#haven't done one of these in a while ♡

[sashiavi]

Which SDV Hybrid!Boy is The Loudest in Bed?

[littlemoriflower]

⋆˚✿˖° mori girl summer ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[areislol]

twitter links w/ hsr men

pairings. blade, jing yuan, aventurine, sunday, gepard, sampo x afab/fem! reader

warnings. NSFW no minors! please read at your own discretion, explicit/18+ smut, established relationships for most, brat taming for blade, mention of being called a whore (teasing manner) for aventurine, mentions of puppy for gepard but there's no meaning about it. aggressive sex, passionate sex, masturbation (fem.) sub! gepard for 1 twt link, fingering

a/n. i don't think i've done one for hsr yet... or genshin so maybe that'll be in the future. sorry (not sorry) guys i'm ovulating (i need them all carnally). also i think for some you need to be logged in twitter for them to work! this only has a couple of characters cause i'm a bit lazy today

blade

✧ fucking you so good from behind, "you like that don't you?"

✧ eating you out in a room just beside his colleuges room, he likes the risk and it turns on him. you feel the same way, right?

✧ teasing you for being such a brat, spanking your tight pussy and rubbing soft languid on your sensitive clit. you'll learn your lesson sooner or later.

✧ the size difference never fails to amaze him. but that's fine, he'll take his time with you.

✧ making you cum just by his slender fingers

jing yuan

✧ riding your boyfriend jing yuan

✧ fucking you in his bathroom while you're wearing his shirt. how adorable of you ♡

✧ best friend! jing yuan who fucks you right and how you deserved to be fucked. "feels good doesn't it? i know baby but you need to keep your voice down.. your mom is here.." it's quite hard to stay quiet while being pounded relentlessly, isn't it?

✧ a 5 star meal in his opinion, nothing beats your pussy.

aventurine

✧ slowly and painstakingly teasing you with his cock, oh, and you're wearing that new blindfold he bought for you!

✧ bouncing up and down on his dick, "like the whore you are"

✧ morning sex (is this based off the artwork recently posted by hoyo? yes)

✧ fingering you from behind

✧ "fuck..." aventurine loves hearing you moan

sunday

✧ "ride my face, please."

✧ passionate sex with sunday

✧ giving your boyfriend an awaited tit job ♡

✧ restricting your movement by binding you. "stop moving or i won't put it in." he says while also rubbing his hardness on your entrance.

✧ fucking you 'till you're braindead

gepard

✧ your puppy boyfriend who loves eating you out. best meal ever.

✧ breeding you just like you asked, one peak down at the messy sight gets him 10x more hard. good luck with a horny gepard

✧ milking your beloved with a vibrator

✧ teasing your poor husband with a video of your wet pussy while he's at work.

sampo

✧ your boyfriend still continuing to finger you through your orgasm. overstimulated would be an understatement.

✧ making out in your room

✧ fucking you aggressively after seeing his rival, gepard, flirt with you (?? gepard flirting??)

✧ your pleasure is his pleasure//masturbating while eating you out

a/n: me after not writing anything for a couple of weeks (i think almost a month?) :) i haven't done this in SO long. no continue reading for this since it's short. (this is a shitpost)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

[anisespice]

Hey girl got a request,so like let’s say bonten is having a meeting with a new criminal organization gang that came in to come up with a deal,and while we are just sitting in the back looking at our new sparkly items Koko bought us,and the new criminal organization gang calls us out saying it’s disrespectful and rude calling us names..And bonten doesn’t like that one bit..So yeah I want them to react to that

hope it makes sense 😔😍🤺🤺

SAVE ME FROM MY WRITER'S BLOCK, ANON - HERE WE GO, NO MARIO. Hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting~!

pairing: bonten x fem!reader

warnings: mature language, misogynistic undertones (from another gang), implied violence, guns mentioned, reader is criminally oblivious (love that for her), guard-dog!bonten supremacy, sanzu gets his own warning lol and i think that's it.

notes: yall. can you believe i actually wrote this in one sitting? without stopping?? wild concept for me, haven't been able to do that in a good minute *knock on wood*, but i hope you enjoy! more stuff coming soon ♡

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05, @neverlandlostchild , @darks-pet-shadow, @captaincyberqueen

Upon the arrival of the recently developed organization, officially known as Kaiju, things already weren’t off to a great start. They were late, clocked at about twenty minutes past schedule. Excuses poured from them like a broken faucet, blaming their tardiness on traffic, which the members were willing to give the benefit of the doubt, some more than others. Then, they were unprepared. Scrambling about with their half-assed introduction mixed with a sloppily thrown together presentation, it was insulting at worst. 

Here they were, biggest in the game, offering an opportunity to help underground operatives make a name for themselves..and this is how they want to showcase their potential? Mikey waved it off when his number three voiced this flaw, merely chalking it up with inexperience–Everyone has to start somewhere, right? 

But. Finally came strike three. The one thing, the most damning thing they could’ve ever done to have mercy jump right out the window and straight to hell, was when one of their foolish members spoke ill of you. 

It was supposed to be taken as a joke, something controversial in a room amongst men, locker room talk if you would. Unfortunately for him and the rest of his team, Bonten didn’t see it that way. What was said wasn’t important, but the intent behind it was enough to make them hostile. And Kaiju would soon realize it too late despite no one laughing on that side of the room. If anything, the room grew colder. No matter who you looked at, venom consumed their gazes, a deathly aura building from their leader all the way to the advisors. The only reason no one reached for their gun, mowing them down in an array of bullets, was because you didn’t hear the disrespectful comment. 

All gazes shifted over to you briefly, sitting pretty in your little area they set up just for you. They liked having you close by, even during something so mundane as a meeting, watching you happily paint your nails or open up all the shiny new trinkets they bought you. Kaiju should count themselves lucky that you had headphones on, blissfully listening to music, not a care in the world.

And it was going to stay that way. 

By now, the dumbasses before them caught on to their grave error. Especially when Sanzu made a show of santuring over to you upon Mikey’s silent request, swiftly gathering you in his arms and carrying you to the head of the table. You squealed slightly in surprise, headphones slipping off your ears in the process as you held on to the pink-haired gangster, confused smile on your face. “Haru! You scared me!~” 

“Sorry, doll. Boss wants ya to sit right here.” Sanzu gently sets you down on your awaited throne, Mikey having made room by scooting his chair back, welcoming you with open arms. 

Still confused though not complaining, you merely shrugged before making yourself comfortable, snuggling more into the leader before putting your headphones back on. Mikey held you possessively, arms locked around you like a shield, placing a small kiss to your forehead. Message was sent; message soon received. 

Kaiju’s leader began blubbering out more excuses, reprimanding his subordinate in the same breath for saying such a thing about Bonten’s trophy wife–

Guns are drawn instantly and zeroed in on every last one of them. Stunned to horrified silence, as were his underlings, they all stood frozen in fear as they stared down multiple barrels in every angle. Koko scoffed, “You must got a death wish, huh?” 

“She’s no trophy, have some goddamn respect,” Mochi added, earning a sardonic chuckle from Ran. 

“Big ask from idiots who have none. Couldn’t even bother to show up on time, now they wanna make jabs at our [_____]. I say we’ve been more than courteous, wouldn’t you agree, otouto?” 

“Tsk. Let’s just waste ‘em. We’d be doing the streets a favor.” 

“Great idea,” Sanzu and Takeomi answered in unison, the former sounding twice as eager. 

The only ones placid were Kakucho and Mikey, one quietly observing whilst the other made sure you remained ignorant to the situation, angling you in his lap to where you were practically straddling him, phone still in hand as you watched a music video your favorite k-pop group dropped recently. The only sounds in the room were the panicked breathing of Kaiju and your melodic humming to the song. Mikey patted your head, satisfied that you were still your happy self. If any of those bastards made your smile drop even a centimeter, he would have their bodies fed to the dogs. With a small sigh, he and Kakucho eventually made eye contact. Then, he gave a small nod. “You were right. Should’ve killed them after that shitty presentation. Handle it.” 

Kakucho gave a curt nod, then signaled for Kaiju to be apprehended. With guns still aimed at them, leaving them no choice but to grovel for mercy, the Haitanis along with Mochi and Takeomi forced them to march out of the room, and to their inevitable deaths, not wanting to startle you with the sight of bloodshed so early in the morning.

Sanzu was already dialing up reinforcements to help with cleanup and disposal, face beaming as he practically skipped out of the room. Kakucho gave one last look to you, then Mikey, then politely bowed before closing the door behind him on his way out. You jumped slightly, the song ending right when the door slammed shut, making you lift one of your headphones and look around in shock.

“Oh, is the meeting over already?” 

Mikey reached up to thumb your lower lip, then reached up to playfully pinch your cheek. You grinned, gently swatting him away, so oblivious to the men you inadvertently sent to their demise all to protect that very smile. The former blonde shook his head, leaning on the armrest to rest his chin atop his knuckles. “No. Ended up being a waste of time. Don’t think you would’ve liked them.” 

You chortled. “Doesn’t matter if I like them. It’s your business, silly.” 

“Mm, you are our business, angel. And we like you more.”

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - age gap (the reader is in their early 20s) - porn with plot - oral (f! + m! receiving) - threesome - double penetration; anal (first time) & vaginal - restricted movement (hands tied up) - face-sitting - cowgirl dp positions - gun + knife play - choking - spanking - unprotected sex - overstimulation - degradation (brat, broad, slut, whore) - pet names (baby, dollface, good girl, pet, princess) - blackmail/threats - the reader is in an established relationship w/ Nanami - mentions of blood, tears, spit, and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (told you, porn with plot, lol)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhhhh happy Friday the 13th, everybody???? blame @ramonathinks for this idea (jk, don't, she's so amazing, ty for pushing me into this, mona bear ♡ and tysm for beta reading; your thoughts mean the world). Haven't done a fic in two months sooooo go easy on me!! Not proofread, so I'll fix stuff l8rrrr

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! Just answer the question!”

“You’re so fucking sick, you know that!?” You glare at your friend, who slumps on the booth chair with a heavy sigh. 

A slight breeze tickles your skin through your comfortable sweatshirts as the leaves on the trees slowly change to autumnal colors, and Halloween decor is already adorning every house and every yard. It was a warm and sunny afternoon on this pleasant Friday. Usually, you’d be cozied up in your apartment enjoying yourself, probably catching up on some horror flicks you missed last year. 

But alas, that was not the case. Because you’re a college student. As October has finally rolled around, only one thing prevents you from enjoying this beautiful season — midterms. The thought of it is enough to pull you into a pool of dread. Every day has been one whirlwind after another. Yet, on the bright side, all you have now is one last exam to worry about, and you’ll finally be able to rest this weekend. So here you are, at the diner with your best friend, Shoko Ieiri, completing your papers while eating off your plates to satiate the stress. For the most part, things were going smoothly.

Until the news anchor on the television at the bar relays an announcement… 

“…Once again, everyone, please be on the lookout for these two killers on the loose. Three weeks ago, the two recently escaped from their cells, killed three guards, and are still at large. There have been accounts around the state that reported recent sightings of either or both criminals, the recent one being in this county 27 hours ago. So, please, stay safe. The killers are identified to be…”

And Shoko, being the curious person she is, asks you a question that stops your fingers from typing on your laptop: “Do you find those killers hot?” 

That’s how you two end up where you are now, groaning at the brunette’s persistence in getting your approval to find two criminals — murderers, even! — attractive. 

“Hey, Y/n, I know you hear me.” Shoko snaps their fingers at you while you try to get the assignment done. “Just answer the question: don’t you think those guys are hot.”

“We didn’t come all this way for you to talk about your hybristophilia fantasies.” Facing the Word document, you remind your friend why you’re here in the first place. “Just get back to writing; I wanna finish this and get home.” There’s nothing said afterward for a few seconds, thinking she has finally given up.

However, “First of all,” your eyes close to conceal them rolling behind the lids. “I’m not into hybristophilia; I just know a hot guy when I see one. Second, look at their mugshots. Like, damn, you’ve ever seen anyone so intimidatingly good-looking before? Come on, have a look!”

“You’re such a weirdo,” the click-clacking of your fingertips tapping your keyboard fills the rest of your answer. 

Still, she persists. “Y/n, look at the phoooone~”

No words, only tapping keys.

“Y/n?”

The keys become louder. 

“Pretty, pretty, pleaseeeee~?” 

Louder.

“Y/n!!”

A fist bangs on the booth table as the other closes the laptop shut, sending another glare to the person across from you who holds the phone up. You’ve had it at this point, so you say with a steady breath, “If I look at the dumb mugshots and answer your dumb question, will your dumbass leave me alone and finish your work?” The brunette only puts the phone on the table and slides it your way, giving you big doe eyes and whimpers like a hurt puppy. You sigh with your nostrils as you snatch the phone up, your gaze stationed on the images presented.

The image displayed two mugshots: on the left was a man with raven hair and a scar on the left of his lip. Intense, forest-green orbs contrast the black strands that cover his forehead. The mugshot letter board below him is labeled as "Toji Fushiguro." The one on the right is another man with spiky salmon-colored hair pushed upfront with prominent black tattoos decorating his nose, cheeks, and forehead. The board named him as “Sukuna Ryōmen.”

You look at the pictures intently, examining the men’s features at your discretion. It didn’t occur to you how long you were gawking at the mugshots until you peered from the phone to see Shoko give you the biggest shit-eating grin. Shaking your head, you chew the inside of your cheek before responding.

“….Well,” you cough. “…they’re not terrible looking at all. They are…..hot.”

“Told you!” Shoko slams the table with high enthusiasm, earning another sigh from you as she snatches the phone back. “Would you fuck them?”

You almost popped a vein. What the fuck—“is wrong with you!?” 

“It’s just a question, geez.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Or is that too lewd and raunchy to ask the partner of the trusting, charismatic “Golden Boy” SGA president, Kento Nanami?”

You choke on your spit before you can say anything, and your cheeks dial in warmth. “S-Shut up! Don’t bring my love life into whatever deviant horny thoughts you’re thinking!”

“I’m sorry, I’m boreeeeeeed. I don’t wanna do this paper, ugh.” The brunette whines and bangs their forehead on the table surface; your eyes roll for the fifteenth time in the past three hours. “…Maybe I should get some dick after this.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to use the restroom.” 

You exit the dining booth when they give you a muffled response of anguish, straightening yourself and heading for the back of the diner. As you walked away, you noticed a pair of hooded figures sitting at the booth behind you. Realization kicks in, and you groan internally. Oh, God, they probably heard what we were talking about! But what caught your mind next was that one of them had a black mark on the bridge of their nose. Huh, what an odd tattoo…

After using the toilet, you wash your hands at the sink, but your mind is still fixated on that weird tattoo. Who would get such a thing on their face? Wouldn’t that hurt? I wonder if that’s the only tatt— And then It clicked, you quickly turn off the faucet and dry your hands, exit the rest restroom, and run to your booth. Shoko was begrudgingly typing away on their laptop until she saw you return in a hurry. 

“Hey, you okay?” She asks you, but you aren’t looking at them. Your face contoured to a confused expression as you stared at the booth behind the one you were sitting in, now empty. 

“Did…..The two people who sat behind us, did you see them?” 

“Hmm? No, I didn’t. Must’ve left while my head was on the table.”

“Uh huh…” you say nothing more as you slowly sit back in front of your laptop. Your mind is now clouded with confusing thoughts, questioning your experience up until now. It could be a coincidence, quite far out at that. Regardless, you could’ve sworn you saw that tattoo on the Sukuna guy that Shoko showed you. It was such an uncommon decor, especially since you just saw it on the face of a criminal. Not to mention, the news anchor earlier stated that those two killers were in this exact county…

Needless to say, you didn’t touch your keyboard for about twenty minutes. Your mind was too wrapped up elsewhere to think clearly about your school assignment, and your body harbored a disturbing chill worse than the soft autumn winds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, why are you researching about the loose killers again?”

“Hm? Oh,” you stop typing on the laptop to attend to the phone call you’re on. Exiting your bedroom, you walk to the living room. “No reason, I was just curious. I saw something about them on the news at the diner with Shoko.”

The person on the other side of the line hums. “You should be careful about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know, Kenty,” you open the sliding door to your balcony and close it behind you before taking a seat on the cream-colored swing chair.

“I’m very serious, Y/n.” It was none other than Kento Nanami who was speaking with you. The trustworthy “Golden Boy” of your class year, the circumspect president of the Student Government Association… your loving and attentive boyfriend.

"I know you are."

"And those guys aren't just any usual criminals. They're notorious killers who barge into people's homes at night to steal valuable things. Maybe even kill their victims in their sleep if they have the time. So, be very careful, okay? Can’t trust these streets at night, especially now with those guys on the run. So, don’t go anywhere alone, always have your pepper spray on you, and be sure everything is locked — doors, windows, everything.”

A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah, I double-checked all the locks once I got inside.” 

No one says a word; the rustling of the trees and the beeping of cars from the traffic at the light substitute this awkward silence. Until Nanami says, “….You scared?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind flashing back to the bewildering encounter at the diner earlier today. Those two hooded men, one with a black tattoo on his face. It felt too surreal to feel like a coincidence, yet it wasn’t too far out of your mind to think as such. The timing was strange, with the news reporter and your conversation with Shoko. The thought of two murderers nonchalantly being in the same space as you rub you off in the worst way imaginable. “…Kinda, yeah. A bit spooked.”

“You want me to come up there and spend the night?”

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” you hurriedly decline his proposal. “I know you’re busy with homework and student government stuff. I wouldn’t want you moving around so much; I’d feel bad.”

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and your heart swoons at the sound. “Don’t feel bad; you could never be a burden to me, especially when your safety is my top priority.” Another skip of the beat; it’ll never fail to amaze you how sweet he is with his words.

“Thank you, Kenty. But still, I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. You don’t have to see me right this moment. Besides, isn’t Haibara supposedly dragging you to some party at Geto’s?” Nanami is silent for a few seconds before he groans; a smile creeps up on your face at his reaction.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to leave to pick him up, and then we can go…But I can cancel and come o—“

“Absolutely not.” You’re quick to interject. “You’ve been so high and on edge with your exams. This is the first party after midterm week. And I can bet my left toe that Gojo — cause you know he’ll be there if Geto is — will be upset you couldn’t make it.”

“…….Which one?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five toes on your left foot, so which one—“

“Kento.” He chuckles once more for your ears to hear at the use of his real name. “Have fun, okay?”

Nanami hums. “I’ll try. I’ll come by your place Sunday. Sounds good?”

“Perfect. Take some pics for me. Love you!”

Your boyfriend bids you farewell before ending the call, already missing his voice. A yawn creeps out from you, a sign that you are indeed fatigued and need rest. Leaving the balcony, you close the door and do a final check at your door. Confirmed that it’s locked and secured, you turn off the living room lights and head back to your bedroom to get some shut-eye. 

You shut off and close your laptop on your desk before turning off the lights. Then, you lift the comforter and finally enter the chilly embrace of your bedsheets.  Usually, you’d scroll on your phone for a little bit until you get drowsy enough to fall asleep. Yet — it could be because of the exam you were doing at the diner — you felt way more exhausted than usual and wanted to sleep right away. And you did just that: closed your eyes, listened to the calming rhythm of your breaths, and soon drifted into an anticipated slumber.

….Three Hours Later….

The next time you open your eyes, you’re not in the room you left yourself in — let alone the bed. 

Instead, you find yourself somewhere cold and dark. Your bed is nowhere in sight, just a lone chair facing you. There are no windows, no desks, just you and this chair with a sole overhead light that almost blinds you when you slowly get up. 

The change of scenery throws you off as one thought after another picks up the pace of confusion. Where am I? What is this place? This has to be a sick dream of mine…Wait a minute. You look down to find your pajamas are shriveled and torn up, pieces of the material scattered all over where you’re lying on the cold floor. Also, what the fuck!? You can’t seem to move your hands and feet, noticing that there’s some rope restricting your limbs from moving freely from one another. No matter how hard you try, squirming does little to no help, yet it confirms that this is not a dream.

What the absolute fuck is going on right now!? It was an appropriate question for this perplexing situation, not knowing where to pick up from to start picking clues as to why you’re here. Better yet, who brought you here?

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

You turn to the sound of a door opening and closing; the direction it came from makes it hard to register the distance of whoever was speaking to you. However, that doesn’t matter because you can hear footsteps approaching you and a figure stepping into the light. And when the face finally comes to your field of vision, your blood shifts into an immediate icy cold.

Standing to you by the chair was a man in a tight black shirt that exhibited his muscular arms and physique way too perfectly, harboring dark and baggy pants. But those weren’t the features that had your breath hitch. No, no. The man before you had raven hair with the length stopped to his ears and strands that covered his brows. They did not even try concealing the striking green eyes that looked straight at you. And the familiar scar at the right of his lip put everything together for you — the mugshot that Shoko showed me, the inmate that escaped prison…!

Toji Fushiguro, in the flesh, takes a seat on the chair with his legs spread while putting on black gloves. He notices your look of realization and smirks; you don’t like how his scar is rooted up with the motion. “Y’re a pretty heavy sleeper, ya know that. But I guess that made bringing you here a lil’ simple.” 

A tiny bit of confidence prompts you to speak with the man. “Whe–Where am I?”

“C’mon now, little girl,” your stomach churns when he scoffs at you. He brings up a hand to help him as he cracks his neck. God, why is he so jacked!!? “Y’re supposed to be smart, right? You know that’s the wrong question to ask me.” 

Okay then, think, Y/n, think… ”…Why did you kidnap me? Is it for money? Because I don’t have much—“ The palm of Toji’s hand faces you to halt you from speaking more, making your nervousness dwell even further. 

“For one, you should really consider locking your balcony door when y’re done using it.” There are not enough words to describe the mental facepalm you gave yourself. “If we wanted to run y’r pockets, we woulda done so earlier.” He casually admits to you. “But that’s not why we brought ya here, so he’ll explain it to ya.”

He? Wait, wait, we??

The other mugshot hits you like a flash before you hear the door open and close again. Of course, Toji isn’t the only one on the run right now. There was another guy with salmon-colored hair and tattoos. The other figure, now wearing a black tank tee and ripped black jeans, came from behind Toji. Your stomach drops to the floor when your eyes land on the prominent black tattoo on his nose — now seeing that he has way more on his face, shoulders, arms, and wrists. The scene from the diner replays until your brain can’t keep up. It was him, no doubt about it.

“Well, well. Did the sleeping beauty finally get their rest?” Sukuna Ryōmen, looks just as [if not more] dangerous as Toji. He stuffs his hand into the back of his jeans pocket. “Listen here, I’ll be asking you some questions, and I expect nothing but honest answers. Got that?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask the question. You being scared shitless right now should’ve prevented you from doing so. And yet, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

It happened way too fast; your eyes couldn’t even process it happening. But one moment, the salmon-haired criminal was standing in front of you beside Toji. The next, you feel someone crouched behind you with the cold feeling of something barely piercing your skin. Your eyes widen, and you don’t dare move a single hair. Toji shakes his head at you, the smirk on his face still present. Now you can guess who had fun cutting up your PJs.

“I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” He says it so close to your ear that you could’ve nearly fainted. Sukuna then moves the knife to scrape the side of your neck. “And don’t you ever think you’re in a position to ask me questions. Use that college brain of yours, brat.” 

You gulp — a risky move when you have a sharp object to your neck — and nod. Satisfied, the pink-haired man removes the knife from your proximity and stands right up. “At least you follow things quickly.” He says while walking back to where he stood prior. “Now, question one: do you know a kid named Kento Nanami?” 

The mention of your boyfriend’s name hits you like whiplash. Kento? What do they want with him!?

“…Yes, I do.”

“Good. Next question,” You chew the inside of your lip before he asks you the following. “Where does he live?”

Your body almost shuts down when he says the final word. No. No, no, no! Absolutely not! “I can’t tell you that.”

“Tch, just when you were doin’ so good.” Sukuna sucks his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want you hurting him.”

He barks a laugh. “You don’t even know what we’ll do to him! Damn, talk about a loyal dog.” 

The insult sparked a flame in you. It was a small one, but a flame nonetheless. “Why the hell do you want to know anyway? It’s not like he knows you any—Hrckk!”

“What the hell did I say about you asking questions, huh.” A hurried hand meets your throat, black nails digging into your skin as his grip gets unbearably tight. You attempt to keep a stern face despite choking for some air, but you’d be lying that the pain wasn’t getting to your head.

“Alright, Kuna, let ‘em go.” You almost forgot about Toji sitting on the chair until he spoke up. With a displeased click of the tongue, Sukuna releases you and throws you to the cold, hard floor. “For your information, princess, that kid does know us.”

You’re coughing up a storm, but you still listen. Your eyes are watery, and your throat pulses. “Hic…Ack, what—What are you talking about?”

Toji continues. “That little friend of y’rs is the reason why we were behind bars for three years. Fuckin’ kid saw us break into a house in his neighborhood and called the cops on us. For the longest time, we’ve thought about getting out of those damn cells and coming back to rip that lil’ fucker limb from limb. Maybe ransack his whole home and then some.” 

“And now that we are out here,” Sukuna chimes in. “We plan on doing just that. We were sitting right behind you at the diner and heard the brown-haired chick say his name, meaning he had to be around this county. And when he heard that fucking square had a little girlfriend, who better to introduce ourselves and point us the way than you.” 

So much information hits you all at once that you’re not given enough time to process it properly. Nanami called the cops on these guys? Where was that piece of information on the phone call!!? Three years ago, it must’ve happened before the start of freshman year. And then there’s the matter of these murders trying to kill him — the love of your life! 

You immediately try to weigh your options: you could give them a fake address, but that would lead them back to you and have you killed instead. And Nanami doesn’t live at home right now; he’s on campus with you and everyone else. So, sharing these two his home address will just have his family killed in his place! Oh, you wouldn’t handle that guilt; you just couldn’t!!

“So, what’ll it be, little girl?” Toji’s voice snaps you from your rampant thoughts. “You can be a cute girlfriend and be loyal, and we’ll just kill you right here, right now. Or, you give us an address, we’ll put you back to sleep, and you’ll never see from us ever again.” 

Those two options were far from what you wanted to do. You would never want to jeopardize your poor boyfriend’s life and those around him for being a model citizen, especially for these assholes! There had to be a way, something you could do!

“Please, don’t hurt him!” The ropes on your hands and feet have you shuffle to look at the two men from the dirty ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please just spare him!”

“No-can-do, brat.” Sukuna comes down to your level once more, yanking your shirt — or whatever’s left of it, your bra practically out for the whole world to see — to lift your upper body. “Nothing to ease a vengeful spirit than taking care of the problem, right? So do us a favor, will ya.” 

Tears are fighting your control to fall, your body trembling. You’re scared, so so frightened. But most of all, you’ll do what you can to make sure your “golden boy” stands tall for you. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything you want, I’ll do it! So, please!!” 

Sukuna opens his mouth to bite back, but no words come out. Actually, his expression resorts back to a neutral tone. He then turns to Toji, who looks at him with a quirked brow. There’s nothing but silence between the two, a silent conversation between the two killers that you have no choice but to stay quiet for. And you jerk when the two focus back on you. Sukuna then finally says something.

“Anything, huh?” It’s the worst when he sneers at you. Such a devious man. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tch. Fucking brat.” Sukuna sucks his teeth before he snatches your chin with a rough vigor, forcing your teary eyes to face him. And it doesn’t help that you now have a gun pointed at your temple. “This is your warning. You better do this right, or you’ll be the first to get a gift with your boyfriend’s head all minced up. Now, use that mouth. Properly.”

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d end up here. You stood on your knees and hands on the concrete floor, your mouth occupied with Sukuna’s cock, propelling your face to and fro to meet the base. Why the handgun to your head? According to the salmon-haired man, he said: “Try to fight, run, or bite our dicks off, then this whole mag is getting emptied.” So, you’re literally giving the fellatio of your life. And judging by the grunts coming from Sukuna, it seems you’re doing a decent job keeping him going. 

As for the other one, Toji, his hands grabbing onto your asscheeks from beneath should answer that. “C’mon, baby, sit on my face. I don’t bite…” you can tell he has the biggest grin on his face saying that, has you hesitant to follow orders. Regardless, you gently sway your ass down to sit on his face. But impatience gets the best of him before he pulls you down himself, his nose abruptly hitting your clitoris. You jolt despite his hands keeping you on him, forced to feel his tongue and mouth indulging on your wet folds.

So there you sit, bare and nude, for the men to use you as they see fit. Whatever piece of your clothes were torn off you to be fully exposed for them. This is what you choose to do for the sake of your boyfriend: giving yourself off for the night. 

Oh, if Shoko could see you now. Sucking off one of the exact murderers you two were talking about at the diner while the other eats you out? You know you’ll never hear the end of it from her if — by some miracle — she finds out! And you’ll hold onto that miracle for as long as you can. 

“…Fuuuck, hnngh! It’s been a minute since I had my dick on something tight,” Sukuna comments while putting his free hand on your head. His thrusts increase to have your tongue bathe the underside of his dick, and he sighs at you choking when the tip suddenly hits your uvula. “Heh, that’s right. Keep those tears coming, pet…You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Fushiguro. This broad taste that fucking good—Ohhh shit, fucking shit…”

You can feel Toji’s lips curve into a smile from down under, he gives your labia and clit a slow and antagonizing lick before responding to his partner in crime. “Mmmm, man. It’s been a while since I had to do this. Crazy how this princess got with a square like that kid. Wonder if he makes ‘em feel good like this.” And then he returns to your clit to give it a harsh suck. 

Your body continues to be used like a toy. Your jaw loosens to oblige Sukuna’s girth that’s currently hitting the back of your throat every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. His ruts dial-up, and you ball your fists with the constant oral abuse on your face. Drool runs down your chin with every shove of his length, practically choking you with his dick. And the commotion between your leaking vulva and Toji doesn’t go unnoticed either; motherfuker’s tongue is relentless, making sure every crevice and part of your pussy is familiar with him. And the sounds of him slurping your essence are so lewd, so erotic for your ears that you think they’re bound to explode on you. 

“—Ahhh, damn, I’m gonna cum,” Oh, God. Your eyes open to look at Sukuna’s expression, nothing but pure enjoyment looking at your pitiful look. “You’re cute looking all pathetic taking my cock like this, whore—Mmmph!! Shiiiit, keep your head like that.” He grabs your head as his thrusts speed up to an irregular pace, your throat and face becoming numb. Your whimpers are muffled, and tears streak down your cheeks. His groans of pleasure fill the room, and before you know it, his load is released down to the depths of your throat. You’re stuck taking it, mewling on the shaft still in your mouth until he’s finished. 

He removes you when he is, his cock slathered in your saliva and still rock hard. You gawk at it, amazed that you could fit it in your mouth. And you hate to admit this, but it has you wondering what Toji’s is like. 

Speaking of, with a foggy mind, you peer down to see Toji finally done eating your cunt out. “Ya taste good, you know that.” He licks his lips provocately with a smile. You open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. “You ready fr’ me now?” He cocks his chin up, and you turn to see what he’s talking about, only to be met with the pinkish-red tip of his sprung erect cock. If you didn’t think you’d be able to have Sukuna’s in your mouth, you’re going to need a diety’s grace to see what you can do with Toji’s. “Heh, think I’m too big fr’ you? How the hell is Kento handling a piece like you?”

“S–Shut up, stop bringing him up!” You shout at him, tired of being reminded of the love of your life whom you’re betraying right now. All for his sake, but still…

He chuckles at your reaction. “Little girl got spark, huh. Fine then, be a doll and put it in yourself.” 

Cold sweat slides from your brow. Me? I’ve gotta put that shit in on my own!? But you have to. You know you do. So, with anxiousness pooling in your stomach, you bring your ass up and use your hand to align his cock to your wet cunt. 

It takes a lot of mental motivation for you to continue, but slowly and surely, you push the folds of your cunt onto his glans. The pain you experience makes it excruciating to bear, but with steady breaths, you push the tip in with every exhale. And when it finally enters your vulva, a gasp erupts from your puffy lips and a hiss from the man with the scarred lip. “Mmmm, slow down, baby, slow it down…” That was probably the only words he’s ever said that you could trust, so you anchor your ass down, taking in every inch of his length with his hands guiding your ass down. When you reach the base, you give yourself a few seconds to adjust to his girth within your velvety walls. “Fuck, ya feel so nice and tight, princess.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna walks from behind. “Can’t wait for me to have a go.” You couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of that sentence because the salmon-haired one kicked your back. You are now mounted on Toji completely, the two of you facing each other while Sukuna crouches behind your ass. “Get ready, I’m putting it in.”

“Huh?” Wait, both at the same time!? “Ho–Hold on, I’ve never done it in my ass bef—“

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me; guess I’ll be the first then,” he shuts down your argument and then bends down to use his fingers and spit to ease your asshole. It feels so gross and repulsive that you could puke right now. Not that it would matter to Sukuna because he’s already set on doing it — his fore and middle finger pushing in and out of your anus. When he feels you’ve loosened up, he’ll remove his digits and substitute them with his cock. 

And he doesn’t warn you either, fucking bastard; he nudges his dick in his own countdown with no regard to how you’re feeling. Gripping onto the raven-haired man’s black shirt, Sukuna’s cock puts you through pain worth traumatizing, evoking screams that scratch your throat until he gets the whole thing in your ass. Nanami would never put you through this much pain. Never!

“Aww, y’re making the pretty girl cry,” Toji teases condescendingly, chuckling at the sight of you burying your head in his chest to shield the embarrassment. 

Sukuna hums while grinding his hips to your ass, a tiny bit of blood painting his shaft. “Hmph, good, makes my enjoyment worthwhile. Now,” you shriek with the sudden snap of his hips to your ass. “Let’s get this show started.”

When Sukuna moves, Toji follows right after, and you’re left to fend for yourself in this unsteady tempo from both your holes. You start seeing stars from the unusual stimulation, and your mind and vision become so blurry that it hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to try and concentrate on one dick at a time! One is currently scraping the wells of your walls in a way that your slit clenches around him, while the other churns your insides from the back that almost takes your breath away. More drool and tears seep into the black shirt you use to disguise yourself from them. This shit is already humiliating as is!

“C’mon now, baby. Show me that pretty face of y’rs.” Of course, Toji uses one hand to nudge your head to look at him. Your face is such a wet and hot mess, the sweat on your body making you sticky. The attempt to make sentences is beyond you, relying on moans and choked sobs to express your disorganized emotions. “There ya are. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Toji then takes your plump lips with his, his hand snaking to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was one thing letting them use your cunt and ass as they see fit; now, they dare to kiss you in a time like this. Oh, this is the absolute worst! How can you speak to Nanami ever again after this!? These lips are now sullied by the lips and cock of other men. You can’t ever go back and say that you were his, and it’s because of these assholes!!

…And what’s worse, you were starting to find enjoyment in what you were doing, sinking into Toji’s kiss and moaning into his scarred lips.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Damn, this slut is so fucking tight.” Sukuna watches your back glisten in the light while your ass quaked under his unstable momentum. He sneers before slapping your asscheek, resulting in a rushed moan and a twitch from your pussy. Toji breaks the kiss. “Hey, keep doing that. Think they like it.” 

With devilish glee, the tattooed other doesn’t hold back. He gives you another smack to the ass, and more loud purrs and shrieks fill the space between you three. Fast ruts to your soaping slit and ass coincide with the strikes to your butt, catching you off guard and leaving a stinging sensation every time. 

It’s apparent now that your hips start to move on their own, riding out your own high while preparing for your orgasm that’s climbing up. And the raven-haired man notices as he puts your hand on your aching buttcheeks. “Goin somewhere, dollface?” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me come already!! “—Ahhnn, ooohhhh!! I’m about to cummm—I’m gonna break—Eeyahhh!!!

“That so?” You want to wipe that smirk off his stupid, dumb, handsome face. “Then go ahead and get dirty, princess. Ring us up.”

Your arousal staggers up when both of their thrusts fall into a unity, the tender spots of your gummy walls from your ass and cunt being hit and abused prompt more ecstatic moans and your head pounding with every jab. Almost there, almost! Please, please, I want it!! And you are finally given what you want; your release crashes into you in a hard swoop, the shocks crawling up your body while your holes contract around both men’s cocks. Your brain falls into an erotic trance; you only care about the euphoric sensations tingling around your body. Dizziness overtakes you, and your head descends back on Toji’s chest.

“Hmph, you really a pathetic pet.” Sukuna grinds his pelvis into your sensitive ass. The aftershocks from your release still make your body react to their movements. “Chasing for your own orgasm, huh. We outta fuck that selfishness right out of you, damn brat…”

You don’t say anything — more like you don’t have the energy to. Your ass and chasm are too stuffed to keep your mind active, and your eyelids feel too heavy to keep up. It probably was from all that crying and screaming. All you want to do is go back to sleep in your bed at your cozy apartment. But that must be asking for too much. Just please end this nightmare…

Kenty…Please forgive me, I’m so sorry….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can’t remember how sleep found you that night. But your eyes open to the ray of sunshine that peaks through the binds of your bedroom. Wait, my bedroom!?

You shoot up from your bed, the soft comforter and sheets peeling off your skin, and the cool air from the air conditioning welcomes you back to your personal space. Everything untouched, everything where it’s supposed to be — where you’re supposed to be.

A deep breath is the first thing you do when you wake up, following a long exhale. Was I dreaming? You would’ve accepted that delusion had you not looked down to realize that your figure was covered with one of your oversized shirts, remembering that your old pajamas were cut and torn up. Flashes of last night return to haunt you, and shivers travel down your spine from realizing what transpired at those ungodly hours. You quickly check your sheets for any stains — Thank God, none. Funny how a pair of serial killing assholes have the decency to clean up your body. 

And then a sudden feeling of dread crawls up after hearing your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You hurry to check the screen to find out it was a text message from Nanami. It’s a Saturday, 9 a.m. He’d usually be sleeping in until noon. Curious, you unlock your phone to check what your boyfriend is texting you about.

Recent Message from: ♡ my bby nanamiii ♡

Hey, Y/n. Hope you slept well and everything’s okay. I’m coming from Geto’s place after picking up Haibara, who is going through the worst hangover right now. He said he wants to see you and that you make the best meals for his hangovers. I don’t want to intrude if you’re not up for guests, so please tell me so I can take him somewhere else. But otherwise, we’ll be there at around 30-45 mins. Let’s just relax this weekend, okay?

Reading the text as you fall in love with him all over again. After what you’ve gone through, knowing that he’s safe and sound from any trouble, all you want right now is to be around him and hold him close. To be with him and forget about everything that’s happened. 

You send a heartwarming reply saying you’ll be waiting for the two of them. Then, you remove yourself from the bed and stretch out your fatigued muscles. Ugh, I should probably shower before Nananmi gets here…

However, before you lift your shirt and head for the bathroom, you notice a glass of water and a bag full of pills. Huh…I definitely didn’t have that there when I went to sleep before I was taken. And next to the glass was a folded piece of paper. Curiosity got the best of you this morning as you picked up the material to read its contents. 

And this is where you knew your life was changing, for better or worse. Your legs give out, making you fall to your knees with a shaky breath, the hairs of your body standing, and your heart on the verge of leaping out of your mouth. What you read crushed your whole being, leaving you cold in this world — worse than the autumn breeze.

Yo, thanks for the great time last night. Keep that up, and your pretty boytoy will keep standing. Here’s water and birth control, and keep that bag safe. Wouldn’t wanna end up losing it for the next time we fuck you dumb. See ya later, pet.

SR + TF

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly <3 header art by rororgi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[moonstruckme]

MAE! I have a request… <3 reader finds out Steve keeps Polaroids of her around different spots, like tucked in his wallet or the sun visor of his car or in his bathroom mirror

Thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“You look like you just came from the movies,” you say. 

Steve turns his head to look at you over the top of his sunglasses. You grin. “I’ll have you know, these are Ray-Bans.” 

“Are you sure? Because they’re just like the ones they gave out for Jaws 3D.” 

Even with the dark lenses, you can sense your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he turns back to the road. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t bring any.” 

Caught. “If you were a gentleman, you’d give me yours.” 

“Sorry, baby. Driver needs to see the most.” 

“Fine,” you sigh, putting a bit of theatrics into it. You reach for the sun visor. “Don’t think I won’t remember this the next time you want a blanket at my place.” 

You flip the visor down, and a little plastic square flutters into your lap. You pick it up. 

“Hey,” says Steve, “that’s totally different. If you ran your heat, neither of us would need blankets. But if you want me to start bringing my own—” 

“Stevie.” 

“Oh, it’s Stevie now,” he mutters. 

You turn to him, holding up the picture. “When did you take this?” 

Steve glances away from the road for a second. “Oh. Don’t you remember? That was at the lake last summer.” 

You do remember, now. Steve’s no master photographer—the light refracts off the water, fuzzing the picture and obscuring parts of your face—but it’s clearly you. You’re standing waist-deep in the lake, clearly trying to splash Steve while cheesing into the camera. You remember the day, but not the moment. 

Steve brings that polaroid camera everywhere. You know where it is now, stowed in the glove box right against your knees. He takes pictures with it sometimes, but always stows them away immediately so they can develop somewhere dark. You haven’t ever thought to ask about them. Haven't seen one until now. 

“Why do you have this here?” you ask. 

“I just like to keep them where I can find them,” Steve says. “Hey, put that back when you’re done, will you?” 

You blink at him. “You mean there are more?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He looks at you again, eyebrows flicking up at the open curiosity in your expression. “You wanna see some?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Alright. Put that one back.” He shifts in his seat, reaching into his back pocket. “I don’t need any getting lost.” 

You feel your lips tilt bemusedly. “You keep them in random places, but you don’t want them to get lost?” 

Steve digs out his wallet. “Nothing random about it. There’s a system, okay?” You reach for the wallet, but he holds it away. “Put it back.” 

“Okay, okay.” You grin, stowing the polaroid back where you found it before grabbing for Steve’s wallet. The worn leather parts for you easily. “Oh.” 

There are a few pictures in here. You holding flowers at the farmer’s market, you decorating cupcakes, you on your bed at home. Some have you looking into the camera, others not. In all of them you look happy. You think that’s probably how you look most of the time when Steve’s with you. 

“Steve.” Affection aches in the back of your throat. “This is so sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. When you look at your boyfriend, you can see the faint tinge of a blush beneath the frames of his sunglasses. 

You gather the pictures carefully in one hand, using the other to link your fingers through his. “Why did you keep all of these?” 

Steve makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “What, I’m not allowed to want to look at you? Why would I take them just to get rid of them?” 

“I don’t know.” Your voice softens. “I just didn’t know you had all these. It’s cute.” 

Steve grins. He glances over at you once, then again, leaning over for a quick kiss. 

“Hey!” you laugh. “Eyes on the road.” 

“You’re cute,” he says.

“Yeah, you must think so.” 

“Don’t go getting a big head.” Steve uses your joined hands to tug on your arm teasingly. You let it draw you closer to him, smitten.

“Too late for that. You’re like my own personal paparazzi. You know I’m gonna have to start taking a bunch of pictures of you too, now, right?” 

“I don’t think you have to.” 

“Oh, I definitely have to.”

[stllmnstr]

every fragile thing

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, figure skating au, college/university au

word count: 12.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy, non graphic descriptions/depictions of injuries, use of the american (usa) university system, a kiss or five

soundtrack: get him back! / brutal / jealousy, jealousy / good 4 u / the grudge / bad idea right? / drivers license - olivia rodrigo

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

note: hi hello yes this is me on a new blog with the same name. I deleted my old one and wasn't sure if I planned on remaking/reposting but here we are! if you've read this before, then I hope you enjoy just as much this time around. and if you haven't, I hope you love figure skater sunghoon just as much as I do! happy reading ♡

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition. 

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted moments, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill. 

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best. 

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath. 

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come. 

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin. 

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you. 

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track? 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals. 

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this. 

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly. 

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question. 

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.” 

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance too.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace. 

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully. 

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing. 

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue. 

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space. 

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left. 

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision. 

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door. 

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.  

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though. 

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next. 

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows. 

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.” 

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you. 

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new members.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes. 

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes. 

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs. 

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice. 

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it. 

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up. 

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either. 

A beat passes. 

Two. 

Neither of you break eye contact. 

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second. 

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?” 

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink. 

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect. 

Oh, you know him alright. 

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well. 

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough. 

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess. 

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again. 

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions. 

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane. 

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started. 

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours. 

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule. 

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes. 

Including him. 

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be. 

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around. 

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.” 

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.” 

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.” 

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade. 

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.” 

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room. 

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible. 

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last. 

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back. 

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you. 

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.  

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance. 

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does. 

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth. 

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin. 

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you. 

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate. 

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.” 

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out. 

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends. 

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant. 

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong. 

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious. 

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look. 

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all. 

“No way.” Jake says. 

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission. 

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap. 

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them. 

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces. 

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees. 

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at fifteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out your coach’s. 

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice. 

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time. 

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater. 

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip. 

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once. 

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks. 

Not until it all shattered in a single moment. 

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart. 

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all. 

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn. 

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger. 

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner. 

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance. 

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself. 

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed. 

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him. 

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone. 

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses. 

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods. 

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage. 

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other. 

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side. 

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always. 

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead. 

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight. 

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile. 

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he. 

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.”

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car. 

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely. 

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering. 

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home. 

And he never says your name once. 

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness. 

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again. 

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays. 

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that. 

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first. 

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze. 

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat. 

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head. 

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests. 

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day. 

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern. 

“Or something,” Jake agrees. 

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program. 

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts. 

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice. 

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake. 

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question. 

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off. 

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor. 

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again. 

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.  

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a pair of boys you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know. 

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you��ll manage to get through tonight just fine. 

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips. 

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod. 

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing. 

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about you.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant. 

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid. 

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife. 

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier. 

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later. 

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local  band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long. 

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low. 

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations. 

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off. 

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing. 

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body. 

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you. 

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp. 

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation. 

Last time, he let you fall. 

You have no idea what he’ll do now. 

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target. 

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin. 

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.” 

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon. 

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room. 

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought. 

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung. 

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt. 

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting. 

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier. 

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks. 

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer. 

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation. 

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception. 

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape. 

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have. 

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe. 

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you. 

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie. 

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread. 

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd. 

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction. 

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared. 

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink. 

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible. 

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice. 

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year. 

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes. 

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.  

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief. 

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past. 

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.” 

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?” 

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to. 

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes. 

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him. 

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear. 

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response. 

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame. 

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry. 

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes. 

And then another. 

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to. 

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right. 

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning. 

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace. 

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon pulls you into his apartment with his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time. 

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought. 

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet. 

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most. 

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates. 

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough? 

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels. 

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout. 

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return. 

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin. 

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs. 

…

outtake—five years ago. 

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission. 

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down. 

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore. 

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse. 

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact. 

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through. 

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger. 

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run, every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck. 

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him. 

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either. 

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors. 

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own. 

It seems to stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him. 

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five years later. 

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you. 

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts. 

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

.....

note: thank you for reading! as always, comments, reblogs, and asks are very much appreciated :D

[vauer]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Reader x Jinx

SUMMARY: you are a thief who steals from people who are passing through your town. this time you came across the wrong person. that didn't stop you from fucking her though.

CW: sub!Jinx, fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, some kind of plot(?), fastburn

(English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes💌)

men and minors dni.

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰

Jinx moaned softly as she kissed her new friend's thin lips. The edge of the countertop rests uncomfortably against her lower back, forcing her to arch her back and make a dissatisfied mumble, only to hear a quiet chuckle in response. She couldn't believe how quickly this girl had managed to win her over.

A couple of weeks ago, a strange woman came into her small workshop. You were pretty and looked to be no more than twenty, but your piercing gaze was too intently and sharply jumping over various details of the interior, studying the situation. And you were wearing some ugly kind of wig.

“I haven't met you here before. May I know the name of such a charming lady?” your eyes sparkled playfull. Your intonation and body language put Jinx in a stupor. Since she faked her death and fled to the edge of the world, away from Piltover, changing her appearance, she has not yet received any attention from anyone. Jinx wasn't really sure if it was sarcasm, because she didn't look her best right now: crookedly cropped hair had grown back and looked even more untidy, and bright blue hair roots were starting to grow out from under the purple dye. And that's not to mention the oil and dust stains on the clothes.

“Powder," Jinx said after a couple of seconds of reflection. Lately, she's been using her old name to avoid attracting attention.

“Like baby powder or gunpowder?” you grinned annoyingly, leaning slightly on the table.

"Like gunpowder," Jinx replied grimly, rolling her eyes.

"Then you can call me Fuse," you grinned again, winking. Despite your outspoken flirtation, Jinx didn't miss the way your gaze appraisingly scanned her hideout.

"I have a business here, not a dating club," she grumbled, lazily rolling a blue hexteck ball around the table. Jinx chuckled inwardly, noticing how your gaze immediately eagerly darted to the jewel, as she suspected.

A couple of days later, she finally caught you trying to sneak into her workshop late at night.

“Are you looking for this?” Jinx appeared behind you, inserting a blue ball into the gun and pointing it at you.

“Rather for you,” not confused, you took a seductive pose, leaning on the table. “Jinx, right?”

“Well, how did you find out?” She rolled her eyes, pouting and moving closer to use the edge of the gun to push the hood off your head. Well, at least you weren't wearing an ugly burgundy wig right now. "I don't want to kill you. I'm kind of done with it.”

“Who else would have this round blue thing but Jinx? You're almost a legend. Almost,” you shrugged. You didn't seem to care much about the hextek-loaded pistol next to your temple. "You don't have to hide your identity here. No one cares who you are.”

"Except for you, of course," Jinx rolled her eyes.

“I don't care either. But I can say that you are too charming for the inadequate maniac they call you," you grinned flirtatiously again.

The shot cut off the edge of your bangs.

“Shut up!” Jinx said tiredly, going upstairs to sleep. Anyway, there was nothing to steal from her except the blue ball.She earned a couple of coins by repairing all kinds of utensils for the residents of the city, and that was all her money.

You had been coming to her several times a day for the past two weeks, but at least hadn't tried to steal anything. You just stared at Jinx while she worked, fixing something or building custom devices. After a while, you started chatting about little things, you brought her a snack when Jinx sat in the workshop for hours without leaving. She had to admit that she liked such a quiet life much more than the hustle, intrigue and dangers of Piltover.

Day after day, and at some point Jinx found herself pinned against her own desk, whimpering softly in need as your deft hands pulled off her top, tracing the contours of her tattoos with your fingers. You leaned to her neck, leaving weightless kisses on the pale, almost transparent skin.

Jinx's knees were already buckling with impatience and excitement, and a fog of lust filled her head. Squeezing the thin skin of her thighs, you lifted her up, setting her down on the table. You lips gently touched the skin between Jinx's breasts, saying one word.

— Perfect.

Jinx flinched, her eyes widening. Then a purple flash followed and she practically hung on to you, wrapping her legs around your waist and kissing you deeply, simultaneously taking off your top.

Meanwhile, you reached for her pants, pulling them off along with her underwear. Jinx leaned back, supporting her reclining position with her hands. Her stomach was trembling slightly with excitement as your lips dropped a kiss just below her waist.

Finally, you wrapped your arms around her hips, lifting her legs and pressing your lips to her wet and throbbing flesh, making Jinx moan and arch her back.

Your soft tongue explored her folds inside and out, knocking more whimpers and moans out of her and causing her muscles to contract from overexcitation.

"You're doing great for the first time," you purred, pulling back slightly to run a finger over her sensitive clit, lightly teasing her entrance before gently pushing two fingers inside. Jinx tensed slightly, but then relaxed, and feeling pleasantly full, began to move her hips towards your hand. The wet sounds only added to their excitement.

You smiled contentedly at the sight of Jinx’s eyes closed with pleasure and her bitten lower lip. When you curled your fingers upward slightly inside her, Jinx screamed at the unusual sensations, breathing heavily.

“What is it?” She mumbled plaintively as you plugged her with a wet kiss, continuing to move your fingers inside her. You showered Jinx's chin and neck with soothing kisses, feeling her inner muscles begin to contract, bringing orgasm closer.

You accelerated your movements slightly, pressing your fingers against her upper wall and applying pressure to her swollen clit. Jinx didn't have time to figure out what happened when she felt a clear liquid squirting out of her on her thighs and stomach. Blushing, she tilted her head back, allowing the orgasm to swallow her.

***

A few weeks of being alone and talking to herself had loosened Jinx's tongue. She desperately wanted to brag about how brilliantly she had convinced the whole of Piltover and her own sister of her death.

“And then I slipped out through the ventilation and hijacked the airship while they mourned the dead and me,” Jinx enthusiastically talked about her adventures, while you lazily braided her short hair into small pigtails.

“And then where did you put it?” you asked.

“And that's beside the point, as far as I remember," Jinx narrowed her eyes in displeasure. You grinned, pulling her closer to your chest.

[misayani]

DOPAMINE — G!P SQUID GAME WOMEN + COCKWARMING HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), young-mi (player 195), kang sae-byeok (s1 player 067)

𔗨 author's note — was supposed to write a cock analysis for each character but i got too shy and then realized that im kinda terrified of dicks. no hyun-ju :) [lowercase intended]

🧷 𝓜isa mentions — @joc3lynx @mymel1008 @justredsw @wlvlurvsfimmia @azansstuff @dvrk-hoon @yersang-dreams @keiradg01

warnings: nsfw [too many mentions of cocks (oops), public sex, exhibitionism, somno / free use, unnie + breeding kink, masochism + knives]

mi na —

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming shameless gf mi-na while on a karaoke date with your girl-friends ♡ [public sex]

- here's the thing, they all don't know you two are in a relationship

- so it's definitely not weird when mi-na asked you to sit on her lap because girl-friends do that !!!

- she's wearing a skirt, you're wearing a skirt .. need i say more?

- mi-na's always shifting you on her lap, solely to make you feel her boner underneath you

- she took the chance when your friends excused themselves to go to the bathroom

- she slipped her already hard cock from her panties and hiked your skirt up so that she can move your underwear aside and finally push it inside you 

- "m-mina they'll come back soon—"   "and? your skirt's covering everything so they won't see a thing."

- when your friends finally came back to the private karaoke room you all booked, party's resumed!

- little did they know, the both of you were having your own fun while they sing their hearts out

- luckily, the speaker was loud enough—too loud actually— to blur your moans out everytime mi-na bucks her hips up

- but other than that, she completely stays still the whole time, making you needy and desperate for any movement

- mi-na doesn't stop you though when you decide to take matters in your own hands and grind yourself on her dick

- she doesn't let you cum though, bc what's the point of cockwarming her then?

- you both stay like that for the entire evening—her whispering dirty things in your ear and then you squirming on top of her.

- "dirty girl. really? in front of our friends? fucking shameless." 

- shs tells you that as if she wasn't the one who initiated the whole thing ???

- uh oh .. ! one of your friends notice the both of you quiet, not socializing and singing with the others.

- "babes! you both good?"

- mi-na smiles, "absolutely," then looks at your state—face flushed while looking down— "although, i think she's had too many drinks, but i'll handle her."

- your friend simply nods and joins back in on the others' conversation so... phew, close call.

- the karaoke date finally ends and then here's you, tired and worn out, even though you just sat down the whole day ??? just on mi-na's cock

"hey, party's over, you still okay?" mi-na whispers while snaking an arm around your waist. a few seconds goes by without any responses coming out from your lips and then she breaks into laughter, "what? have you gone dumb now? i haven't even done anything."

no eul — 

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming strict older gf no-eul while she's working ♡ 

- she tells you to wait until she's done working but how could you?— not when you just woke up from a wet dream, seeing no-eul's side of the bed empty, and dragging yourself to her office just to find her working late, again.

- she ignores you while you're whining and sulking beside her chair. 

- tenses up when she feels your hands gently massaging her shoulders, and then traveling them to her neck, before leaning down to leave wet kisses on the spot below her ear. 

- "stop that." she warns,   "why? is your work more important than me?" 

- she clicks her tongue in annoyance, why do you have to be so stubborn right now? right when she's working?

- you frown when she still won't budge despite your efforts. 

- "please, just need you inside me." you voice out, burying your face on the crook of her neck, before she lets out a sigh and then finally moves her chair back so that you'll have space when you straddle her !!

- a groan slips from her lips once she's finally inside you

"you're not allowed to move. let me finish my work first then i'll take care of you." she speaks, tone strict. you pouted, "huh? i thought you—"      "you gonna stay quiet or should i make you leave?"

- and then she's got you totally quiet before you sighed in defeat and just rested your head on her shoulder, muttering a small 'i hate you' under your breath.

- you started wiggling yourself, resulting to no-eul's hand reaching for your throat and firmly gripping the sides, making you dizzy

"didn't i tell, you're not allowed to move?"    "i was just trying to get comfortable.."    "stop disturbing me if you want me to get this over with faster."    

- "can i at least kiss you, eul? please?"   and of course, how can she deny you more? restricting you from bouncing on her cock was enough—and so she says yes <3

- you start to leave sloppy kisses on one corner of her mouth, while her eyes stay still on the laptop screen behind you

- oops ... you 'accidentally' clench around her, which makes her stop typing

- "i'm sorry eul, i didn't mean to," you apologized softly against her mouth, letting out a yelp when she suddenly turns her attention to you and actually crashing her lips onto yours

- no-eul's not really great with controling herself .. so here's the both of you, making out, while her work was loooong forgotten

- no-eul's hand reaches for her laptop and closes it, before gripping your thighs from under and lifting you up

- she's such a loser. betraying her own words from earlier— "let me finish my work first then i'll take care of you."

- because she's literally pounding into you right here, right now now while standing, not even bothering to take you to your shared bedroom

"you're so damn stubborn"  she chokes out while thrusting hard and deep inside you. 

se mi —

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming bandmate se-mi while inside the music studio ♡ [exhibitionism]

- se-mi can be lewd sometimes .. 

- because what do you mean you're sitting on her cock right now while you're both in the music studio WITH your bandmate, mi-na, inside the soundproof room ????

- your back is facing her as you adjust the controls in front of you while se-mi is literally dying behind you, face red, trying to lift her hips up into you

- but everytime she does, you're totally unbothered—not making even the slightest sound—because you're too focused on what you're doing

"please can we just record the fucking song tomorrow? i can't handle this anymore"      "shut up, i can't focus."

- she gets whiney, but she's kinda enjoying this.

- when mi-na's finally done recording her part, she exits the soundproof room and her gaze immediately lands on the both of you—you on se-mi's lap while she's red as fuck underneath you—and then makes a disgusted face, "ew"

- you guys really need to get a room because wtf

- and then thanos walks inside the studio, not even sparing the three of you a glance as he walks straight inside the soundproof room.

"hey! these two are fucking while we're recording!"  mi-na complains, though thanos was already inside the soundproof room, unable to hear a word she's saying.

- you just laugh, sending vibrations through se-mi's cock, making her grip onto your thighs tightly,  "babe, he doesn't give two fucks." 

- se-mi just hides her face on your neck, slightly biting it, "gonna fucking kill me, you know?" 

- a playful smirk tugs on the corners of your lips, savoring the moment,   "i know." while purposely grinding down on her length

"baby please, can we go now? let's just have nam-gyu do all this work."  se-mi sulks, her right hand under the skirt you're wearing while she rubs your clit. you sighed, "min-su still needs to record his part." cocking your head to the side towards where min-su was sitting down, his palms covering his eyes. poor min-su.

jun hee —

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming girlfriend jun-hee while she's asleep ♡ [somnophilia / free use]

- to get things straight, the both of you had numerous conversations about this before— both parties consenting and agreeing to free use in the relationship.

- and here is one of the moments where the agreement is applied:

waking up from a wet dream, you gently flutter your eyes open before stretching your arms over your head. and then, due to the dream, there's that ache in the space between your legs, your throbbing core clenching around nothing. this early? you huff, your eyes finding their way onto your girlfriend's sleeping figure beside you. 

- slowly grinning to yourself, you move closer, before you start hiking her nightgown up and then pulling her underwear down

she shifts a bit, her face scrunching, before she falls back still again. you carefully slide your own panties down until they reached your toes. 

- once they were finally off, you straddled her with no hesitation, slowly sinking your soaking cunt onto her soft length before resting your body on top of hers, sighing in satisfaction

- jun-hee is a deep sleeper, so she didn't react at all, not even a single twitch, no anything.

- and you were still tired yourself, even though you were horny as hell, so it did not take long for you to fall back to sleep

- hugging her tightly, your eyes slowly closes. her being warm inside you helping you fall asleep better

you wake up an hour and a half later, moans involuntarily slipping from your lips as you pry your eyes open. you realized you're laying on your back now, with your legs pinned down and jun-hee in between them, pumping her cock in and out of you.  "good morning, sweetheart"

young mi —

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming younger bestfriend young-mi while you do her makeup ♡ [unnie + breeding kink]

- baby is such a puppy :( she'd get shy about it at first once you initiated the idea

"are you s-sure, unnie? i don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable.." "it's okay sweetheart, think of it as a repayment! i'm gonna make you pretty, while you make unnie feel good, how's that sound?"

- she then nods slowly, sliding her pants down and revealing her already hard cock, pre cum leaking at her tip

- "so pretty."     "t-thank you..."   "i'm gonna make you even prettier"

- you make her sit on the chair before sinking yourself down,  soft gasps leaving the younger girl's mouth

- "you're so warm, unnie"

- she rests her hands politely on your thighs that were on either side of her lap, while you start applying concealer on the spot below her eyes

- you tease her the whole time ! clenching around her dick on purpose just to see her face scrunch up

- then here's you, being mean, complaining. telling her to stop making expressions so that you won't make a mess of her make-up, as if it was all her fault !!!

- your lips would form into a mocking smile, gently cooing at young-mi whenever she makes those pretty pretty noises

- and then her hands travels their way onto your boobs, gently cupping them over the shirt you're wearing—well, that was before you make her stop and guide her hands underneath it, making her actually feel your boobs.

- you were now applying her blush, making her cheeks even pinkier than what it had been just earlier. (she stares at you with puppy eyes the whole time)

- soon enough, you're finally onto the last step which was applying lipstick onto her lips

- when you were about to do so, she slipped out a hand from underneath your shirt and grabbed your wrist before her cock suddenly twitches inside you

"unnie... i feel something.."   she softly mutters,   "hm?"   tilting your head curiously at her, before realizing something and then chuckling softy,    "are you gonna cum baby?"     she nods, her eyes getting glossier.    your lips form into a satisfied smile, "go on. inside."    

- her eyebrows furrow, looking at you in disbelief, "r-really?"

- not responding, you put the lipstick down on the vanity table, before wrapping your arms around her neck and crashing your lips onto hers

her hips buck up into you while letting out whimpers against your mouth, and then you finally feel it inside you—hot cum painting your walls white—before breaking the kiss and then looking at young-mi, pushing her hair away from her pretty face,   "my good girl."

sae byeok —

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖ cockwarming ex girlfriend sae-byeok while she carves her name onto your thigh ♡ [masochism + knives]

- i'm so sorry please forgive me after this

- saying sae-byeok is mean would be an understatement

- how did you end up here?—crying while sitting on top of your ex's lap, her cock hard and deep inside of you, while she's busy carving your thigh up

could you blame her? you were entertaining and flirting with somebody else at a party—where sae-byeok just happens to also be in—and that somebody wasn't her.

- she pulls you in one of those private club rooms, one that smelled of sex and cigarettes, and drags you to the firm couch, before harshly pushing you down

"sae-byeok what the fuck?!" you yell, your voice barely audible over the blaring music outside, while turning around to look at your ex, only to find her starting to unbuckle her pants

- she just looks at you blankly, but her eyes held something else—hatred and lust—which scared the shit out of you. who knows what she's capable of right now?

- once her pants were off, she walks towards the couch before sitting down,    "strip."

you didn't know what has gotten inside your mind, because all of a sudden, you found yourself sitting on her lap with her length inside you. you glare at your ex as you sniffle,     "fuck you."

- she snickers, "sure."  before pulling out a small compact knife from her pocket

- sometimes you'd ask yourself, what is wrong with you? why the fuck are you getting even more turned on at the sight of her fucking pocket knife

- she glances at you, licking her lips before looking down, seeing her bulge on your lower belly

"i knew you still weren't over me."    she speaks, tone cocky. you scoff,  "you wish. not even three days after our breakup, i was already over you."   

- she raises an eyebrow, "really now?" 

- a loud hiss leaves your lips as you felt her press the blade hard, enough to slice your thigh

- "gonna carve my name on your thigh. you want that slut? for everyone to see you're mine?"

- you look at her with tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall

"fuck you."        "is that all you can say?"

- and then she starts writing, moans leaving your lips at every slice !!

- fortunately for you, the pleasure from her being inside you overshadows the pain from her carving you up

- when it was getting too painful though, you would start grinding down on her, trying to feel more and more pleasure

- but it is strange—the fact that you also feel pleasure from the pain alone—surely, you knew you were fucked up

"fuck— slow- stop, please stop."  you finally cry out, your hand wrapping around her wrist and gripping on it. she looks at you with her eyebrows furrowed. you just stare at her dumbly, drool escaping your mouth. 

- it hurt. more than you'd like to admit it.

- you looked down to your thigh and saw the bloody mess, which made you timid,

- she grabs your hand that was wrapped around her wrist using her free one, and yanks it away, "not done yet. you don't want me leaving it just like this, right?"

- you felt so dirty. many thoughts raced around your head, 'am i gonna fucking bleed out to death?'

soon enough, she's finally done. she looks up at your pathetic state, seeing dried tears on your pink cheeks. she grips your chin tightly, making you look down at her work— 강새벽.

@misayani

[lolitalovess]

rockstar vi touching herself to playboy model reader ♡

warnings: this is kind of part 2 to my first one, masturbation, fingering, brief mention of alcohol, vi is a loser, rec from anon, this is absolute ass and very short i'm sorry, i wrote this while sitting in the waiting room at the eye doctor, that's it i think.

｡･ﾟ･♡･ﾟ･｡ vi can't stop thinking about when she had the fortune association of meeting you. you're burned into her head like a branding, the image of how you looked that night, how you talked and carried yourself- she misses the taste of you when you were in that bathroom stall with her and holyfuckyou'renotreturninghercalls.

a brand new playboy magazine with you plasterered on the front cover had just come out and of course she bought it like a horny teenage boy as soon as she heard about it after playing a show. the famous rockstar herself wasn't even amusing the thought of what it'd look like if her fanbase saw her buying a porn magazine the same hour it came out. she just needed you.

she layed on her old leather couch the moment she got back to her apartment, limbs sprawled over it with empty bottles of alcohol on the coffee table in front of it. she was mindlessly flipping through the thin pages of the magazine, eyes boring into each image and deciding if it was worthy or not with the only true thought running through her head was seeing you.

her moans are mixed with the sound of nightime in la when she sees you after another flip of a page- the distant sounds of police sirens and cars honking and people walking on the cold streets the moment she flips a page and brings her free hand to quickly unzip her jeans and rub lazy circles on her clit.

you're on your knees, your bare ass in the air with your elbows propping you up, your only prop is your hair and the cherry red telephone you're holding to your ear.

she sees your familiar eyes on paper looking into hers like they did when the gleam of the blue lighting radiated down on the two of you when she met you in the same club she's been going back to every night ever since you haven't been returning her calls.

it's like you're taunting her, like you asked to hold a telephone and to look into the camera lense because you just knew that she'd see this, like you knew that she'd be touching herself to you.

she threw her head back on the armrest of the old leather while her eyes focused on your tits that were barely visible, instinctively spreading her legs apart almost as if you were there between them. she moans and her hole clenches around nothing at the thought, and all she can do is slip her fingers inside her and pump them as quick as possible.

the familiar sound of her pussy squelching and her moans filled her ears with her eyes focused on you, and they never had any plans of leaving whatsoever. she wants you to fuck her backstage before and after every show, to watch your tits bounce and hands grip at her biceps to stabilise yourself.

her back arched off her couch and her eyes roll to the back of her head at the thought, her heart shaped lips open in a moan when she pumps her fingers faster and her cum stains the inside of her jeans. she fucks herself through it, pretending it's you who's doing so. she's had sex with you before, right? she's not creepy for pretending you're fucking her when she looks at naked pictures of you.

later, she's walking through her apartment to reticently reach for the phone to call you for what felt like the most repeated thing she's done this week.

she hears the phone beep before it stops, her heart skipping like a loser at the realisation that you've answered.

"hi." she says over the phone, her voice sounding more sad than she'd ever like. "you haven't been answering my calls."

"i know, i'm sorry i ditched you. going to cancun for work." you explained.

"without me?"

"you can't come. it's for my work."

"i'll see you there. my and my buddies will find you." she spoke, and she knows you know who she is now. she knows you know that you're stuck with her.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Puppy! Caleb

Content: Puppy! Caleb; begging + overstimulation + pussy eating + like lots of drool+ brainmelt + size difference + submissive caleb => dominant! caleb

Note: Uni has been so busy that I haven't been able to finish writing the pt. 2 I have due (I'm finishing Rafayel, only Sylus left). So I will try to create more shorter! I hope everyone is having a good week!! ♡

Puppy! Caleb who has been eagerly waiting for you to arrive home. His heat began while you were at work, forcing himself to hold back by rummaging around your underwear drawer, taking one of them and sniffing it as much as possible, the erection on his pants only growing even further as he kept rubbing his nose against them. He knows you will get angry at him for doing so, but he just misses so much, plus you recently did your laundry, so there was no clothing that had even a bit of scent of you, guess this was as good as it would get for him at the moment, right?...

Puppy! Caleb who comes rushing to you as soon as you arrive, ears moving up and down, his tail wagging behind him as he clenched his jaw to stop himself from jumping on top of you. He tries so hard to hide his erection, hands on front of his cock so he can try to keep it hidden as much as possible. His face blushing as he remembers how he came multiple times all over your underwear, his other hand pressing another of your pairs to his nose as he kept overstimulating himself, cumming over and over again over it until the poor cloth was completely wet by it.

Puppy! Caleb who doesn't hold much more time. As soon as he feels you hugging him after a long day at work, it only takes him a quick whiff to make him rock hard again, his cock pressing against your lower half and your tummy, his hips starting to move up and down as he starts to breath heavier, his warm breath hitting against your ear as his mind started to wander. He knows he should keep it together, after all, he was a bit older than you, wasn't he supposed to be the calm one? Oh, but you smell so nice, so sweet, almost as if you were teasing him... Are you? He knows he shouldn't take advantage of his abilities, but how could he simply ignore that sweet smell emanating from your lower half? Sure it's fine if he asks you prettily for permission to lick you there, right?...

Puppy! Caleb who gets on his knees as soon as you allow him, hands quickly getting rid of all the clothes that kept him away from your body. As soon as he is able to see your bare cunt, just know he won't stop, suddenly putting your whole weight on top of his face, tongue lapping all over your lower half, using the tip of his tongue to tap on your clit, sometimes sucking on it just to hear those sweet moans escape your lips. As your voice begins to become higher, Caleb decides to take it further, using the tip of his fingers to slowly prep you as he keeps sucking on your clit, using his other hand to press you against his face each time you try to run away from him. "Just let me have this one, promise I will behave next time, please? I'm aching so much..." Caleb looked at you with those puppy eyes, eyes dilatated as he paused himself for a second.

Puppy! Caleb who suddenly has you on a mating position, his whole body weight pressing you against the mattress, your face buried on the pillow as you keep whining each time his tip hits against that soft place. You have no idea what exactly happened, your mind already too far gone for you to even realise just how much noise you were making. That is the same for Caleb, of course, his mind ended up overwhelmed just from your sweet scent, eyes completely dazed as he keeps pushing his hips against your soft ass, the feeling making him growl as he kept trying his best to not mark your whole body more than he had already done, your whole body being marked by hickeys, together with a few scratches done by his nails due to how hard he had refused from being separated from that sweet treat you were for him. "You're doing so good, baby... So good... You feel so good wrapped around me..." Caleb kept whispering sweet praises against your ear, his deep thrusts making a huge contrast with them, making you whine as you simply let him manhandle you as much as he wanted. "Please, hold on for me yeah? Please, please, please... Fuck your pussy feels so good, just--- Just a few more rounds, 'kay? I love you, I love you, I love you..."

This kept going for several minutes, with Caleb's weight pressing against you, forcing you to cum over his lenght again and again, your poor cunt now sore from the sheer strength he kept using to make sure to reach that sweet spot.

Note to self: Keep your puppy in check!

[seungkw1]

ring my bell  — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni] ♡ wc: 7k ♡ warnings: sub!reader, but also subby!jihoon, size kink, praise kink, auralism/ecouteurism, masturbation (m. & f.), oral (m. & f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), cum swallowing, creampie, cockwarming, dacryphilia, size kink, hair pulling, gagging, missionary, 69, nipple play/boob worship, multiple orgasms, sex toys, mild alcohol consumption, did i mention size kink, lil fluff at the end ♡ a/n: i abandoned this fic at least five times lmao but then one night at like 2am the brain rot took over and here we are! tysm to @wonwovy for beta reading, @shinysobi for the title suggestion, and @miniseokminnies for help w the photos <3

When you moved into your new condo, you were pretty sure you hit the jackpot. At first, you were a bit suspicious - how could the rent be so low in this part of town, with such a nice building? But for two months after you moved in, you’ve had no problems. Sure, the shower head is a bit leaky sometimes, and you could use a bit more storage space, but overall - no complaints. As an added bonus the unit next to you was vacant - aka, peace and quiet. Perfection. 

That vacancy didn't last forever, though. Two months in, and you found yourself with a new neighbor. You haven't had a chance to properly introduce yourself to him yet, but from the brief glimpses of him you've gotten he seems nice. You suspect he's around your age, a bit quiet, definitely keeps to himself but has been very polite in passing. And while he's not exactly your type, you do admit he is pretty cute. So, nothing wrong with him. 

You did, however, quickly discover two major problems. One, it turns out the walls are paper fucking thin. And two - to make matters worse - his bedroom is apparently right on the other side of yours, sharing a wall. And you can hear everything. 

By the sounds of it, the guy is single. You never hear any other voices, just his - soft moans emanating through the sad excuse for a wall, gradually getting louder, culminating in a symphony of unholy noises. You've never heard a man be so… vocal before. 

At first, you just try to ignore it. Obviously, he's doing nothing wrong - this is simply a consequence of shared living spaces. So you do your best to mind your business. 

Easier said than done. 

A week passes. You still haven't had a chance to actually say hi to your new neighbor, but you already feel like you've become intimately acquainted with him. It feels a bit… wrong. This is very clearly a one-sided situation. You don't even know the guy’s name for fuck’s sake. Yet, each time, a sharp aching sensation forms a pit in your stomach. You find yourself fantasizing about him -  wishing you could be on the other side of the wall, wishing you were the one responsible for the sounds being produced. 

You've gone and fallen for a complete stranger - or at least, the idea of him. Fucking great. 

You just need to actually meet him, you tell yourself. He could be a complete asshole. Or maybe just not your type at all. Once you say hi, you'll get over this silly little fantasy in no time. 

I’ll make sure to run into him tomorrow, you determine. You go to bed, content with your plan. 

Not five minutes after you crawl under the covers, you start to hear faint groans. 

You reach for your airpods, but they're not on your nightstand. You must have left them in the other room. 

It’s fine, you decide. It’ll be over soon enough. 

But tonight, apparently, he is taking his sweet time. 

You stuff your head under the pillows, trying to drown out the sensual sounds, but the moaning persists. Even muffled it’s loud - and it only gets worse as the minutes pass. 

Just when you think he’s about to finish, the sounds cease. Thank god, you think as you roll over, ready to finally get some sleep. 

But a minute later he starts up again. Slowly at first, once again taking his time, increasing his speed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Eventually his breaths grow shorter, his groaning louder. Then, he stops. 

As if he set out to torment you tonight, he begins once more.  

You lay there, eyes closed, unmoving, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the aching between your legs. But it's impossible. 

The third time around, he's clearly very on edge. His moans turn loud, whiny, pathetic. It's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard. 

Don’t do it don't do it don't do it…

As if your arm has gained a mind of its own, your hand slides beneath the fabric of your underwear. You gasp as your fingers slip between your folds - you're fucking wet. 

Your already-throbbing bud pulsates between your fingers. Slowly, you begin to rub your clit. The sensation is immediately overwhelming; the uninhibited cries of pleasure emanating from the other side of the wall are enough to send you over the edge. Just when you think you can't take another moment of this, he cums. And so do you. 

Your free hand clasps over your mouth just in time. You try as hard as you possibly can to stay silent - but you want to scream. You writhe against the sheets to the sound of his release, riding out your orgasm on your fingertips. Muffled cries escape despite your efforts - but are lost amidst the man’s sea of moans. You cum long and hard, savoring every last moment of your high. 

As you start to come down, you sink into your mattress, body spent, mind drifting off. Your neighbor seems to have exhausted himself too - the only sounds carrying through the wall now being that of deep breaths. 

So much for running into him tomorrow. 

You flop over onto your side, shoving the thought away - but you know even if you try, you can't avoid him forever. 

You just pray to god he didn't hear you. 

Of course, after a week without any encounters, you manage to run into him the very next day. 

Upon returning from the grocery store, you head to your building’s elevator. The doors are closing as you approach, so you figure you'll just take the next one - but the occupant holds the door for you. 

“Thank you,” you say cheerfully, but as you step inside your stomach drops. You are face to face with your new neighbor.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, making direct eye contact with you. You want to disappear into the walls, but you maintain your composure. The button for your floor is already lit up, so he presses the close door button. 

“I believe I just moved into the unit next to yours,” he says as you set your heavy bags on the floor. “I've seen you around but haven't had a chance to introduce myself. I’m Jihoon.”

He extends his hand out to you. You instantly regret setting your bags down. 

You smile calmly, hoping he doesn't notice how flustered you are. But as you slide your hand into his, your heart rate rises. It doesn't help that he has really nice hands - large, warm, with fingers long and graceful, and a nice strong grip against your own hand. Your mind flashes back to the events of last night, picturing what those hands were doing…

Stop it. 

“I’m y/n,” you reply with a smile, trying to be as normal as possible. “Nice to meet you.”

You withdraw your hand from his grasp as he lets go - nonchalantly, but with haste. Any longer and your palms would have probably started sweating. 

“So, how are you liking it here so far?” you ask casually. 

“So far so good,” he replies. “I'm honestly surprised that I was able to find anything in this part of town for such a good deal. Nice and quiet here too.”

Quiet. 

You fear your suspicions are correct: he has no idea he's been putting on a nightly show for you. 

The elevator gives a soft ding as it comes to a stop. You reach down to grab your bags as the door opens. 

“Can I help you with that?” 

“Oh, uh… sure.”

He picks up the heavy bags with ease. You could tell that he’s a muscular guy, but up close he looks straight up beefy. It doesn't help that the tight shirt he's wearing hugs all his muscles perfectly, his biceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves. You force yourself to look away before you start fucking drooling. 

He delivers the bags to your front door. He returns them to you with care, making sure you have a firm grip on the handles before letting go. His hand lingers upon yours momentarily - the lightest brush of his fingertips against yours enough for your insides to do a somersault. 

“Thanks again,” you tell him, making the mistake of direct eye contact again. 

“Of course,” Jihoon replies warmly. “See you around.”

You flash him a smile, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Bye!!” you blurt abruptly as you unlock your front door, hurrying inside. You want to turn around, get one more good look at him - but you shut the door behind you. 

Your head spins as you put your groceries away. You're so wrapped up in your imagination that you nearly put the milk in the cabinet. But you can't stop daydreaming about what those muscles look like underneath his shirt. 

You finish up and head into your bedroom. A nice hot shower should clear your mind. Not two seconds after taking off your shirt, you freeze. The familiar sounds from next door have begun yet again. 

You stand there, half horrified, half horny. Surely it's nothing more than coincidence that your neighbor got home and started jacking off minutes after having a conversation with you. He was probably gonna do that anyway, you try to convince yourself. You're just having main character syndrome right now, this has nothing to do with you. 

But your gut is telling you otherwise. 

Mindlessly your fingers drift to your bra clasp, removing the garment. Taking your breast in one hand you stroke your thumb over your nipple, already hard from sudden exposure to the cool air of your room. You let yourself stand there for a minute, listening to Jihoon’s soft moans, imagining you could see him through the wall, slowly stroking his cock in his hands. 

You feel guilty, ashamed, but the aching in your cunt overpowers any sense of remorse. Your hand makes its way into your pants, your fingers gliding through your folds, slipping easily into your soaked pussy. You wince silently, stifling the moans desperately trying to escape you. Slowly, you begin to fuck yourself. You can't help but think about how it would feel if it were Jihoon’s fingers inside you instead. 

You stand there for a couple minutes, your clit throbbing against the motion of your palm - threatening to make you scream and cum. 

You can't let him hear you, you keep telling yourself. But part of you almost wants him to hear you. You picture him getting so turned on hearing your cries of pleasure that he cums instantly, all over himself, making a huge mess that you would love nothing more than to help clean up. 

You feel your climax rapidly approaching. You cease moving your fingers, but let them remain resting inside you. You try to calm yourself down, taking deep breaths to slow your pounding heart, but just as your head starts to clear you hear a sudden swell of orgasmic sounds from through the wall. As if by reflex your hand moves again. Your body tremors at the pressure against your overstimulated clit - you cum in silence, forcing your cries back inside you as . You ride out your high, and so does Jihoon, his moans slowly softening as he comes back down. 

Heart pounding, you slowly remove your fingers from your cunt. Your hand is soaked; you find yourself wishing it was Jihoon's face instead, glistening with your juices after eating you out, making you cum an unreasonable amount of times. 

You sigh. You know this should all feel wrong. But why does it feel so good then?

A strange combination of feelings overtake your body: tingling bliss from your orgasm, guilt from the reason for your orgasm, an overpowering yearning for the touch of essentially an entire stranger. 

You strip the remainder of your clothes off and proceed to take a very long, very hot shower. 

You wake up the next morning stupidly horny.

It didn’t help that you had a dream about Jihoon. In it, you were standing in his bedroom, watching him masturbate to the sight of you. His cries echoing through your subconscious, the pathetic look on this face as he came all over himself - it’s not surprising you woke up to a puddle between your legs.

You pause, listening to see if you can hear your neighbor next door, but you hear nothing. You reach into your nightstand, pulling out your favorite vibrator. The purple device rumbles in your hand as you turn it on. For a vibrator, it’s pretty quiet, but with your stupid thin walls you know it would be perfectly audible from the other side. You think Jihoon isn’t around - surely you would hear him if he were - but even if he is, you truly don’t even care anymore. You position the toy lightly upon your clit - even through the fabric of your underwear, its powerful vibrations instantly feel amazing. A soft groan escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your hips begin to move lightly at the stimulation - the pressure of the vibrator’s end causing your wetness to stick to your panties. You attempt to restrain your moaning, but before long you cease resisting. It feels too good. Your orgasm quickly builds in your gut, making you whimper as you squirm against your pillow, its intensity growing and growing until - you cum. The fire of your release burns through your body, your cries filling the air without abandon. Deep breaths fill your lungs as you come down, soft gasps emanating from your lips as you turn the toy off and toss it aside. 

A series of thunks echo from through the wall, followed by a hushed “shit”.

It sounds like somebody dropping a phone or something, but whatever it is - turns out your neighbor was home after all. Whoops.

In your post-orgasm bliss you begin to drift back to sleep. You don’t know what you’re going to do now next time you run into Jihoon, but that’s a problem for later.

You end up sleeping in far too late. By the time you wake up, you feel groggy and sluggish, so you figure going to the gym will help you feel a little better. You don a soft pink pair of leggings and a light gray sports bra, filling your water bottle and grabbing your airpods on your way out the door. You wait in the hallway for the elevator. It reaches your floor with a ding, its doors sliding open to reveal who other than your next door neighbor. 

Of fucking course.

He appears to be returning from the gym, his tight white t-shirt clinging to his body in a way that practically puts all his muscles on display. His dark hair is damp and sweaty, messy, stray strands of it sticking to his forehead. He looks up to see you standing there, a panicked look instantly filling his eyes. His skin is already flush from exercising, but his ears turn practically crimson at the sight of you. 

“Hi,” you say with a friendly smile.

He freezes, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights. He quickly tries to shake it off.

“Oh, uh, hey,” he mumbles in an attempted nonchalant tone, but already his cheeks are becoming more flustered. You see his eyes flicker up and down your body - your outfit isn’t terribly revealing, but it’s certainly on the sexier side of athleticwear. He stands there, awkwardly frozen - so long that the elevator door begins to shut again. He grabs hold of it, triggering the motion sensor so it reopens. He starts to shuffle past you, but you decide you’re feeling bold enough to try and engage him in a conversation.

“Just coming back from the gym?” you ask casually.

He stops in the hallway, standing right before you.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you also go to the one over on Clark Street?” you question. You won’t hold him up too long - he looks like he wants to perish - but you figure you’ll torment him for another minute or so.  “That’s where I’m headed now.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answers, subtly shifting his gym bag in front of his body. 

“Cool! Maybe we’ll see each other there sometime,” you tell him in a chipper tone. 

“Maybe, yeah. That’d be cool,” he replies, smiling nervously.

You enter the elevator and press the ground floor button.

“Well, see ya around!” you tell him with a wave.

“You too,” he responds, not taking his eyes off you until the elevator door shuts closed.

Three days pass - three days of pure silence from the other side of the wall. 

Now that Jihoon has discovered the truth, he's clearly mortified. You catch a few glimpses of him around the building, but the man practically vanishes at the sight of you. You feel a little bit bad, but you know the ruse could not have lasted forever anyway. 

Unless he somehow knows exactly when you're not home and has been jacking off exclusively then, you haven't heard him pull his dick out at all. And judging by the couple times you've seen him, the man has been incredibly on edge. 

You return home a bit late in the evening after hanging out with some friends. You’ve had a fair bit of wine, so you're feeling a little tipsy, but you're in a pleasantly good mood. You're also decently horny; your mind drifts to your neighbor, conjuring up the image of him returning from the gym, sweaty, muscular, his t-shirt damp and tightly fitted against his sculpted body. 

Not two minutes pass after you step inside before you hear the SLAM of a door from the hallway. Footsteps approach your unit, followed by frantic knocking on your front door. 

You scurry over to the entrance, reaching out to unlock the door, but the pit in your stomach makes you pause. What if he’s mad at you? you start to worry. 

Well, only one way to find out. 

With the click the deadbolt turns. You swing the door open to reveal Jihoon, in a plain white t-shirt and grey fucking sweatpants. 

He stares at you, standing frozen in your doorway. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to calculate if this is all a mistake. 

After just enough moments of silence for it to be awkward, he clears his throat. 

“Hi, um… May I come in?”

He looks incredibly tense, but the way he's staring at you with such intensity makes your pussy ache. 

“Sure.”

You step aside, gesturing for him to come in. 

He enters. He takes a look around as you shut the door behind him. 

“It's really nice in here,” he comments, attempting to make small talk. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say with a friendly smile. He looks even more nervous now that he's in your apartment. He pauses, nonchalantly observing some of the artwork on your wall, seemingly trying (and failing) to come up with a good segue into whatever he came over here to say. 

“So, um…” he starts, rubbing his hands together anxiously. 

“I just wanted to… uh… well, I figured I should probably let you know…” 

You inch even closer to him as he stumbles over his words; his shoulders tense slightly. He runs one hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. 

“I guess I just wanted to apologize,” he finally is able to articulate. “I just recently realized that the walls in this building are pretty thin and uh… well I guess I don’t know if I've been loud at all…” 

Blushed redness creeps up his neck as his terrible lying resonates through the room. 

Maybe it's the way he's standing there, doing nothing but stumbling over his words yet looking incredibly sexy, or maybe it's the wine - but you're feeling bold today. 

“Yeah, you have been.”

The pale color of his cheeks suddenly goes even paler, turning his entire face sheet-white as he stands there, horrified. Then, the redness returns with a vengeance. He looks like a very hot, very nervous tomato. 

“I’m so sorry,” he stammers, “I really had no idea-”

“Why are you apologizing?”

He stares at you, confused. 

“Um…”

He waits for you to clarify, but you don't. Seeing him this flustered up close and personal has your panties soaked already, and you want to revel in it. 

He lets out a deep sigh. 

“I just… I know I can be loud sometimes, but from now on I’ll be more conscientious of my… volume. And I just don't want you to think I’m perverted or anything…”

He shakes his head, realizing he's just digging himself a deeper hole at this point. 

“Anyway, I’m really sorry to bother you, I should get going-”

He tries to slip past you, but you throw your arm out in front of him, slamming your palm into the wall of the narrow hallway as you block him from exiting. He freezes, involuntarily holding his breath as panic spreads across his face. 

“What if I like it?”

Your arm brushes against his torso, his chest heaving into you with his quickening breaths. 

“What?” he asks, barely more than a whisper, clearly taken aback by your question. 

“What if I like hearing you?”

His eyes widen. You step even closer into his personal space, your face now mere inches from his. 

“What if I want to hear you making those noises on this side of the wall, in my bed?”

You grasp onto his t-shirt, yanking his body into yours. He lets out a gasp as your tits press into his chest - his mouth is now so close to yours that you feel the exhale against your lips. 

“Would you like that?”

He gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Then - he kisses you. 

It's not a delicate kiss, nor is it sweet. He kisses you as if he intends to devour you, hungrily tugging at your lips as he grasps at your waist fervorously, aching to touch every inch of you. 

His large hands slip underneath your shirt, gripping your sides tight as he caresses your warm skin. Your heart races in your chest, the sounds of rushing blood flooding your ears as you kiss Jihoon, savoring the sweet taste of his lips, basking in the radiant heat of his body against yours. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters into your mouth as his lips depart yours briefly. 

You grasp onto his tshirt, balling the fabric in your fists, pulling him with you as you stumble toward your bedroom together, still kissing him. 

As you step through the doorway, you tug on his shirt, prompting him to remove it. He pauses, contemplating the taste of wine lingering on your lips.

“Are you… drunk?” he asks delicately. “I just want to make sure…”

“A little,” you reply, leaning into him, so close that the vibrations of your soft-spoken words resonate against his lips.

“But I know what I want.”

Jihoon squeezes the flesh of your hips, his grip unrelentless, as if someone was going to take you away from him. A thick bulge beneath his sweatpants presses against you as he holds you tightly against him.

“And what do you want?” he asks in a low voice, staring at you hungrily. “Tell me.”

“First,” you start, pulling at his shirt again. “Get rid of this.”

He yanks his tshirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Standing before you now, shirtless, you get a true look at his brawny figure: huge biceps framing his body, thick pectorals protruding from his chest, chiseled abs sculpting his stomach. The man has muscles you didn’t even know existed. You delicately drag your fingertips up and down his torso, admiring him; his cock twitches against you at your touch.

“God you’re so fucking hot,” you mumble as you gaze into his eyes - giving him the most pathetic, needy, seductive look you can muster. 

Redness spreads across his neck and chest. He’s clearly easily flustered (at least, for you), and you plan to take full advantage of this. 

You slip one finger beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging lightly. 

“Now, get rid of these.”

Obediently, he slides his pants down, having to stretch the elastic further to get it over his bulge. Kicking the sweats off, you get a clearer look at what he’s packing. Even through the dark fabric of his underwear, the outline of his hard cock is undeniable - not only long, but thick. Your pussy clenches at the mere sight of his size. 

You can't wait any longer. You run your hand over his clothed cock, feeling its weight in your palm. Jihoon groans, letting out the sweet sound you've until now only heard muffled through the wall. Hearing him now, here, in your bedroom - it's music to your ears. 

Reaching into his underwear, you grip your hand around his girth - he nearly whimpers at the sensation. You give him a few strokes before pulling his cock fully out, causing you to let out an audible gasp. 

Fucking shit.

Jihoon gives you an embarrassed smile, making you realize you said that out loud and not just in your head. But if anything your reaction wasn't even dramatic enough, because his cock is fucking huge. You take him in your fist, slowly pumping up and down; his eyes roll back into his head, letting out a deep sigh as you stroke him. You press your lips into his neck, planting delicate kisses into the soft skin.

“Oh god,” he groans under his breath. 

With his dick twitching in your hand, growing stiff and somehow even longer, you drop to your knees, positioning your face directly beneath the behemoth of a cock. You gaze up at him as you drag your tongue from his base to his tip; he strokes your cheek lightly with the back of his fingers, gazing down at you with a look of equal parts admiration and lust. You swirl your tongue around the head, tasting the precum that has dribbled out. Taking just a tiny bit of his tip between puckered lips, you begin suckling on it, lapping up his juices and teasing him with the bare-minimum stimulation. His low hum swells into a moan as you slowly slide his cock into your mouth, taking as much of his length as possible before you start to choke (Not yet, you think to yourself. Save that for later.)

“Fuck, you look so good right now,” he groans, cupping your cheek in his large hand as you stare up at him with big doe eyes. “So beautiful with my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours.” 

Sharp throbbing pulses between your legs at the slightest of praise. You slide your mouth up and down his length, gradually increasing your pace. His tip hitting the back of your mouth only makes you want more, makes you want to swallow him whole, gag on the entire shaft as his massive size fills your throat. Finally, you can resist no longer - you swallow the rest of him, your lips greeting his base as his full length slides down your throat. Tears instantly begin welling in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, choking on Jihoon’s cock.

He places one hand upon your hair, grasping it in his fist as you give him the absolute sloppiest head he’s ever received. Grotesque gagging sounds emanate from your throat, but are nearly drowned out by the lewd string of moans coming from Jihoon. He wants nothing more than to watch you choke on his cock, see your tears flowing freely as you stare up at him, eyes longingly transfixed upon each other - but he can’t help but shut his eyes, head falling back at the overwhelming pleasure you’re making him feel. It starts to take over his whole body - his hips reflexively begin thrusting, sinking his length deep into your throat. Before long he pulls you by the hair, wresting you off of him; strings of saliva stretch from his drenched cock to your coated lips, bubbles of spit running down your chin. 

“Sorry, that was going to make me cum way too fast,” he tells you with a sheepish smile. “You’re just so- ohhh…” His sentence is cut off by you placing one of his balls in your mouth, lightly sucking on it before taking the other as well. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” he grumbles, stroking your hair gently. You shift on your knees, trying to sit more comfortably upon the floor; Jihoon notices.

“Come here,” he instructs as he pulls you up off the floor. “I want you to be comfortable.” 

He brings you over to the bed, laying down atop it. You go to resume your place between his legs, but he grabs your arms to stop you.

“You should take these off,” he insists, tugging at your clothes with desperation in his eyes. “Please. I wanna see you.”

You pull your shirt over your head, discarding it to the floor. Slowly you unfasten your pants, sliding them down your hips - a bit timidly, for as horny as you are right now you’re suddenly afflicted with a wave of shyness. But the way Jihoon is looking at you - eyes glazed over with pure lust, licking his lips like he wants to devour you - is driving you utterly crazy. You swiftly remove your bra and panties, standing nude before him as he marvels at the sight of you.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly. Your pussy clenches, attempting to alleviate the powerful aching in your core. Jihoon takes your hand, drawing you into the side of the bed.

“Sit on my face. Please.”

It’s not an order; the way he is looking up at you, squeezing your hand - he’s begging.

“Only if I can suck your cock at the same time,” you say with a cheeky grin. His eyes widen. 

“Would you like that?” you ask coyly, batting your eyelashes at him as you trace circles on his stomach with one fingernail. 

“Y-yeah,” he whimpers, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Good.”

You crawl onto the bed, swinging your legs over Jihoon’s head as you face his painfully erect cock. You situate yourself steadily, lowering your pussy toward his face, until you feel his soft, plush lips against you. Instantly he lets out a loud moan, the vibrations against your soaked core triggering a sharp jolt in your stomach. He wraps his arms around your inner thighs, holding you tight against him, his moans still resonating through the room even with his face buried in your cunt. 

He begins to work his tongue deep into your folds, licking every last bit, lapping up as much of your juices as he possibly can - the rest certainly dripping down his chin. You lean over, reaching for his thick cock one more; you grip the base tight in your fist, stroking the hilt while taking the rest in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his length. The pathetic noises coming from under your cunt grow even louder - Jihoon begins to squirm underneath you, bucking his hips as he continues eating you out as if the world were ending tomorrow. He latches onto your clit, suckling on the stimulated bud; you cry out, but the sound is garbled amidst your cacophony of unbridled gagging noises. Your eyes flood with tears as your orgasm rapidly approaches - you grind your hips on his face, stimulating your pussy further and further, the burning in your gut swelling and swelling, your legs trembling even in Jihoon’s tight embrace. Your whole body convulses atop of his as you reach your climax. Desperate for air, you pull your head up, your mouth now empty but quickly refilled with cries of pleasure as you cum all over Jihoon’s face. 

“Oh my godddd,” you wail, your mind going blank as every nerve in your body lights up like fireworks. 

“Oh my god, oh fuckkkk, Jihoon…”

The rumbling vibrations of his groaning carry you through an overpowering orgasm; you ride out your high as he sucks on your clit mercilessly while his nose presses into your cunt. You’re seeing stars as you begin to come down, unable to think any coherent thoughts - instead basking in how fucking incredible Jihoon just made you feel. 

You lift your throbbing pussy off his face, giving your poor overstimulated clit a moment to recover. 

“Gonna cum, ‘m so close,” Jihoon moans. You quickly pop his dick back into your mouth, sliding his length in and out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his cock like your life depends on it. 

“Ahh, ahhhhh, ah fuck-” 

Hot white ropes shoot deep into your throat as he releases. His melodic moans and whining cries form a grand symphony that fills your bedroom - in this moment, you are absolutely certain that you've never heard a more beautiful sound. 

His cock pulsates in your mouth, letting out every last spurt of cum for you to eagerly swallow. As he finishes, you slowly slide his cock out of your mouth - still marveling at the sheer size of it. 

“Oh my god,” he groans softly. You swing your leg over his head, turning yourself around to lay beside him. You wrap your arms around his torso, becoming the big spoon as you nuzzle your face into his neck. 

“Wow,” he proclaims with a deep, satisfied exhale. He lays silently as he recovers, catching his breath and coming back down to earth. Finally, with a sigh, he turns to face you. You raise your head up enough for your noses to meet. 

Jihoon gazes into your eyes, eyelids heavy in his post-orgasmic bliss. He hesitates, bringing his hand up to your cheek and cradling it gently. 

“Can I kiss you?” he finally asks, his voice no more than a soft whisper. 

You nod. He kisses you - this time not hungry and desperate, but slow and saccharine. Your lips lock, laying there entangled in each other’s embrace - his muscular arms hold you tight, enveloping you in the warmth radiating from both of your sweat-covered bodies. As your lips eventually part, you remain snuggled by his side - him playing with your hair while you trace your fingertips over his toned body. Eventually, he takes your chin delicately in his hand, tilting your face up to look at him. 

“I don’t know if fucking your next door neighbor is necessarily a wise thing to do,” he starts. “But that was incredible. You’re incredible.”

You smile. 

“I don't know either,” you chuckle. “But the way you basically broke down my door to come fuck me was really hot.”

Jihoon laughs, his face lighting up with a beaming smile. 

“Yeah, um. I'm not entirely sure what compelled me to do that.”

“I do,” you inform him. “You were thinking with your dick.”

“Okay yeah, you're right,” he admits with a grin. 

He reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, squeezing your palm. 

“Would you want to do this again?” 

“Like, right now?” you reply. 

“No I mean like- … well, yes actually,” he answers, his face lighting up with excitement. “But I meant like, in the future.”

You nod, a wide grin spreading across your face. 

“I’d like that.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Me too.”

“But also…”

Your arms grab hold of him, rolling him over on top of you. He tries to shift, to not be placing his whole weight upon you, but you cling to him tightly, holding him in place. You roll your hips, stroking his still half-erect cock with your soaked cunt; you feel it pulse in response, already beginning to harden again. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you speak softly into his ear, continuing to grind your pussy on his cock. His eyes roll back in his head once more. 

“God you're so fucking hot,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes open again, peering down at you amorously. 

“Give me just a minute, baby,” he says as he shifts downward, positioning himself directly in front of your boobs. He grabs one with each hand, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. He licks your nipple, swirling his tongue around the protruding bud, wetting it with his warm mouth before switching to your other breast. He gives them equal attention, licking and sucking on them, back and forth - whichever boob isn't in his mouth, he pinches your hard nipple, squeezing and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You press your hips up into his stomach, seeking any relief for your aching clit, but it's not enough. You whimper as he latches on to your left nipple, suckling on it so long you think you might cum again just from this. You feel the bed move beneath you as he grinds his cock against the sheets, thrusting into the mattress, seeking relief for his returned erection. 

He lifts his head up, releasing his latch on your breast with a wet-sounding pop. His eyes stay fixed on you as he shifts further down the bed, resting comfortably between your legs as his lips hover above your cunt. 

“Is this okay?” he checks before placing his mouth on you. You nod earnestly, brushing your fingers through his damp, messy hair. His tongue locates your entrance, slipping into your pussy, his nose brushing up against your clit, still highly sensitive from your first orgasm. You moan as his tongue glides through your folds, his face becoming soaked once again in your juices. He flickers over your clit, the warmth and wetness of his tongue quickly sending you over the edge. Your body writhes beneath him as you cum a second time, crying out with even greater pleasure than the first. It's almost overbearing, but you relish in it, delicious waves of bliss pulsating throughout your whole being. His tongue slows, licking you softly as you lay there, unable to move for a few good minutes, basking in the aftermath of your orgasm. Your fist slowly unclenches, releasing the grip you didn't realize you had on his tousled locks. 

“Damn,” you mumble, a big goofy grin spreading across your face. Jihoon crawls back up toward you, kissing you with lips drenched in your own cum. His cock, fully hard once more, brushes against your cunt. Although you're still trying to catch your breath, you place your entrance against his tip to taunt him. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg, desperate to feel him inside you. 

He pushes his cockhead into your pussy, letting out a moan as he feels your warmth. Your walls tighten as he slides the rest of his length in, fully enveloping his cock - he whines, loudly, letting the delicious sensation overtake him. He rests for a moment inside you, fearing to move as he feels the urge to cum already. But he’s too aroused to resist for much longer - slowly he begins to pump into you, deep thrusts stretching you out, filling you up like you've never felt before. He’s almost too big, but you love it. Tears well in your eyes again as he fucks you -  slow and tender at first, but gradually increasing his pace, soon pounding into you with powerful force. The stretch is overwhelming, but his long strokes and perfect tempo have you screaming his name, voluminous cries filling the air as he fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before. 

“You’re taking me so well baby,” he praises, his voice low and breathy. “So pretty…”

His voice trails off. High-pitched grunts and groans escape him as his body begins to stiffen, another climax rapidly on its way. He drives his cock into you, your perfect pussy squeezing him so tight that he can't think straight. 

“Y/n…” he cries. “Fuck, y/n I'm cumming…”

With several powerful thrusts he releases deep inside you, warm cum filling you up until you're completely full - so full that it begins to leak out of you, coating his cock and dripping all over the sheets. He finishes, laying frozen on top of you, heaving breaths echoing in your ear as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck. His cock rests inside you still, twitching occasionally against your walls. His breathing becomes so steady that you start to think he’s fallen asleep - but eventually he lifts his head, resting his temple on his fist as he takes in the sight of you, so pretty and fucked out beneath him. A lazy smile appears on his face as he stares at you, his pink cheeks glowing in his post-orgasm state. He looks so good that you involuntarily let out a little giggle. 

“What?” he asks, his grin growing wider. 

“You're just really hot, that's all.”

His face somehow turns even rosier. He lets out an embarrassed tsk as he tries to hide his face in his hands. 

“What? You are!!” you proclaim, pulling his hands away so you can see him again. 

“Sorry,” he replies timidly. “I’m not good with compliments.”

“You'll get used to it,” you say matter-of-factly. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You say that like this is going to be a regular thing now,” he retorts, trying to keep a straight face - but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, revealing the grin he's trying to hold back. 

“Do you want it to be?” you ask. 

Unable to hide his smile any longer, he nods. 

“I’d like that.”

Slowly, he pulls his spent cock out of you, making you whine at the empty sensation as even more of his cum spills out of you. 

“Wait here,” he says, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek as he rises from the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[yazzwrites6962]

Second Chances ♡ Shuntaro Chishiya

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Shuntaro Chishiya x GN!Spouse!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This is a Chishiya POV post. I haven't written anything like it before, so bear with me. Also, I know it's super short. It was a quick little thing I wrote between lectures. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: CHISHIYA POV! Chishiya's motivation for making it through the Borderlands was returning to his partner and being the best husband he could possibly be upon coming back.

Word Count: 1362

Warnings: Angst, OOC Chishiya, brief mentions of blood, injury

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈���

The wedding band was small, and lacked meaning to anyone who would've passed it by on the street. Just a simple ring of silver, scratched in a couple places from years of wear. It always sat in Chishiya's pocket for his fingers to brush over when he needed a reminder of what he fought for. The band became heavier now, as he recalled why he had taken it off.

He slipped it off in anger, a petty response to a fight that had spiraled out of control. While his partner shouted and cried with a voice trembling, begging to be heard, he remained calm. He was always too calm, too cold, using his composure as a weapon. This only infuriated his spouse more, and that's how he liked it. He liked watching them stumble over their words, struggling to claw their way through his defenses. It was not fair to them. He had never been fair to them.

"I can't keep doing this, Chishiya. I can't be the only one trying." They had tears rolling down their cheeks, arms waving emotionally. They were always just too emotional. "This is unbearable." Their voice cracked with pain.

"If you think it's so unbearable, then maybe we should not have done this in the first place." His voice was flat, lacking feeling, as it always was. He regret saying it the moment the words slipped from his lips. Their hurt expression was too much, but he wouldn't dare apologize now. "Don't you think I already have enough on my plate? I don't need this right now."

He slipped his ring off his finger, pinching it between his thumb and index, flashing it to his lover. Why would he do that? He questioned the act almost immediately, but it was too late. They had already turned away, sobbing and slamming the door to their shared bedroom.

They'd been so full of love before, back when they were both young and reckless, defying the world together. Nobody believed they would last. They were simply too different. Teachers, parents, friends: They all advised against the relationship. They were both stupid and stubborn enough to believe love was all they needed. Even Chishiya believed it.

The moment he saw them, their gleaming eyes and electric smile, he was intrigued. Infatuated. Then, he knew their soul. He learned how truly good they were, and he realized there could never be another person so different from him. He loved it. He loved them, truly. That's why they married so young, despite the protests of everyone. Unfortunately, life had a way of wearing things down.

He began to pull away under the weight of his new expectations in his career. Affection became a distraction he couldn't afford. Their open, unconditional love became something he resented rather than cherished. They simply expected too much. He grew distant, believing he would be stronger for it. He hadn't even realized how manipulative he had become until that fight. He had become cruel, like his father. Everything he hoped he would not be.

They didn't speak again, that night. They didn't speak the next morning either. Chishiya was forced to sleep on the couch, which put him in an even worse mood once he woke. There was no breakfast waiting for him, like usual. His spouse was still locked in their bedroom. Chishiya slipped the ring into his pocket, opting to get some fresh air.

The Borderlands gave him plenty of time to think, though he hated it. He hated the quiet moments between games, where his mind wandered back to their face. Their smile. The way it felt when they kissed. When was the last time they kissed? He couldn't even recall. He hated remembering the last look they had ever given him: So hurt, broken, and full of love.

What if they were here too? Playing these deathly games? Risking their life in hopes of finding him? A worse thought bubbled up into his mind: What if they were already dead? It would have been his fault. He left them vulnerable, and unprotected. He was too wrapped up in his own pride to fix what he had broken.

Now, laying bloody, leaned up against a car, Chishiya toyed with the thought of returning home. He told himself they may be better off without him. He fought so hard to make it to the end, only to question himself the most now. Maybe they'd be happier if he didn't come back.

Yet, his hand drifted to his pocket. The smooth ring which nobody knew he had was still there, fortunately. He couldn't let it go. As much as he tried to convince himself he didn't deserve them. The truth was, he wanted to go back. He wanted to fix it, even if he didn't know how.

As the Borderlands dissolved, he was faced with a simple choice: Return or stay. If he went back, he would have to face everything he had done. If he stayed, he would have to endure whatever came next without them.

"I think... I'll decline."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The familiar beeping of hospital monitors and fluorescent lights is what Chishiya awoke to. There was peace, and silence, despite the strange man he shared a room with. They weren't there. Minutes passed, and they simply were not there. Chishiya's heart sank, realizing it may have been too late.

Suddenly, the door flung open and they dashed to Chishiya's side, eyes full of tears. Their arms wrapped around him tightly, as if fearing he might disappear. For the first time in a long time, he returned the hug.

"T-This was such a mess!" They began, and Chishiya let them speak. "I-I had no idea where you were! Our apartment is completely wrecked!" That's when Chishiya noticed the bandages his partner was littered in. He was about to ask, but they continued. "You walked right into the worst place you could've possibly been at the time of the strike! You were dead! Then they wouldn't tell me where your room was, and they wouldn't let me visit! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have yelled at you-"

"No, I'm sorry." Chishiya spoke calmly, finally sneaking a word in through his spouse's flurry of panic. His voice sounded weaker, scratchier than he wished it were. "It's okay. I'm alright. Are you alright?" He relaxed into the hug, smelling their comforting scent.

"I got trapped under some rubble, but it was no biggie. You're the one who's heart stopped!" They finally began to pull away from the hug, worried they would hurt Chishiya, but he tugged them back into his arms. He missed this. "I'm so sorry. You never would've left the apartment if it weren't for all my whining. I thought I lost you."

"I'm here. I won't leave you, ever." Chishiya remembered their vows, the ones he recited so eagerly on their wedding day. Even then, his partner was crying. They were always crying. He chuckled. They were so emotional, and he realized how fond of it he was.

Chishiya noticed his ring on the table beside them. Finally, he released his spouse from the hug, reaching to put the jewelry back on. Though it had been less than a day, he felt like it had been off for much longer, and he couldn't bear another second without it. He slipped it back over his finger, flashing a rare smile at his lover.

"I love you." He said for the first time in a long time. He meant it. He was no longer unsure of affection from his partner. It was as though this near-death experience brought him a revelation that he was all too grateful for. "I will prove it to you. I cannot take back much of what has already been said, but I will prove it again."

"Oi, can we tone down the sappy shit?" A gruff voice from behind the curtain hollered. "We get it, you lucky bastard. You've got someone to love you." Chishiya chuckled, his eyes on his partner. His hand intertwined with theirs, squeezing it tightly, like a promise that he wouldn't let go.

"I really am a lucky bastard."

[luveline]

What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy. 

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?" 

"You don't? You're the expert." 

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question. 

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test." 

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums." 

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–" 

"Lovely?" 

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him. 

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully. 

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done. 

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did." 

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up." 

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't." 

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."  

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down. 

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry." 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" 

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you." 

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."  

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…" 

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope. 

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth. 

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose." 

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine." 

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather." 

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing. 

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress." 

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years. 

It only feels like years. 

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern. 

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath. 

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault." 

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone." 

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this." 

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain." 

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly. 

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you." 

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."  

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips. 

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips. 

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart."