom packet before he tears one away from the rest, tossing the strip back into your bag. The way he looks at you; like you’re his entire world, like he’d burn the earth down if it meant keeping you, sends a wave of heat directly to your core.

He growls in approval, ripping the packet open with his teeth before rolling it on in record time. Then, he’s back over you, caging you beneath him, his lips crashing onto yours once more.

And this time, there’s nothing stopping him.

Seungcheol’s hips move against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sinking into you with a hunger that mirrors your own. His hands find yours, lacing his fingers into yours, holding you in place as if he never wants to let go. His lips trail a path of fiery kisses down the side of your neck, each one a whispered confession of the feelings he’s been holding back, of the love he’s been desperate to give you.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice low and thick with desire, the words dripping with meaning as he presses into you again, as if trying to prove it with every inch of his body. “So fucking much.”

His pace quickens, rolling his hips into yours again and again, his movements becoming more desperate, more frantic. “The way you touch me, the way you always know exactly how to make me feel,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “Your generosity, your kindness, how innocent you can be at times despite writing absolute filth in your books.” A wicked smirk crosses his face as he feels the heat rise in your cheeks.

“The sounds you make when I make you feel good, the way your body responds to mine,” he continues, each word punctuated by a shift of his hips, a shift that leaves you breathless, wanting more. “But most of all,” his voice drops to a whisper, eyes locking onto yours as his thumb gently brushes your knuckles, “the way you love me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ll ever need.”

Each word, each touch, each kiss seems to bring you closer to unraveling. The coil winds so tight within you, each movement of his pushing you closer to the edge. His body presses into yours, the rhythm of his hips matching the frantic beating of your heart.

His voice, low and rough, murmurs against your ear, words of devotion, each one sending jolts of electricity through your body. He moves with purpose, each thrust taking you higher.

And then, just as the tension reaches its peak, everything explodes in a rush. You come, your body tensing, every nerve igniting as your eyes stay locked on his. You watch the way his expression shifts, the way his breath catches, and in that shared moment, it feels like time itself pauses—just long enough for the two of you to fully experience the depth of your connection.

His grip on you tightens, the intensity of the moment reflected in his eyes, and with a final, desperate thrust, he follows you, his own release washing over him. His name escapes your lips, soft and breathless, and in that instant, there’s no room for anything else but the overwhelming wave of closeness, of love, of pure, shared bliss.

And as the world slowly comes back into focus, you both remain tangled in each other’s arms, hearts still racing, breaths still shaky. The chaos of everything outside, the unresolved tension, the emotional fires that once threatened to destroy you both; none of it matters anymore.

In this moment, it’s just the two of you, holding each other like the world could fall apart and you wouldn’t care. There are no unspoken words, no distance between you, just a quiet understanding that everything you need is here, in his arms.

It feels like the safest place in the world. Where it’s just you and him, imperfectly in sync.

→ READ PART 1 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

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[shinestarhwaa]

BENEFITS || SEONGHWA & SAN

In which you accidentally walk in on Seonghwa riding San's big cock

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Seonghwa x San x Fem reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Tags/Warnings: Threesome, Idol!San, Idol!Seonghwa, staff!Y/N, switch!San, sub!Seonghwa, dom!y/n, m x m, anal sex, voyeurism, masturbation, handjob, oral sex, degrading, praise, dirty talk, unprotected sex, namecalling, bigdick!San, fingersucking, 69-position, use of toys, orgasm denial, facial, double penetration, breeding kink

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

It was not unusual that you stayed over at your friends' dorms. After all you have known them ever since the guys became a group. You have worked with the boys from the start and watched them grow throughout the careers, and during those years your bond with them grew as well, becoming the closest friends with them.

You got off work about an hour ago and after you went home to freshen up and change clothes you made your way to one of the boys' dorms. You hadn't been at Seonghwa, San and Mingi's dorm in a while so you decided to surprise them with some snacks and a movie night. You ran into Mingi in one of the hallways and greeted him with a hug. ''Where are you off to, Min?'' you asked him. ''Oh, my family is in town so I'm gonna go grab some dinner and a movie! But San and Seonghwa are home, they'll be thrilled to spend a night with you I'm sure!'' Mingi was so giddy it made you laugh out loud.

''Well have fun, you, I'll see you soon!''

You waved Mingi 'goodbye' and you made your way to their dorm. You pressed their code on the doorlock and entered, taking off your shoes and coat and put the bag of snacks on the counter in the kitchen. You frowned at the weird noises you heard from one of the guys' rooms. You entered San's first, but it was empty and surprisingly tidy. You quietly closed the door before walking over to Seonghwa's room.

The strange noises got louder and through the closed door you couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Knowing Seonghwa he would either be watching some K-drama or playing some new game on his Switch, you thought to yourself. But nothing could have ever prepared you for what you saw when you opened the door.

Seonghwa was sat on San's lap, both guys naked from the waist down. San's hands roamed Seonghwa's body as he bounced in San's lap, letting out a loud moan. You gasped loudly and your eyes widened, your body freezing in shock.

Both men turned their heads towards you instantly, shocked they've been caught fucking. ''H-Holy shit,'' you stammered, gripping onto the doorframe so you wouldn't pass out from shock. Your hands and legs were shaking as you saw Seonghwa's hard, leaking cock peak from under his sweater and you saw it twitch. And twitch again.

''Y/N...,'' San started, ''we... did not expect you.'' You nodded. ''Clearly.'' ''I'm sorry we- Hyung will you stop clenching around my cock?'' San sighed. ''I c-can't help it I might just come,'' Seonghwa whined. You swallowed thickly. ''I... I'll let you finish,'' you said quickly, ready to exit the room before Seonghwa shouted, ''No!''

''N-No, stay...,'' he panted. San looked confused for a second, but soon enough he agreed. ''Yeah... Why don't you stay actually?'' San suggested, ''Don't you see how much little Hwa gets off on this? Don't you think it's fun to play with him?'' San teased. You nodded slowly and before you could change your mind you closed the door behind you and leaned against it.

''Well, are you, Hwa?'' you asked. Seonghwa looked at you with big, round, pleading eyes. ''W-What?'' ''Are you getting off on getting caught by me? Doing something so... so dirty? Is that gonna make you come sitting on San's dick?'' you spoke.

This wasn't like you, you weren't this kinky, this good of a dirty talker. But it came naturally to you. The way your dear friend Seonghwa looked like such a good cockslut, so disheveled. ''Are you gonna answer her?'' San grunted as he bucked his hips up, fucking into a whining Seonghwa. ''Y-Yes I'm gonna come, gonna come,'' he babbled.

You walked closer, sitting down on his desk. Seonghwa looked deeply into your eyes, as if he was begging for something. You took his leaking cock in your hand and you barely started jerking him off before he came over your fingers with a loud cry. San slowed down his movements and held him tight to his body with his hands on the elder's hips.

The feeling of Seonghwa's hot, fresh cum on your fingers made your pussy clench around nothing, and you could feel yourself get wetter. You held your fingers in front of his plump, pink lips and said, ''Suck.'' Seonghwa was slightly startled but opened his mouth and sucked your fingers clean.

''That's a good boy, hm? Being such a good boy right now,'' San said as he slowly carressed his back to calm him down. Seonghwa moaned around your fingers and nodded eagerly. He sucked at your fingers like it was a big, juicy cock, and he was so eager you swore you couldn't take it any longer.

You pulled your fingers away from him and took off your sweater, your lacy red bra catching their eyes. ''I'm gonna need one of you to fuck me, like right now.'' Seonghwa eagerly got up from San's lap, San following after. You took off your pants too, laying down on Seonghwa's neat bed.

''Your room is so tiny, gosh, there's barely enough room to get fucked in here,'' you muttered as Seonghwa and San - now fully naked - also got on the bed with you. San laughed, ''I like a challenge, don't you?'' ''Zip it, smart ass,'' you said, grabbing his jaw. San was startled at the sudden action and instantly shut his mouth.

Right in this moment it occured to you that you could be in charge if these two if you wanted to. They looked so drunk on their lust you were sure they'd do whatever you'd ask them to do. ''Eat me out,'' you ordered them. They wasted no time in getting your bra and panties off, ripping them slightly in the proces.

Kisses were pressed onto your body left and right, literally, and they traced your lips, your jaw, your neck towards your tits, and down towards your wet awaiting cunt. You spread your legs as wide as you could and both guys settled between them.

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The way San and Seonghwa looked up at you made your brain foggy. First you felt San's velvet tongue on your inner thigh, licking a stripe up to your pussy. He circled the tip of his tongue around your clit, earning a whine from you. Seonghwa dipped his face slightly lower so he could prod his long tongue at your entrance. You felt him slip in and out repeatedly while San focussed on your sensitive clit.

Sure, you have fantasized about the members before but actually acting on it? No, you had never planned on that. Although a threesome with San and Seonghwa must be the best case scenario here. You felt so powerful and pleased, having two of the most handsome men on earth feasting on your wetness. You moaned louder and ran your hands through their hair.

San's hand fondled your breast as well, softly playing with your sensitive nipple. Your breathing quickened and your hips bucked up into their faces as the pleasure began to take over your body, completely overruling you. Your eyes rolled back and you cried out as you came. They gently rode out your orgasm and Seonghwa slightly bit your thigh, which made you come back to earth.

''Was that pleasing enough, Y/N?'' San grinned, peppering kisses up your stomach and chest. ''Hmm, we're not done here, you know,'' you smirked. ''What do you want, Y/N?''

''Hm... I gotta say I did enjoy watching the two of you... San lay down,'' you said, standing up to make place for him. San laid down and looked at you nervously. ''Seonghwa.''

Seonghwa looked at you once more, those big brown eyes still pleading as hard as ever. ''You... Hmm... You sit on his face, darling,'' you said. Seonghwa looked at you, kind of shocked. ''Sit on his wh-'' ''Now.'' you said in a stern voice. Seonghwa nodded and looked at San, who couldn't help but play with his cock even at the thought.

The eldest moved towards San and hovered above his face. San grabbed Seonghwa's ass in his hands and pulled him down, licking a stripe up his hole. Seonghwa whimpered and leaned down, getting face to face with San's large cock. Without any hesitation he took his member into his mouth and sucked it skillfully. You watched Seonghwa's mouth bob up and down as San ate him out. The sounds were so sinful you could have never imagined it.

You looked around the room and noticed a dark box halfway shoved under his bed. It was slightly open and you could see something bright pink. Knowing Seonghwa now this could only mean one thing. You pulled the box from under the bed and opened it, confirming your suspicions. The box was filled with toys. A devlish smirk played on your lips as you looked through the various options.

Seonghwa released San's cock from his mouth with a delicious pop. ''W-What are you doing, Y/N? T-That's a secre-'' ''If it's secret you need to put it away correctly. And what am I gonna do with it? I'm about to use some of these on our precious Sanie.''

That made San pull away from Seonghwa's puckering hole. ''Wh-What are you going to do to me?'' You grinned and sat in front of him on the bed. You pulled out a smaller, slimmer dildo from Seonghwa's collection. ''What a pretty little thing... Do you use these a lot baby?'' ''I-I uhm...''

''I bet you open yourself up with this before fucking yourself on San's huge cock at night, huh?'' ''N-No we've never-'' ''Shut your mouth and put it to good use,'' you ordered, silencing Seonghwa. He went back to sucking San off, but San could no longer concentrate at anything because he was nervous for what was coming.

You parted San's legs and drizzled a little bit of strawberry flavoured lube on it. You carefully slid it into San, who cried out at the stretch. You smirked and turned the vibration up. ''Is this your first time Sanie?'' ''Y-Yes, oh God, please, please be gentle,'' he pleaded, nails digging into Seonghwa's skin.

''Hm, I'll be nice, Sanie, because you are a good boy for me aren't you? Maybe you overpower Seonghwa but you're just a needy little boy for me, isn't that right?'' ''Y-Yes, that's right,'' San obeyed, whimpering as you pushed the vibrator deeper inside him - but not deep enough for him to be satisfied.

But with the way Seonghwa hungrily sucked his fat cock he started to get closer and closer to climaxing. Before he could do so you pulled the toy out and threw it to the side. ''Off, Hwa,'' you ordered him, and quickly he obeyed. San sulked when his orgasm was denied, but pulled himself together when he saw the stern look on your face.

You leaned in closer and took San's girthy cock in your hand. You pumped it up and down and soon enough San felt his orgasm come closer and closer again. ''That's it Sanie, you can come now, and you're gonna come all over Seonghwa's pretty face hm?''

''Yes, please, please come on my face, fuck,'' Seonghwa cursed, positioning himself right in front of San's crotch. You tapped San's cock on Seonghwa's lips a few times, earning a slight whimper from the eldest. Seonghwa opened his mouth wide, tongue open and that was all San needed to burst. He came in thick ropes of white, hot cum, streaking Seonghwa's lips, tongue, nose and cheek.

''My good boys... well done,'' you smirked. You carefully traced his cock again. ''You're still hard, Sanie, do you want another turn? Maybe you want to come in my pretty pussy this time?'' His eyes widened at those words and he nodded enthusiastically. ''Y-Yes, please,'' he begged you, ''please let me come in your pussy too.''

You turned to Seonghwa, and asked him too, ''And do you wanna come in my pussy as well? Do you both want me?'' Seonghwa scooched closer and pressed kisses in your neck. ''Yeah, please, wanna fill your pussy, please?''

''Mhm, lay down, Hwa, I'll get on top of you,'' you say as you helped him lay down. You straddled him, caressing his silky soft skin. Carefully you sank down on Seonghwa's shaft, letting him fill you up completely. You throw your head back and let out a long moan as you start to slowly move.

Suddenly you feel two firm hands on the back of your thighs, roaming your soft skin. The stretch burned in your core and you whimpered, feeling so full now San has snugly slid his cock besides Seonghwa's inside your needy cunt.

He pushed you down onto Seonghwa's chest, so now you are face to face with him. Your eyes glid over Seonghwa's cum-covered face, still ever so stunning. You moved yourself up and down the two cocks, meeting San's thrusts in the process. The way he rolled his hips felt so deliciously good you started to give in to the immense pleasure and let your mind get clouded.

The thrusting, slapping of sweaty skin on sweaty skin and the sinful moans and whimpers were adding to your pleasure. Seonghwa's hand ran up to your cheek to cup it as he lost himself in his pleasure. ''I'm coming, I'm coming, fuck!'' he cried. ''Come for me, you're gonna breed my little pussy, hm? Breed that little pussy of mine and fuck me full with your come,'' you moan shamelessly. This sends Seonghwa over the edge, spilling his seeds deep inside you. He sighs deeply as he slips his cock out of you, but holding you as San still ruthlessly slams into you.

San's moans became louder and his thrusts became erratic. You were writhing underneath him, squirming underneath his body as your legs trembled, your orgasm washing over you like a big wave. You screamed out as you reached your climax. San followed you soon after, emptying his balls inside you with a loud grunt.

He rode out your orgasms and slowly pulled out, watching your pussy leak immediately. He smirks before laying down on his side, pulling you on his chest to calm down.

When the three of you calmed down from your highs you grinned softly. ''What?'' San asked. ''Was this really the first time you guys fucked?'' San and Seonghwa looked at each other hesitantly.

''Well, we've done... things, you know. It started with masturbating together, just releasing pent up energy and that turned into handjobs... blowjobs and a whole lot of groping.''

''You two are so dirty oh my God,'' you laughed, ''does anyone know?'' ''Well dear God I hope not!'' San sighed. ''It's not like we're a thing... It's just like... friends with benefits,'' Seonghwa explained. You nodded and gently cleaned Seonghwa's face off.

''Do you think I could benefit too from now on?'' you laughed. ''You don't even have to ask, Y/N, we ain't letting you go anywhere.''

[iamasaddie]

boiling

Tommy Miller x f!Reader

summary: What Tommy liked was structure, schedule. What he didn't like was reckless bullshit that you seemed to be a fan of. He also didn't like you, or so he says. warnings: MDNI, implied infidelity, PWtinyP, oral m!recieving, throat fucking, orgasm denial, still big girthy age gap (reader late 20s-30s; Tommy 55), thick Tommy, kinda rude Tommy wc: 2.6k a/n: is this becoming a series? i dunno, maybe. send asks gimme ideas please. this is not heavily edited, english is not my first language all mistakes are my own and yada yada (if u notice a silly mistake dm me pls). previous part | next part ao3

When Tommy was told that you went on a run he didn’t believe first. First, the runners’ outings were spelled out in the schedule, according to which everyone except the patrolmen were supposed to stay in Jackson today. 

Second, you weren't one of the runners. Even though you were young and pretty agile, you lacked the necessary skills. You were good with guns and had quick reflexes, but you were dangerously inattentive. With a runner like you, they'd be left with nothing every time. 

And third, the runners left in established pairs or threes. It was a matter of speed, trust and safety. 

You left alone.

By the rules of Jackson, an unauthorized exit could end up with expulsion from the community, as it entailed an immediate risk. And knowing that, you risked your own place in one of the safest places on earth for what? His attention? If they hadn't needed an extra pair of hands in the stable today, Tommy wouldn't even have thought about you. At least that's what he told himself.

Jackie from the radio room, who quickly had given out all the information about your little trip with her lips pursed, was quietly babbling excuses. The girl swore that she was sure you wouldn't have gone outside alone. You were so confident when you told her about your nonexistent dialogue with Maria. 

Tommy clenched his gloved hand into a fist, the leather squeaking and breaking the tensed silence.

“Fuck,” he spat out a curse and headed to get the horse.

You had enough brains to not go too far, yesterday’s report from Alpine was positive –no sign of raiders or infected– so Tommy wasn't too worried. Cold bit his cheeks, and frost formed on his mustache, which already began to shine with gray. Damn it, in this cold, normal people tried to hide their asses in the warmth of their houses, but there wasn't a drop of sense in you.

The horse tensed between his legs as they began to climb the mountain, and Tommy pulled harder on the reins, clucking to the animal. 

The remnants of the once small town were well preserved compared to the majority of places he’d seen. The buildings, for the most part, survived year after year without much change, with the exception of cracked windows and occasional raids by overly daring vagrants. 

Tommy tried and failed to figure out what exactly you might need there. Absolutely everything that was at least a little useful was cleaned out of the old supermarket and adjacent houses a year ago. All that was left inside was rotting furniture and trash.

He saw Pepper, the horse you particularly liked, tied to a pine next to one of the remote houses. His own stubborn Callus now trotted more confidently, apparently noticing his neighbor from the stable.

After making sure that the horse was securely tied, Tommy armed himself with a gun, making sure that safety was still on and he had enough bullets in the magazine, just in case. 

The room greeted him with silence and the smell of mold. After taking a few slow steps deeper, Tommy finally heard muffled curses accompanied by the rumble of drawers opening.

“Oh, come on, really? I cannot fucking believe that.”

He followed the sound and found you kneeling next to an old dresser, pulling out drawers haphazardly and trying to find something. Tommy looked around the room, it was too empty to be messy: a couple of broken chairs, a half-rotten bedframe and this dresser you continued assaulting with your words. 

He crept in without making any noise, and even with your usually swift reaction, you didn’t expect anyone there so he went unnoticed as he pointed a gun at the back of your head, almost kissing your crown with the barrel.

“Hands up.” 

His voice was lower than usual, and the long ride through the cold with his neck exposed had made him hoarse. With a paused breath, you slowly raised your hands, not even trying to grab a weapon. Did you even bring it with you? Tommy felt a surge of irritation. “Turn around.”

“Tommy?” As you turned around and saw his face, your shoulders relaxed and you swatted the gun from your face with ease. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s my line.” He put the gun in the holster, clicking it in. “You’re not a fucking runner, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly, you stood up from your knees, brushing the dirt of the dark blue jeans that you managed to rip somewhere. 

“Why do you care?” You huffed, “are you in love with me or something?”

Somehow, magically, all the calmness and restraint evaporated from him as soon as you opened your mouth. You knew exactly what to say to make him seethe with rage, the destructive feeling overwhelmed him and resulted in physical aggression, which he had been trying to repress ever since he ran away from the fireflies.

“Shut the fuck up.” He took a step towards you, practically pressing you into the corner of an opened drawer. His finger poked you in the chest, the tip of his index finger arched from how hard he pressed on your solar plexus. His eyes never left yours, turning black with every passing moment. “This is not about you, and not about me. I don’t fucking trust you.” For a second, it seemed to him that you twitched from the words like he slapped you in the face, but he did not stop. You always went too far, ignoring the consequences, and it pissed him off. 

“I don’t trust that you’ll put a bullet through your thick fucking skull if you happen get bit. I don’t trust that you won’t tell some psychopaths about a nice little village with food and warm beds if they stick a knife in one of your pretty legs.” You kept quiet, lowering your eyes in semblance of shame, your fingers toyed with an edge of your opened flannel shirt, twisting a stray thread but not ripping it off. “That’s why we don’t go alone.”

He was boiling with rage, and when he smelled the already familiar scent of your sweat and skin, he realized how close he was standing. He was practically pressed into your body, his own belly hidden behind a layer of white top, a shirt and a warm winter coat was millimeters away from yours, and the tip of his nose was almost touching your face. After taking another gulp of your air into his lungs, he took a step back, shaking his head.

“What did you need here anyway? We’d searched these homes for goods months ago.”

Once he was out of your personal space, his voice less violent and carrying something that sounded like genuine interest, you felt like you could breathe again. Cockiness and indifference clinked in your words like armour. 

“Thought that maybe they had some dicks laying around.” You shrugged your shoulders. “After all, you runners don’t look for shit like that and if some neglected wifey lived here she could’ve had a stache.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tommy looked at you with an indescribable shock, as if you had just admitted that you had started the apocalypse with your own bare hands. When you didn't laugh, signalling a joke, an angry scowl returned to his face. “You’re actually serious.”

“Well, of course I’m serious. If I can’t get the real deal I can at least hope for a fake one!'“ You chuckled, walking past him and heading towards the door. He quickly catches your shoulder, his iron grip makes you hiss in pain. When you look at him with a question in your eyes, he only kisses his teeth and starts unbuttoning his coat, while still holding your srm hostage. 

“What?” You ask him, even though you already knew what. You pussy had started throbbing the moment you saw his angry scowl that was soaked in worry. 

Not granting you with a reply, he continued undressing hastily, the massive belt buckle –his special pride and joy– clacked loudly as the pull tab smashed into it. Tommy forced you on your knees, pushing you down in one rough movement, and you hissed when your knees hit the cold concrete floor. You let him do it without saying a word.

“What, shy all of a sudden? Wasn’t it what you wanted? Didn’t you just beg for my dick, sugar?” He looked menacing, standing over you like that. He was too close, his bulge almost pressing to your face. It was clear he was at least half-hard already, his jeans barely doing anything to contain his thick cock. His thighs were slightly spread, and even though he wasn’t holding you anymore, you couldn’t move, your mouth opened in surprise. “All hat, no cattle. Fuckin’ pathetic.” 

You looked lost, your lips were dry and you swiped your tongue over them watching Tommy’s eyes follow the small movement. He thrusted his hips forward, the cold metal of his belt buckle hitting your lips. “Go on. It’s your last chance, and I am being serious.”

With spoken out permission, your hands start moving on their own. You unbuckle his belt and open his jeans. He sighed in relief as his stomach was released. More gently than you planned, you untuck his shirt and a white top underneath, sliding your hands over his belly and giving it a light massage, pressing into the hot skin with your thumbs and rubbing. You could feel the imprints his jeans and belt left, and you wanted to kiss reddened lines, but Tommy grabbed your hands in one of his and pushed them south with a disapproving grunt. You moved his jeans down enough to take his cock out. As you guessed, it was already hard, and a cruel part of you celebrated the fact that he was as excited about the thing as you were. He was just hiding it better. How long did he want you?

You didn’t have an opportunity to see him so upclose, and you spend a fleeting moment studying the dick heavily swaying inches away from your lips. 

He was girthy enough to make you doubt yourself, a thick, veiny shaft that was surrounded by black and grey hair at the base. The tip glistened with his need for you, and you felt saliva pooling in your mouth in response. Slowly, you move closer, your lips pressing a wet kiss to him and gathering the salt from the spongy head. 

Tommy breathed in through his teeth, the air stinging his lungs like his consciousness stung his mind. Your soft mouth welcomed him inside slowly as you lathered him in your saliva. He was more than a mouthful, and you gagged when he hit the back of your throat, quickly releasing him.

A sticky thread of your saliva mixed with his precum connected your lips to his cock, but instead of giving you a break, Tommy just took his cock between thumb and two fingers and slapped your cheek in a humiliatingly arousing action. Your eyes shot up, and you met the black embers staring back at you. His plump, wet lips were parted and he let out shallow breaths. 

You swallowed the lump and returned to his cock, swapping his hand for yours. In an attempt to get your breathing in order, you caressed his shaft with your lips, running them over his tense dick and tracing the pattern of his veins with your tongue. 

As soon as your throat stopped burning, you slowly took him back in, enjoying the low growl mixed with the moans coming from above. He tried, he tried so hard to pretend that he didn't care. That he didn’t even want you. But he crumbled under your lips as quickly as you crumbled under his gaze.

With more confidence, you began to slowly push his cock deeper and deeper. Swallowing each time as soon as he pushed inside, and swirling his head with your hot tongue when he pulled back. Inch after inch you managed to take all of his throbbing shaft in, your nose tickled with his sweat-stained pubes.

For a moment you stayed like this, accepting your throat being stretched painfully, your airflow barely managing to support your lungs as you breathed slowly through your nose. 

When you felt tears welling up in your eyes, you pulled off, exchanging your mouth for your hand. Hollowing your cheeks, you kept sucking his head and some of his shaft that you couldn’t cover with your palm. 

Tommy’s grunts became quieter and you felt one of his hands grabbing you by the hair while the other gripped your wrist and pulled your hand from his cock. You could only moan in question once before he pushed all of him inside you roughly, setting a rougher pace than you were ready for.

Immobilized, you kept taking his cock into your throat, his heavy balls slapping your chin as Tommy practically fucked your throat. There was anger written all over his face, but you could barely see it through the wetness in your eyes. You just let him use you, remembering a new feeling, storing this side of him in your back pocket.

His movements became more erratic, the grip on your hair tightens so much that you whine in pain afraid that he'd pull your hair out. He was close, you could feel it by the way his stomach quivered, hear it in every ‘fuck’ he grunted out.

Tommy pressed you hard into his body as he held you on his cock. His top rode up, and your forehead slid against his happy trail that was covering his sweaty stomach. You felt him start to pulse and spit cum inside you, thick warm loads coating your abused throat as he almost folded over you. 

As soon as he pulls out, his cock glistening in your drool and some of his cum, you start coughing violently, swallowing as much air as you can. He tasted like fresh earth after a long rain and salt. Two things that didn’t go together but you already craved more. 

You wiped your lips and rubbed your head where he tugged on your hair just minutes ago. The sound of metal clinking brought you back to the moment and you snapped your head at Tommy.

You gave him a confused look when you saw him tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and re-tie his ruffled hair in a low bun. He intentionally ignored your insistent stare for as long as he could, but when you didn’t get up from the floor, he finally turned his attention from redressing to you.

“I wasn’t the one begging for your pussy,” he shrugs simply and points at your pussy where it was hidden and crying under your jeans. “So I guess you’ll have to sort your little problem yourself.”

You squeezed your thighs pathetically, trying to relieve at least some of the tension.

“We need to be back before the sunset, hurry up.” He threw over his shoulder, not giving you another look. Your eyes stung as you almost cried in frustration watching Tommy walk out.

It was going to be a long drive home.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG, IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME <3

'you can maybe like this' ahh taglist: @tommysversion @toxicanonymity @worhols @tokkiotears @axshadows @yslgreen @vcnderlinds @0ceanwittch @your-redlight

[adragonprinceswhore]

Sexting & Taking Nude Pics w/ Hockey player!Aemond

Warnings: 18+, smut, AFAB reader, naughty pictures, degradation, teasing, masturbation, edging, manhandling, orgasm denial, P in V

A/N: Sometimes ovulation wins.

Inspired by this amazing art by @novembermorgon 🩵

“Where's my reward?”

An amusement snort leaves your nose. The game only ended a few moments ago, yet he's greedily demanding that you send him what you'd promised.

“Only winners get rewarded”

“I won.”

You smile to yourself as you type, fingers quickly moving over the screen.

"We won*"

"Whatever. Send it."

"Winning by sudden death doesn't count. You should've scored before it went into overtime"

You see him typing, but knowing Aemond, the reply won't be a long one. The delayed answer is due to him not knowing what to say.

God, you love tormenting him.

In all fairness, you were just quoting what he'd told you before. Winning a match that goes into overtime means that the other team scores a point, even if they lose. "If you can't beat them in 60 minutes, you didn't win", he'd said.

"I'll do better next time. Please, send it."

Usually, it'd take more to make him beg. He must be desperate.

You're still smiling as you close your eyes momentarily, imagining him sneaking off to one of the bathrooms by the locker room, still breathing hard from the strenuous match and with sweat covering his face, droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing inside his away jersey.

If you were there, you'd help him out of the white shirt and shoulder pads, planting tender kisses to his wet neck, secretly craving the taste of his salty skin. He always smelled his best straight after a game.

Maybe you'd get a bit carried away and let your tongue glide over the smooth skin over his adam's apple, prompting him to huff in proud amusement as he teases you for being such a needy slut.

Unfortunately, he’s not playing home in Old Town tonight and you're not there to greet him as he exits the ice.

Instead, you've agreed on a different arrangement. Whenever his team wins a match, you send him a little reward.

Today, it’s a picture of your ass, clad in a black thong you know he likes. It had taken you a good 30 minutes to get the position, lightning and angle of your camera just right, and you weren't about to spoil that on someone who can't beat the Winterfell Dires before overtime.

"Only winners get rewarded. Do better."

Still smiling, you bite your lip to calm yourself.

You can picture it so clearly; Aemond frustratingly exhaling through his nose at your unwillingness to give him what he craves.

He's not much better himself. He's teased you to the brink of madness before; edged you until you couldn't think of anything but him.

You feel a dizzying yet pleasant rush of power wash over you as your screen lights up again.

"Please, baby. I need you"

Mischief makes the smile on your face grow wider.

"I don't entertain losers"

Oh he must be fuming. Running his hand over his face in annoyance, clicking his tongue, thinking of all the ways he wishes to make you submit to his will.

Surely only making his balls ache more with need.

"Please, I've thought about this all night. I'm so fucking hard."

Warmth spreads in your chest. You know he only wants you; that he's just as insatiable for you as you are for him.

Yet, opportunities to tease him like this do not come often.

"There's plenty of porn online. Enjoy!"

If you were with him right now, this is where he would've had enough. Picking you up and throwing you on the bed, climbing on top of you and caging you in. Pressing his heavy bulge against your core, lowly murmuring "If you don't shut up, I'll make you" into your ear.

But the distance between the two of you has robbed Aemond of his cockiness.

"Please."

"Show me"

Your mouth waters as you open the image he sends you. The large hand he has around his shaft holds on to it firmly, veins on the back of his hand and down his forearm popping out from the intense blood flow. The tip of his cock looks vexed; bright red and glistening with arousal. You press your thighs together, no longer able to ignore the pounding growing fiercer.

You type even faster than before.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

"You. About how badly I wish you were here. About how I'd fuck you in this filthy bathroom as the lads are getting ready outside"

Defeated by your own desires, you send him the picture of your ass before putting away your phone, closing your eyes and allowing your hand to travel down between your thighs.

You can see him clear as day. He's grabbing the side of the white sink with one hand, the other furiously stroking his length, eyes glued to the screen of his phone as it rests on the ceramic surface.

He's panting; biting his lip and huffing loudly through his nose. Sweat slides down from his forehead to his flustered cheeks, pooling above his parted lips, dripping down.

Staring at his reward, he thinks back to all the ways he's had you. In your flat, in his car, in the bathroom of that high-end restaurant.

His grip on the sink tightens, thinking about how he'd grabbed the flesh of your ass so harshly it left marks as he pounded into you, causing your unabated moans to echo through the room.

He bites his lip to stop the words from spilling;

"My little slut", "My dirty girl", "My good whore”

Mine.

Mine.

Aemond runs the soft pad of his thumb on your cheeks, collecting the tears of frustration spilling from your tired eyes.

“Poor thing can’t take a bit of teasing”

He’s tone is infuriatingly smug, tutting and interrupting you when you open your mouth to protest.

”Doesn’t feel nice, does it?”

No, it doesn’t feel nice.

Or does it?

You honestly don’t know what’s pleasurable anymore, being forced to the edge of pleasure but denied release time and time again.

Aemond’s fingers, lips, tongue and teeth had coaxed you into pleasure-drunk submission. They’d made you beg for permission to cum, cry for permission to cum, plea for permission to cum. But to no avail.

“Tell you what-”, he starts, seeing eye boring into yours with an intensity only ignited when he was feeling particularly bloodthirsty.

“-I’ll take some photos of you, to enjoy when I win next week’s away game, and then I’ll let you cum”

You’re beyond feeling embarrassed, head instantaneously moving up and down in a furiously eager sign of compliance.

Aemond’s teeth sink into his bottom lip to stop the amusement bubbling up inside of him from making itself know.

He must admit that he likes you best like this; completely at his mercy. His to do whatever he wants with.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand next to the bed he’s got you caged within his arms in, he swipes his thumb over the screen to open the camera.

He admires you through the lens. The way the short, delicate hairs by your hairline stick to your sweaty forehead. The way your naked breasts still heave from exhaustion; skin damp and glistening. The way your agape mouth pants softly.

And then, your features change.

“Stop doing that”

“What?”

Aemond looks stern, like he’s about to lecture you, “Faking it. You’re posing”

“I’m not!”, you defend yourself with a high-pitched protest.

“You are”

Mind still fuzzy from the strenuous, extensive foreplay Aemond had insisted upon, you don’t know how to appease him.

What does he want?

Sensing your confusion, he places two large palms on each side of your waist, leans down to offer you a soft kiss, and flips you over so you’re on your stomach.

Being manhandled by Aemond while your senses have left your head and relocated to your throbbing centre feels comforting, so when he grabs your hips to pull your ass up, you mumble a muffled “thank you” into the mattress.

He always moves your body with soft yet commanding hands, making his display of dominance feel more like an act of adoration and care.

And he’s always so warm, soothing your exposed skin from the chill air of the hotel room.

“Look at me”, he commands softly, tracing his fingers from the small of your back down to the velvety skin of your buttocks.

Turning your head to the side, you meet his eye, watching as he picks up his phone once more with one hand, while the other grabs his hard length, stoking it briefly before lining it up with your dripping cunt.

As he finally enters you, after god knows how much excruciating teasing, you feel your body turn into jelly; pliable to his every whim.

Your fists grab the sheets of his bed with a cramp-like grip, your mouth falls open with a loud moan, and your back arches in pleasure.

And you hear a click.

Aemond smiles behind the camera, satisfied with getting the picture he’d wanted all along. He moves it down to inspect the way you eagerly take him in, swallowing his cock over and over like the greediest of gluttons.

Enthralled, he admires the way he goes in and out; stretching and shaping you from the inside.

He puts his phone to the side, both hands once again finding home in the dip of your waist. His eye flickers to your bliss-filled face, an amused, condescending laugh leaves his lips,

“Are you drooling?”

You don’t care about his taunting anymore; too filled with him to care about anything else. Aemond moves forward, resting his face right next to yours.

The damp skin of his cheek sticks to yours, his breath fans hot air over your face,

“You’re so pretty like this”

You wait for him to kiss your cheek and award your endurance by finally paying attention to your aching clit.

Instead, he leans back once more, and pulls out.

“Aemond!”, you cry, unable to hide the utter devastation you feel at being denied your peak yet again.

“If you want to come you’ll have to work for it”

He’s smug again, enjoying your desperation a bit too much for your liking. Irritated and impatient, you push him to lay on his back and sink down on him in a selfish attempt to chase your own pleasure.

To your surprise, he allows you to take command; placing one of his hands on your hip, thumb coming down to flick your clit. The other hand picks up his phone again.

“You’re close?”

“Y-, yes”

His thumb continues to rhythmically circle your bundle of nerves as the grip he has on you tightens. His hips roll up to meet yours each time you sink down.

You grab his bicep, anchoring yourself to him with nails that harshly dig into his flesh.

So close.

A few more rhythmic movements and you feel fierce pleasure erupt inside of you, causing your mouth to fall open again as you whine out your pleasure.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You’re still sitting on him, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath and come back to reality after feeling the release of seven denied orgasms wash over you.

Suddenly, you’re on your back again, Aemond hovering over your panting form. Your face is flustered and your hair is even messier than it was before.

Click.

The smug smile on his face has morphed into pride, and perhaps there’s something more, something far more vulnerable than he’s ever allowed himself to show you, hiding behind his miss-matched gaze.

“Gevie”

Thank you for reading! I have an idea for an upcoming part about these two, but with loads of angst as well 🤩 lmao you know I can’t help myself! Kisses 😙

[jesusatemysnatch]

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

[aomiiine]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

jujutsu kaisen w SAMURAI!TOJI FUSHIGURO. format. fic. warnings. fluff + hurt/comfort + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. beating mention. spanking mention. pretty domestic and vanilla ngl. lots of praise(good girl, etc). a bit of dirty talk. fingering. endearments. wife!reader. toji in denial that he’s stupidly in love. summary. samurai!toji w his pretty wife + non-sorcerer au so he’s just miserable here

author’s note. gcbuiawbf got this idea out of nowhere. a bit inspired by hell’s paradise.

toji zenin. His birth name given by his parents along with all the responsibilities he never knew he was obliged to carry. If his soul while a fetus was informed that he was about to be born in a family where prowess reigned supreme and the right to be treated as a human had be fought for, perhaps he would have never wished to be born at all.

Against his will, he was birthed by his mother anyway, having to be scowled at and ostracised by his own clan which was said to be family. Growing up as a child, he learned what he had wasn’t family by the sight he was greeted with when he went out to the capital—children his age, running around with colourful toys in hand instead of a sword. And most importantly, they laughed. Smiled even.

It was something so mundane—a smile—yet something so foreign to him. The only smile he knew of at that age was the smile his relatives had when they kicked him on the ground, using the wooden sword he was given to train to hit him instead. The only smile he knew, was one full of sadism.

The older he got, the stronger he became, the more he realised he was slowly starting to pick up that same trait from them.

Very so often, he’d accept challenges from his peers or outsiders that wanted to humiliate him and his skills, looking down at him despite his bloodline of the Zenin clan.

He’d unsheathe his the katana he had resting on his hip, lazily taking stance and staring the arrogant man dead in the eyes with his own void eyes.

Such duels would end with the same outcome—toji having them laid on the ground, the sharp edge of his long katana dangerously close to the opponent’s neck. Sometimes—just sometimes, he’d smile. Just sometimes, he’d unintentionally make a thin cut to the neck just enough to draw blood.

He would be lying if he said the view from above wasn’t satisfying, the feeling of finally being the one looking down on someone as pathetic as the ones that humiliated him for years. The sneer he’d make with his lifeless eyes under the thin shadow that masked his face from his muscular and tall physique would make anyone think their life was about to be taken in a blink of an eye. But he wouldn’t. Toji would spare himself the trouble of having to face his elders for making a scene out of nothing.

Toji’s lived at the isolated quarters of the zenin estate for years—and that wasn’t about to change. It was where his mother birthed him and died—and so it would be where he would live and die.

The very least he would expect or care about was having a wife to continue his bloodline despite his progressing age. He knew better than to be greedy and trap a lady to the hell he lived in. Besides, he had absolutely no intentions of taking the ladies he’d frequently meet at the brothels out in town as his lover, let alone as his wife.

So the news of the elders arranging him a wife from another samurai clan shocked him. It was early morning when he was informed of such news, he had almost spat out his sake. The only thing he could utter in response was a loud, deep, huh?

Toji finally met you face to face after hearing your name being repeated by his elders when he had a meeting with them. Your family name rang a bell, though he never thought much of them since they weren’t politically involved in anything other than war.

He’s sat beside you, his hair slightly better groomed and yukata straightened compared to the sloppy way he wore it before. Making an effort in his appearance was the least he could do—since he was convinced he wouldn’t bother changing a thing about himself just for your sake.

“Your wedding ceremony will be held five days from now. End of discussion,” one of his elders concluded, the leader of your clan bearing witness and agreeing. Toji merely stared head on to his peers, moving a hand to lift his cup of sake and chugging it down without a hint of respect.

After a few more minutes of discussing the details about the ceremony, he finally turned his head to look at you—his future wife. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, your figure considerably insignificant to his. From what he thought would be an average woman being wed to him, his eyes lingered on you quite some while before he glanced elsewhere, his expression unreadable still.

You two parted ways for the day and he returned to his quarters, cup of sake in hand and his arm rested on the knee of his leg that propped up while sitting on the floor, his other leg bent towards himself. Toji stared out the courtyard of the estate, trying to peel the image of you out of his head. He internally cursed himself and his elders for suddenly arranging a wife for him just because they didn’t want their reputation to be tarnished by having an unmarried man. What was he supposed to do with a woman he’s never met before anyway? Regardless, he refused to be like the men within the zenin clan that lacked sympathy towards women and children.

The wedding ceremony was brief but complete. He was the best dressed he ever was in years, with you by his side. Just some family member from your families and a brief dinner, and the ceremony was complete. You didn’t seem to say a word about it either. Deep down he wondered if you loathed him, or your parents, for setting you up the low life of the zenin clan instead of his cousins. He would never know, he didn’t want to anyway. Ignorance was bliss, he thought.

You were lead back to his quarters after the ceremony ended, the sight of the somewhat empty and undecorated room not giving you much of a shocking reaction as he had hoped. Toji didn’t know what exactly he hoped, maybe a look of horror, sorrow, or pity. Yet he looked at you only to see you nod and acknowledge him, your expression remaining calm as if saying ‘I can work with this’.

Your first night together was mostly silent, perhaps a bit awkward whenever he tried offering you a blanket and separate futon to sleep in. While you thought that he didn’t like you, he was worried (albeit in denial) that you’d be uncomfortable sleeping with him.

To his and your surprise, you ended up having a brief yet meaningful talk that same night while you were both in your respective futons, about to sleep. He liked that you didn’t have expectations, understanding of his situation and yours now that you’re his legal wife. Maybe you weren’t so bad.

Months had passed since your wedding. And he’s become increasingly close to you—he’s fond of you, is what he would say in his own words. Though in the eyes of servants, others that weren’t blind, could see just how infatuated he was with you.

With how he’s stopped going to the brothel he so frequents in the capital, with how he’s become more hostile to those who insult you, it was quite clear how he cared for you, at least. Though what they didn’t know was how flirty he is with you behind closed doors, how he it was simply impossible for him to keep his hands to himself whenever he was in close proximity with you. He was insatiable. Not that you’d tell that to anyone. Unless you wanted a good spanking in the privacy of your quarters.

“What’d I tell you about gossiping with the maids, hm?” He’d murmur against the skin of your neck from behind you, his hard body pressing up against your soft one. His hands were all over you, the curve of your hip and the soft flesh of your breast that he had cupped over your loosening kimono, his calloused fingers circling your nipple making you shiver and squirm.

“I wasn’t gossiping, you fool,” you mumbled, your breath shaky and your body writhing in vain attempts to rid yourself of his touch.

“Then what were you doing? Bragging? Complaining?” You heard from the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin and the sound of his breathy laugh making you groan in frustration in embarrassment.

“Neither,” you huffed, settling yourself down on the futon with his arm under you still, holding you close to him.

“Liar,” he quickly refuted, his lips grazing the skin behind your ear and slipping his hand under your robe, searching to cup one of your tits and fondling it the second he captured it. His other hand moved down to your thighs, hooking his fingers under the slit of your robe and pulling it away to reveal your bare thighs, and exposing a hint of your dampening heat.

“There’s my beauty,” he whispered, his eyes flickering down your body from your shoulder to see the present he unwrapped for himself, your pretty cunt. He’s reminded you so many unneeded times before that he owned it, you. His calloused fingers slid to the apex of your legs, parting your puffy folds since your legs remained insistent on keep closed.

“Toji—” you started only to quickly be silenced with a deliberate stroke of his finger up your slit, the pad of said finger resting on your clit. The sudden touch made your lips part to exhale a shaky moan, your eyes looking down between your legs to see the movement of his hand.

“Yeah? Need something, sweetheart?” He hummed by your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feast on your skin. While his teeth nibbled and marked you up, his finger on your clit began rubbing deliberate circles, feeling you up until he felt it twitching against the pad of his digit. Before you knew it, he had parted your folds further, slipping his thick middle fingers into your entrance, revelling in the way it made you squirm against him, your ass rubbing against his hip. You could only answer him with pathetic mewls that were only music to his ears, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be giving you much time to catch your breath to utter coherent words.

“Thought so, baby,” he scoffed triumphantly at your soft moans, his fingers curling inside you as he thrusted it in and out of your slowly, making sure to leave brief harsh kisses on your g-spot to keep you wanting, to keep you clenching around his digit in need but not enough to make you cum.

“You’re so tight around my finger, darling, can’t imagine how much tighter you’d get when I have my cock buried inside you. Think you’d like that? Feelin’ stuffed?” Was what he kept on whispering to you while he bottomed his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, making sure you’re feeling it as much as he was—and fuck was he feeling it. Even if he had you drunk on his finger, you weren’t exactly oblivious to prodding of his cock on your lower back. You just didn’t have the capacity to focus on it, not when he was turning you on with the mere thought and descriptions of him fucking you.

Toji felt you beginning to spams around him, your voice getting more and more high-pitched and whiny along with your nipples hardened to peaks between his cruel fingers. Signs of you being close to cumming was everywhere and he noticed them all, though he led you on to brink just to pull away when you needed him most.

“Yeah, not on my finger baby. You know where I want you most—where I want you best,” he grinned, his voice gravelly and hoarse as his breath brushed against your already warm skin.

Toji slid his finger out of you with slowly, savouring the way your juices coated him. The mere sight of his slick finger assured him that you were ready for—so fuckin’ ready.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, his free hand now slipping under your thigh, lifting your leg up to forcefully part your legs knowing you’d cramp yourself while trying to keep it up for him. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he assured from behind you when he finally took notice how you kept calling out his name, your voice all whiny and shaky in desperation. He positioned himself from behind you, shifting his hips and snuggling closer to you to lose whatever distance you still had left between each other.

“Feel that? ‘M all hard and ready for you, baby. Just like how ready you are for me,” he cooed, tugging on his own yukata to free his raging hard on, letting the thick girth slick with precum prod your ass, earning a needy whimper from you. He couldn’t help but stare at your side profile, taking in the sight of his wife making such expressions you’d never make for anyone but him.

His arm under your body curled your body suffocating close to him, making sure you could feel his chest against your back and his chin buried on the top of your head, alternating the choice of preying on the skin of your neck or ear.

After a moment of teasing, he finally slid his cock over to your wet folds, letting the tip mingle his precum with your slick juices before he pushed upwards, slowly penetrating your entrance that fluttered around him already, making it hard for him to go further.

“Fuck, princess—you gotta relax. I know you can take me in like a good girl,” he groaned, his jaw clenching at the feeling your soft flesh against his tip before you finally relax, letting him push further into you. He kept on uttering filthy encouragements by your ear while he made you take him in inch by inch until the hilt, his head tilting to kiss down your neck. He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to his size, not letting that moment go on for too long until he started bottoming in and out of you with you slow, deliberate thrusts, your leg trembling in his hand.

“All mine—this tight cunt’s all mine.” The foul words that reached your ears would have normally had you recoiling in disgust but now, knowing those words came from him, it only made you moan shamelessly in his arms, your insides churning with pleasure and need to chase that high that he so often gave you. His need for you was palpable, almost equivalent to yours with how his hand kept alternating between your tits while he fucked you, his pace quickening now that the knot in his loins was tightening.

Your shared bedroom room was filled with nothing was the scent of your arousals, the lewd squelching sounds of his thrusts into you and loud shared moans. Toji’s hips didn’t stop for even a moment to let any of you rest, not when he was so close, you were so close. His grip on your breast tightened along with his grasp that help your thigh up, his hips bucking into your until he felt his balls tighten, his cock eventually spurting ropes of his thick semen into your canal, his movements jerky until he stopped. He nestled his cock into you until the hilt, unloading himself and letting you clench all around him.

He savoured the feeling with heavy pants, deep growls on satisfaction leaving him when he realised you came with him. Toji kept himself inside you for a while, not showing any signs of pulling out as you both basked in the afterglow.

He’d finally lower your leg down, humping against you lazily now that you’ve both came down from your high. Toji cradle you close to him, his hand slipping out of your robe to move his hand to your stomach instead, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled your natural scent and the musk of your mixed fluids that had began to ooze out you.

“Think you’d be up for another round after this, darling?” His low voice breathless voice met your ears, earning himself an annoyed frown which he merely chuckle at in response.

[rafesfavgirl]

gurl i neeed a part 2 of stop asking me to stay, that broke me😭😭😭

you ask, i deliver :) hope you like it!!

i don't regret a thing — r. cameron

part 1.

❝ we're not the only ones,  i don't regret a thing every word i've said, you know i'll always mean ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, knowing the situation with ward, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use, mainly fluff, a little angst, might still make you cry. rafe being an absolute simp for you, basically.

rafe wakes up the next morning, faced-down on topper's living room couch with almost no recollection of what happened the night before. except one thing—you'd finally walked away from him.

"not enough to choose me. you give in every time." your words echo in his head, as he opens his eyes.

fuck. what did he do?

"good morning sunshine," kelce comes down the stairs and greets rafe, who looked as if he couldn't move from the couch. "you sleep well?"

"i slept like shit," rafe groans, finally sitting himself up. "what the hell happened last night?"

"you mean other than you getting coked out and royally screwing things over with y/n?" kelce sasses him. "not much bro."

rafe shoots him a glare. "i did not royally screw things over with y/n."

"are you sure about that?" kelce raises a brow at him. "cause i had to drive her home last night crying, bro."

rafe's ear perk up at kelce's confession of you crying over him. you wouldn't have. you were the one who broke up with him.

"she was crying?" rafe asks.

"do you seriously even have to ask?" kelce replies. "i can't even count on two hands how many times you've made her cry the last few months."

no, that couldn't be true. surely he hadn't made you cry that often.

"shut the fuck up kelce," rafe gets up from the couch in complete denial of how shitty he's treated you the last few months and makes his way over to the kitchen.

rafe opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, while kelce joins him in the kitchen.

"you know it's true," kelce says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "you just never see it, because she won't let you."

was he right?

"you know how y/n is, bro," kelce adds, as i take a sip of water. "she'll never let you know you're hurting her, because you fear nothing more than being the cause of her pain and losing her. but she's also not going to beg and cry for you to stay and fight for her."

i did know that. that's what i loved about her. she didn't necessarily play hard to get when i tried asking her out on a date after months of texting, but she didn't give in too easily either. she wanted me to prove i was serious about her before giving me a real chance. she knew her worth.

i recap the bottle i'm drinking from and set it down on the counter beside me, my eyes focused on kelce. "so what should i do?"

kelce holds his hands up. "if you don't know by now, i can't help you."

—

rafe wasn't an idiot. he knew what he had to do.

so, after going home and taking a shower to freshen up and get a change of clothes, he drove to the flower shop in town to get you a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath, then nothing bundt cakes to get your favorite treat—a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake—and finally, your house.

once he parked his truck in front of your house and got out, he went through his usual routine of rounding around to your backyard, where he moved the ladder the gardeners used towards your bedroom window.

he climbed up and knocked, balancing the flowers and bundt cake in one hand.

you were sitting in bed watching after we fell on your laptop with a box of tissues beside you and puffy, red eyes when you hear the knock on your window.

without even thinking about it, you already knew who it was. this was just what he did. and against your better judgment, you got up from your bed, and walked over to pull the curtains open and find rafe outside with a regretful look on his face, a bouquet of flowers and a small box of your favorite treat.

slowly, but surely, you unlock the window and pull it up.

"i'm sorry," he speaks before you can, and you scoff.

"you know, i'm getting real sick of hearing you say that," you reply, turning around to walk away and reposition yourself back on your bed, while he slips in through your window.

"i got you flowers," he offers you a small smile and holds both items out to you. "and your favorite bundt cake. white chocolate raspberry."

your eyes shift from the gifts in his hand to his piercing blue eyes. they were no longer dark like they were last night, but there was a sense of uncertainty in them. like he wasn't sure he could win you back.

"so what? am i suppose to just forgive you? just like that?" you retort.

he lets out a sigh, and takes a seat at the edge of your bed, placing both items down on your bed next to your box of tissues. he finally gets a good look at you—from the messy bun on your head, to the bags under your eyes from barely getting any sleep last night, to your red, puffy eyes—and realizes just how badly he's messed up this time.

"i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun." he still couldn't believe he said those words to you last night.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness," he admits. "i know that. but i want it, y/n. and i'm willing to work for it."

while those words were music to your ears, you were apprehensive. he apologizes every time. and while things do change for a while, they're never permanent. and a week or two from now, you'd be back in this same situation again. was that really worth it?

"i know i don't deserve any more chances," he continues, his eyes only focused on yours. "but i promise… i promise just give me one more and you won't regret it."

your eyes shift between his. he looked a little… scared? was he really that afraid to lose you?

"i don't know, rafe," you say honestly, shifting a little. "you've hurt me so bad… i don't know if i can take you doing it one more time."

"i'm not going to," he immediately shakes his head and reaches out to take your hands in his, fiddling with your fingers and glancing down at them. "please, baby, please. just let me show you i'm the guy for you. that i can be the guy you need and want me to be."

"how?"

"you'll give me a chance?" he asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being given another chance to win you back. 

despite your brain screaming at you not to, your heart wins over and you nod. you couldn't help it. every part of you yearned for him. and if he was willing to show you that he really could be the guy you knew he was—the guy you fell in love with—then maybe it would be worth it.

"wear something nice," he says. "i'll come back to pick you up at seven."

—

at exactly seven on the dot, you hear rafe park his car in front of your house, and look out your bedroom window to see him dressed in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, white button down carrying a bouquet of red roses as he walked towards your driveway and front door.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you hurry to strap your heels on and look at yourself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing your purse off your vanity and heading down the stairs.

"where are you heading off to?" your mom asks when you pass by the living room, all dressed up.

"date with rafe," you reply, walking towards the front door.

your parents had never been rafe's biggest fan—they weren't exactly unaware of how often he's made you cry the last couple of months—but they also knew they couldn't stop you from dating whoever you wanted, so they never fought you on it, and you were grateful for that. it was comforting to know they'd support you no matter what happened.

taking a deep breath, you place your hand on the doorknob, and finally open the door when the bell rings.

rafe's eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, his eyes trailing down your body wrapped in a tight, short, satin red dress. "wow," he gasps. "you- you look…"

your cheeks redden at his loss of words. "you don't clean up too bad yourself, cameron."

he smiles at your use of his last name as a nickname, and holds the red roses in his hand out to you. "these are for you."

"you already got me flowers this morning, you know," you joke, taking the bouquet from him. your mom was gonna be pleased to know rafe was back to filling up all her flower vases.

"i know, but…" he trails off. "you deserve the best."

the blush on your cheeks deepen at his words. "give me a second," you turn to walk back towards the living room, and set the bouquet down on the coffee table in front of your parents. "don't wait up."

they don't even get a word in before you're walking away again to join rafe outside.

"shall we?" you ask, looking up at him through your lashes, as you closed the door behind you.

"just… one more thing," a sly smile comes across his lips, as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a black blindfold.

you stare at it, your mouth agape. "you're kidding, right?"

he shrugs, "i want it to be a surprise."

you groan, but give in anyway. "fine. but if i trip in these heels because i can't see where i'm going, consider us broken up for good."

he laughs at the threat, even though a part of him was afraid you still wouldn't forgive him after tonight. "you know i won't let that happen. turn around."

you do as he says, and he ties the blindfold around your eyes, before taking your hand in his and leading you down the driveway towards his car parked up on the curb. he opens the door for you, and carefully helps you into the passenger seat, before closing the door and rounding the car to get in the driver's seat.

the second the engine comes on, your romantic taylor swift playlist plays through the car's speakers.

"you didn't," you say. he would always complain when you had aux because she was all you'd ever play.

"i guess she's not too bad," rafe shrugs, chuckling as you began singing along to the lyrics of wildest dreams.

rafe continued driving through the island for another ten or fifteen minutes, before he finally pulled the car to a stop in front of his family's beach house on the edge of figure eight, completely secluded from everything else.

he gets out of the car first, and helps you out, taking your hand in his to lead you through the house and out to the back porch.

"are you ready?" he leans in towards your ear, and goosebumps rise along your skin at his proximity.

you nod, and he reaches his hands up to the back of your head to untie the blindfold.

it takes a little while for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, a feeling of warmness fills your heart at the sight in front of you.

red rose petals were scattered in the sand of the private beach, along with fairy lights, a candlelit table for two set up in the center of it all, as acoustic instrumentals of taylor's best love songs played through the speaker situated on the porch.

"you like it?" he asked.

you turn your head to look at him. "rafe, i… it's perfect."

"that's what i was going for," he shrugs smugly, and nods his head towards the set up. "come on."

you both remove your shoes, before he takes your hand in his again and leads you down the back porch to the table in the middle of the beach.

"i can't believe you did this for me," you say, as he pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

"i'd do anything for you," he smiles, taking the seat across from you once you're seated.

—

after a three course dinner and a bottle of wine, which was all served to the both of you by a waiter that rafe hired from the country club, the night slowly came to an end, an endless amount of stars filling the night sky above you.

but while you were focused on the stars, rafe was focused on you.

"god, you're beautiful," he says, causing you to look at him now.

you chuckle, "shut up."

"no, i'm fucking serious," he replied, standing up from his seat.

you watched him carefully as he walked over to you, and held a hand out.

you glance at his hand and tilt your head up at him, "what are you doing?"

"dance with me," he says.

"you're asking me to dance?" you raise a brow at him.

"mhm," he nods. "you gonna say yes?"

"well how can i say no?" you reply, a small smile forming on your lips as you put your hand in his.

he leads you a few feet away from the table, and rests a firm hand on your waist, as you trail a hand up to his shoulder.

he locks his eyes with yours as you both begin swaying to taylor's timeless, and scans your face.

"what?"

he shakes his head, "i don't deserve you..."

"rafe…"

"but i'm gonna do everything i can to make sure i become the kind of guy who does," he cuts me off. "i want to be better, y/n. not only for you, but for myself too."

you smile, and pull him closer, your hand snaking to the back of his head.

"i'm sorry for being such an ass the last few months," he says, and you close my eyes, taking the moment in as he continues. "i know i haven't deserved all the chances you've given me, but i'm not gonna disappoint you again. i want to be the guy you think i am."

you pull away, just enough to have your eyes lock with his.

"you are that guy, rafe," you tell him, and you mean it. "you just need to let him show more."

he smiles, "you're pretty damn amazing, you know that?"

"so i've been told," you shrug jokingly.

he chuckles. "i love you, y/n."

"i love you too."

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[rafeandonlyrafe]

never truly gone

words: 2k

alternative universe where rafe was the one to fake his death instead of ward

warnings: funeral, discussions of death and grief, established relationship, murder confession (canon murder), implications of smut (no actual sex)

you are barely tuned in to the words being spoken at the funeral, lost in the haze of grief. dressed in the same outfit you wore for your one year anniversary with rafe. it was his favorite. was. the word hits you like a ton of bricks.

it didn't feel real for the longest time, part of it still doesn't, the feeling in your gut that your boyfriend isn't truly gone, but as you pick your head up and look around, you realize you have to get over the stage of denial.

“are you okay?” your mom whispers, reaching over to squeeze your hand. you rip it immediately out of her grip. of course you're not okay. who could be after their first love, their high school sweetheart, blew up?

“now is the time that we invite anyone who would like to say a few words up to the mic.” the pastor says, looking out into the crowd, members of rafes family having already spoken.

ward turns around to look at you. he invited you to sit in the front row when you first arrived, but you didn't want that kind of attention, your every reaction being scrutinized, if you’re crying too much, or not reacting enough.

“would you like to speak y/n?” 

you look at the crumpled, tear stained piece of paper with some words scribbled on it.

“i-i don't know if i can.” you admit. ward seemed so strong when he spoke, the same pillar of community he seems to be when speaking at town halls or midsummers.

“whatever you say, im sure rafe would appreciate it.”

you nod, take a deep breath, then stand. your mind seems to blur as you walk to the front, the pastor greeting you with a soft hug then leading you to the podium.

you clear your throat before looking down at the paper. 

“i never imagined a life without you. you were the first man i ever loved and i can't… i can't see myself ever having that same love again. we changed each other so much. we went from kids to young adults planning out their life together. i love you so much, rafe. i always will no matter how much time passes.” you vow.

your next words turn robotic, talking about the family he left behind, his accomplishments, things that don't actually matter to you but you know should be said. you recount the five years you were together, knowing someone is no doubt scoffing at how little it is, but it was your whole world.

you manage to hold in your sobs until you sit back down. you spend the rest of the funeral with your head down, unable to look at the pictures hung around the church.

-- 2 months later --

you let out a groan as you turn over in bed, not wanting to wake up, wanting to spend another day rotting under the covers.

“it's almost noon.” your mom says, peaking in to the door.

“yeah.” you say, sniffling as you see the photo on your nightstand when you go to look at your alarm clock. you can't bring yourself to move it, even if it makes you cry every time you see rafes smiling face. “i know.”

“maybe we could go out to dinner. or order some pizza? you need to eat, baby.” you know your mom is just looking out for you, but the thought of food makes you feel sick, eating at this point when your stomach truly needs it.

“yeah, maybe.” you pick your phone up off the nightstand and unplug it. “im gonna take a shower and get dressed.”

“that's good.” your mom says. “i love you, y/n.”

“love you too mama.” you pause for a beat when she doesn't shut your door. “thank you.”

you mom nods before exiting. you open up your phone to the gallery that causes you as much pain as it has joy, flicking through your final photos with rafe before sighing and getting up to shower with him fresh in your mind, determined to not forget a single thing about him.

--

you're about to go to sleep, pass out and hopefully not dream of anything. you went out for dinner like you promised your mom, trying to keep a brave face for her. she didn't even mention anything when you came back from an extended trip to the bathroom with tear stains on your cheeks and red eyes.

you grab your phone, swallowing harshly to stop yourself from crying again as you click on your messages, rafes contact still pinned to the top. 

you click on your messages. the last text was rafe saying he loved you. you never got to text him back, but you know he was aware of how much you loved him.

you scroll back for a bit, smiling at his jokes even with the tears in your eyes.

you lock your phone and place it on your chest, looking up at the glittering stars through your skylight. “i miss you so much, rafe. why'd you have to leave me?”

your phone vibrates. you almost ignore it, not caring who it could be from, you've practically ditched all your friends, hoping they won't hold it against you when you finally feel good enough to hang out again, if that time ever comes.

something in you makes you pause when you go to plug your phone in, makes you hesitate and open up the text.

baby, im so sorry. please meet me outside, im at your dock.

love, rafe

you frown at the text from the unknown number, considering ignoring the obvious prank as you fling off your covers, body now fueled with rafe, but when you look out the window, there is an unfamiliar boat tied to your dock.

you slip on your shoes, not really thinking of a plan as you head outside, rushing through the yard to find out whoever is playing tricks on you.

the moon barely lights your steps as you stomp down the wooden dock until you're close enough from the boat for them to hear you and far enough from your house to not wake up your mom.

“this isn't fucking funny!” you scream. “whoever is pranking me, you're fucked up!”

a figure steps out of the boat and onto your dock. it takes your eyes a second to adjust, to really take in what you're seeing, to know it's reality.

“n-no.” you take a staggering step back. “im-im seeing things.”

“it's really me, baby.” the word hits you like a bullet as you fall to your knees, not caring that they dig into the wood. “i can explain everything but-but can i touch you? ive missed you so goddamn much.”

“this isn't real. you're- you're dead. im dreaming.”

rafe moves closer, dropping to his knees as well and pulling you into a tight hug. it isn't until he touches you that you know that it's not a dream, hes real and warm against you.

“oh, god.” you begin to sob, clutching onto rafe, clambering closer to him, climbing onto his lap and hugging him so tightly it's like your bodies could become one.

“im so fucking sorry baby. i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you.” you sob, pulling back to look rafe in the eye. “i-i love you and you can never leave me again.”

you'll demand answers later, but now you're just happy your initial gut instinct was right, your boyfriend is right here, alive and well.

“can i kiss you? you're probably pissed at me but-”

you don't wait for rafe to finishing, surging forward and smashing your lips against his, all the passion and feelings of the past two months without him, but also the past five years of love, put into your bodies as you kiss under the moonlight.

“baby-” rafe gasps after a minute. “i-i need to get back on the boat. just in case i’m seen. come with me.”

“okay.” you're not sure what it means, but you're not going to let rafe out of your sight.

rafe climbs onto the boat before helping you, hand carefully stroking over yours as he leads you into the cabin.

“did you tell anyone that i messaged you?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling you to his side.

“no.” you shake your head. “my mom doesn't even know.”

“that's good.” rafe nods. “i faked my death.”

“i can tell.” you giggle, unable to keep away for much longer as you press your lips against his in a quick peck before curiosity has your tongue loosening. “how? why?”

“my dad planned it for me. the boat was rigged to explode and i went and suited up in scuba gear. the why…” rafe hesitates for a moment, and you can read every emotion on his face.

“just tell me.” you say. “you can't hurt me. you can't make me mad at you, not when i just got you back.”

“i killed sheriff peterkin.” rafe swallows harshly. “it was to protect my dad, but of course nobody would believe me.”

“i believe you.” you tell rafe, tucking your head into his neck. “that must have been so scary, but i know how you'd do anything to protect the people you love.”

“my dad didn't want me to tell you at all. i agreed to wait until after it happened, but it all moved so fast, and when i got to where i was supposed to hide out for a while, i realized i had no way of contacting you. i had to steal a phone and this boat and leave the safehouse.”

“what's the plan now then?” you ask.

“have you come back to the safehouse with me. it's in the caribbean, on a gorgeous island. i will provide everything you need, we won't have to hide there.”

“and what will i tell my family? tell everyone?”

“well, your mom loves me.” rafe smiles, knowing he's right. “i think we can trust her to keep the secret. as for everyone else… maybe you just need some time away from the outer banks after what happened. maybe some cousins in michigan or something?”

“whatever.” you shake your head. “i just need to be with you.”

-- one week later --

“when you said safe house…” you look around the mansion. “this is not what i was picturing.”

“the locals here think im a cousin of the cameron family. allows me to stay here without much suspicion. i do keep a low profile and stay out of touristy areas just in case, but we can do whatever you want here. the ocean is right outside our doorstep.”

“and money? do i need to get a job?” you've never worked before, having grown up wealthy, but you're willing to do anything to keep your life going with rafe, having told your mom who didn't believe you until rafe stepped into the room. she saw the spark in your eyes and recognized it as the same one in hers when she looked at your father, and her time was also cut short when he passed young.

she made you promise to call and to let her visit every couple months, just enough to not be suspicious.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “my dad funnels me money. cash, so no one gets suspicious.”

“honestly, i could just stay forever in the house and in the backyard.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“my dad will figure something out eventually, i don't expect you to hide for the rest of your life.”

“okay.” you shrug. now that you're with rafe, you don't care. you're going to be happy no matter what after feeling the pain of losing him.

“there is one more room i want to show you…” rafe picks you up, your legs slotting around his waist like nothing ever happened. 

you laugh as you kiss his neck, knowing exactly where he's taking you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[maewphoria]

⠀

⌗⠀양정원⠀⠀CAT⠀DISTRIBUTION⠀SYSTEM⠀꒰⠀PT.3⠀꒱

⠀

SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?

pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader. featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, aespa winter and karina (soon). word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀6.294k genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.) warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), cowardice behaviour (jungwon is also a coward), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything. mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys! pt.3 is finally out! please enjoy! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two.

#⠀OO3⠀:⠀DRINKS AND LIPSTICK STAINS.

you now find yourself seated inside a quaint little café nestled on the corner of a quiet street—its warm atmosphere a comforting contrast to the unfamiliar buzz of a town you’ve only just arrived in. the only person you truly know here, apart from jungwon—whom you met just yesterday morning—is the one you’re waiting for now.

you cradle your cup of coffee between your hands, the steam curling upwards, when the door opens with a soft chime. instinctively, you glance up. the familiar sound of her voice reaches you—but it’s not alone. two others are speaking with her, their words blending into a lively murmur as they enter the café.

curious, you straighten in your seat, eyes searching the small crowd that just stepped in. and then—you see her.

yunjin.

your best friend since high school. her laughter, just as vibrant as you remember, rings out in response to something the short-haired girl beside her said. she scans the café, eyes flitting from table to table, until they land on you. recognition lights up her face, and she waves with uncontainable joy, turning to her companions to announce she’s found you.

they walk over, and you rise to your feet, your chest already tightening with emotion. as soon as she’s in front of you, the world seems to blur into the background. you both scream—but like, internally. because you’re in public. but the hug? very real and borderline bone-crushing.

“girl! i missed you so much!” you say, pulling back just enough to see her face.

“ugh, me too! okay, okay—introductions. these are my dorm mates,” she spins around with a flourish, “this is chaewon,” she points to the short-haired one, who gives you a little wave and a smirk. “and that’s kazuha,” she adds, motioning to the serene one who greets you with a graceful nod.

“hi, i’m y/n,” you say, walking forward to shake their hands. “yunjin’s high school partner-in-crime. she probably left that part out.”

“she definitely didn’t,” chaewon says with a knowing smile.

“let’s all sit,” you say, motioning to the table.

the menus are still waiting there, and once everyone’s settled, chaewon pipes up, “should we order first?”

everyone agrees, so you hand out the menus that were left on the table and call for a waitress. as soon as the orders are in, conversations start flowing effortlessly. they feel warm. easy.

you learn that they all will be attending the same university. chaewon’s majoring in cinematic arts—film & tv production, which honestly makes a lot of sense with her energy. kazuha’s in dance performance, every bit as graceful as her aura implies. and yunjin—well, she’s studying architecture. same as jungwon.

and that’s when you remember. jungwon.

“oh, right! i asked to meet up because something kind of… weird happened yesterday.”

their eyes lock on you with synchronized curiosity. kazuha and chaewon lean in. yunjin straightens up, instantly in bestie mode.

“okay. storytime. full version. no skipping,” yunjin demands.

you grin. “so, turns out my new neighbor is... hot. like, unfairly hot. his name’s jungwon and apparently, his cat has been sneaking into my balcony even before i moved in.”

“classic. seduced by the pet first,” chaewon mumbles.

you continue, “so yesterday, i woke up, got myself some coffee, opened my balcony door in my pajamas, his cat was already on my balcony and then suddenly there he was—also just woken up. shirtless. in boxers.”

you didn’t even get to finish your sentence when, all at once, the air was sliced by high-pitched squeals of excitement. yunjin shrieked as if someone had proposed marriage right then and there, smacking your arm repeatedly while dramatically shielding her face like she couldn’t handle the scandal.

“you’re living in a k-drama,” kazuha declares.

“tell us more!” chaewon urges, elbows on the table, chin on hands.

you describe how after he got properly dressed and some awkward introductions, he offered to help you with your furniture delivery. what neither of you realized was that the delivery included your bed. and your couch.

“he still helped anyway,” you add with a shrug.

“okay, that’s such a green flag,” kazuha says, nodding like a proud mentor.

“and he stayed?” chaewon asks, borderline scandalized in the best way.

you nod. “he helped me build the bed, then hung around like he didn’t wanna leave. literally asked, ‘so... should i go now?’ like some puppy waiting for permission.”

the table erupts again.

“he likes you. it’s giving love at first sight,” yunjin declares, shaking your shoulders.

you laugh but internally, there’s a little flutter. maybe.

you go on to explain that he only left around 6pm. he said he got real life experience helping you since he’s studying to be an architect, too.

“architects are walking green flags. look at me. i practically photosynthesize,” yunjin jokes, flipping her hair as everyone laughs.

“and then—he said i owe him a meal.”

that was all it took to spark another round of delighted squeals and dramatic gasps that could’ve rivaled any daytime soap opera.

“girl. that man wants to see you again,” yunjin declared, nudging your arm with the enthusiasm, obviously overly invested. her eyes practically sparkled with glee.

“so,” kazuha chimed in, eyes narrowing mischievously, “what’s the plan?” she leaned forward across the table, wiggling her eyebrows like she was about to uncover a scandal.

you sighed, half amused and half helpless, leaning back in your chair as if the decision itself weighed more than it should. “that’s what i need help with. i can’t decide—do i cook for him or just ask him out?”

the table fell into a thoughtful silence, as if a panel of brunch philosophers had been summoned to debate matters of the heart.

chaewon was the first to pierce the silence, her fingers absentmindedly twirling the straw in her drink as if stirring the weight of her thoughts into the ice. her tone was smooth, almost philosophical.

“asking him out is efficient,” she said, gaze fixed on the glass as condensation slowly slid down its sides. “zero dishes. minimal emotional vulnerability. very practical.”

kazuha, ever the romantic of the group, spoke up, her eyes gleaming with soft defiance. “but cooking is more sincere,” she argued gently, a faint smile playing on her lips. “he’ll know you were thinking of him while making it. he’ll taste your effort—your heart, even. and that stays with someone.”

you looked between them, torn like a voter in the world’s smallest, weirdest debate.

before you could weigh in, yunjin, perched lazily with one leg crossed over the other, pointed a fry in your direction like it was a weapon of truth. her eyes were sharp, playful, and just the tiniest bit dangerous.

“asking him out is also direct,” she chimed in. “you don’t want to come off like you’ve already planned the honeymoon and chosen your matching tombstones.”

you choked on your sip of coffee, coughing out a laugh. “matching tombstones?”

“hey, love is eternal,” she shrugged, popping the fry into her mouth as if she hadn’t just said something entirely unhinged.

chaewon raised her brow in amused agreement, kazuha chuckled softly, while just you nodded before biting into your burger thoughtfully as the council continued debating your romantic destiny like it was a critical geopolitical decision. the buzz of the café faded into background noise beneath their animated voices.

then kazuha’s eyes lit up, a spark of brilliance in her expression that made everyone pause.

“wait,” she said slowly, dramatically, “bake something. or cook a simple dish. and then say you’re giving it to all your neighbors. like… hi-i’m-your-new-neighbor kind of thing.”

a beat of silence passed.

then yunjin exploded. “yes! plausible deniability!”

chaewon’s smirk followed a second later. “and plausible flirting,” she added, with the smugness of someone who had just solved a crossword puzzle no one else could finish.

you all burst into laughter, the kind that made your ribs ache and your eyes squint.

chaewon lifted her drink like she was toasting to fate itself. “so, there’s your answer. cook or bake, but share the love. with everyone.”

you couldn’t help it—you smiled, a little breathless from all the joy.

somewhere between the teasing and the wisdom, the decision didn’t seem so heavy anymore. maybe it didn’t matter how you did it. maybe it just mattered that you wanted to.

and now, you had a plan. or at least, a delicious excuse to make one.

as the conversation mellowed, yunjin suddenly perked up—eyes wide as though struck by a forgotten revelation.

“oh! i totally forgot to mention,” she blurted, sitting up straighter. “there’s a welcome party for the architecture department tomorrow night. you guys wanna come?”

you tilted your head, a brow slightly raised in question. “isn’t that supposed to be... exclusively for architecture students?”

yunjin waved a dismissive hand, her tone breezy. “please. it’s not like they’re checking IDs at the door and grilling people about load-bearing walls and blueprint layouts.”

her confidence was convincing—and honestly, the promise of free food, music, and mingling didn’t sound half bad. you exchanged glances with the others, and one by one, everyone gave a nod or a shrug that translated to a collective: ‘why not?’

“now,” yunjin continued, a devilish grin spreading across her face like mischief personified, “the real question is... pre-game drinking?”

you snorted. “already planning our downfall?”

“not at all,” she said, hands raised in faux innocence. “just a little warm-up. a test of our resilience. think of it as... research.”

her suggestion was met with a chorus of amused groans and delighted laughter. kazuha clapped her hands together once, dramatic as ever. “for science,” she declared solemnly.

“for survival,” chaewon added, already reaching for her drink like a toast was about to happen.

“for chaos,” you muttered under your breath, but you were smiling too.

you barely knew each other this morning, and now? it feels like you’ve been friends forever. they invite you over, and suddenly, you’re trading cappuccinos for soju and beer in their dorm room.

you laugh, you tease, you connect. social media accounts exchanged, numbers saved, secrets shared.

they beg for more jungwon stories, until yunjin remembers she’s in the architecture department’s group chat. she pulls it up and scrolls through until—there. jungwon. his profile is mostly cat photos—yami, of course—but a few rare selfies draw squeals and gasps.

“we get it now,” they say, nodding as if they’ve uncovered the final clue.

you roll your eyes, sipping your beer with a grin.

time slips away. drinks are downed, stories traded, hearts loosened. eventually, you’re tipsy—more than tipsy—but still determined to head home. something about your own bed pulls at you, familiar and grounding.

you announce your exit, telling them you're just gonna book an uber home. whether they heard you, you’ll never know.

you stumble to the elevator, barely managing to book an uber, and before long, you're in the backseat, head spinning. you try your best not to look drunk.

once home, you try to walk straight. you try. but as soon as you reach the lobby, you sit—head heavy, eyes closed.

then came the sound.

a soft, curious “meow?”

your eyes shot open.

blinking up through the fuzzy lens of intoxication, your vision slowly focused on a familiar feline—yami, your favorite fuzzy little furball. her big eyes stared down at you like she was judging your entire bloodline.

what you didn’t notice right away was the figure behind her, crouching to take a closer look at who or what caught their cat's attention. jungwon.

“y/n?” his voice held a blend of surprise and mild amusement. “what are you doing here? are you… sitting? on the lobby floor?”

but you’re laser-focused on yami as if she were the reincarnation of aristotle and you were seeking wisdom. you reached out dramatically to pick her up, arms shaky but determined. jungwon, without a word, unhooked the leash so you could cradle her against your chest.

he smiled—softly, knowingly—and gently helped you to your feet as you cooed nonsense at his cat.

“yami, you’re the softest little baby in the entire galaxy. you know that, right?” you said as you bumped your nose against hers.

jungwon watched this bizarre little interaction unfold, half entertained, half amazed by how yami actually seemed to respond to your gibberish. the cat gave small blinks, soft purrs, and the occasional tail flick that looked suspiciously like nods. you, naturally, took this as undeniable proof that she understood every word.

he supported you carefully as you made your way into the elevator, then up to the fifth floor—stumbling every few steps like you were trying to tango with gravity. he caught you each time without complaint, just laughing quietly to himself.

“you’re so wasted,” he murmured as you leaned against your apartment door, still clutching yami like a teddy bear.

you fumbled with the keypad, squinting hard at the numbers as if they were ancient runes. jungwon respectfully turned his gaze away as you typed, hands hovering just in case you tipped over like a domino.

you typed. wrong.

tried again. wrong.

“third time’s the charm,” he said, voice light.

wrong.

“...okay maybe fourth time’s the charm.”

miraculously, you nailed it on the fourth try. the door gave a gentle click, unlocking at last. had you failed one more time, the lock would’ve sealed shut until morning—an architectural betrayal that would've left you camping outside or possibly crashing at jungwon’s place. a thought that neither of you were currently prepared to explore.

you wobbled inside, headed straight for the couch, but jungwon redirected you gently, his hands warm on your shoulders.

“bed,” he said with mock sternness. “you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

you let him guide you to your bedroom like a sleep-deprived zombie carrying a cat. as soon as your body hit the mattress, you let out a happy sigh, pulling yami close. she barely protested.

jungwon noticed your shoes were still on. with quiet precision, he knelt down, unlaced them, and set them neatly beside your bed. you squirmed under the blankets, murmuring something sweet to yami, then proceeded to plant an entire flurry of kisses across her furry face until your eyelids grew too heavy and sleep won.

your grip on her relaxed, and she wriggled free, hopping towards the edge of the bed with regal grace. she padded over to jungwon, looking up at him with an expression that could only be translated as, i have fulfilled my duties. the human is asleep.

he chuckled, gave her a few gentle head pats, then bent slightly. “come on,” he whispered.

as if understanding the command, yami leapt onto his shoulder like a pirate’s parrot, curling into her favorite perch.

he glanced back at you once more. your face was peaceful, a slight smile resting on your lips as if you were dreaming something good.

he smiled, too.

then he quietly stepped out, returned to his own apartment, and let out a soft laugh the moment the door clicked shut behind him.

“what a night,” he muttered, shaking his head as he made his way to his room.

he flicked on the light and turned to yami, only to freeze. red pinkish smudges marked her face like she’d survived a lipstick explosion. upon closer inspection—no, not smudges. kiss prints. bold, unapologetic, affectionate chaos all over her fur.

“oh my god,” jungwon burst out laughing, grabbing his phone and snapping a few quick photos. the sight was too good not to capture.

jungwon: sent a photo you were completely wasted last night. yami’s now emotionally scarred 🤣

he stared at the screen for a beat longer than necessary, his smile lingering.

the memory played again in his mind—you, stumbling but happy, doting on yami like she was royalty. it was absurd. it was endearing. it was… weirdly adorable.

he flopped onto his bed, yami jumping down beside him. he reached over and gently stroked her fur, tracing the lipstick prints one by one, careful not to smudge them.

“we’ll wash those off tomorrow,” he murmurs. and then, quietly, almost without meaning to, “you’re so lucky.”

the words startled him. lucky?

his brows furrowed.

‘what do you mean she’s lucky?’

did he mean… he wanted kisses too?

his hand froze mid-stroke. the thought tumbled through his brain, refusing to settle. he shook his head quickly, as if to physically remove the idea, then got up and wandered to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

once changed into comfortable clothes, he returned to bed—but sleep wouldn’t come. not when he keeps thinking about you, and that ridiculous, lovely thought he had.

every time he closed his eyes, your face popped into his thoughts. your smile. your slurred voice. the way you clung to yami like she was your lifeline. and the whisper he’d accidentally let slip.

he turned over, groaning into his pillow.

what was wrong with him?

why did it bother him this much?

he was utterly, maddeningly confused.

meanwhile, just next door, you were curled up in your bed, dreaming peacefully about yami—possibly a dream where she wore a crown and spoke fluent english. your smile was soft, serene.

while jungwon wrestled with the battlefield of his thoughts, your mind floated somewhere in cotton candy skies, completely unaware of the storm you’d left behind.

#⠀OO4⠀:⠀VERY CONFUSED CAT.

you groaned, your limbs tangled in the sheets as you twisted on your bed. the early morning light pierced through the curtains, far too bold for your pounding head to handle. with a reluctant sigh, you forced yourself into a sitting position, only for your skull to retaliate—throbbing with the wrath of a hangover earned from last night's recklessness.

a small whimper escaped your lips as you surrendered to the mattress again, fingers reaching blindly for your phone. it was an innocent enough gesture, just to check the time—but the screen lit up with a message that made your stomach drop faster than gravity ever could.

a photo, courtesy of jungwon.

yami, his cat, stared into the camera with wide, soul-wounded eyes. her entire face—no, canvas—was decorated with chaotic splashes of your lipstick. underneath the photo, a message read: you were completely wasted last night. yami’s now emotionally scarred.

you gasped and sat bolt upright, momentarily forgetting the hangover as horror flushed through your veins. the headache may have lingered, but the drunken haze was instantly gone, replaced by a sharp and excruciating clarity: you did that.

you groaned into your hands, your feet kicking at the blanket and pillows in shame. you didn’t remember the full details, but one thing was certain—jungwon had witnessed the unfiltered, chaotic version of you last night. yami too, apparently.

riddled with embarrassment, you began furiously typing an apology to jungwon, fingers dancing across the screen in a desperate plea for forgiveness.

you: if i offended you, annoyed you, scarred your soul, or traumatized your cat... i’m so sorry 😩

after hitting send, you tossed your phone onto the bed like it had personally betrayed you, dragging yourself out of bed. the mere thought of running into jungwon in the corridor or lobby made your soul physically try to flee your body.

as you stood, your eyes caught something on the floor—your shoes and socks, placed neatly by your bedside. a small smile tugged at your lips despite just feeling shocked a few seconds ago.

“he even took off my shoes and socks?” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. the thought made you chuckle, albeit with a hand covering your face in secondhand embarrassment.

is he an angel? or just terrifyingly responsible?

you padded back to your bed, picked up your phone again, and sent another message—this time more composed. “thank you for taking care of me last night. i really appreciate it.” then you placed the phone screen-down on your bedside table, exhaling slowly before heading into the bathroom to begin your morning routine.

meanwhile, in the apartment next door, jungwon hadn’t slept a wink.

he was sprawled across his bed, tossing and turning, only to jolt slightly when his alarm went off with a shrill beep. groaning, he reached for his phone—only to flinch when he saw your name lighting up his screen. a new message.

he stared at it for a moment… then immediately swiped it away.

“nope,” he muttered, tossing the phone aside and dragging himself to the bathroom. he didn’t read the message. he couldn’t. not yet.

you, on the other hand, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, were immersed in weekend chores. you were humming to yourself when your phone pinged—a text from yunjin reminding you of the party tonight, complete with time and location.

you replied with a thumbs up, which in modern language meant: fine, mother.

but your brain—traitorous as always—reminded you that jungwon might also be at that party too because it’s the architecture students welcoming party.

your fingers hesitated over the screen. you typed a message asking if he’d be going—maybe even suggesting you go together but the moment you saw he hadn’t even read your earlier messages, panic kicked in.

you deleted the text before it could exist longer than necessary. that was close. the last thing you wanted was to seem desperate. he’s probably busy. maybe he’s allergic to his phone. or women. or me.

you sighed and threw yourself back into chores—mopping, wiping, reorganizing, and trying not to spiral. when you glanced at the time, you realized you had less than three hours to get ready.

hours passed, and as the clock crept closer to party time, jungwon finally opened your messages. his eyes scanned the short thank you message, but he noticed something else—missing texts. messages you had typed and unsent. a pang of guilt settled in his chest, heavier than he expected.

he typed a simple you’re welcome in reply. it felt underwhelming, but it was all he could manage.

he then stood from his bed, lazily pulling together an outfit: an off-white loose-fit long-sleeves henley, dark charcoal cargo pants, and matching off-white sneakers. he topped it off with a black cap and mask. he didn’t feel like dressing up. it was just a party. just a gathering.

he left early, texting riki that he was on his way, even though he was an hour ahead of schedule. he needed the air. the distraction. the distance.

you, on the other hand, were busy slipping into your chosen outfit—black spaghetti strap crop top, layered with a cropped off-white crochet bolero, wide-leg cargo pants, and your trusty black high-top converse. you tied your hair in a messy bun and dabbed on just enough makeup to look effortlessly cool. your crossbody sling bag hung by your side as you texted yunjin: “on my way!”

stepping into the corridor, you couldn’t help but grin. this was your first college party. a milestone.

you shot a quick message to your parents: “going out w/ yunjin and her friends tonight. will be safe, don’t worry!” their reply came fast. “have fun and take care!” their warm reply made you smile as you stepped into the elevator and booked your uber.

thirty minutes later, you arrived.

the house was buzzing with energy—people flooding in, music vibrating through the walls, neon lights flashing behind open windows. your excitement doubled.

you: already outside yunjin: we’re almost there. chaewon took 300 years to get ready!

you snorted.

a few minutes later, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon spilled out of their uber, greeting you with big smiles and even bigger hugs. compliments flew in all directions—you hyped each other up like you’d just stepped onto a runway.

together, the four of you entered the house and stepped into the whirlwind of college chaos: red cups everywhere, a dj hyping the crowd, and the scent of bad decisions in the air.

you grabbed a drink, sipped cautiously, and began swaying to the beat. the girls joined you, and soon you were in the middle of the dance floor, moving to the rhythm, lost in the lights and laughter.

on the other side of the party’s chaos, jungwon found himself tucked away in a quieter room, accompanied by his high school friends, sunoo and riki. the three of them sat in a comfortable silence, though it was clear—almost palpable—that something was weighing on jungwon’s mind. his friends, ever intuitive, gave him space, allowing him a moment to breathe before prying.

“so… what’s up, man? something’s clearly messing with your head,” riki began, eyeing jungwon with a raised brow.

jungwon looked at him, exhaled a deep sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “it’s nothing, it’s just this girl—”

“i knew it,” sunoo muttered, taking a sip from his cup.

but before he could continue, the door creaked open and in walked jake and sunghoon—jake being riki’s dorm mate, and sunghoon sunoo’s. they had been introduced to jungwon just last week, and despite the newness, jungwon found them easy to get along with, like puzzle pieces that happened to fit.

“yo, y’all need to crawl out of this cave and experience the actual party.” jake said, flopping down beside sunoo.

“can’t. jungwon’s got girl problems.” sunoo quipped, taking a casual sip from his drink like a gossiping aunt.

“already? we haven’t even suffered through syllabus week yet,” sunghoon laughed, raising his cup to take a sip.

jungwon rolled his eyes and sighed. “can i just finish the story?”

the room went quiet again. riki gave sunghoon a gentle nudge, and sunghoon shrugged, now giving jungwon his full attention.

and so, jungwon spoke. he began unraveling the string of thoughts knotted in his head. he talked about you—his new neighbor. the girl who had, without warning, managed to nest herself into his mind. his cat, yami, adored you, and much to his surprise, jungwon found himself trailing close behind in affection. he mentioned how he helped you move furniture, offered a hand with decorating—even though you’d only met that very morning. more baffling to him was the way he acted. playful. flirty. as if some unspoken magnetic force was pulling him out of his usual composed self.

“wait, pause. important question,” jake interjected, eyebrows wiggling. “is she cute?” he asked, completely unfiltered.

all heads turned to jungwon, who hesitated for a second… and then nodded.

“she’s… very pretty,” he mumbled, almost like it was a secret not meant for the air.

sunoo caught the softness in his tone and let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

jungwon frowned. “what?”

“dude, come on. maybe you’ve got a little crush?” sunoo said, tilting his head.

the others nodded in agreement, their faces a blend of amusement and intrigue.

but jungwon wasn’t sold. “sunoo, you know i don’t even know what a crush feels like. i thought i knew once—but it turns out, that feeling was built on lies. empty. fake.”

his voice dropped, thick with the weight of unresolved feelings, and the alcohol slowly seeping into his bloodstream didn’t help.

“we get it, man. we’re just looking out for you,” riki said, his tone softer now, a hand resting briefly on jungwon’s shoulder. he and sunoo both knew about jungwon’s past and how much it is still affecting him until now.

jungwon didn’t say anything. he just sighed, stood up, and walked out without another word, ignoring their calls.

his feet carried him down the stairs before his mind caught up. he was heading for the exit—but then his steps halted when he saw someone familiar.

there you were.

on the dance floor, laughing with three other girls, drink in hand and spinning beneath the dizzying kaleidoscope of lights. time, it seemed, had decided to slow just for you. the rest of the room blurred like an impressionist painting, and all jungwon could see was you—dancing, alive, radiant.

he snapped out of it and turned on his heel, bolting back to the room as if trying to outrun a feeling. when he burst through the door, everyone stared.

“won, you good?” sunoo asked, rising quickly.

jungwon just shook his head and made a beeline for the balcony, where the night air welcomed him with a cool embrace. but even the wind couldn’t push away thoughts of you.

not when you looked like a dream brought to life moments ago.

he didn't even realize how late it was, it was already 3am.

he sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair, gaze drifting downward—and that’s when he saw you again.

you were stumbling out of the party, clearly tipsy, and eventually plopped yourself down on the sidewalk. jungwon’s heart clenched at the sight. instinctively, he wanted to run the other way. to hide. because whatever this feeling was—it wasn’t light. it was heavy and loud and blooming inside his chest like a fire he couldn’t put out.

but he couldn’t look away.

then came another figure—a guy. approaching you with too much intention. jungwon narrowed his eyes. he saw how you subtly leaned away, how you stood and tried to walk off—but the guy kept following.

his body moved before his brain did.

he was out the door again.

his friends, now completely lost, rushed to the balcony in time to witness jungwon stepping between you and the guy like a scene from a movie. his back to you, his voice calm but firm. the guy raised his hands in defeat and disappeared into the night.

“who is she?” riki asked, glancing around.

“that’s her,” sunoo answered.

“wait, she was at this party the whole time?” jake blinked, shocked.

they watched from above as jungwon turned to you gently, hands on your shoulders, eyes searching your face. he said something, and to everyone’s surprise, you threw your arms around his neck in a sudden, fierce hug.

jungwon froze. his arms hung awkwardly midair as his face began to heat up, turning a lovely shade of crimson. slowly, almost shyly, one hand came up to rest on your head, patting your hair while you snuggled in.

he glanced up—and saw his friends staring. they ducked too late, especially jake. riki had to pull him down.

clearly embarrassed, he covered his face with one hand. when you finally pulled away, he held you at arm’s length, scanning your face.

“y/n, do you want to go home? i can take you.”

your eyes lit up like a kid offered dessert. “what? is baron humbert von gikkingen taking me home?” you asked while looking at his outfit, it was different than usual. “why aren't you wearing your white top hat? where's your blue bow tie and brown cane?” you asked again, in a whisper this time.

jungwon blinked before chuckling softly. “oh i wanted to be comfortable tonight and yes, the baron is escorting you home. it’s way past your bedtime.”

you nodded before gasping and crossing your arms at his last sentence. “excuse you. i am a fully independent woman who owns an apartment and lives in it alone.”

you spun around with a dramatic hmph. jungwon bit down on his lip to stop from laughing.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. you're a very mature young lady. very independent. but… aren’t you also a tiny bit sleepy and dizzy?”

you nodded solemnly. “but my friends… they’re still inside. how will they get home?”

jungwon looked around, then lit up. “my friends are inside too. i’ll ask them to take care of your girls. deal?”

you hesitated, then nodded. “okay, i shall trust you, baron.”

jungwon laughed quietly. “good. let’s go.”

he pulled out his phone, booked a ride, and texted his friends that he’d be leaving. he was just about to place his phone inside his pocket when he felt a sudden weight—your head, now resting on his chest.

he gulped. cheeks burning. he looked down, your eyes closed. he debated pushing you back but… didn’t.

the uber came. “y/n… our ride’s here,” he whispered, gently helping you up and into the car. you leaned against his shoulder. again, he let you.

the ride was quick, and soon he was guiding you up to your apartment—through the lobby, into the elevator, up to the fifth floor. you struggled with your passcode, finally unlocking the door on your fourth try (again).

he walked you in, aiming for your bedroom, but you stopped—right in the kitchen.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, moving in front of you.

you didn’t answer. instead, you cupped his face.

his entire body froze.

and then… you stepped forward, and he stepped back, until his back hit the island counter. one of your hands landed beside him, the other still cradling his cheek.

“y/n… you’re drunk. you don’t know what you’re doing—maybe we should get you to bed and—”

your other hand came up, now both holding his face.

jungwon’s face was a glowing shade of red. his grip on the counter tightened like it was the only thing keeping him from combusting.

“y/n… you really need to—oh god…”

a kiss. on his cheek. then another. and another.

like how you kissed yami.

jungwon’s hand twitched and then, helplessly, found its way to your waist, his legs weakening with every kiss you give him.

but then, morality and panic tag-teamed him, he was losing control. he knew it. and you were drunk—so he shouldn’t… he couldn’t—

he gently pushed you away, guiding you into your room and under the covers, hoping that you'd immediately fall asleep once he tucked you in.

but that wasn't the case, you called out to him but he was already outside your room, the door already closed as he leaned against it when he suddenly heard a thud from inside.

he stood there for a few minutes before finally checking up on you, opening the door only to find you asleep on the floor.

jungwon stepped into the room with quiet urgency, a soft exhale slipping past his lips as he approached you. without hesitation, he lifted you up and supported you gently, guiding you to the bed with the practiced care of someone who’d done this before.

it was a scene he knew too well. a memory repeating itself, only this time it came tinged with tension—heavy, electric—and the faint sensation of your kisses still lingering all over his face.

he slid off your cropped, off-white crochet bolero from your shoulders and set it aside before laying you down with a careful kind of tenderness, as if you might shatter under his hands. his fingers moved swiftly but delicately, he adjusted your pillow beneath your head, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be in your haze of sleep. only then did he crouch at the edge of the bed to remove your shoes and socks, one by one.

a sigh escaped him—long, weary, filled with something unspoken—as his gaze settled on your sleeping form. his eyes lingered for a moment, tracing the quiet rise and fall of your chest, the soft slack in your features, peaceful and unaware. and then, without a word, he turned and walked out of your bedroom... and out of your apartment.

he paused just outside the door, drawing in a steadying breath that did little to clear his head. with slow fingers, he tapped out a message to his friends.

jungwon: made it home. her friends are still there, can you guys keep an eye out for them?

he didn’t care if they actually found your friends. he didn’t care if they even tried. he’d done what he came to do. now all he wanted was the comfort of solitude, the dull quiet of his apartment, and a soft bed that didn’t remind him of you.

when he finally stepped through his own front door, he spotted yami curled up on the couch, her breathing deep and even. he didn’t bother greeting her. didn’t even spare her more than a glance. the day had wrung him dry.

his feet took him straight to the bathroom.

and there, under the unforgiving light, he finally looked at himself.

his reflection stared back, a canvas of redish pink smudges and chaos. lipstick marks bloomed across his skin like bruises made of drunken desire—your desire. they were scattered across his cheek, his nose, his forehead, and most notably, his jaw. that one mark stood alone. the last place your lips had landed before he stopped you.

he stared at it, at all of them, expression unreadable. then his head bowed, eyes falling to the sink.

“why didn’t you stop her earlier?” he whispered, voice barely audible beneath the rush of water as he turned the faucet on. “you should’ve stopped her…”

his fingers hovered over his face. he didn’t want to wash it off. he didn’t know why, but the idea of erasing those marks—of erasing you—felt like losing something he hadn’t even allowed himself to want.

still, he forced his hands under the stream. he let the water run warm, and then colder, as he scrubbed your lipstick from his skin. one by one, the stains disappeared.

the disappointment hit harder than he’d expected.

he didn’t let himself sit in it. he shoved the feeling aside with the rest of the things he didn’t want to deal with, turned off the faucet, and stepped into the shower.

warm water rained down, washing away the rest of the evening. but not the thoughts.

‘i need to get away from her,’ he told himself as the water drummed softly against his skin. ‘this... this is too much.’

he nodded once, as if finalizing a plan.

‘i’m gonna start ignoring her starting tomorrow.’

and while he stood there, convincing himself of a distance he wasn’t sure he could keep, you lay soundly asleep in your bed, utterly oblivious to the walls he was building between you.

taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia @nijisanjigenshin @kkamismom12 @kinamurariki @soobundle1009 @supershy3 @nodoubtily @vrikisn @jayjw16enxp @skzfangirl143 @0leelina0 @noriiluv @o2whre (taglist is still open, comment to be added.) final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part four will be posted on wednesday! see you guys then! also, to those who don't know who baron humbert von gikkingen is, just go to pt.2 and you'll see a picture of him there.

©⠀mæwphoria⠀|⠀all works belong to me. strictly do not plagiarize, copy, translate, paraphrase, rewrite or repost my works on any other platforms. if it's inspiration gained from my work then it's appreciated and i wish you good luck with your own stories. thank you.

⠀

[rezwrites]

So maybe it is too HORNY of me but hear me out… Pastor! Agatha Harkness x non believer reader where Agatha knows Reader doesn’t believe in heaven and she is going to show you to heaven... smut, dark smut (?)

Never too horny for Pastor!Agatha!!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, legal age gap(reader is in her 20s) religious themes, sacrilegious language/situations, allusion to stalking, corporal punishment(spanking w/ a ruler), sadism/madochism, body worship, oral sex(r! receiving) overstimulation, orgasm denial

a/n: Here you go! I’m so sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoy!

Moving back with your parents after college wasn’t something you’d planned. Giving them the news hurt more than you admitted. It was a major blow to your pride, not to mention the anguish of leaving behind your freedom of living on your own.

Walking around your parents new home was strange; A whole new layout to memorize in a new area. They had moved out of the city and into a smaller community, a few months after you started college, it was hard to keep up with them. Grateful that they had packed up your things from the old house and set up your own room for you; that they had kept you mind. The small community town was nestled between rolling hills, its charming streets lined with quaint houses and colorful gardens.

Sitting down at dinner, you and your parents caught up on each others lives. Your father still has his job in the city, even though the commute is longer now. He recently had gotten promoted, which allowed your mother to leave her job and stay home.

“So, honey, what do you plan on wearing to church tomorrow?” Your mother questioned, her eyes brightened as she awaited an answer.

“Oh…” hesitating, you wrung your hands in your lap, “I actually wasn’t planning on going.”

“Of course you’re going. Don’t be silly. You can consider this another rule while you’re living here.” Your father hadn’t uttered a word, his way of telling you he agrees with your mother. Slumping in your chair you took another bite of your salad, knowing better than to argue with her about this. “Besides I already told the Pastor about you, that you’ve lost your way in life. She’ll help show you the path.”

You aren’t lost, so to speak. College drained you of your savings to where you couldn’t afford to live on your own after you graduated. You just needed a roof over your head until you saved enough, and found a job that put your degree to work.

Your parents were always devout but after moving they, your mother especially, became more religious. Every sparse phone call you’d have with them over the years your mother would find a way to squeeze God into the conversation. Each time you would tell her to stop but she’s stubborn believing she could convert you.

The small wooden church stood proudly amidst a lush green meadow, its weathered facade showing signs of age and history. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of nearby trees. The sound of birds singing and chirping provided a melodic backdrop, while the warm rays of the sun cast a soft golden glow on the church's worn wooden exterior. As you approached, the rough texture of the splintered wooden doorframe greeted your fingertips, evoking a sense of reverence.

The pastor stood at the altar, a welcoming smile on her face greeting everyone. The heavy, opulent, white and gold adorned chasuble covering almost all of her save her hands; cleric collar peaking out underneath. Sunlight seeped through the ceiling-tall stained glass window, casting an ethereal glow over her.

Your mother ushered you to the fourth row on the left. The hair on the back of your neck stood up feeling eyes on you. Sitting down you look around, a few dozen people filled the sanctuary but no one was looking at you. Your mother hands you a hymnal, asking that you at least follow along.

Listening to the sermon it’s hard not to roll your eyes, but you definitely pay attention to the pastor’s alluring voice. The way her voice commanded all attention on her. All eyes and ears of the congregation clung to each word she spoke, as if she was a prophet herself.

Lithe fingers dancing through the air as she talks, your mind can’t help but wonder to images of her hands on you. When the congregation kneels to pray, your brain conjures the most unholy ways to have Pastor Agatha’s hands on you, taking you apart and putting you back together.

With everyone heads bowed Agatha scanned the room as she spoke. Her azure eyes landing on you next to your parents, the lost little lamb. Your parents had to come to her a week prior pleading her to help set you back on the path of God. She’s happy to help any lost soul find the light, but the moment she saw you trailing in behind your parents something in her shifted.

The pianist plays choral music while each row takes their turn walking up to the altar for communion. Standing up your mother beckons you in front her as the usher approaches your row. Stepping up to the Pastor you felt pressure on your shoulders. The expectation from your mother behind you and the rest of the congregation waiting behind her. “The body of Christ,” the Pastor smiled reassuringly handing you a wafer, her fingertips grazing the back of your hands. She raises the chalice to your lips allowing you to take a sip, announcing, “The blood of Christ.”

The wafer tastes like sweet paper as it dissolves on your tongue mixing with the bitter wine. You did your best to hide the grimace on your face as you walked back to your seat. Continuing with the service time seemed to stretch on to infinity. Beginning to doze off, Agatha raised her hands from the pulpit announcing, “Go with God.”

Confusion on your face as the congregation monotonously, almost robotically repeated back, “As He with you.” Everyone stood up as you shook the daze of tiredness from your mind. Shuffling out the door, the pastor was awaiting everybody outside already.

Your mother placed a hand on the back of your shoulder guiding you in front of her introducing you, “Pastor Agatha, this is our daughter.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. I’m glad to see you’ve joined us today.” Shaking her hand, she covered yours, her hands soft and warm. The close proximity to her again had you speechless, her light floral perfume filling your nose, “Well, the confession box is open every day after daily mass, which ends at twelve. I’m also available should you need anything. Feel free to drop by anytime, dear.”

—

You spent the rest of the day in your room, trying to keep your mind off of Pastor Agatha. Uneasiness settled over you as the day grew on. Tossing and turning all night restless, tiredly blinking as you watched the moon set and the sun rise from your window. Hands flew to your stomach as it growled, craving junk food but your parents didn’t keep that in the house.

Stopping at the door you slipped your shoes on. Your mother lifted her head from her book, questioning, “Where are you heading?”

“Just going to the general store for some snacks. Would you like anything?” You offered, checking your pockets to make sure you have everything you need. “Dad left?”

“Yes, not too long ago. I’m making breakfast soon if you’d like to wait.” With a shake from your head your mother wished you well, returning to her book.

Stepping outside the warmth of the morning sun washed over you. The quick ten-minute walk to the middle of town was tranquil. The pleasant scent of freshly cut timber mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread, wafting out from the nearby bakery. The streets slowly begin buzzing with life as everyone bustles off to work or daily routines.

The general stores moderately weathered wooden deck creaked, slightly gave way underneath you. The windows were adorned with faded advertisements, flowing in the gentle breeze. Inside, the cashier was paying attention to whatever local news channel was on. Quitely, you walked through the neatly arranged shelves.

Browsing the chip aisle you couldn’t believe the assortment of flavors this small town had. Some flavors you wouldn’t even be able to find in the biggest markets in the city. Wasabi, braised Pork flavored, bbq lamb just to name a few.

“Quite the appetite, hm?” Clutching three bags on chips in your hands you spun on your heel to find Pastor Agatha standing behind you. Her black clerical shirt tucked into her jean pants. “Allow me to pay for this?”

“Oh, no Pastor. You don’t have to.” Refusing, you clutching the chips close to you.

“Please just call me Agatha, besides It’s just a few things. It’s no problem at all.” Unease pitted your stomach as she took the bags placing them in her basket. You felt like a lost puppy walking behind her around the store as she finished her own shopping.

You didn’t dare look at the total of everything, guilt eating at you for letting her pay for your stuff. Stepping out in front of the store she handed you your bags of chips, “Are you heading back home? You look exhausted, sweetie, be sure get adequate rest.”

“Yes, thank you, pastor. Have a good day.” You didn’t know what it was, but the air around her was becoming suffocating.

Agatha stood watching you scurry away. As you turned the corner behind the bakery she started back towards the church. Placing the bags down by the first row, she kneeled at the altar, the floor creaking beneath her. She prayed for forgiveness for breaking the Tenth Commandment- Thou shalt not covet.

Oh heavens above did she covet, her hand between her slick thighs all night long. Aberrant thoughts of you ran rampant through her mind, your angelic voice tempting her will like a siren out at sea. Lust and Greed sunk their claws deep into her the second her eyes landed you from her spot at the altar. On her knees she begged God to deliver you to her; praying for your attention, affection, your entire being in that instant, she craved you- her lost little lamb.

-

“I think you should go to confession. It’s been a few days since church.” your mother stood at the doorway of your bedroom.

You lifted your head from your book, “But I haven’t done anything to warrant-”

“Just go.” You notice your mother’s hand grasp the door knob. Again, no room for discussion, “Maybe you can talk to the Pastor about the recent sleepless nights you’ve been having.” Huffing you got up, stomping out of the house. You’re a grown-up, you don’t have to do this. You could go sit at the park a few blocks away and say that you went, however your feet kept carrying you the opposite way towards the church.

Walking in the sanctuary, you noticed it was the end of daily mass. Moving off to the side letting people file out of the door, just leaving you and the pastor. Agatha smiled, motioning you over, “Confession, I presume?”

You nodded, subconsciously picking at your fingernails. “Come child. The confessional is in my office.”

“In your office? Why not out in the sanctuary?”eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Confessions are personal. It’s about what’s said between you and the lord.” She led you to the back of the church where her office is. The large grandfather clock along the back wall briefly caught your attention, ticking with each pendulum swing.

“But nobody is here.” You gestured back to the bare pews and the silent sanctuary.

Closing the door she smiles at you pointing to the confessional against the far left wall, “Like I said. Personal.”

Slowly striding to the confessional you took a deep breath. Closing the curtain behind you, you kneeled at the partition, steadying yourself. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have never had a confession.”

“What is your sin, dear child.” Agatha spoke from the other side of the partition. You could see her sitting through the lattice opening.

“I’m not sure. My mother always says it’s because I’m a nonbeliever.” Wiping your hands on your thighs, attempting to quell the rising anxiousness.

“Your mother. But what about you?” Her tone sharp.

“…impure thoughts. For another woman.” A blatant lie. The way you love has never been sinful, your never see it as such.

“Thoughts like?” You can hear the curiosity in Agatha’s voice.

“Her hands on me, wrapping around me; fingers curling inside me. Her marking my neck.” Trying your best to stare at her through the small openings, gauging her reaction.

Lord above give me strength, Agatha thinks, her body tensing. Simultaneously, another part of her is praying you’re talking about her. Nothing but pure elation rushed through her when she saw you step in the door after mass. She can feel your eyes lingering on her, her restraint fading.

Agatha was silent for a moment before she spoke up again, “And you think that’s sinful?”

“No. If we are supposedly each made of Gods image, then why would it be wrong?” you began to challenge.

“Three Hail Marys and…”

You scoffed, “Is there a non prayer alternative?”

Another beat of silence before you heard her door open. She stepped out of the confessional, opening your door. Grabbing your elbow Agatha dragged you to the chalkboard across the room.

“You know, back in the old days Catholic nuns would use corporal punishment. Since you refuse a prayer penance, you will receive a physical one. After all, suffering is next to godliness.” She yanked the bottom half of your dress up, tying it up with a hair-tie, sliding your panties down your legs. “There is no modesty before our Lord.”

Although you wanted to be naked in front of her, you never expected it to be like this. Though you cannot deny the arousal beginning to pool in your core.

The noise of chalk on the board grates against your eardrums. Top of the board right in the center it read: Doleo pro peccatis meis

“What does that mean?” You asked looking back to find Agatha pulling a wooden ruler out from her desk.

“I repent my sins.” She cracked the ruler against her palm, walking back over to you, “One hundred lines written perfectly in cursive Latin, each mistake gets you a lash, little girl.” Her harsh, condescending tone sent another jolt to your core. You did your best to withstand the jarring noise of the chalk as it traveled across the board.

Collapsing to your knees after finishing the line, your ass on fire, legs unwilling to hold you up any longer. Fifty one lines, twenty three lashes- you purposely started making mistakes after the thirteenth line. The stickiness between your legs grew with each hit on your backside, soaking your underwear.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind, Agatha’s shadow looming over you. Casting your gaze up, Agatha had her hands on her hips, shaking her head, “How disappointing you couldn’t finish, but I must admit you lasted longer than I expected.”

Her hands snaked through your hair, craning your head back against her thighs, wiping your tears away with such carefulness. Wincing as your heels of your shoes pushed into your welting ass.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you whispered. She let out a hum small, a smirk appearing on her face. “May I confess, pastor?”

“Of course, my child.” Her smirk twisted into a smile.

Boldness has never been your forte, but something about this woman makes you want to cast all caution to wind. She cradles your face, keeping your eyes locked with hers as she awaits your confession. Yours eyes burned with desire, “It feels good.”

“Didn’t know the little lamb was a pain slut.” The tips of her nails started to curl under your jaw, “Do I need to beat the sin out of that cunt of yours?”

Your voice dropped turning serious, eager to see how far you could push her, “I’d rather you fuck it out of me, Pastor.”

Agatha’s face dropped as she yanked you to your feet, pushing you against her desk. Caging you in, Agatha’s eyes darkened with lust, her voice low, “You are a snake in the desert.”

Hooking your finger under her clergy collar, you pulled her closer, “Does that mean you can’t resist the temptation?”

She leaned closer to your body, legs locking around her hips keeping her close. “When it’s a heavenly angel like you? Cast me to hottest fire.” She surged forward clashing her lips with yours, rough and uncalculated. Groping your tits through your dress, she pushed you down your back hitting her desk.

Excruciatingly slow and methodical Agatha dragged her lips away from yours, making thier way down to the tips of your shoulders. Appreciative moans left your lips as Agatha trailed along your clavicle, dipping to back your neck. Her deft fingers peeled your dress off your shoulders, her lips gracing the top of your boobs. She mumbled something inaudibly, pressing her face in your breasts. Pulling on her hair you lifted her head from your chest, teasingly asking her to repeat herself. Lust evident in her blown out pupils, “I said, ‘quite the angel.’”

Suddenly dropping to her knees Agatha untangled your panties from your ankles, slipping them into her pocket. Throwing your thighs over her shoulders she kissed your inner thighs, inching closer to your dripping core. Propping yourself on your elbows you watched as Agatha stared intensely at you before diving into your pussy. She lapped carefully through your folds, figuring out what spots make you squirm the most. Arching your back when her lips wrapped around your clit, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Hips canting into her mouth as she pulled you closer, giving a hard suck. She pulled away much to your displeasure, softly kissing your inner thighs, her hands reaching up to rub over stomach.

Agatha wanted nothing more to devour you until you were begging her for release but she reigned herself in, worshipping you like the angel God bestowed upon her. Languidly pressing kisses she traced back to your cunt, tonguing her way through your folds again. Your soft moans were like heaven’s chorus to her ears. Thighs tightened around her ears when she moaned, ego jumping with every praise that fell from your lips.

She stayed on your clit as you quivered beneath her. Sharp sucks melting to easy kisses as she worked you through your orgasm. She broke away allowing you a reprieve. A part of her wished you’d asked for permission but she didn’t dwell too much on it; she has plenty of time to correct your misbehavior.

Agatha attacked your sensitive nub again, using her fingers to tease your slit. It was too much but you couldn’t get enough. Jerking your hips, you pleaded for more. Wrapping your hands in her hair you pulled her closer, the edge approaching quickly. The white light of pleasure behind your eyelids came into view again, warmth flitting across your body. Heaven on earth must be this right here: having Pastor Agatha between your legs, devoting herself to bring you to ecstasy. Eyes screwing shut, you whined with tears brimming your eyes, “gods right there.”

Agatha hastily pulled away, all the sensations ceasing, leaving you high and dry. Chest heaving as you shot up, casting a glare at her.

“Did you think it’d be so easy?” Agatha laughed out, thumbing a tear off your cheek. “God doesn’t reward the undeserving.” You pulled away, hopping down off the desk.

“my underwear?” You tried to look around for them but Agatha kept a firm hand on your hip. She chuckled fixing your dress, smoothing it out.

You turned to her stoned-faced, “I’m not kidding.”

Her laughs died before she put on a stern face of her own. “Lose the attitude.” She lightly swatted you on the butt, hard enough to get her point across, “Maybe if you’re good enough you can have them back tomorrow, after you confess again.”

She walked you out to the church door, hand firmly on your hip the whole way. Seeing you off she considered letting you come again tomorrow, if you actually sleep tonight.

[falloutrebellion]

Say Yes to Heaven

Part II.

Part I.

Soulmark Fluff/Smut request from @hoohamaru 🫶🏼

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summary: Your skills have landed you a job as a chef for the inauguration of Lady Tsunade, giving you a chance to finally leave your village and explore the world. Much to your demise, you unlock your clan's mysterious Soulmate Kekkei Genkai when you meet a certain white-haired Jonin. In denial of it all, you try to ignore it, only to effectively drive him absolutely mad. How long will you be able to hold out before fate intervenes?

CW: Adult Language

_____

After going back and forth with the Hokage, you finally had a menu set in stone. With only four days until the event, you were tasked with finding a sous chef and a few other volunteers to help you prepare everything. The pressure was mounting, and this pounding headache you’ve had for the last two days wasn’t helping. No amount of medicine, water, or rest stopped the throbbing behind your eyes. But you have a job to do, so you have the pleasure of sucking it up. 

You stroll around the market and scope out several restaurants with skilled chefs, taking notes and introducing yourself. After gathering a list of about 12 candidates, all of whom were eager to help you, you called your mission a success. As you headed back to the inn, chewing on the end of your pen as you pondered your list, you focus mainly on the top three names- a girl your age from a ramen shop, an enthusiastic old man from a fine dining restaurant, and then a middle aged mother who owns the largest bakery in town. One of them will be your sous chef, but who would be the best at following instructions is the true key. Being young yourself, you’re worried that the two older options may have issues with you dishing out orders. The young, brown-haired girl at Ichiraku was similar in age and aptitude, with a willingness to–

Your thoughts are abruptly cut off as you faceplant into what you assume is a utility pole. Fuck! That’s what I get for not paying attention; you curse yourself internally. As you step back and check your nose for blood, you realize with horror that it wasn’t a pole you ran into.

But rather a familiar, tall, wild-haired Shinobi who seemed to have the density of a brick wall. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you stammered as your heart fluttered underneath his steady gaze, much to your dismay. 

After a brief moment of tense silence, he finally spoke. “I think you dropped this.” He bent down to pick up your notepad, which had slipped from your grasp upon impact with his chest. 

To your surprise, instead of handing it back to you, he takes the liberty of reading over your notes. 

“H-hey- what are you doing? Give that back!” You command in annoyance while trying to rip the small notepad out of his hands. 

Lifting it well above your head and out of your reach, ignoring your wild hands grabbing at him, he quickly reads over the page with a smirk. “Ah,” he says with a spark of mischief as you huff in annoyance. “So you’re the chef the Hokage hired. Nice to meet you.”

Finally handing it back to you, you snatch it quickly and cross your arms with a scowl. “We’ve met before, actually,” you replied with a little more attitude than intended.

“I wouldn’t really consider that a formal greeting,” he shoots back. You can see his lips curled into a smile under his mask as he towers over you, casting a large shadow as you glare up at him. 

As you stand there, staring into this stranger’s eye, you can’t ignore the rising heat in your chest. You feel your irritation morph into something else- something pleasant- and your frown fades away against your will. “Alright fine, yes, I am the chef your Hokage hired for her inauguration. Who are you?”

“You can call me Kakashi.” The Shinobi offers you his hand awkwardly, waiting for you to shake it. 

You give him a sly look, hesitating for just a moment before placing your hand in his. The sensation of his gloved palm engulfing your entire hand sent a warm tingle through your fingers, and you instinctively pulled your hand back with a small gasp. Did he just shock you?

Kakashi must have felt it too as his brows were knitted together in curiosity. “What did you just do?” 

“M-me?” You stuttered incredulously, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t do anything! You’re the one who shocked me!” Placing your hands on your hips dramatically, your glare returning in full force. 

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, a playful grin creeping onto his masked face. “Well, handshakes don’t usually come with a side of electricity,” he joked. “Are you sure you’re not a ninja with a hidden jutsu?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, pursing your lips as you raised your brows to match his. “I’m pretty sure I’m just a chef.”

“Well, you don’t really look like a chef,” he commented as he tilted his head slightly, looking you over.

You gasped again and blinked, momentarily taken aback. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “Are you saying I don’t look like I can cook?”

His aloof demeanor immediately shifted at your response. “N-no! Not at all!” He stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just mean that you look too stylish, is all.”

“Too stylish? Am I not allowed to dress nice and cook?” You ground out as your eyes narrowed, a blush rising up Kakashi’s face as he looked horrified at your words. He may be cute, but he is god awful at this, you say to yourself as he stares down at you anxiously.

“No, I just meant it as a compliment! You look like you could be the host of a cooking show,” he laughed nervously. 

Well, he’s trying. I’ll give him that. Taking the opportunity to mess with him, you press on, enjoying how the tables have turned. You can’t deny that he was irritating, yet strangely charming. A weird combo that you’ve never come across before. “Oh, so I’m just a glamour chef?”

Kakashi’s eyes widened. “I-I wasn’t trying to say that at all, you just don’t look like the type to be covered in flour all day,” he stammered with an apologetic tone. “But I guess I’m wrong about that, huh?”

With an exaggerated groan, you roll your eyes once again, stifling your smirk as you have your fun with him. “Kakashi, have you ever talked to a girl?”

“Uh, h–” he sputtered, a grimace crossing his face. “Of course.”

Just as you opened your mouth to deliver another teasing remark, the sound of heavy footsteps approached, and a boisterous voice rang out. “Kakashi! I’ve been looking for you all over! Did you forget about our next competition?” You turn to see another Shinobi running towards you, donned in a green jumpsuit and glossy bowl cut. Before you can blink, he is at your side, his hands resting on Kakashi’s shoulders.

The energetic man completely ignored you, so hyped up to see Kakashi that he didn’t sense the awkward tension you purposefully caused for his poor friend. 

Kakashi’s expression shifted instantly, his brow drooping with further embarrassment as he was interrupted by his friend. “Uh, Guy, now’s really not the best time,” Kakashi said, glancing at you with a hint of desperation.

“I’ve been training hard and want to test my new techniques! Come on, Kakashi, show me what you’ve got!” Guy exclaimed, his enthusiasm unwavering despite Kakashi’s obvious discomfort.. 

You seized this as an opportunity to slip away, your heart racing with a mixture of disappointment and relief as you leave Kakashi to Guy’s mercy. “Well, it’s been… interesting, Kakashi,” you said, offering him a coy smile. “Good luck with your competition.” 

Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked away, flipping your hair behind your shoulder as you finally allowed yourself to smile while they continued behind you. 

“Wait- who is that, Kakashi?” Guy questioned loudly.

“God damnit, Guy.” You heard Kakashi mutter back with a loud sigh. 

He’s lucky he’s cute, you think to yourself as you meander back to the inn. Well, as cute a guy can be without seeing his face, I guess. While your thoughts drift to Kakashi, you wonder what he looks like under his mask. Or how muscular his chest was under his shirt… Or how his hands would feel on your body. Would you feel those same, warm shocks as before? You physically shake your head as if to rid yourself of your creeping thoughts. This was only your second time seeing him, and first time actually meeting him, and here you are- being a pervert. A blush breaks out across your cheeks at the mere thought of him touching you. You can’t help but wonder if he went and sought you out, or if this just happened to be a random run-in. Either way, you found it entertaining to tease him. Maybe you even enjoyed it. You totally enjoyed it.  Which is even weirder, because why?

Why do you enjoy it so much? 

As you bite your lip and ponder, you realize your head doesn’t hurt anymore.

[aliorsboxostuff]

Hey! Sorry for the ask, but if you're still taking requests could I maybe request a Tyler Owens x ftm reader

Readers been on his storm chasing team for a bit, helps Boone coordinate the social media presence or something-

I don't have a well thought out prompt- just a like. How they get together finally after months of pining and comments of "are they dating yet?"

- 🌟

AHH HELLOOOO 🌟 ive been waiting for a Tyler Owens req for agessss nowww omg thank you and ofc my inbox is opened rn!! This fic turned more into like,, a yearning, slight slow-burn-ish fic with a hint of humour from the team lmaooo, ALSO! If y'all didn't know, Dani is Non-binary! So i’m giving them a They/Them pronouns, hope yall like it !! <3

Twin Flame Tornadoes

Tags: Tyler Owens x Male!Reader, StormChaser!raeder, FtM!Reader, No use of Y/n, Boone, Dexter, Dani, Lilly, Kate, Javi, Yearning, Crushes, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, just a bit yk, Found Family, Internalized Homophobia (?), maybe??, General Homophobia (westerners yeesh), Denial, Dirty thoughts, iykyk, Tyler is actually so smitten its insane, Such a lover boy 

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers. Especially with Tyler

=====

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers.

You joined the Tornado Wranglers just a couple of months after they took off. Back then, you were about to leave town as you finally got a proper job somewhere in Brooklyn, somewhere safer for you to exist. That night, the sudden ring from your phone halts your packing, your hand closing the suitcase while rummaging through your pile of clothes to answer the call.

“H-hey hello,” You greeted, shoving your phone between your ear and elbow. 

“Hey! How’s it going man!” Boone’s loudness almost made you drop your phone in shock, quickly collecting yourself as you catch yourself. “I hope you’re well!” 

“Boone? Is that you?” You smile, hearing your old high school friend's cheery voice. You hear a chuckle from the other end, making you grin.

“‘Course it is! One and only!” He answers. 

You chuckle, nudging some of your sweaters to take a seat, your bed creaking slightly. “Hey! I’ve been good, been okay. You, Boonie?” 

“Never better man,” Boone’s undoubtedly grinning ear to ear, you thought. “Listen, I got a proposition for you now- You busy?”

You shrug, knowing you’ll only be catching your flight in two days. “Nope, I'm all ears,” 

“So I’ve gotten myself into this storm chasin’ thing again, you remember right? Remember when we used to take your truck out in the fields, runnin’ out there and driving our asses way too close to tornadoes when we saw ‘em?”

You sigh, a thump on the bed as you throw your head back to the pillows. “Yeah, of course,  those were the days…” 

“Right? So I started doing this professionally and so-” 

“Wait,” You roll over onto your stomach as you stuff a plushie underneath you. “Professionally? Did you actually join-” 

“A storm chasin’ group! Yeah!” Boone’s laughs shake your core, and something warm churns inside you.

You recalled those days. In high school, you and Boone were inseparable. It didn't take a lot to know why, from an outsider's point of view. Back then, you were outcasted silently, your peers mostly talked to you only if need be, otherwise you were a recluse who kept to yourself, not by choice sadly. Though it's different with Boone. He never cared what you were, how you identified yourself. He sees you as you and for that same reason you two became good friends. At the age of 17, you got an old pickup all fixed up, and the first thing you did with it was to storm chase with Boone. 

That day, a storm warning rang around your town, and while your neighbors closed their windows and blinds, you and Boone took the truck out into the field and chased after it. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline was addicting as you felt the harsh wind against your skin, your hair astray, the loud cheers beside you as Boone was halfway out of the truck. It was dangerous, it was reckless, yet those were the best days of your life. 

Eventually, life took over, and when graduation came around, you busied yourself with college, unknown to you where your best friend went. You never imagined he was the first one to turn the once hobby into a profession.

“Now, about that proposition,” Boone clears his throat. You blink, an unwavering smile on your lips. “Seein’ as I'm now in the storm chassin’ business, me and my buddy need’s another guy for our team, yeah? And I mean, I thought, who else would be a better candidate than you!”

You laugh, though can't help but furrow your brow as you ask; “Wait- you want me? Boone I haven't chased in a while, not since high school,” A sigh as you run your hand through your hair. “I'm not saying no, ‘s just…”

“You don't need to do nothin’ you don't wanna! Buuuut…” He falters, you hear a click of a tongue. “We do need an extra hand on the camera…” 

You pause, eyebrows raising. “Wait… Camera?” 

That's how you found yourself being the 2nd cameraman for the Tornado Wranglers.

While Boone rides in the action truck, you stay back with Dexter and Dani, recording mostly behind-the-scenes shots for YouTube and the occasional passes of point of view whenever the gang goes storm chasing and streams it online. 

It's been a solid 2 years now, and since then the Tornado Wranglers have risen in popularity. From a couple thousand to now reaching a million followers on Instagram, a solid half a million on YouTube and Twitch. Not to mention the myriads of fan accounts now arose, especially for the group's appointed leader, Tyler. 

Each time you went to edit some footage of the latest run, there's always one or two fan edits you stumble across, mostly on Twitter, with yet another catchy pop song that Tyler probably would know if he wasn’t engrossed in his country music, that you’d have to roll your eyes at and scroll past. Not before bookmarking it. 

Truth be told, you’ve harbored a pretty big crush on the guy. Tyler was never one to care about whose identity is what, if he did he would’ve been harsher towards Dani or wouldn't let them join the team, but you were never sure where he swung. You and your gender were never a problem for him, but the constant heart throb whenever the blonde passes by will start being a problem for you. 

He’s a cocky flirt, confidence and charisma are practically an infinite fountain within that man. He’s smooth and witty and every girl's dream, which is evident with the majority of the Tornado Wranglers fanbase being women and the occasional longing gay men, much like yourself. If you don't take into account the usual Storm Chaser fans, the people on the internet would agree about Tyler being alluring. 

—

“Join us for a drink won't ya’?” The voice tore your focus away from the laptop screen and up to captivating brown eyes. The owner of said eyes is leaning on the doorframe of the truck, a shield from the bright floodlights as it captures his frame like a halo, his arms cage you just above your head, a playful smirk on his lips.

You grin, shaking your head to turn back to your laptop before your heart makes another leap from Tyler's presence. “Sorry boss, I gotta get this out tomorrow, remember?”

“I'm sure the fans won't mind it being a day late,” His dismissal would've been nothing if his hand hadn't landed on your shoulder, squeezing slightly which almost got you to gulp. “You’ve been on that thing for hours now, I think your eyes would appreciate the break,” 

His hold, warm and inviting, finally got you to sigh and save the active project, before promptly closing your laptop and facing the man. “Fine, but you buying,”

“Who said I didn't?” His hand drops to your wrist where he tugs slightly, getting you to exit the confines of the truck into the cold evening night. 

The crew was with the many other storm chasers, the motel’s parking lot filled with various trucks and music and chatter amongst many others. When you finally join the team as they lounge around the control van, they cheer at your and Tyler's arrival. Other than Lilly and Boone who were busy reviewing today's footage with various awes and cheers, they all had beers in their hand and were satiated after today's busy day. 

Tyler grabs two bottles from the cooler, offering one to you. Your hand grazes his slightly as you receive it, “I thought you said you were buying?” 

“Hey now, this pack came outta my pocket, y’know,” He chuckles, which makes you grin.

Suddenly, your eyes drop to where he’s holding the beer bottle as he brings it lower to his crotch level and fuck he guides the cap to his belt buckle and pops it open. The liquid inside fizzes slightly before he finally takes a swig, his lips curl around the tip as he gulps down, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion, hands somewhat damp from the bottle's condensation. He wipes at his lips before his gaze drops to yours, a visible heat within them that makes you physically tear away from.

Did he really need to do that? Beside you too? Does he want me dead?

“Need a hand?” Yes- You cough, finding the soil beneath you interesting, 

“Uh sure yeah,” A forced gulp as you handed him your bottle. He repeats his earlier motion though you opted to save yourself from a growing arousal by glancing over to Dani. Yet that was also a mistake. 

Dani had their eyes on you the whole time, undoubtedly seeing the way your face grew in color at what Tyler did, and they smirked at how you completely chose to look down after focusing too much on the man's hand. They raise a brow, which you reply with a knowing stare. They laugh, their smirk just growing in smugness, before they tap something on their thigh which makes your heart drop. 

There, perching idly, is their phone, camera pointing towards yours and Tyler's direction. Your eyes widen, changing from looking at the phone, back to Dani, then back to the phone, before to Dani again, now your eyes soften into a plead. Your puppy eyes doesnt work on them as their phone flops back down to their thigh and into their pocket. 

You groan slightly before Tyler hands you your beer back. “Thanks,” you reply shortly and take a sip. 

The hood of one of the trucks was vacant so you took the liberty of perching on it, craning your neck to look up at the stars. The glimmering spots above were prominent here in the open fields, unlike those in the city. You knew, if you did take that job back then, you’d miss the easy breeze and clear skies of the mid-west. Tyler soon follows, leaning beside you, one arm hung on the hood, his stetson long forgotten somewhere. 

You figured the man would spend more time with Dexter, maybe plan out what they’re going to be doing tomorrow, but instead he hovers near you. He takes a sip, before he cocks his head upwards. 

“Next month’ll be storm season,” His eyes still focused on the sky when you glanced over. 

“Yeah? More toys for us to play with,” Tyler smiles as he hears your reply, you can't help but too. 

“There will be…” He takes a swig of his beer, the clicks his tongue as he finishes. “A journalist, from England. He’ll be going with us for some weeks,”

You hum, though a bit concerned. Not for the team no. If the Tornado Wranglers were dropped into a jungle with nothing but a match you're sure the team could pull through. You’re worried about the journalist, being from Europe no less. When you turn to spot Boone and Lilly both cackling at today's footage, hunched over the iPad, you chuckle, earning Tyler's attention.

“What? Something about the guy?”

“No no,” You smirk, sipping slightly from your bottle. “Just hoping the guy’ll survive us,” 

Tyler balks slightly, before he takes a glance at the crew scattered about, and laughs alongside you. There’s so much professionality the team can do, and while the obvious is to be proper hosts for the upcoming journalist, you can't help but imagine how insane it would be for such a prim-propper European to join a rag-tag group of Americans.

—

“Hey, Kate here take some food and water,” She glances towards the items you're holding, the girl immediately shakes her head. 

“I'm not buying food from you guys,” Her eyes widened, fixing you with a stare. Your head tilts at her response. 

“We’re giving these away,” Your head motions towards your friends behind you, giving out needed food, water, and clothes from the merch boxes. “We’re selling out shirts practically free and handing food and water away, everybody here needs some,” 

The destroyed houses around where you and Kate stood paint a clear picture. The tornado that Storm Par and The Tornado Wranglers were chasing destroyed the nearby town, effectively rendering some of the citizens there with no home and almost no remnants of their things, clothes and pictures scattered beneath the debris, The blonde’s eyes scan the area around, softening when she hears your explanation, eyes fleeting towards the van behind you.

She sighs and musters a small smile. “It's fine, I don't need it, give it to the other people,”

You hum, before pushing the bottled water into her hand. “At least take the water,”

“Okay, thank you,” She nods, another smile enough to reassure you. You reply to her nod before jogging back to your friends. Kate watches as you gather with them, immediately helping more survivors with food and clothes. She watches at your team, before glancing briefly at Javi, then climbs into the car and drives away. 

Later that night, while fatigue reigns over the team, everyone currently catching up over dinner and drinks, you watch as Tyler barely touches his food while downing his 2nd bottle of booze. You knew the man could handle his liquor, well over yours, but he rarely drinks as much as a 3rd bottle when it's with the group. Worry and suspicion steadily bubbling up within your heart.

As you took the space beside him, leaning on the cold car exterior, your flannel button up to combat the cold night air. “You okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah, pretty good,” He takes a sip, sighing as he finishes. “You?”

“Alright,” You nod. 

A silence falls between you and Tyler, though it's a mutually welcomed one. Usually, the team would be loud with a mixture of someone's Spotify playlist playing on the speaker, a thrumming of guitar from Dexter, or Boone just cracking jokes and making people laugh. Though tonight, you both knew the team was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Despite how many times you chase a tornado, the aftermath and impact it has on any town never get easier to swallow. 

You bask in the easy breeze, the usual humidity following a storm from the previous hours. The air invites you to tilt your head upwards, eyes shut to bask in its wind. It sways your lapels a bit, taking the day's tiredness away with it. When you feel a warm hand rests on your nape your eyes flutter open, Tyler’s warm browns greet you when you blink. 

He has something in his look, something warm with care and compassion. It swirls a deep whirlpool, pulling you deeper into its grasp, like longing and want and pining and you're too scared to find out which is which. You watch as Tyler’s gaze slips down and pauses on your lips, parted as you force yourself to inhale sharply, then immediately back to your eyes. A pregnant pause, too long to mean nothing, until he gulps and tears himself away, opting to pat your shoulder instead as his focus shifts to the ground. 

You had to collect yourself; a deep breath as you felt his sturdy pats, then he pulled slightly, a reassuring grip that grounds you. “I'm glad.” he finishes.

You had to blink and force yourself to take a sip from your bottle, mimicking Tylers movements in finding the dirt interesting. You were about to keep up the gimmick before his hand dropped which had you following his line of sight. Just meters away from the group’s huddle, Kate walks in the direction of her motel room. She’s in a hurry, something in the way she walks slightly fast and breath too labored. You recall you haven't seen her after handing her the water bottle hours ago, now that it turned into the evening,

When you turn to asses Tyler, he had the same look he gave you earlier. The same dark eyes with determination and longing. Something hurts, a pang in your chest, throat suddenly dry like you swallowed sand. 

He follows her steps, up the stairs, and as her door closes. 

Your eyes follow his.

Tyler hums, blinking once, before shaking his head and taking a big gulp.

The sting is back. It’s sharp and hard beneath your abdomen, like it’s begging to be let out, a nail inside a balloon that's starting to deflate too quickly. Enough to force you to breathe manually and gulp down your beer just enough to eliminate the possibility of anxiety.

You had to muster yourself to talk. “Go,” 

Tyler turns, a smirk on his lips. “Wha-”

“Talk to her Ty, I know you wanna.” You grin albeit forced. “She ain't okay, not like us. Go.”

He sighs. He takes another minute before handing you the rest of his beer then starts to walk towards the stairs. As he climbs the steps, your eyes meet his, a slight hesitation, before you give him a firm nod, and he continues to Kate’s room. 

You let out a breath you didn't know were holding, chest tight from god knows what. 

After a sigh, you decided to turn back to the others when Dani punched you straight on the arm, hard.

“Ow! What that for?!” 

“For being a dumbass!” They stand a head below you yet they could intimidate anyone within a five-mile radius. They sigh, poking an accusatory finger at your sternum. “You didn't see how Tyler looked at ya’? The boy had puppy eyes on you and you went off and told ‘em to chase Kate!” 

“What are you even talkin’ about Dani?”

They huff, wiping a hand across their face. “I know I’m the only one here that knows you like Tyler- don't cut me off.” You immediately close your lips. “But we all saw that! Hell, even Boone and Lilly did!” 

“You two were about to make out if it weren't for Tyler wussing out!” 

Heat shot upwards, coloring your cheeks in embarrassment as you immediately shot the thought down. “N-no we weren't, and you know that,” 

“‘Sides, look at him! He ran over to ask Kate-” As you spoke, the said couple ran past the group going god knows where with god knows what, Tyler's expression a calm and soothing wave while Kate’s anxiety slowly simmers down. You knew he was taking her somewhere to get her mind off of today's destruction. In another part, you're glad Tyler is the gentleman he is, in another, you wish you were in Kate’s position. 

“See!” You continue. “They’re probably going to a bar or something, take her mind off of things,”

Dani rolled their eyes. They heard the slight change in your tone, the hurt and hint of jealousy. They understand, they know just how long you've been harboring your crush. 

They sigh and turn, leaving you as you watch Tyler and Kate disappear into the night. 

—

“You used to be a rodeo cowboy?” Kate laughs, both in disbelief and awe. The man beside her grows slightly in color, admittedly looking anywhere but at her. 

He nods shortly. “Yeah, only for a bit, before I went to college and became a meteorologist,”

“I knew chasin’ storm was my calling, as much as I loved takin’ care of the bulls and horses,” 

Tyler’s focus is back on the show in front of them as Kate nods in acknowledgment. She used to go to rodeo shows, albeit not as much since she was busier with her studies, and not long after moving into New York. Tyler, much to her credit, isn't as bad as his internet persona makes him out to be.

The man beside her is confident but not cocky, has his knowledge to back up his snarkiness. She smiles when he laughs, captivating brown eyes enraptures her.

Kate recalls the moment before she stormed inside her room. Just out of her peripherals, she saw Tyler with his friend, the one other person he seemed to have a special connection unlike the others. She knows how much Tyler cares about his team, they're basically his family, though with the man that stood beside him, and the way Tyler had a secure hand on the man's back, Kate knew there was a hidden meaning between the gesture. She was too overwhelmed by her emotions that she shut herself in her room without much thinking, not until Tylern coaxed her out to watch the rodeo show. 

Another round of cheers erupted in the audience. All was well, until the wind picked up and Kate’s heart dropped. 

—

“Tyler fucking Owens!” Said man immediately spun around when he heard the familiar voice. Before he could react, strong hands grabbed the sides of his face like a vice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Are you okay? Hurt anywhere? Is everyone else okay? Where’s Kate–”

“Hey- Hey now, hey,” 

Tyler holds your wrists, his hold warm and grounding, evidence of his existence. It soothes you immediately, the consuming fear slowly dwindles into nothingness and when he slowly rubs circles atop your veins the erratic pumps subside. 

“Darlin’, I'm alright.” A smile playing at his lips.

Relief engulfs you as you choke back a sob. Instead, you pulled at the back of Tyler's head, crown connected with crown as you shut your eyes tight. You feel his hand slide to your nap, soothing your worry, another hand snakes its way from just below your ribs then to the middle of your back. A small pocket in the world was formed, a place enough for the two of you to let your worries float away, a bubble where you’re sure Tyler is safe in your arms. 

When Dexter informed the group of the tornado alert one town over, a chill ran down your spine. You left almost 20 miscalls on Tyler's phone and immediately headed to the town where the alert took place, hoping to god Tyler and Kate didn't spend the evening there. 

Your fear came true when you spotted the two between debris, ambulance and emergency personnel already surrounding the two to make sure of their condition and before you knew it you sprinted past the other civilians towards Tyler.

“Im glad.” You manage to choke out as the two of you separate, though your hand lingers on his shoulder. Tyler pats at your arm before he gives it a reassuring squeeze, the last of your anxiety ebbs away. 

You turn to see Kate making her way through the debris which immediately changes your focus to her. “Hey- Kate!” 

—

“Wait wha- I thought you ran in there to get Kate? Ty her planes about to leave-”

“I can't keep chasin’ someone I don't want.” He stops in front of you, his chest rising and deflating from his run in and out of the airport. 

“What do you mean?” 

He smiles, taking a step closer towards you which you instinctively backed away from. “Kate made me realize something that- damn smart woman!” Hes grinning, wide and blidning.

“When we met, I thought I wanted someone like her. She great, don't get me wrong, smart woman and I know she’ll go places if she keeps up in the storm business  but also- Meeting her made me realize something,”

He pauses as his hands slowly glided upwards, warm on your arms where they land. “As much as I wanted her, I’ve never worried about anyone as much as I worried about you.”

“When you ran after Kate yesterday, outside into the tornado, I thought I lost you. I was so scared- I’ve never felt fear like that. You were selfless, you ran with her knowing your safety wasn't guaranteed.”

He takes a ragged breath as he blinks rapidly, and your worry rises. He continues. “We’ve known each other for a long time, baby you were there when we started it all,” 

“All I’m sayin’ is that- I’ve liked you. Loved you for so long but I kept avoiding it cuz’ i didn’t wanna ruin what we have, And meeting Kate? Made me realize I shouldn't keep avoiding something I know you want too.” 

Finally, finally Tyler stopped to breathe as you stared, bewildered. On one side, you can feel your face growing in warmth from his, albeit, sudden and hurried confession, on another side you worry just how forward you had been with him. Were you the one that made him question his sexuality-

“But you’re not gay… are you?” You hesitate, voice small. 

Tyler laughs and it's almost contagious. “Honestly that's- I don't know. Not yet. But loving you? That, I'm certain.”

“But you- I'm a guy, Tyler. You see me as a dude, don't you? You don-”

“No, God no! I don't care what you were. You’re you, baby, and I love you for you,” 

You’re at a loss for words. You thought the man you’ve had a crush on was going to run into the airport and kiss the girl of his dreams, similar to those cheesy romance movies Dani and Lilly likes to watch but no. No. instead, the man of your dreams, the protagonist of your love life, is standing in front of you, devotion and love and yearning in his eyes as he stares into yours. He holds your arms softly yet insistent. 

You answer, through a trembling voice, “I.. I love you too, Tyler,” 

Without missing a beat, Tyler crashes his lips into yours. He pulls you by your hips, secure arms around you as you wrap your arms around his neck. He couldn't help but grin, making you laugh before he steals yet another breath, deepening the kiss by moving languidly, hand now rubbing circles. When your lungs burn, begging for oxygen, the two of you part, both panting with the centimeter of distance. Tyler rests his forehead against yours, sighing in pure contentment. 

“Woo! Finally!” You hear Javi’s voice making you recoil in surprise. The man in question is leaning out of the Storm Par truck, cheering at both you and Tyler. You laugh at his excitement, then suddenly Tyler’s head drops to hide into the crook of your neck, letting out a small whine. The sound would've spurred you on if it weren't for Kate also cheering as she walks out of the airport's doors. 

“Yes! Took you two long enough!” She grins, quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. “I’m sending this to Lilly,” 

You laugh, holding onto Tyler’s flannel while he does the same, his laughs ghosting over your pulse. He stands, though his eyes are still deep in yours. Tyler moves a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm smile enveloping you. You can't help to smile as well, letting yourself fall deeper into those captivating browns.

— reblogs appreciated! Requests are open!

[horsewithaface]

So I rewrote the Battle of the Five Armies for my Everyone Lives AU because yes I’m still in denial and no you can’t stop me

• Everything up to Fíli getting captured is the same

• Fíli is caught by Azog and held out over the cliff. Kíli is below in the nook. While Azog is giving his speech, Kíli shoots him from below in the wrist, causing him to let go of Fíli. Fíli falls to the ground, onto Kíli, breaking his fall, who drags him into the nook and hides him as he tends to his brother’s wounds. Fíli regains his strength after a short moment and, despite Kíli’s better judgement, Fíli gets up, and races back to the top, calling for Kíli to follow.

• The two brothers fight countless orcs as they climb the stairs of Ravenhill, searching for Thorin. Once they come upon the plateau of ice, they find Bilbo weeping over Thorin as they speak.

• Kíli shuts down, thinking it is too late, but Fíli remembers something crucial. Back in Lake-town, he had pocketed a pouch of Kingsfoil in case his brother’s wounds hadn’t truly healed. With it was a messily-written note of Tauriel’s incantation written out phonetically.

• “I will not let you go, uncle. Not today. It is not your time. We will have a great feast tonight and will walk within the halls of Erebor among our kin. I cannot walk there without you.” - Fíli to Thorin as he kneels down opposite Bilbo, preparing the Kingsfoil. He rips open Thorin’s shirt, revealing the weeping wound before pressing the mixture into it. Thorin lets out a roar of pain but Kíli snaps to attention and runs to hold him down to stop his thrashing. Bilbo grabs Thorin’s hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the bloodied knuckles, whispering pleas for him to hold on.

• The Kingsfoil incantation only partially works due to Fíli being a novice in elven spells, however it buys them time for Gandalf to get there and finish the spell properly.

• Thorin is taken to the medical hut where he regains his strength for the next week despite his refusal and insistence that he is fine. Bilbo eventually gets through to him and Thorin gives in, allowing the healers to aide him.

• Thorin does not remember what happened when he had succumbed to the dragon sickness, it is only when Bilbo flinches at a sudden movement of his when he is getting frustrated that Bilbo realises Thorin does not remember. Bilbo reluctantly tells him the truth when Thorin demands to know what he did wrong.

• Thorin never forgives himself for his actions, even going so far as to denying his birthright and banishing himself from Erebor. He gives the crown to Fíli who does not accept it, choosing to go with him for Thorin is more important to Fíli than ruling. Kíli never wanted the crown and so the brothers appoint Dain as the rightful king for they would not have prevailed without him.

• Thorin and Bilbo part ways, Bilbo returning to Bag End unsure if he will ever see Thorin again because despite what happened, he never blamed Thorin for it was the fault of the dragon sickness and not his own mind.

• After about a year, Bilbo hears a knock at his door. He is greeted with a very nervous Thorin, quite a juxtaposition from his usual stoic nature. Bilbo doesn’t believe his eyes, convinced that he is dreaming. Thorin cannot help but whisper, “Bilbo…” before engulfing the hobbit in a hug.

• Thorin rambles on a whole poetic speech about how he does not deserve redemption for his actions and he simply came to apologise. Bilbo takes Thorin’s face in his hands, pulling him down to eye level.

• “Stop it. Just stop it, you giant oaf. I forgive you. You never let me speak my mind after the battle. I never blamed you, Thorin. I never have and I never will. It was that bloody dragon, not you. I stand by my word when I say that I am glad that I have shared in your perils. You are more than any Baggins deserves.”