#hes also one of my best friends so i had to sit there and be like “you should date her fr”

[liloinkoink]

hello hello ddvau fans if you do not know me i do edits for ddvau and i have Known about this chapter for weeks and have been sitting on my rage at HG the whole time. and now it is released i need the people to see he is a bitch ass mf

anyway. starting off here. the very first thing HG says to Grian when talking about what happened is a threat

"i'm here to help you. i'm the best option you got, no one else will"

when i was editing for Doody, this line was just "i'm here to help." but Doody wanted it to come across somewhere in this chapter that HG has all the power in this situation and that HG wants Grian to know that. it was decided that the best spot to include that was right here, right off the bat. HG is Grian's only option and that is as much a promise as it is a threat. no one else will help Grian, and that includes saving him from HG if he doesn't tell HG what he wants to know

and then there's this page. when Grian isnt super forthcoming w info, HG pulls out Jimmy. HG knows better than anyone that Jimmy is completely innocent and that he had nothing to do w the attack--he's a victim here, and HG knows that better than anyone. he also knows, from being Grian and Jimmy's friend as a civilian for years, that Grian cares a lot about Jimmy, and is using that against Grian

he also knows from being a civilian and Jimmy's friend that Jimmy's pro-mutant stance isnt popular, and Jimmy could be framed if HG said something bad about him. HG is trying blatantly to use anti-mutant sentiments against Grian and Jimmy so that Grian will talk, in a moment Grian is already convinced he's going to be arrested for hiding his status as a mutant

(which: note that HG says he heard "rumors" about Jimmy's stance about mutants and his protests against the university's policies--it isn't rumors, HG knows this from being Jimmy's friend and coworker as Scar)

and then here, HG is the only one who was conscious and who was fully present for and remembers what happened during the MS attack. yeah, Tango was also there, but Tango is a known mutant, adn we've already seen people do not trust Tango and think Tango is dangerous--he's certainly not as trustworthy as HG, Superhero, Emerald Soldier, face of the military. he's the one people will trust most. what he says happened is what happened

HG says that yes, Grian’s secret is safe, but only because HG is choosing to keep it. Grian is safe because HG is allowing him to be. HG told everyone that Grian gained wings from the attack, and so HG won't arrest Grian. in this narrative which HG made up, Grian did not lie to the government and he was not always a mutant. HG said it, so it's true, even if he's lying. all HG has to do is change his mind and say that Grian was always a mutant who lied and hid his status from the government, and then Grian will be arrested. HG could change his mind at any time if Grian doesn't cooperate with him. he's very blatantly blackmailing Grian

fun fact! the original version of this line didn't have the "for now," but it was added in editing when Doody said they wanted it to be explicitly clear HG is threatening Grian

what HG says here is the truth. he isn't just representing the law--HG is above the law, and he isn't shy about making sure Grian knows that. he's willing to use anything in his disposal to get the information he wants, and he's willing to use anything available to him to make sure Grian complies with him. disguising it in friendly attitude and cookies and a phone number does not hide the fact HG was incredibly ruthlessly manipulative here

anyway. incredibly fun chapter. one of my favorites. i need DDVAU HG exploded

[ghost-proofbaby]

I love the idea of Eddie having an especially grueling day at work his friend (they have mutual feelings but nothing has been said) offers to give him a massage. Eddie is genuinely grateful but also vv flustered by the end!!

listen. LISTEN. i know this got out of hand. i know i said these were going to stay short n sweet. i know what i said and promised. but. listen. you can't hand me a prompt that is just so delicious, with so much potential to sprinkle in a light dusting of angst, and to give me the chance to garnish with a beautiful open ending full of promise, and not expect a monster of a product to come from it. you just can't. i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy this, regardless. even if it's not quite bite-sized.

warnings: seemingly unrequited love that turns into clearly idiots in love. eddie gets shirtless. that's all.

wc: 4.4k+ yikes

It had started off as an innocent, well-intentioned offer. You swear it did. 

When Eddie had called you right after pulling a double at the garage, begging to come over and simply relax at your apartment, you’d set up to allow him to do just that. You’d cleaned up a little bit, lit a candle that normally gave you a headache if it burned too long but that Eddie loved, prepped a selection of movies for him to choose from, pulled out the menu for your favorite take-out – you’d gone the whole nine yards for your best friend. 

Someone might even point out it wasn’t just best friend behavior at this point. Steve and Robin alike had certainly called out your behavior at times, coining it as “girlfriend behavior on a best friend salary”.

You didn’t care. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t care. 

You’d spend the rest of your life on the best friend salary, as the two dinguses had so lovingly called it, for the look of sheer peace on Eddie’s face right now. 

He’s leaning back on the opposite end of your couch from you, knees spread and chin facing the ceiling as he sighs in bliss. Take-out containers are scattered about the coffee table, and his movie of choice of Return of the Jedi is about halfway over on your TV. 

You both had already chosen a second movie – The Lost Boys. The plans for the night were set in stone.

You tuck both knees up beneath your chin, side-glancing your best friend for a second and ignoring the flutter of your chest as you watch him sink deeper into the cushions, “We can talk about it, y’know.” 

“Hm?” 

“Your day,” you adjust a bit, turning your body to face him fully, “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. We’ve already seen enough Jabba the Hutt to last a lifetime.”

That earns a smile from him, slowly crackling over his cheeks as he rolls his head towards you, “I dunno. Is there such thing as enough Jabba the Hutt?” 

You toss a piece of your sour watermelon candy at him, and despite it landing on his shirt, he still grabs it to pop it into his mouth. 

You try not to think too hard about how that shirt had been sitting in your drawers, clean and neatly folded, occupying space as if that might be normal. As if everyone has some of their best friend’s clothes at their apartment that they can change into after a long day at work. 

As if everyone has occasionally used said shirt as pajamas on nights they particularly miss the scent of their best friend’s cologne.

“Shut up,” you finally snicker, dropping your knees from your chin, sitting criss-cross now, “We don’t have to talk about your day if you don’t feel like it. By all means, if you wanna keep drooling over an alien slug, be my guest-”

At your teasing, Eddie moves quickly to grab one of your ankles, pulling your feet towards his lap before you can register what he’s doing. You gasp a little, and it’s definitely not because of the feeling of his warm palms wrapped around your bare skin. Totally not at the rush of warmth that travels up your body, head to toe, when you feel his rings pressing into you so eagerly. 

Absolutely not. You gasp, because anybody would gasp in this scenario. Because you’re just best friends. And best friends do stuff like that. 

“I am not drooling over a slug,” he chastises, grinning recklessly as he wiggles his fingers menacingly, mere inches from the bottom of your foot, “Take it back, or pay the price, baby.” 

Has he ever called you baby before? 

Certainly not, if your roaring heart has anything to say about it. 

“Don’t you dare,” you squeal – genuinely squeal – as you try and tug your legs out of his grasp. It’s a useless effort; he’s too strong, even after his long day, and your body isn’t even sure if it approves of taking his hands off of you. “Edward Munson, I swear to God-” 

It’s a mess of flailing limbs, painful laughter, and high-pitched screams from there. Squeaks from your own mouth, and a few from Eddie, mocking you all in good fun as he continues to persist for you to take it back. For just a moment, it feels like this is the normal – you’re living in a space where Eddie comes home from every day, grueling or effortless, to you. Where the two of you always end up on the couch together, bodies touching in any way they can. Where there’s always background noise on the TV as his focus is solely on you, smiling foolishly at his antics that were really just a simple effort to hear your laughter. Where your laughter is the only thing he really wants to hear at the end of the night, and it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard. 

A world where he tells you as much. 

A world where after this, he’s reaching the knob of your shared bedroom door rather than the front door of your lonesome apartment. 

A world where you aren’t existing on a best friend salary.

“Had enough yet, sweetheart?” he quips, just as breathless as you are from the struggle. This time, the nickname he uses is normal. It took you off guard during the first few months of friendship, but now? Your weary heart could handle it, cherish it even, and not let your stupid little crush get in the way of appreciating it. “All you have to say are the magic words.” 

“Are the magic words, you’re a dickhead?”

“Hm,” he pretends to ponder thoughtfully for just a second before shaking his hand, “‘Fraid not. Try again?” 

Instead of verbally replying, you give him a gentle kick in the stomach. Not the magic words he had in mind, but they sure do the trick. 

He lets out a soft oomph, one arm cradling his midsection as though you actually hurt him. You take it as your cue to remove your legs – his dramatics quickly come to a halt to prevent just that.

It’s probably meant to be subtle, the way both his arms fall down over your calves and keep your feet in his lap, but it has the capability to implode your entire world. 

“I can’t believe you’re being mean to me after the day I’ve had,” he whines, and all you can focus on is the way his thumb is rhythmically stroking the ball of your ankle now, “Me, your best friend, has had the most awful day and you-”

“Now you wanna talk about it?” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes at him.

“Absolutely.” 

“After you’ve just tortured me?” 

“Well, yeah. When else would I talk about it?” 

“I’m rescinding my offer to listen,” you continue to joke, making one more good faith offer to slip your legs from his lap. And, once more, he won’t allow it. 

He whines out a long, drawn out no, starting to lay his entire body across your legs this time. More direct, more to the point. Subtleties have been forgotten, you suppose. 

You don’t know if it’s more for you, or for him. You just know you like it. You like existing within a sneak preview of a girlfriend salary.

“You never answered me, drama queen,” you murmur as the joking lean across your legs becomes a bit more heavy, and Eddie is more genuinely collapsing his figure into your lap. He doesn’t even have to ask, or gesture – your fingers find home within his hair, and you can feel his hum of content against your thigh as you scratch along his scalp, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

All joking pretenses slip away from him as he mumbles out a muffled, “Not really.”

And you can work with that. You swear, you can. 

If you’d been so ready to lend a listening ear, then you can offer him this peace and quiet. A simple head massage as he leans into you, cheeks pressed to the top of your thigh as you think he returns to watching Return of the Jedi. 

His eyes might be closed, if his heavy breaths are anything to go off of. You’re just not sure. 

You just keep up your massage, sluggish strokes, clement scratches, deep breaths to match his own- 

And then, an idea hits you.

“Eds,” you whisper, your hand in his hair traveling to his shoulders, shaking him a bit, “Eddie.”

Only a grunt in response.

“Eddie, seriously, get up,” you stress, overeager, “I have an idea.”

“The apartment better be on fire,” he grumbles as he finally raises his head, face imprinted with the lines of your shorts in rolling hills of soft indents. 

Definitely was sleeping. Definitely wasn’t watching Star Wars. 

But even with his shoulders wrapped with dreary slumber, you’re still excited about your idea, motioning him to sit up fully. You let him take his time, of course, only after he swats your hands away sluggishly a few times. 

Once his back is straight, you lift one finger in the air, and draw a circle – motioning for him to turn his back to you without saying a word. 

His eyes narrow to slits at you, “Are you about to pull a prank on me? Because-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, reaching for his shoulders, nearly turning him yourself, “Scout’s honor.” 

He listens to you. Despite it all, despite his seeming mistrust, he turns his back to you. More specifically, he turns his shoulders to you. 

He’s still mumbling on about how you better not make his day worse, getting a little bit snappier when you gather his hair up to lay out of your way and claiming his scalp was extra sensitive today.

You pay his attitude no mind. He’s just grumpy. It doesn’t particularly phase you after years of close friendship.

“Listen, I know you like braiding my hair, but-” he continues with his protests as you grin behind him, shaking your head as you settle yourself closer to him. Knees bumping his hips, back straight for the time being. “I’d rather just nap right now. And I was really comfy, and really getting my rocks off to that damn alien slug-” 

All his words cut off when you finally put your plan into action. Your palms fall atop his shoulders, fingers curling around the tense skin, and he’s melting before you’ve even begun. 

“I- Oh,” he jumps a little at the first squeeze, but quickly returns to being pliant in your hold, “Oh… That’s…. That’s nice.” 

You continue your massage, gently squeezing, thumbs and fingers digging into any knots you find to work them away as you jeer, “Is it now?”

He nods, the smallest of movements as to not interrupt your work, “It is. ‘S real nice.” 

His head rolls with each pinch of your fingers, posture loosening as he leans back into your touch further. 

You take it a step further, biting back nerves when you slip your hands beneath the collar of his old t-shirt. You feel the shiver begin before it races down his spine at the press of your skin directly on his now. 

Your warm hands work dutifully, determined to bring as much relaxation to your best friend as possible. Definitely not enjoying yourself a bit too much at his smooth skin under your palms. Definitely not enjoying yourself just as much as he is. Certainly not. 

The shirt constricts you, though. Prevents your hands from traveling fully over sore spots you can feel the edges of. Catching your wrists, limiting the full potential of your movements. 

You’re glad he can’t see you as you suddenly request, “Take your shirt off.” 

“Hm?” he can’t form a proper word at first, not startled but simply sunken too deep in his relaxation, “What was that?” 

“I need your shirt off, Munson.” 

You try to sound brave, nonchalant, as you repeat yourself. You don’t want him to hear the fluttering of your heart – you don’t want him to hear the shake of your hands as you remove them from him.

You only want him to hear the totally reasonable request from a friend, who is simply trying to offer the best massage possible to their best friend who’s had a bad day. 

“Oh?” he looks over his shoulder, and you can see the edges of his raised brows through messy bangs, “Damn, sweetheart. If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask.” 

Can ribs break from a heart beating too fast? Is that even possible? 

“I did ask,” your voice is flat as a trade off to avoid any quivering to filtrate it, lips pressing tightly together as you swallow your heart, “So get to it.”

He leans forward, putting a bit of distance between you two before he reaches back to grab the center of his shirt. The fabric comes off with a flourish, and all you’re left face to face with is the bare expanse of his back.

You silently beg him not to look back over his shoulder, if only for just a second. 

You’ve seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times. At pool parties with the entire group, on rare lake days that always ended sun drunk and giddy, that one time he’d answered his door right after a quick shower and you’d seen a lot more than you’d bargained for. He was your friend. After a while, it would have been weirder to not have seen Eddie shirtless at least once. 

Something about this time feels different. 

He has freckles – not nearly as much as Steve or Robin, but they still exist. Small markings across skin glowing warmly in the dim light of your living room lamp, spattered without rhyme or reason. One on the back of his left shoulder, another slightly off-centered at the base of his neck. He has a light scar towards the bottom of his right shoulder blade – a memory from his childhood he told you once when you’d first seen it at the lake. Everyone else was out splashing about the ten-degrees-too-cool water, and he’d joined your side on the shore. Laid on his stomach as you laid on your back, offering you conversation in the form of stories about every blemish across his skin. The intentional tattoos, the unintentional scars. Everything. 

Even that day doesn’t quite compare to the intimacy of him being here now, being shirtless in your apartment, just the two of you. 

Maybe there was something extra in your coffee this morning, making you feel so delusional. 

“I don’t have any lotion or oils,” you finally clear your throat, trying to joke about as the two of you had been before, “But that doesn’t matter. You ready for the best damn massage of your life, Munson?” 

“Yes, please,” he groans, and something deep in your stomach clenches at the sound, “Want me to lay down or something?” 

Your brain short-circuits for a second, because you know where that leads. 

If he lays down, there’s only one way to continue to comfortably give him the massage. If he lays down, you’re about to bite off more than you could chew on a best friend salary. 

“Sure,” you choke out, damning yourself in the process. 

It’s all robotic mechanics as you two shift to assume the position; you stand up, and he sprawls out. And you swear, in the process, you catch a smothering of pink slow creeping across his chest and neck. 

“Can I…” you start to question, finally growing a bit shy as you stare down at the dip of his lower back. Two dimples on either side of his spine, looking so inviting and yet daunting. 

He finishes the sentence for you, saving you the embarrassment, “Sit on me? Yeah, go for it, babe.” 

There it is again. An unfamiliar nickname that falls so effortlessly off the lips for him. Another pet name to send you into a tailspin as your breath catches and your heart races, as though needing to catch up after the fleeting endearment.

“Thanks,” you whisper out. 

You’re starting to regret all your choices, but it’s too late to back down now. You just want to help him relax – that’s all this is. 

Stop making this more than it is. 

You’re exceptionally careful as you crawl over Eddie, placing a knee on either side of him, hovering for just a second as you take deep breaths to hype yourself up to do the inevitable. 

He twists a bit, startling you enough for you to balance yourself with a palm on each shoulder blade, “C’mon now, you’re not going to crush me. You should know this by now,” his eyes glitter, and you know he’s referring to that time you two made a bet he couldn’t carry you bridal style while drunk. He could, “Sit your pretty ass down and get to work, Masseuse.” 

You weren’t imagining the pink across his chest and neck. It’s climbed up now, tendrils tickling his cheeks. The bridge of his nose nearly looks sunburnt from this angle. 

It’s a good look on him. 

“Masseuse?” you snort as you shove him to be fully laying down once more, needing to get his eyes off of you for just a second, “That’s an awfully big word. You been reading without me or something? Becoming a secret genius?” 

Fall back into the normal flow of things. Try not to think about the heat of him between your legs as you sit half your weight down. 

“That is not a big word,” he chides. 

“Spell it, then.” 

“I-” he cuts off as your hands smooth back over his skin, no more restrictions. 

He never finishes his sentence, never complies with your request. All that falls from his lips are soft sighs as you begin the massage again. 

There’s an occasional twitch below his muscles as you knead away, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with it all. Becoming more mesmerized as you can now see his skin moving with you, occasionally letting up when you skirt past freckles and scars alike, fingertips merely tracing them as he shivers under your delicate touch. 

You do exactly as you set out to do – you relax him. And then some.

You’ve never really gotten into the art of massages, something about it always feeling a bit too intimate. You’d never consider yourself a professional at it by any means – if anything, you’ve been on the receiving end rather than the giving end more often than not. And even those occurrences were rare. 

But when it came to Eddie, it seemingly came naturally. 

Not all of your movements are conventional. You pass back and forth between the usual squeezes of skin you’ve witnessed on TV and from others, and gentle tracing of your fingertips. Drawing shapes, painting pictures that vanish without ever having existed in the first place. Words, sentences, secret messages for just you two. 

When you trace out the endearment of idiot, Eddie seems to catch on, lazy grin peeking up past his curtain of hair covering the cheek almost facing you. 

In another place, where you make that coveted girlfriend salary, you’d trace out three little words on the tip of your tongue. 

You almost do it, too. It’s when you trace out idiot, in fact. You start, entirely subconsciously, with the i. A long pause, a space between words. 

And then you trace an l. One long line down the center of his spine. 

Your finger is already rotating for the o, ready to trace it in the center as the other two letters had been, a signalling it wasn’t a part of that last simple line. 

And then you divert. And you rush to finish out with the i, the o, the t. He laughs a little, the rush of air felt below you as he lets it out soundlessly, and you catch sight of his smile.

A seeming endearment to Eddie, a hidden scolding for yourself. 

Maybe one day you can find the nerve to properly trace it out – or better yet, say it. Speak your truth outloud and handle whatever consequences come from it. Because you do – you really, really do mean it – and those feelings for Eddie can’t seem to change. Something carved into your very soul, unchanging as the years pass. If anything, the carving only digs deeper into you with each month you spend with him. 

One day. But not today, not when Eddie’s had a bad day. It should be a good day when you say it, lessening the blow of rejection, hopefully. 

You almost lose your balance a few times. Each time having to adjust your position of sitting on him, shifting his hips right along with yours. And each time, you notice the catch in his sighs. The way they almost transform into moans, tense noises that seemingly tear from his throat, only dampened by poor attempts to conceal them. Even the back of his neck has grown flushed now, the tips of his ears vibrant when you see them poke through his hair. 

Sometimes, you lose your balance from his shifting, even. 

The air is sticky with tension as you finally finish up. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour – you weren’t keeping score, more focused on continuing on until Eddie’s entire body has gone boneless beneath you. 

Pretty, and pink, and pliant. Entirely slackened beneath your touches. 

It takes more to encourage yourself to climb off of him than it did to climb on originally. Your body protests entirely, knees not caring for the ache forming, inner thighs happy to be bracketing his hips. But you do it. Because you’re just a friend, a best friend, helping your friend relax. 

You stand, towering over him, looking down to find him hiding his face just a bit. “Well?” 

“Well, what?” his voice is entirely muffled by his mouthful of couch cushion, and you furrow your brows. 

“How was it?” 

He lifts his face strategically. He probably hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “Oh! Oh, it was, uh- It was fucking great, sweetheart. I… I swear, your hands are fucking magic.” 

Why is he tripping over his words like that? 

He can’t even look you in the eyes, line of sight darting anywhere but you.

Why is he flushed, head to toe? 

“Yeah?” you cross your arms, and subtly lean to block the TV now displaying credits that Eddie found terribly interesting, “Would you consider it the best massage you’ve ever had?” 

He nods, and you catch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before squeaking out, “Oh, yeah! The absolute best I’ve ever had,” his eyes widen at his words, as if he’s made a terrible choice that you’re unaware of, “I mean, you know, I just- you should really consider becoming an actual masseuse.”

That’s when it hits you; Eddie is absolutely refusing to sit up. To remove his hips from your couch. 

He’s blushing, and he’s stuttering, and he’s definitely hiding something. 

There’s a twist in your gut that you can’t reveal. A satisfaction you know better than to celebrate right now. 

Instead, you decide to play with him just a little bit more. 

“Good,” you nod, stepping towards the end of the couch you’d originally occupied. Where Eddie’s knees are stiff against. “Maybe I will consider a career change. But for now – move, Munson. I’m just exhausted.” 

“What?” he looks at you, frightened, only moving his neck to keep his hips flush and hidden away. 

“Get your legs out of my seat,” you laugh a little, leveling him with a daring stare. 

You know what he’s hiding. You’re a bit proud of it, too. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says slowly, and you can see him going over his options in his head. A million excuses he’s probably conjuring, a hundred different escape plans he’s grasping at. “Yeah, of course.” 

And, just as you’d suspected, he doesn’t go with a single one to save his dignity. 

He moves quickly. Tucking his legs up and twisting himself into an upright position in the blink of an eye, and immediately grabbing one of your throw pillows that two of you had tossed off into the floor amidst the original movie night plans. 

He’s fast, you’ll give him that. But not fast enough for you to not catch sight of the tent in his pants. 

You don’t let your eyes linger too long. Swallow down any drooling threatening to begin. Tamper down any desire flaring in your chest and between your hips. 

Best friend salary, you remind yourself even as you grin a tad bit too salaciously for your current cover. Best friend salary, not girlfriend salary. 

You plop down on the seat still warm from Eddie’s legs, sinking back in self-satisfaction. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it doesn’t have to be another time, or place, or Universe to get what you want. Maybe all your delusion, that wild imagination of yours, wasn’t so misplaced after all. 

Best friend salary, your mind whispers. For now.

Eddie makes himself comfortable right along with you, still seeming in a much better condition than when he’d first arrived, even if his cheeks had bloomed into a rose garden. He presses that throw pillow of yours protectively over his crotch, and once more focuses on the screen in front of you two. 

“Say, Eddie,” you drawl, almost radiant with your grin. A fire now lit inside both of you. “Think you could be a doll and pop in the next movie for me?” 

It’s a little evil, you’ll admit. But he kind of deserves it for underpaying you over the years, when it’s so clear you’re due for a promotion. Sometime soon, you hope. 

Both your heads turn to each other at the same time, wildly different speeds. Eddie’s neck snaps in disbelief, while you take your time to make eye contact.

All it takes is one knowing look exchanged, and the illusion fumbles on its stilts. 

“I…” his embarrassment, all that flush, slowly morphs as he catches the truth behind your intentions. The hand pressing down on the throw pillow alleviates just a bit, stiff shoulders relaxing as they should have been after your massage as he reflects back just as evil of a glint in his eyes as you had, “Sure thing, baby.”

It’s probably going to be a long night. Surely, the promotion of best friend to girlfriend is going to involve some paperwork. Or an interview, to prove your capability and experience first hand, of course.

But, well, he never did put his shirt back on, did he?

[minus-plus-zer0]

Valentine's Day Special - First Chocolates

“Um… Happy Valentine’s Day, Bakugou!”

Bakugou gawked at you like you had grown two heads. There you were, in his bedroom, hands outstretched to offer him your best homemade chocolates. You knew nobody ever bothered to give Bakugou chocolates before, so you didn’t know what to expect next despite knowing the boy better than anyone. 

From his seat at his desk, Bakugou took the cute pink box from your hands and gingerly opened it, popping a chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

“Well?” you asked. “Do you like it?”

“‘Course I do,” he spat. “But… why’re you giving me these?”

You tilted your head quizzically. “…Because we’re best friends?”

Bakugou paused, scrutinizing your answer.

“You give any of your other ‘best friends’ delicious chocolates?” Bakugou asked, sneering at the thought. 

“I did give some to Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya…” Bakugou’s face darkened with every name you listed. “But I made yours extra special! Because we’re so close!”

Bakugou’s face slowly broke into a wide grin. “S’that so? Sounds about right! Next year, you don’t gotta give those guys chocolates. Just give ‘em all to me.”

Bakugou spent the rest of the day eating your chocolates in front of all his lonely and single friends whenever they came to bother him. He also paraded you around Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya in particular, often walking up to these boys and smacking his lips as he chewed through your super special chocolate to make his intentions quite clear. 

Of course, the Bakusquad swarmed Bakugou in the dorms and asked him one very important question that even Bakugou was still wondering about. 

“Are they friendship chocolates?” Ashido asked. “Or romance chocolates?”

“What, it ain’t obvious?” Bakugou replied, having no clue himself. “Such a dumb question.”

Bakugou looked away with a huff, but he could never give the Bakusquad a straight answer. Whenever they interrogated you for details, Bakugou not-so-discreetly glanced over his shoulder to check your response. 

You merely replied, “It’s a secret.”

This frustrated the Bakusquad (and Bakugou) to no end, but you weren’t quite yet ready to tell your true feelings to anyone, at least not in public. It wasn’t until much later that same day when Bakugou caught you for some alone time in your bedroom that he brought up the question again. 

“Hey…” Bakugou said, sitting alongside you on your bed with a concerned expression. “Next month, I’m gonna totally outdo the gift you just gave me. But don’t go taking gifts from other guys. I’m not gonna give anything to other people either. Remember, it’s just gotta be our thing, ya know?”

You hid your face a little in your hands to cover your embarrassment from his sweet statement. “Oh, okay! Anything for my best friend!”

“Good.” Bakugou steeled himself to say his next piece. “That means we’re officially exclusive from now on. And the only gifts we’re gonna give each other are gonna be special, right?”

He was genuinely wondering about your answer judging by the bit of desperation behind his words. He was so cute sometimes. You needed to tell him the truth.

You beamed at him playfully. “Well of course! I can’t just give everyone romance chocolates, now can I?”

Bakugou appeared surprised for a second before breaking out into a satisfied and proud grin.

“‘Course not,” Bakugou said, his heart pounding as he leaned over to eagerly kiss you.

(I still exist! I have just been busy with real life and I am sick. Thankfully I was able to get this post out in time!)

[enhasntty]

Cupids Clumsy Love Mission (Send help!) - PSH

pairing: Park Sunghoon x F!reader summary: You’re the worst Cupid ever, and your final mission is to make Park Sunghoon fall in love before Valentines Day. Instead? You accidentally shoot his best friends. Can you fix this disaster? Or will you fail at love—again? genre: Romance wc: 5.3k

I rushed this cuz I just wanted to post something for Valentines Day

Being a Cupid isn’t all pink hearts and romance. It’s stressful, and if you mess up even a little, you get yelled at by your very terrifying boss.

And you? Well, you mess up a lot.

Right now, you’re standing in Arch-Cupid Aphrodite’s grand, sparkling office, feeling like you’re about to be fired. Again.

Aphrodite—who is currently rubbing her temples like you personally gave her a migraine—lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard. “Y/N. My dear, hopelessly clumsy Cupid. Do you have any idea why you’re here?”

You do. But you also don’t feel like answering because the last time you did, you got lectured for an hour.

So, you try to look adorably innocent. “Because… I’m one of your most promising Cupids?”

Aphrodite stares at you. Jungwon, your immediate supervisor (who is standing in the corner looking so done), actually snorts.

“You,” Aphrodite says, her voice sweet like poison, “are the biggest walking disaster this realm has ever seen.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

Jungwon clears his throat. “You accidentally made a grandmother fall in love with her neighbor’s parrot last week.”

You wince. “Okay, but to be fair—”

“And let’s not forget,” Aphrodite continues, eyes burning into you, “that you once hit two people with a single arrow. Do you remember what happened then?”

You do.

That time, you accidentally struck two mortal enemies. It was beautiful for about ten minutes—until they realized what had happened and ended up confessing their hatred for each other instead.

In short: Chaos.

Aphrodite pinches the bridge of her nose. “You are officially on thin ice. One more mistake, and I will demote you.”

Your heart plummets. “Demote me to what?”

Jungwon coughs. “A Lonely Heart Fairy.”

You gasp. “That’s cruel!”

Lonely Heart Fairies don’t even get to shoot arrows. They just float around, handing tissues to heartbroken people and whispering, It’s okay, you’ll find someone someday.

That is not how you imagined your Cupid career going.

Aphrodite, looking smug at your terror, leans forward. “So, this is your final chance. One mission. One human. If you succeed, I might forgive your past mistakes.”

You straighten up, determined. “I won’t let you down.”

Aphrodite smirks. “Oh, I highly doubt that. But let’s see you try.”

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sends the official Cupid Mission file straight into your hands. You eagerly open it and read the name inside.

TARGET: PARK SUNGHOON

MISSION: MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE BEFORE FEBRUARY 14TH

You blink.

Jungwon whistles. “Oof. Him?”

You frown. “What’s wrong with him?”

Aphrodite leans back in her chair. “Park Sunghoon is not an easy target. The guy doesn’t believe in love. He calls it a ‘scam.’”

You gape at her. “Then why is he my mission?”

“Because,” Aphrodite says, smirking, “if you can make him fall in love, it’ll prove that even you aren’t completely hopeless.”

Well. That’s rude.

But fine. Challenge accepted.

You clutch the file to your chest and swear to yourself—you will make Park Sunghoon fall in love. You will not mess up.

Spoiler alert: You absolutely mess up.

Mortal Realm – Target Locked

You arrive on Earth with the grace of a majestic, ethereal being.

Just kidding.

You trip mid-flight, nearly faceplant into a tree, and barely manage to regain your balance before anyone notices.

Shaking off the near disaster, you hover above a cozy little café where your target—Park Sunghoon is currently sitting with his best friends, Jake and Jay.

You spot him immediately.

Jet-black hair. Sharp features. Dressed in a simple but effortlessly cool outfit. He’s casually stirring his coffee, looking like he was sculpted by the gods themselves—except for the fact that his face is twisted into a deep scowl.

Yeah. That’s definitely a guy who doesn’t believe in love.

You pull out your bow and nock a glowing pink arrow.

“Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “One shot. One target. You got this.”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, sighing as he mutters, “Valentine’s Day is just a corporate scam to sell chocolate and flowers.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.”

Jake, ever the golden retriever of the group, gasps dramatically. “You don’t believe in love?”

Sunghoon scoffs. “No. It’s fake.”

You gasp. Blasphemy.

This man needs to be humbled. And you’re just the Cupid to do it.

With renewed determination, you take aim, steady your grip, and release—

And then your foot catches on a rogue cloud.

You yelp as you lose balance mid-air. Your arrow, which was perfectly aimed for Sunghoon’s heart, goes completely off course—

—And smacks straight into Jake’s back.

You have made many mistakes in your Cupid career.

Once, you accidentally shot an arrow into a wedding bouquet, causing the bride to fall in love with the cake. Another time, you somehow managed to hit a guy who was already in love, making him propose on the spot—except it wasn’t to his girlfriend, but to a random waitress.

But this? This is a new low.

Because right now, you’re watching Jake Sim—the human embodiment of a golden retriever—practically glow with love as he gazes at Jay like he just discovered the meaning of life.

And Jay?

Jay looks horrified.

“This is bad,” you mutter under your breath, hovering above the chaos.

Understatement of the year.

Jake’s Problem? He’s Now Head Over Heels for Jay.

Jake has always been affectionate. But now, thanks to your horrible aim, he’s dialed it up to a hundred.

Currently, he’s practically bouncing after Jay as they walk down the street.

“Jay,” Jake sighs dreamily. “You have the best fashion sense. Like, how do you always look so cool?”

Jay pulls his hoodie up, walking faster. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Jake, completely ignoring him, continues, “And your voice? It’s got that deep vibe, you know? I feel like you should be a narrator for a really romantic drama.”

Jay stops dead in his tracks.

He turns, expression unreadable. “Jake.”

Jake beams. “Yeah?”

Jay looks him dead in the eyes. “I will fight you.”

Jake’s smile widens. “You’d totally win.”

Jay lets out the deepest sigh of his life.

Sunghoon, standing to the side with his hands shoved in his pockets, just watches the whole exchange. He glances between his best friends, squinting like he’s trying to solve a math problem.

“Okay,” Sunghoon finally says. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Jay groans. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

Jake grabs Jay’s hand dramatically. “Jay, don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

Jay yanks his hand away so fast it nearly dislocates Jake’s arm. “I don’t feel it.”

Sunghoon sighs, looking utterly bored. “Is this your way of telling us you two are in love or something? Because I honestly couldn’t care less.”

Jay gags. “No!”

Jake blinks. “Wait, do you not like me back?”

Jay looks him straight in the eye. “I would rather be run over by a bus.”

Jake pouts. “Ouch.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Well, that clears things up.”

Jake, still pouting, turns back to Jay. “But you could like me, right?”

Jay groans again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like you, and I never will.”

You, watching from above, feel guilty at the sheer amount of distress on Jay’s face.

Jungwon, through the Cupid communication line, is screaming.

Jungwon: FIX IT. FIX IT RIGHT NOW.

Heeseung: I say we wait.

You? You’re panicking.

Because Cupid arrows are strong. They don’t just fade in an hour. If you don’t fix this, Jake is going to be hopelessly in love with Jay until next Valentine’s Day.

So you do what any desperate Cupid would do:

You grab another arrow, aim at Sunghoon, and fire.

And then—because you are you—Jay chooses that exact moment to move in front of him.

Jay. Gets. Hit.

You want to scream.

Because now, instead of one person suffering, both Jake and Jay are staring at each other like they’ve just discovered true love.

Jay, who only minutes ago looked like he wanted to punch Jake into another dimension, suddenly tilts his head.

“Wait,” Jay says slowly, eyes softening. “Jake, have your eyelashes always been that long?”

Jake gasps. “You noticed?!”

Jay suddenly looks deeply troubled. “Why do I care?”

Sunghoon, watching this disaster unfold, just stares.

Then, without missing a beat, he takes a sip of his coffee and says, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You are dying.

Up in Cupid HQ, Jungwon has officially lost it.

Jungwon: I want you fired.

Ni-ki: Best day of my life.

Your Crisis? Sunghoon STILL Doesn’t Believe in Love.

You cannot believe this.

This guy is ridiculous.

You’ve literally shot two of his best friends with powerful love arrows, and his reaction? Mild annoyance.

Sunghoon, watching Jake and Jay now complimenting each other’s hairstyles, lets out the longest sigh.

“I’m going home,” he announces, walking away without a care in the world.

Jake and Jay don’t even notice.

You? You are on the verge of tears.

Jungwon is still screaming at you through the Cupid system.

Ni-ki? Laughing so hard he might pass out.

And you?

You have no idea how to fix this.

But one thing is for sure:

This mission is already a disaster.

Cupid Rule #1: Never shoot yourself with your own arrow.

Cupid Rule #2: Never shoot yourself with your own arrow.

Cupid Rule #3: If you do shoot yourself with your own arrow… just accept the fact that you’ve ruined everything.

And yet, here you are.

Floating above a coffee shop, clutching your chest like a dramatic K-drama lead, because your own stupid love arrow is now lodged in you.

Up in Cupid HQ, everyone is losing their minds.

Ni-ki: OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

Heeseung: I am so happy to be alive right now.

Jungwon: I need a new job.

You? You are screwed.

But before you can even process what just happened, let’s rewind a little—

Sunghoon, The Oblivious Skeptic, Finally Notices Something is Off

Sunghoon is not dumb.

He may not believe in love, but he knows his best friends. And right now? His best friends are acting insane.

For one, Jake—who normally spends half his time annoying Jay and the other half talking about his dog—is suddenly acting like a love-struck poet.

He’s sitting on the café couch with his notebook open, eyes shining as he reads out loud:

“Jay, your voice is like the deep bass in my favorite song—”

“Jake, stop.”

“Your eyes? Pools of mystery, endless depth—”

“STOP.”

Jay, who normally meets Jake’s antics with an eye roll and a punch to the arm, is now blushing.

BLUSHING.

Sunghoon stares. Hard.

“What,” Sunghoon finally says, “is wrong with you two?”

Jake grins like a lovesick idiot. “We just get each other, man.”

Sunghoon blinks. “No, you don’t.”

Jay clears his throat, trying—and failing—to hide his flustered expression. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jake scoots closer, looking way too happy. “Jay, do you believe in fate?”

Sunghoon gags. “Oh my god.”

Jay’s entire face heats up. “I—I don’t—”

Sunghoon immediately slaps his hands over his ears. “Nope. I refuse to listen to this.”

He stands up, pacing. “You two are messing with me. That’s the only explanation. You’re pranking me.”

Jay crosses his arms. “Do you really think I would put myself through this willingly?”

Jake gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Jay, how could you?”

Sunghoon watches them for a long moment, before finally saying, “Okay. I don’t know what kind of experiment you guys are running, but I’m out.”

With that, he turns to leave.

Which means it is finally your chance to fix this.

Your Genius Plan (That Backfires Horribly)

You have been hiding behind a cloud this whole time, desperately trying to figure out how to salvage this mess.

Jake and Jay? Disasters.

Sunghoon? Still as emotionally unavailable as a locked safe.

Your mission? Still a failure.

But not for long.

Because this time, you’re prepared.

You grip your bow, pull back the string, and line up the perfect shot. Sunghoon is standing still, facing away from you. No distractions. No mistakes. You can do this.

You take a deep breath—

—And then, at the exact moment you release the arrow, Sunghoon suddenly turns his head.

Your eyes widen. Your stomach drops.

And before you can do anything—

The arrow hits you.

Cupid HQ: The Breakdown

The moment the arrow lodges itself into your chest, everything in Cupid HQ explodes.

Ni-ki screams so loudly, his audio cuts out.

And Jungwon?

Jungwon just silently places his head on his desk.

Ni-ki: Oh my God. You idiot.

Jungwon: I am filing my resignation.

And you?

Well.

You’re in trouble.

The Sudden, Horrifying Realization

The moment the arrow hits, your heart skips a beat.

And then it skips again when Sunghoon looks up.

You stare at him. Your face heats up.

Oh.

Oh no.

Because suddenly, Sunghoon’s messy hair looks a little more attractive than before.

And his sharp, unimpressed gaze? Feels more like smoldering intensity.

And when he crosses his arms and tilts his head—you almost swoon.

You clap a hand over your mouth.

No. No. NO.

This cannot be happening.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him.

Jungwon: How does it feel to be the dumbest Cupid in history?

Heeseung: We should let this play out.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon is Still Clueless

Sunghoon, completely unaware that you are currently losing your mind over him, sighs.

“Whatever. I’m going home.”

He turns, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and starts walking.

You just hover there, staring.

Is he… kinda cute?

No. No, no, NO. Get it together, Y/N.

But then he pushes a hand through his hair—casually, effortlessly—and the sunlight catches on his skin, making him glow just a little—

And you die inside.

This is the worst day of your entire existence.

The New, Horrifying Problem

You were supposed to make Sunghoon fall in love.

Instead, you shot yourself.

And now?

You have a tiny, very inconvenient crush on the one person who doesn’t believe in love.

Cupid HQ is still in chaos.

Jungwon is weeping. Ni-ki is wheezing. Heeseung is sending bets in the group chat.

And you?

You are so doomed.

Let’s do a quick recap.

You, a very bad Cupid, were supposed to make Park Sunghoon fall in love.

Instead, you shot his best friends, created an accidental love triangle, and—for the grand finale—shot yourself.

Now, you have a tiny, highly inconvenient crush on the one person who thinks romance is a scam.

Ni-ki is still laughing about it. Jungwon looks like he’s aged ten years. Heeseung? He’s treating this whole disaster like premium entertainment.

And you?

You are struggling.

It turns out, having feelings for someone makes you insufferably dumb.

Because now, every single thing Sunghoon does feels like a personal attack.

Like, when he pushes his hair back?

Why is that attractive?! It’s just hair!

Or when he leans against a wall with his arms crossed, looking all broody?

And don’t even get started on the way his jaw clenches when he’s annoyed.

One second, he’s frowning at his phone, and the next—

“OH MY GOD,” you whisper-shriek, floating behind him in total distress.

You slap a hand over your face, trying to will yourself into being normal.

It does not work.

Meanwhile, Jake and Jay Are Thriving

While you are having a full-blown crisis, Jake and Jay? They’re living their best romcom lives.

Jake, ever the golden retriever, has fully embraced his new romantic feelings.

“Jay,” he says one morning, beaming. “I made you a playlist.”

Jay blinks. “What?”

Jake shoves his phone in Jay’s face. On the screen, the playlist title reads: Songs That Remind Me of You.

Jay freezes. His ears go red.

“I—I don’t want this,” he huffs, pushing the phone away.

“Yes, you do,” Jake singsongs.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’M NOT—”

Jay glares, swipes the phone, and storms off—only to listen to the playlist on repeat for the next three hours.

Sunghoon, watching this unfold from across the room, looks deeply disturbed.

“What the hell is happening?” he mutters.

Sunghoon Starts Getting Suspicious

Jake and Jay acting like a couple? Weird.

You always being around? Even weirder.

The first few times, Sunghoon brushes it off as coincidence.

But then he starts noticing things.

Like how every time he turns around, you seem to be lurking nearby.

Or how you always look slightly panicked whenever he makes eye contact with you.

Or how, just yesterday, you were definitely staring at his arms when he rolled up his sleeves.

“…Do I know you?” he asks one afternoon, narrowing his eyes at you.

You freeze mid-hover. “W-what?”

“You. You’re always around.” He crosses his arms. “Are you following me or something?”

You panic. Hard.

“No!” you blurt out. “Absolutely not. I’m just—uh—admiring the architecture!”

Sunghoon looks up.

There is nothing special about the building.

“…Right.”

You internally scream.

Your Attempts to Act Normal (That Fail Miserably)

After that awkward encounter, you decide you need to calm down.

Sunghoon is just a mission. You are not actually in love with him. You just need to focus.

And so, you make a plan:

1. Avoid getting flustered.

2. Stop swooning like an idiot.

3. Act like a normal, non-crushing Cupid.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

Because that same evening, Sunghoon sits down at a café, flips open a book, and absently runs a hand through his hair—

And you promptly walk into a tree.

Not even float into it.

Just. Full-on. Smack. Into. A. Tree.

Sunghoon looks up at the sound of impact.

You, clinging to the tree, barely manage to whisper:

“I’m fine.”

Up in HQ, Ni-ki falls off his chair.

Ni-ki: This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Jungwon: I give up.

Heeseung: Y/N, if you die from embarrassment, can I take over your mission?

You groan, wishing you could sink into the ground.

Sunghoon’s Suspicion Levels: Increasing

By the end of the day, Sunghoon is fully convinced something weird is going on.

Not just because of Jake and Jay, but because of you.

The girl who keeps showing up.

The girl who always looks flustered.

The girl who walked into a literal tree trying to avoid eye contact.

Who are you?

And why do you look like you’re hiding something?

Sunghoon doesn’t believe in love.

But he does believe in mysteries.

And right now?

You are the biggest mystery of all.

At this point, you have accepted the harsh truth:

Park Sunghoon is immune to romance.

Like, actually, scientifically, impossibly immune.

Jake and Jay? They’re currently starring in their own accidental love story, complete with playlists, bickering disguised as flirting, and moments where they gaze at each other a little too long.

Sunghoon?

Still out here giving full-blown TED Talks about how love is a scam.

And you?

You are losing your mind.

Aphrodite is not pleased.

Her latest very aggressive message flashes across your Cupid communication screen:

Aphrodite: Y/N, do I need to remind you that FAILURE = DEMOTION?

Jungwon: I’d like to remind her just for fun.

Heeseung: Don’t stress her out more, dude.

Ni-ki: No, stress her out. This is hilarious.

Your job is on the line, your mission is falling apart, and you might still have a tiny inconvenient crush on the guy you’re supposed to be matchmaking.

So, naturally, you decide to do the only logical thing:

Force some romance into Sunghoon’s life.

Attempt #1: The Love Letter Approach

You figure this is a classic. Who doesn’t love a good anonymous love letter?

So, late at night, you slip a handwritten note into Sunghoon’s locker at the skating rink:

“Your eyes remind me of winter—cold, sharp, and impossible to ignore.”

Very poetic. Very swoon-worthy. You nailed it.

Except…

The next morning, Sunghoon pulls the note out, reads it, and immediately frowns.

Jay leans over. “What’s that?”

Sunghoon flips the paper around. “Spam.”

Jake blinks. “Spam?”

“Yeah. Probably some dumb prank.” Sunghoon crumples it up and tosses it into his bag. “People are weird.”

You, hiding behind a vending machine: “I HATE IT HERE.”

Up in HQ, Ni-ki is wiping tears from his eyes.

Jungwon: Y/N, this is painful to watch.

Heeseung: I mean… in his defense, it does sound kinda dramatic.

Attempt #2: The Cute Coffee Shop Encounter

Fine. Love letters were a flop, but this? This is foolproof.

You set everything up perfectly. A cozy little café, soft background music, a warm and inviting atmosphere—peak romance vibes.

You even nudge fate a little so that Sunghoon and a sweet girl accidentally sit at the same table.

This is it. This is your moment.

Sunghoon takes a deep breath. Looks at the menu.

And orders a black coffee.

No pastries. No small talk. No heartwarming moment with the girl fate literally pushed into his lap.

He drinks his coffee. Stands up. Leaves.

Up in HQ, Jungwon is silently crying into his hands.

Attempt #3: The Classic “Accidentally Fall into His Arms” Trick

This is it.

Your last resort.

The golden move of every romcom protagonist in history.

The plan? Simple.

You will “accidentally” trip in front of Sunghoon. He will catch you. You will lock eyes. His heart will stutter with newfound emotion.

Boom. Romance unlocked.

Except…

The second you step forward to execute the plan—

Your foot catches on absolutely nothing, and instead of a graceful, slow-motion fall…

You FULLY EAT THE SIDEWALK.

Like. Face-first. Absolute destruction.

Sunghoon pauses mid-step, staring down at you in pure amusement.

“…Are you okay?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You, still face down on the pavement: “I’m fine.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “You fall a lot.”

You stay lying on the ground, contemplating every life choice that led you here.

At this point, you’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that Sunghoon is still immune to romance…

Or the fact that you’re falling harder than ever (literally and figuratively).

This is a bad idea.

A horrendous, catastrophic, should-be-illegal kind of idea.

Yet, here you are, sitting in Cupid HQ, staring at Ni-ki like he’s lost his mind.

“Fake date him.”

You blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ni-ki leans forward, grinning like a man who thrives on chaos. “Think about it! Sunghoon doesn’t believe in love, right? What better way to prove it’s real than by making him experience it firsthand?”

Heeseung, the traitor, nods. “Honestly… kinda genius.”

Jungwon?

Jungwon looks like he aged ten years in the past two minutes.

“I hate this. I hate all of this,” he groans, rubbing his temples. “Do you people even hear yourselves? Fake dating never ends well!”

Ni-ki shrugs. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Jungwon mutters something about quitting his job and moving to a stress-free dimension, but you’re too busy spiraling.

Because this plan?

It’s INSANE.

And yet…

For some stupid reason, you go through with it.

Step One: Trick Sunghoon into Fake Dating You

Unfortunately, Sunghoon is not an easy person to fool.

It takes a full week of strategic planning, some questionable emotional manipulation (“Don’t you wanna prove love is fake once and for all?”), and a little bit of divine intervention (thank you, fate), but somehow—somehow—you convince him.

“Well, fine,” Sunghoon says after an obnoxiously long silence. “But this is strictly business.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Step Two: Survive Sunghoon’s ‘Dating Contract’

Because Sunghoon?

Yeah, he takes this whole thing like an actual corporate deal.

He hands you a list of rules.

1. No actual flirting. (Not a problem. You’re totally normal around him. Totally.)

2. No unnecessary touching. (Does this mean ‘no holding onto his arm when he looks stupidly good in a leather jacket’? Asking for a friend.)

3. No kissing. (Okay, no one even brought that up, but now you can’t stop thinking about it??)

“Got it?” Sunghoon asks, raising a brow.

You nod. “Yup. Totally fine. Easy.”

Spoiler alert: It is not fine.

Step Three: Try Not to Fall Apart (Fail Miserably)

Because here’s the problem.

Sunghoon?

He’s way too good at the boyfriend act.

Like, way too good.

He casually puts his arm around your chair at restaurants. Calls you by stupidly attractive pet names as a joke. Winks.

WINKS.

And you?

You are suffering.

Physically, emotionally, spiritually suffering.

Meanwhile, Jake & Jay Are Thriving

Jake and Jay—are having the time of their lives.

They find your total breakdown hilarious.

“So, uh…” Jake smirks over his iced Americano. “On a scale of one to I’m screwed, how bad is it?”

You glare. “I am not screwed.”

Jay, scrolling through his phone, doesn’t even look up. “You’re so screwed.”

Jake grins. “We should bet on how long it takes before you break.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Jay agrees, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Two weeks, max.”

Jake hums. “Nah, I give them ten days.”

You groan, slamming your head onto the table.

Sunghoon, sipping his black coffee, completely oblivious.

You are officially doomed.

Something is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

And for once, it’s not your fault.

Because Sunghoon?

Yeah, he’s acting different.

At first, you try to ignore it. Maybe you’re just imagining things. Maybe it’s just the fake dating getting to your head.

But then—

Exhibit A: Sunghoon starts remembering your coffee order.

You don’t even think he listens when you talk about it, but one day, you’re yawning at a café, brain completely fried, and suddenly—

“Here,” Sunghoon says, shoving a cup into your hands.

You blink down at it.

It’s your exact order. Right down to the little extra shot of vanilla syrup you never actually say out loud but always get.

You stare at him. “You… got me coffee?”

Sunghoon shrugs, eyes on his own drink. “You always take forever to decide. Figured I’d save us time.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Exhibit B: He starts guiding you through crowds.

Which, okay, is normal… except it’s not.

Because before, Sunghoon would just walk ahead and let you struggle. But now?

Now, every time you’re out together, he instinctively grabs your wrist and tugs you along, effortlessly weaving through people.

The worst part?

It’s casual. Like he doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s just natural for him now.

Like—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Exhibit C: He starts looking at you for just a little too long.

Like when you’re laughing at something Jake said. Or when you’re rambling about your favorite snacks. Or when you’re just existing, and suddenly you feel his gaze linger on you.

And the way he looks—

It’s different.

It’s soft. Curious. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

And you?

You are losing it.

Cupid HQ is, of course, fully invested.

Ni-ki: IS THIS IT?? IS HE FALLING???

Heeseung: I think she’s the one falling.

Jungwon: I don’t even care anymore. Just tell me when they crash and burn.

And honestly?

They don’t have to wait long.

Because then—

Then disaster strikes.

The Moment Everything Goes Horribly Wrong

It’s late. You’re at Sunghoon’s place, casually not panicking over your very real feelings, when—

“Hey, what’s this?”

You freeze.

Sunghoon is standing near his couch, holding something. Something very, very bad.

Your Cupid equipment.

The bow. The arrows. The mission papers.

Everything.

Your blood runs cold.

Sunghoon frowns, turning over one of the documents. “Mission… ‘Make Park Sunghoon Fall in Love by Valentine’s Day’?”

Your heart stops.

Panic explodes in your chest.

“Sunghoon—”

His eyes flick to you, realization slowly sinking in.

Then, finally—

“You…” His voice is eerily quiet. “This was all fake?”

You swear you hear your soul leave your body.

Sunghoon steps back. His jaw clenches. His hands tighten around the paper like he’s physically holding himself together.

And you—

You realize, too late, that this isn’t just fake dating anymore.

This isn’t just some Cupid assignment gone wrong.

This is real.

He’s hurt.

Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “So what was the plan, huh?” He waves the papers in the air. “Make me fall in love and then what? Laugh about it later?”

You feel sick. “No, it wasn’t—”

“Or was I just some stupid experiment to prove love is real?”

“No!” Your voice cracks. Your hands shake. “I—”

You don’t know what to say.

Because no matter what, the truth is awful.

Sunghoon was right about love. It is fake—at least, it was for you at first. And now?

Now you don’t even know what’s real anymore.

Sunghoon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Then, without another word—

He walks out.

You are officially heartbroken.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

The final day.

And Sunghoon still won’t talk to you.

Which, honestly? Fair.

But for the first time since this mission began, you don’t care about Cupid HQ, your job, or the threat of demotion.

You just want to fix things.

So, like the true disaster Cupid you are, you decide to break every rule in existence.

Rule #1: Humans Aren’t Supposed to See Cupids

You ignore it.

You push past the barrier between realms, your wings shimmering into existence as you land in front of Sunghoon’s apartment.

Then, without thinking, you knock.

The door swings open.

And there he is.

Park Sunghoon.

Looking unimpressed and very much still mad at you.

“…You again.”

You nod, wings twitching nervously. “Me again.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “How did you even—?”

“I’m a Cupid,” you blurt. “We have our ways.”

Sunghoon sighs. “Of course.”

And then, before he can close the door on your face—

You start explaining.

The Truth, Unfiltered

Everything.

The mission. The arrows. The way you accidentally destroyed Jake and Jay’s lives. The way you were supposed to make Sunghoon fall in love, but ended up falling for him instead.

You spill it all.

Sunghoon just listens. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

You swallow, heart pounding.

“And that’s it,” you finish quietly. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. But I did.”

More silence.

And then—

Sunghoon sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

“I knew something was off,” he mutters. “Because there’s no way I actually fell for you that easily.”

You freeze.

You blink.

“…Wait. You—”

Before you can finish, Sunghoon leans in and kisses you.

Your brain malfunctions.

Because Sunghoon is kissing you.

Because this is real.

Because he actually fell for you, despite all the disasters.

When he pulls away, he smirks. “I hope you know this means your mission failed.”

You blink, still dazed. “What?”

“You were supposed to make me fall in love,” he teases. “But I did that on my own.”

Your heart combusts.

And then—

Sunghoon pulls you in again.

Then, somewhere in the distance, someone yells, “WHAT THE ACTUAL—”

You barely have time to process the fact that your comms are still on before a burst of light explodes in the room. A portal rips open, and three very panicked Cupids—Ni-ki, Heeseung, and Jungwon—come flying through.

“You—” Ni-ki chokes, pointing at you. “You idiot!”

Heeseung is hyperventilating. “You told him? You broke the rules? Do you want to get turned into a pigeon?!”

Jungwon, ever the responsible one, just groans and rubs his temples. “We are so getting fired for this.”

Sunghoon blinks at them. Then at you. “Is this normal for you?”

You sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

And just like that, Sunghoon—stoic, unshakable Sunghoon—bursts into laughter.

Meanwhile, Somewhere in the Chaos…

“Wait.”

Jake suddenly sits up straight at the café, blinking rapidly.

Jay, sitting across from him, narrows his eyes. “What?”

Jake shakes his head like a confused puppy. “I—I think I just woke up.”

Jay’s stomach drops. “…Oh no.”

Jake’s eyes widen. He stares at Jay. At the romantic playlist. At the love letters.

And then—

Jay gasps. His own brain clears.

They look at each other.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Dude,” Jake whispers.

“…Don’t,” Jay warns.

“…Did we just—”

“DO NOT SAY IT.”

...

Final Score?

Mission: Successful.

Your dignity? Still questionable.

Jake and Jay? …In emotional recovery.

Cupid chaos? Forever.

Likes and Reblogs are much appreciated!!

[revelboo]

Finally managed to catch up with Everything is alright and damn, it sure is one hell of a ride! Poor reader really can't catch a breath Also, as someone who struggle with reading fics bc english isn't my first language and it ask way more focus, I really love your way of writing, makes it way easier to follow! I read a lot of your others texts to and I really love your writing, thank you so much for all of this!

Thank you! I tend to write in a stream of conscious style rather than proper sentence structures- basically I write how my brain thinks. Aside from tense and that physical descriptions and details aren’t really more than broad strokes, this is how I normally write.

Thank y’all for all the Valentine’s Day messages, I got a bit overwhelmed with them 🤣

Everything Is Alright Pt 133

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• You’d fallen asleep tangled in him at some point since he wasn’t willing to release your connection with his spark just yet. The fact that you trust him enough to rest in his arms while you’re so vulnerable aching sweetly in his spark. Monitoring you, sifting through your light and warmth again and again. Hunting. Until he finds what he’s looking for. So much tinier than Starscream’s new spark had been when he’d discovered it, just a pinpoint of light nestled within you. Remembers the frantic way you’d evaded him when he’d tried to fully bond you the first time, not even knowing you were sparked at the time, but still instinctively trying to protect Starscream’s new spark. Crooning shakily, he tucks you more firmly against his frame as he wraps himself more firmly around your light.

• Letting himself back into his habsuite, Megatron scowls. “You know I meant for you to talk it out, not frag in my berth,” he mutters, watching Soundwave shift slightly, tucking you more under him as you make a sleepy sound. That protective gesture making his spark ache as he pointedly doesn’t react and sits on the berth near the two of you. Venting when he realizes you’re sleeping, arms tucked against yourself as Soundwave’s grin tightens. “Did you spark our little mate?” Still feels so strange to call you his. To make that claim on a human. Never would have imagined he’d be in a situation like this. Wants to despise you for what you’d done to him even if it had been an accident, but can’t even manage that. He’d reached out to you, tried to save you.

• Our. Cupping the back of your head when you bury your face against his neck, he has to remind himself that he trusts Megatron. Always has. Had hung all his hopes for a better future on the shoulders of that angry gladiator. Sacrificed so much to follow him. But this is different. Has the overwhelming urge to tuck you inside his cassette compartment and just keep you there. Safe under his protection. “Yes,” he makes himself say. Doesn’t want to share you with Starscream or Megatron, not while you’re sparked with his young.

• “You’re not going to apologize for dragging me into this mess, are you, old friend?” Something about the way Soundwave is holding you is so intimate it makes his spark ache. What would he be like if you were sparked with his young? Would he allow either of the other two anywhere near you? “I’m not going to play carrier for your sparkling, too,” he adds, feeling so tired. And he doesn’t even know if you only passed the spark to him because you were in distress and scared for your sparkling, or if that’s going to happen every time. Has no idea what to expect since you’re organic.

• Rubbing his chin against the top of your head, Soundwave croons to you. Feeling guilty since he’d been pushing you and Megatron together, trying to bind you together for your safety. Still playing the long game, positioning pieces how he wants them. Manipulating. He’s always done what was necessary, but now he’s no longer sure if he’s doing what’s best for the cause, for his people, or just what he wants. A family. A different future. “Angry?” He asks, trying to ignore that faint whisper of unease at being so small. Aware of the warlord watching him, expression calculating before his optics narrow, shaking his head.

Previous

[ihyuka]

Of regrets and other tells | Choi Soobin

summary: Soobin has been building his acting career for years. Sacrificing his time and personal life in more aspects than one, holding onto a broken heart for over 5 years, and perpetually wishing his past relationship didn't end the way it did. Now, he's gotten an imminent return to his hometown thanks to a wedding, the high possibility of seeing his ex (Very possible because she's the groom's sister), and oh, it turns out the groom doesn't know he ever dated his sister. A recipe for disaster

word count: 11.5k

pairing: soobin x female reader

warnings: exes to lovers (sort of), brother's best friend, taehyun is our matchmaker bec he adores his friends, yeonjun is oblivious, tiny bit of angst, soobin is a sweetheart, they're Overthinkers, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, cute and soft love making, unprotected sex, they have feelings for each other, reader can be nasty at times (soobin isn't doing any better tbh), huh, i hope i'm not forgetting something☝️

note: happy valentine’s day! 💕 welcome to my blog!

this idea has been sitting in my drafts forever, so i’m really excited to finally bring it to life today. i’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments (and please be nice—this is my first time posting 🫣).

i hope you enjoy this story! it’s slightly inspired by those classic early 2000s rom-coms we all love. also, english isn’t my first language, so please excuse any mistakes—i’m working on improving!

Soobin doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The first glance had him intrigued. The second? Addicted.

Here’s the thing—he’s known you all his life. He was always the kid befriending older guys at school, constantly seeking the company of those ahead of him. He loved it. Until, of course, life happened. One by one, his friends left for university, leaving him behind for one last year of high school. It wasn’t all bad, though—because that’s when he met you.

Yeonjun’s little sister. A friend of his. Someone his age who helped him adjust to a new social scene, introducing him to people and boosting his confidence. You were always there. Always helping. And now? Now he hasn’t seen you in years. He has a life in Seoul. He’s moved on.

Or so he thought.

Because the moment he sees you in that red dress, smiling, radiant, otherworldly—he realizes something painful and undeniable.

He’s so fucked.

And worse? He’s dated you before.

He’s so, so fucked. Yeonjun is going to kill him.

Soobin is hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He always is. It comes with the territory of being a high-profile actor. He’s gotten used to sneaking around, blending into crowds, avoiding unnecessary attention. Weddings in South Korea, though, are practically public events. The worst place to hide. He’s trying to be subtle—maybe if he stands still long enough, he’ll blend into the walls.

“Hi?”

He freezes. He knows that voice anywhere. Familiar, warm—like home. And like regret.

It’s you.

It’s ridiculous, really. He’s standing there, towering over everyone, wearing sunglasses in the middle of December, looking every bit as awkward as he feels.

“Um, hi?” His voice comes out strained, awkward. God, why can’t this be easier? “How have you been?”

What a stupid question. He hasn’t seen you in five years. You both took different paths, built your lives apart. He dated you for two months, so why does it feel like he can’t breathe now that you’re standing in front of him?

“Good.” You smile. “Let’s not make this weird, shall we? It’s been a long time.”

You’re so over him.

And he’s regretting everything.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

And just like that, you’re gone. Someone calls your name, and you walk away.

Fuck.

That’s the only thing running through your mind, too.

Why did he have to be this attractive? You had a plan. Approach him, make small talk, prove to yourself you were over him. That was it. But the second you saw him? Plan out the window. He looked unfairly good—taller, broader, blonde. Blonde. What kind of sick joke was this?

And thankfully, mercifully, he didn’t notice the way you reacted.

God, you’re so fucked.

Soobin tells himself he’s fine.

He gave his speech as best man. He made people laugh. He shared embarrassing photos of Yeonjun for everyone’s amusement. He did his job.

But now? Now he’s pissed.

And he knows he shouldn’t be.

You aren’t his. You haven’t been his in years. Even if you were, he doesn’t own you. He understands that—logically. But watching some guy dance too close to you, hands lingering where they shouldn’t—his instincts are screaming.

He knows that look. The same one he’s giving you now. Hunger. Want. Need.

Maybe the guy is your boyfriend. Maybe he isn’t. All Soobin knows is that he hates him.

“Why aren’t you dancing with her if you want her so much?” Taehyun’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. Ever the straightforward one, Taehyun has had the front-row seat to Soobin’s misery for the past five years.

“I don’t deserve her.” The words come out bitter. Regretful. “I broke her heart.”

“Maybe. But she still wants you to try.” Taehyun doesn’t hesitate. “She’s dancing nonstop with Jihoon, but everyone knows he’s chasing her, not the other way around. This isn’t like her. She’s doing this because of you.”

Soobin swallows hard.

“Besides,” Taehyun adds casually, “she told Yeonjun about you two this morning.”

Cold dread washes over him. “What?”

Taehyun shrugs. “I overheard. You know that tree in front of their house? They were talking there.”

“So what did he say?” Soobin asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“No clue. I had to get to work.”

Soobin groans. “How do you just drop information like that and leave?”

“Because I trust you’ll figure it out.” Taehyun smirks. “Now go get your girl. She’s drunk, and she looks done with that guy.”

Soobin didn’t think it through.

You were drunk, and all he wanted was to get you somewhere safe. A chair—that was the plan. That should have been enough. But then you whined about wanting your bed, and Yeonjun, in a rare moment of brotherly responsibility, decided Soobin was the best person to handle it.

“The party’s ending soon, and I’m leaving for Japan tomorrow,” Yeonjun had said, handing you over like you weren’t his problem anymore. “Just drop her at her apartment.”

And that’s how Soobin found himself here—standing in your building’s dimly lit hallway at an ungodly hour, praying to every higher power that no one was following him. The last thing either of you needed was for the media to sniff this out.

Not that he was worried about himself.

It was you. You, who deserved a normal life. You, who had worked so hard to distance yourself from him, from his world. And yet, here you were, tangled up in his orbit again.

And here’s another thing: you’re just as bad as Yeonjun when it comes to alcohol. Soobin knows this. He also knows you have a soft spot for that fruity soju, the kind that creeps up on you before you even realize you’ve had too much. And he knows you’re probably going to feel sick soon, which is why, in the worst decision he’s made today, he stays.

You’ve been awake for an hour now, your body heavy with the aftermath of last night. The alcohol is gone, drained from your system, but the discomfort lingers—hunger gnawing at your stomach, the stale aftertaste of regret coating your tongue.

You should get up.

You should get water.

But the thought of stepping into an empty apartment makes your chest tighten.

The memory of his hands—gentle as he guided you to bed, careful as he removed your shoes—lingers. He was being nice. That’s all. He was being nice.

God, you still like him.

Five years, and you still haven’t gotten over a man. Two months were all it took for him to ruin you, to make every fleeting touch feel like a shock to your system. You’ve tried. You’ve moved forward. And yet, here you are, terrified of facing an empty space because for a moment—just a moment—he had been here again.

Your breakup had been your fault.

You tell yourself that, over and over.

You were young—barely nineteen, selfish, and desperate for attention. Soobin was chasing his dream, working himself to the bone between university and his company’s relentless trainee schedule. He had asked you to understand. He had begged you to wait. But you got tired. You fought. And the cracks in your heart never quite mended after that.

Soobin has only slept for four hours before deciding he should leave something behind for you—a quiet, impersonal gesture. Some homemade food. A note about how busy he is, how he can’t stay, but he hopes you feel better.

That’s the plan.

And that’s what he’s thinking as he stands in your kitchen, stirring ramen—the closest thing to homemade comfort he can manage.

But then you appear.

The dress from last night is gone, replaced by something that barely qualifies as pajamas. Soobin freezes, spoon clattering against the pot.

December. It’s December, and you’re walking around like this?

Jesus Christ.

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat. “I made ramen. I hope you’re hungry.”

You don’t answer right away, moving past him to grab a glass of water. He watches as you take a slow sip, the silence stretching between you.

Then, softly, “I’m sorry. For last night.”

Soobin shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do,” you insist. “I can handle my alcohol better now. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“But I wanted to.” The words slip out before he can stop them. Too honest.

You pause. Then: “Add an egg. They’re on the top shelf.”

It’s not quite an acknowledgment. Not quite forgiveness. But you move to set the table for two without another word, and Soobin understands. He’s staying.

There are things that need to be said.

And it’s not safe for him to leave. You know that. The cameras follow him everywhere. You’d never risk him like that—not after everything.

“It’s done,” he says, bringing the pot to the table. “But I should—”

“Don’t,” you cut in. Your voice is steady, decisive. “The cameras could be outside. Stay.” A pause. Then, softer, “Besides… we need to talk.”

Easier said than done.

The ramen sits between you, steam curling into the air. Neither of you moves to eat.

Soobin watches as you fidget with the edge of your sleeve, pressing the fabric between your fingers like it’s something to hold onto. It’s a nervous habit—one he remembers all too well.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“So… How have you been?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Too small for the weight between you. Too casual for two people who haven’t spoken in years.

Soobin exhales, forcing a small smile. “Busy.”

That much is obvious. His face is everywhere—billboards, magazine covers, TV screens. He’s the one people stop in the streets, the one whose name is whispered in admiration or envy.

But you nod like you don’t already know, like you haven’t seen his face staring back at you from the glossy pages of magazines while waiting in line for coffee.

You reach for your chopsticks, stirring the noodles absently. “And… are you happy?”

That question lands heavier. He doesn’t answer right away.

He should say yes.

He should tell you that everything worked out, that he got everything he wanted, that all the sacrifices were worth it.

Instead, he looks at you—the way you avoid his gaze, the way your fingers tremble slightly before you curl them into a fist—and he tells the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Your breath hitches, but you recover quickly, schooling your features into something unreadable.

You look away, pretending to be focused on your bowl. “I thought you would be.”

Soobin swallows. “I thought you would be, too.”

That gets you. Your fingers tighten around your chopsticks, but you don’t say anything right away.

Soobin leans forward slightly, watching you carefully. “You left first,” he says, quiet but firm. “I waited. I called. And then, one day, you just weren’t there anymore.”

You let out a slow breath, finally meeting his eyes. “And if I had stayed?”

The question is quiet. Almost a whisper.

Soobin blinks. “What?”

“If I had stayed.” You search his face like you’re looking for something—confirmation, maybe. Closure. “Would anything have changed?”

The answer sits heavy on his tongue.

Would it have?

Back then, he was young and hungry, chasing a dream he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch. He was terrified of losing you, but he was also terrified of failing—of choosing wrong, of looking back one day and realizing he had given up too much.

And you—God, you just wanted him. Not the future version of him, not the one he was still trying to become. You just wanted the boy who used to walk you home, the one who held your hand under the table, the one who promised to love you even when things got hard.

Soobin looks at you now, older, sharper, still devastatingly familiar.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

You let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Me neither.”

The room settles into silence again, but this time, it’s different. Softer.

Soobin watches as you finally take a bite of your ramen, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment at the warmth.

And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s too late.

But for the first time in five years, you’re sitting across from each other, sharing something that feels dangerously close to peace.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

“You should go.”

The words taste like regret the moment they leave your lips.

Soobin stills. His chopsticks pause midair before he lowers them onto the table with agonizing slowness.

His eyes meet yours, searching. “You really want that?”

You inhale sharply, willing yourself to hold his gaze. “Yes.”

A lie.

But you say it anyway, because it’s easier than admitting the truth—that his presence is unraveling you piece by piece. That sitting across from him like this, pretending there isn’t history between you, is torture.

Soobin exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Right.” He pushes his chair back, standing. “I should’ve known.”

He’s hurt. You can see it in the tight set of his jaw, the way his fingers twitch at his sides. And it makes you want to take it back—swallow the words down and tell him to stay.

But you don’t.

You stay seated, gripping your hands together in your lap as he walks toward the door.

He hesitates.

For a moment, it feels like the universe is holding its breath.

Then, his voice—low, steady. “Why do you always do this?”

Your head snaps up. “Do what?”

“Push me away.”

You freeze.

Soobin turns, expression unreadable. “I don’t get it. You let me take care of you. You let me stay. And now you want me to leave?” He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Is this a game to you?”

Your stomach twists. “No.”

“Then what is it?” His voice rises slightly, frustration seeping through. “Because I don’t know what you want from me, and I don’t think you do either.”

Your heart pounds. “I just—” You stop, exhaling shakily. “It’s not that simple, Soobin.”

“It could be.” His gaze softens. “If you let it.”

You shake your head. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand.”

The words cut through the air between you, heavy and full of something you’re not ready to name.

You swallow, feeling exposed. “I don’t want to need you,” you whisper.

Soobin’s expression shifts. He steps closer. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.” Your voice shakes. “Because I’ve spent years trying to forget what it felt like to love you, and every time you’re near, I realize I never really stopped.”

Silence.

Then, Soobin exhales sharply. “You think you were the only one?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried,” he admits. “I tried moving on. I tried pretending you weren’t the best thing that ever happened to me. But it never worked.” His voice drops lower, more vulnerable. “You never left me, _____. Not really.”

You feel yourself crumbling, breaking open under his words.

“So tell me,” he continues, stepping even closer. “Do you really want me to leave?”

You open your mouth—

But the answer is already written all over your face.

And Soobin sees it.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts a hand, his fingertips ghosting over yours on the table. “If you tell me to go,” he says softly, “I will.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling shakily.

Then—

You flip your hand over, letting your fingers intertwine with his.

“You should stay.”

Soobin exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for years.

And this time—

He does.

Soobin stays.

Neither of you says much after that. The weight of your confession lingers in the air between you, delicate and fragile, like glass that could shatter at any second. But neither of you runs.

Instead, you sit there, sharing ramen in comfortable silence, the steam curling between you like something unspoken. His fingers, warm and steady, never fully leave yours—not gripping, not demanding, just there. A quiet promise.

You don’t sleep much.

Even after the bowls are empty, after he insists on washing the dishes, after you both linger in the doorway of your bedroom—uncertain but unwilling to let go—you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside.

Somewhere in the other room, Soobin is asleep on your couch.

Or at least, you think he is.

You don’t have the courage to check.

By the time morning comes, you’re still lying in the same position, arms curled under your pillow, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest.

You should get up.

But then—

A soft knock at your door.

You inhale sharply, heart stuttering.

Then, his voice, groggy, uncertain. “Are you awake?”

You swallow. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

You shouldn’t answer. You should pretend you’re asleep, give yourself time to think. But your voice betrays you before your brain catches up.

“Yeah.”

A pause. Then—

The door creaks open.

Soobin stands there, sleep-rumpled and unfairly attractive in the dim morning light. His hoodie hangs loose on his frame, his blonde hair a tousled mess. He looks softer like this—less like the untouchable actor everyone knows, and more like the boy you once loved.

Still love.

He hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe. “Can I…?”

You nod before he can finish the question.

And just like that, he steps inside, quiet, careful.

The bed dips under his weight as he sits at the edge, close but not too close. He rubs a hand over his face, sighing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, voice low.

You exhale, shifting onto your side to face him. “Me neither.”

A small, tired smile flickers across his lips. “Figures.”

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just… there. Something old and familiar. Something neither of you knows what to do with.

Then, softly—

“Did you mean it?”

You freeze.

His voice is careful, like he’s afraid of the answer.

You know what he’s asking.

You could lie. You could say it was the alcohol, or the moment, or the past clouding your judgment.

But you don’t.

“Yeah.”

Soobin exhales, shoulders sinking like he’s been carrying the weight of that answer for years.

Then—hesitantly, slowly—he lifts a hand, brushing his fingers against yours on the sheets.

And this time, you don’t pull away.

Not when his fingers trace over your palm. Not when his touch lingers, warm and sure.

Not when he whispers, so quiet you almost miss it—

“Then don’t make me leave.”

The air between you is thick, suffocating. The moment you told him to stay, the balance shifted. The door remains closed, the walls pressing in, the weight of years apart and the lies you’ve told yourselves coiling tighter and tighter.

Soobin doesn’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t move closer either. He’s waiting. For what? For you to give in? For you to push him away again?

You don’t know. But you know this: you can’t breathe.

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding back words he doesn’t trust himself to say. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”

“Do what?” Your voice barely makes it past your lips. Your fingers twitch in his grip, and that alone has his jaw tightening.

“Pretend,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the pulse point of your wrist. His voice is quiet, careful, but there’s an undercurrent of something dangerous. “Pretend that I’m okay. That seeing you doesn’t do something to me. That I haven’t spent the past five years wondering if you ever thought about me, too.”

Your breath stutters, but you force yourself to keep looking at him. “Soobin—”

“I should hate you.” His voice is steadier now, but his grip on your hand betrays him. Tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. “Do you know that?”

You swallow. “I know.”

“I tried.” He lets out a sharp laugh, bitter and tired. “God, I fucking tried.”

“So did I,” you whisper. “I tried forgetting you, too.”

His fingers tighten around yours. “Did it work?”

“No.”

The word sits heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you move. The ramen has gone cold. The room feels smaller. Your heart is a hammer against your ribs, and still, he doesn’t let go.

Then, his eyes flicker downward—just for a second. To your lips.

And that’s when you do it.

You rip your hand from his and step back, breathing uneven. “This isn’t fair.”

Soobin looks at you like you’ve just torn something out of him. “No. It’s not.”

You turn away, hands trembling as you grip the edge of the counter. “We’re not kids anymore. We can’t just—just fall back into whatever this is.”

“What is this, then?” His voice is lower now, rough, frayed at the edges. “Tell me. Because I think about you, and it makes me fucking sick how much I still—”

He stops himself. He presses his lips together so tightly it looks painful. He takes a deep breath, then another. But it doesn’t help. You can see it. The storm in his eyes. The anger. The longing.

You shake your head, pushing down everything clawing its way up your throat. “You should go.”

“No.”

You whip around. “Soobin—”

“No.” He steps forward, and this time, you’re the one who freezes. He towers over you, his presence burning into your skin. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pull me back in just to push me away again.”

His voice drops lower, dangerously soft. “I stayed away for five years. I did what you wanted. I let you go. And now you tell me to stay, and then you tell me to leave?”

You close your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He exhales sharply. Then, after a long pause, he whispers, “Neither do I.”

Another silence. But this one is different.

You open your eyes, and he’s right there. Close enough to touch. Close enough that you can see the way his lashes tremble, the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back.

And you can feel it—

The breaking point.

It’s coming.

His breath catches. His fingers flex against the fabric of his hoodie, knuckles whitening like he’s barely holding himself back.

His silence is unbearable, but you don’t know how to fix it.

So you move before you can talk yourself out of it.

Slowly, carefully, you reach for his hand, mirroring the way he was holding you. Just a brush of your fingertips at first, testing, waiting—until he lets out a shaky exhale and turns his palm over to catch you.

Your fingers intertwine again, the simplest thing in the world.

Soobin's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Tell me what you want."

"I don’t know," you admit. "I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can survive losing you twice."

Something flickers in his expression—something raw, breaking.

"I never wanted you to lose me."

"Then why did it feel like I had to?"

Soobin squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over the ridges of your knuckles. His voice is unsteady when he says, "Because I was scared. Of ruining things. Of choosing wrong."

"And now?"

Now.

Soobin doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifts your joined hands, pressing his forehead to the back of yours like he’s trying to ground himself. You can feel the unspoken words vibrating against your skin, seeping through his touch.

Now, he's still scared. But more than that—he doesn’t want to lose you again.

His lips part, breath warm against your skin. "I think I've been in love with you this whole time."

Your heart stops.

Then—before you can overthink it, before logic creeps in and tears this moment apart—you let go of his hand.

Only to reach for his face.

Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him in, and before you can fully process what you're doing, your lips brush against his.

Soft. Tentative.

The moment you start to pull away, Soobin makes a sound—low and desperate in the back of his throat—and suddenly, he's kissing you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

His hands are warm when they cup your face, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, so he can drink you in like he’s been starving for you.

And maybe he has.

Maybe you have, too.

The past and the present blur together, all the years apart collapsing into this one unbearable, impossible moment.

And when you finally break apart, forehead resting against his, breaths mingling in the quiet night, you realize something terrifying.

Loving him was never the problem.

It was surviving it that scared you.

And now?

Now, you're not sure you care about surviving at all.

Soobin can’t stop kissing you.

It’s reckless. Messy. A raw, consuming need that shakes through him, leaves him breathless, leaves you breathless. His fingers dig into your waist like he needs something to hold onto, something to tether himself to reality, because this—this doesn’t feel real. It feels like something forbidden, like something he shouldn’t have, but is taking anyway.

It’s crazy. It’s physically impossible for him to stop.

And you don’t want him to.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and he shudders. His lips press harder, deeper, stealing the air from your lungs, but you don’t care. You’d let him. You’d give it to him.

Then you whimper. Just the softest, neediest sound—one you didn’t mean to make, one you probably don’t even realize you made.

How dare you.

Soobin groans against your mouth, low and guttural, and suddenly, his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pressing you closer, closer, like there will never be enough space between you to satisfy him.

"Please," you breathe, and it’s wrecked.

His lips hover just above yours, his forehead resting against yours as he exhales sharply. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, but there’s something else, something deeper—like he’s drowning in you and has no desire to come up for air.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice rough, strained. Your name follows, dripping from his lips like a prayer. "You need to stop making those sounds." He swallows hard, his jaw clenched. "Unless you want another thing."

Another thing.

You shiver, your fingers curling around the fabric of his hoodie, barely keeping yourself grounded.

But Soobin doesn’t stop. His lips keep finding yours between words, between breaths, and god—he kisses like he’s never going to get the chance again. Soft, then rough, then soft again. Like he’s caught in between worshipping you and ruining you.

And then you moan.

A real moan. Not soft. Not restrained. A full, broken, breathless moan.

And that’s it. That’s the end of his control.

Soobin curses under his breath, something low, something desperate. Then suddenly, he shifts—presses you down, his body covering yours completely. His hands, once hesitant, now move like they have a purpose, sliding up, gripping, mapping out every inch of you like he’s memorizing it.

His lips are everywhere now—your jaw, your throat, your collarbone—hot and lingering, teeth grazing, tongue soothing.

"God," he breathes against your skin. "You don’t—" He presses another kiss just beneath your ear, his voice unraveling. "You don’t get it, do you?"

You can barely think, barely form words. "Get what?"

"How long—" He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your skin. "How long I’ve wanted this."

Your chest tightens. "Then why—"

"Because I was a fucking coward," he admits, voice thick, raw. His fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are unreadable—too many things crashing together at once. Lust. Longing. Something deeper. Something dangerous. "But I can’t be, not right now. Not when you’re—"

You kiss him before he can finish.

Because you don’t want to hear whatever doubt lingers in his words. Not now. Not when his body is so warm, not when his lips taste like regret and longing and every single thing you’ve ever tried to suppress.

Soobin groans into your mouth, deep and ruined, and it sets you on fire.

And the worst part?

You know this won’t be enough.

It never will be.

"Stop moving," Soobin growls against your neck. His voice is low, strained, barely holding together. His lips are hot where they press into your skin, and his hands—god, his hands—grip your waist like you’re something fragile, something he’s trying so hard not to break.

But you don’t make it easy for him.

You shift again, just the slightest movement, but it’s enough. Enough for him to tighten his grip, enough for him to press his hips just a little closer, enough for his breath to come out sharp, ragged.

"Or what?" you ask, breathless, teasing, your voice tinged with something dangerous.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

His eyes flick up to yours, dark, heavy, filled with something that makes your stomach flip. And it’s only then that you realize just how close his face is to yours—how you can feel every unsteady breath he takes, how the heat between you feels unbearable, suffocating in the best possible way.

Your lips are swollen, kiss-bruised, and when his gaze drops to them, his jaw clenches.

"Or you’re going to regret it," he murmurs, voice rough, thick with a warning you know he fully intends to follow through on.

But you don’t stop.

Maybe you want to push him. Maybe you want to see what happens when he snaps.

So you shift again, just the tiniest bit, your knee brushing against his thigh, your fingers ghosting over the fabric of his hoodie. Innocent movements, but not really. Not when his breath stutters, not when his fingers twitch against your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

"Soobin," you whisper, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you can feel the shift in the air between you. Heavy. Charged. Unforgiving.

His hand moves suddenly, gripping your chin, tilting your face up until there’s nowhere to look but at him. His thumb brushes the edge of your bottom lip, and his breath is uneven, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"Do you even know what you’re doing to me?" he asks, his voice low, almost desperate.

And before you can answer, before you can even think, his lips are back on yours.

But this time, it’s different.

This time, it’s not just desperate—it’s deliberate. It’s slow, like he wants you to feel every second of it, every inch of the way he kisses you, the way he presses against you.

Like he’s trying to prove something.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re about to find out exactly what happens when you push him too far.

You moan again.

It’s soft, wrecked, the kind of sound that makes his restraint snap like a thread pulled too tight.

The heat between you is suffocating. You’re burning, aching, every nerve in your body hypersensitive to the way Soobin touches you—like he needs to, like he has no choice.

His breathing is ragged, uneven, his grip on you tightening as if you might slip away.

"Fucking hell, ___," he rasps, voice dark, rough, filled with something dangerous. "Be clear. What do you want now? What do you fucking want?"

His forehead presses to yours, his lips ghosting over your mouth but never quite kissing you, torturing you with the distance. His fingers dig into your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

"You," you whisper, the word breaking apart in your throat. It’s desperate, needy. You don’t care.

Something shifts.

Soobin exhales sharply, a curse slipping past his lips before he finally—finally—loses the control he was clinging to.

His mouth crashes into yours, rough, insatiable, as if he’s been starving for you and is only now letting himself feast. His hands roam your body, urgent but reverent, like he’s trying to map out every inch of you, trying to commit this moment to memory.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, to drink you in. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen and glistening.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you the way I do," he murmurs, his voice almost unsteady. "You make me so fucking crazy."

His lips trail down your neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your skin, each one sending a shiver down your spine. His teeth graze your collarbone, and your breath catches.

"That red dress you wore yesterday—fuck." His voice is barely controlled, like the thought alone is unraveling him. "At your brother’s wedding… you have no idea what you did to me."

His hands slide lower, skimming the curve of your waist, gripping you like you belong to him. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing, tasting, worshiping.

"You were always beautiful," he breathes against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than lust. "You always were. But yesterday... yesterday, you were fucking stunning."

He pulls back just slightly, his breath hot against your chest. His hands settle over your ribs, thumbs grazing sensitive skin, just barely there, just enough to drive you insane.

And then he stills. Waiting.

"Can I touch you here?" he asks, his voice lower now, raspier, the last shreds of his restraint hanging by a thread.

You shudder. There’s no hesitation.

"Yes."

It comes out breathless, desperate.

The second the word leaves your lips, his hands move—slow, deliberate, fingertips dragging over your skin like he wants to savor every reaction, every tremor that runs through you.

Like he wants you to feel every single second of it.

Soobin takes his time.

He isn’t just exploring you—he’s worshiping. Every inch of your skin is sacred under his touch, and he treats it like something to be memorized. His fingers drag over your ribs, featherlight, teasing. His lips trace slow, reverent paths down your collarbone, pressing kisses that feel more like devotions.

"I'm gonna take these off, okay?" he murmurs, fingers slipping beneath the straps of your bra.

You can only nod, breathless, as he peels the fabric away, eyes darkening at the sight of you. He exhales sharply, almost in disbelief, his hands hesitating like he needs a second to take it all in.

"These are so pretty," he whispers, voice rough. His fingers graze over you, barely there. Then firmer. His thumb flicks over one peak, and you shudder. "Fucking missed them. So much."

His lips replace his fingers, hot and wet and needy. He sucks, licks, nips—his mouth working you over like he's making up for lost time.

"God," he groans against your skin, his voice half-wrecked. "They didn’t look this full before."

The moan that leaves your lips is absolutely shameful—high-pitched, desperate, almost embarrassing. But you don’t care.

Soobin definitely doesn’t care.

He groans at the sound, his grip tightening as if he's trying to steady himself. But then he does it again—scraping his teeth lightly against you, his tongue soothing over the sting, sucking just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit," he breathes, voice shaking. "You're too good. Too fucking good."

He looks up at you, eyes burning. And then he does it again.

And again.

Until you're nothing but gasps and shivers and pure, unbearable need.

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely more than a breath. "Please."

Soobin’s lips hover just above your skin, his breath warm against your cheek. He doesn’t move, doesn’t give in. His fingers dig into your waist, keeping you still, keeping you desperate.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" His voice is low, teasing, thick with something dark and knowing.

"You."

His lips quirk up slightly. "But you have me right now, hm?" His tone is deceptively soft, but there’s something else underneath—something dangerous.

"You know what I mean," you say, almost frustrated.

He tilts his head, pretending to consider. "No, I don’t," he murmurs. "Tell me."

Your cheeks burn. Your entire body burns. But you say it anyway, voice shaking with need.

"Please, I want you inside."

Something in him snaps.

"Oh? Me?" He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his own gaze dark, unreadable. "The man you wanted so bad to leave?"

Your nails dig into his shoulders. "Fuck you, Soobin."

He laughs, a low, breathy sound that vibrates against your skin. He leans in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Ah, yes, babe, I’m fucking you," he whispers, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. His hands tighten their hold on you. "And you’re gonna take it—every inch—because you know damn well that you’ve been mine just as much as I’ve been yours."

His words send a shudder down your spine, a delicious ache curling in your gut.

"Mmm," Soobin hums, dragging his hands down your sides, his touch maddeningly slow. "Should I take my time with you... or not?"

Your body is burning, aching. You can’t take it anymore.

"Just do it," you snap, your voice needy, desperate.

He chuckles, tilting his head, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "That eager, huh? Then help me out, baby." His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts. "Take these off. Let me see that beautiful body of yours—fully naked."

Your fingers shake as you push them down, the cool air against your exposed skin doing nothing to cool the fire raging inside you.

"This is unfair," you mumble, looking up at him. "You’re still dressed."

That’s all it takes.

In one smooth motion, Soobin pulls off his shirt, then his pants, and finally, his boxers. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t tease. He just stands before you—bare, unashamed, strong.

And big.

Your breath catches in your throat. God. It’s been a while since you last saw him like this, but—oh, wow. Yeah. Big. He was always like that.

Your mouth parts slightly, your thighs instinctively pressing together.

He catches it. Of course, he catches it.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans down, pressing his mouth to your ear. "Speechless?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Missed me that much, baby?"

His hands find your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulls you flush against him. Skin to skin. Heat to heat.

"You have no idea," you whisper.

You moan when he dares to tease you, his fingers ghosting over your aching heat, his breath hot against your skin. It’s unbearable.

Your patience snaps.

"Fuck you, Soobin," you nearly growl, frustration dripping from your voice. "Why the fuck—just please."

He looks at you, amused, entirely too in control. He loves this. Loves watching you unravel.

"Poor, desperate thing," he muses, tilting his head like he’s savoring every second of your frustration. "So fucking needy. Do you want me that bad?"

Your face burns. Humiliation and desire mix in a dizzying cocktail, but you can’t lie.

"Yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper.

Soobin hums in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs smoothing circles against your heated skin. "Mmm, I think I should have my fun first," he murmurs. Then, without another word, he drops to his knees before you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with hunger.

His breath hits you first, warm and teasing, and then his voice—low and devastating.

"Has this sweet little hole missed me?"

Before you can even react, he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, sending a violent shudder through your body.

You cry out, hands flying to his hair. Oh, god. No, no, please—oh, don’t stop.

And then you lose it.

Soobin devours you, his mouth hot and greedy, tongue working you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. The wet sounds, the low, satisfied groans he lets out against you—it’s filthy, overwhelming. His grip tightens, pressing you further into his mouth, making sure you feel every movement, every flick of his tongue.

"Let me worship this pussy," he groans against you, his voice muffled and rough. "It’s been too fucking long."

Your back arches.

"Fuck, you taste even better than I remember." His lips press against your thigh, only to return to where you need him most. "Mmm, let’s take our time with this, babe. Some good, long foreplay, yeah?"

You can’t help it—you start moving, rocking your hips against his face, desperate for more friction, more of him. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, and you barely register the strangled sound Soobin makes as you grind down against his tongue.

"God," you whimper, your breath hitching. "I’m—"

His fingers tease at your entrance, slow, lazy, completely unbothered by your urgency. "What? Gonna cum already, babe?" His voice is muffled, drenched in amusement, lips slick and glistening from you. "Mmm, you really are needy, huh?"

He presses a teasing kiss against your thigh before slipping a finger inside, just barely, making you jerk.

"Bet that boyfriend of yours doesn’t give you shit," he murmurs, voice laced with something sharp, something possessive.

"I don’t—" You gasp as he pushes in deeper, a single finger stretching you open just enough to make you shudder. "Fuck, fuck," your head tilts back, eyes rolling as he adds another. "I don’t have a boyfriend."

That makes him pause. You feel his smirk against your skin before he speaks.

"You don’t?" He croons, curling his fingers just right, making your whole body jolt. "No wonder you’re this fucking desperate. God, you needed this, didn’t you?"

"Soobin—"

"Wanna cum, babe?" His breath is hot against your core, his fingers still working you open. "Say it."

"Yeah," you pant, gripping at his hair, hips still rolling instinctively against his hand.

"Mmm," he hums, withdrawing his fingers just enough to make you whine, just enough to leave you aching. "Let’s edge you a little first."

"No—fuck you," you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine. "You get so fucking mean when you’re horny," he muses, pumping his fingers in again, slower, teasing. "I like this coming from you."

And then he presses his tongue against your clit again, and all coherent thoughts disappear.

The coil in your belly winds so tight, so unbearable, that when it finally snaps, it sends you spiraling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" your voice breaks, and your entire body trembles as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Your thighs clamp around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you convulse, lost in the euphoria of it.

Soobin groans against you, feeling everything—the way your walls pulse around his fingers, the way your body shudders under his grip, the way you completely come undone for him. And fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare stop.

He laps at you, drinking in every drop, his tongue relentless as he works you through the high, dragging it out, making your legs shake. His hands tighten around your hips, keeping you still, keeping you his.

"Soobin—oh, god—" Your voice is hoarse, wrecked, but he doesn't let up. His tongue flicks over your sensitive clit again and you jerk, body twisting, overstimulated and desperate.

"You taste so fucking good," he groans against you, voice thick with hunger. "Missed this. Missed you."

You whimper, pushing at his head, your body twitching, too much, too much—

But Soobin just smirks against your trembling thighs, eyes dark, voice husky.

"One more," he murmurs. "Give me one more, baby. I know you can."

When you come again, it blindsides you. You weren’t lying—it was too much, your body was too sensitive, but somehow, it still betrays you, still obeys the relentless pleasure he’s forcing on you.

The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming—your thighs quake, your back arches, and your hands claw helplessly at the sheets, at him, at anything to ground yourself.

And then—fuck.

A rush of wetness spills from you in pulsing waves, leaving you breathless, wrecked.

Soobin stills for half a second, then groans, long and deep, as if you just gave him the most precious gift. His hands tighten on your thighs as he watches, completely mesmerized, watching how your body gushes for him, soaking his mouth, his chin, the sheets beneath you.

“Holy fuck.” His voice is thick, raspy, wrecked. "Look at you, baby." He doesn’t miss a single drop, drinking you in like he’s been starving for you, eyes dark with pure, unfiltered lust.

You whimper, trembling, overstimulated beyond belief. “Soobin—fuck, I can’t, I—”

He shushes you, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to your inner thighs, letting you feel the way his lips linger. His hands caress your shaking legs, soothing and possessive at the same time.

“You can,” he murmurs against your skin. “And you did.” His voice drips with pride, with something dangerously close to reverence. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

And then, with a wicked smirk, he licks his lips, tasting you all over again.

“Think you can give me one more, sweetheart?”

“No”

Soobin chuckles, low and deep, the sound vibrating through the air between you. His hands trail lazily over your trembling thighs, teasing, never staying in one place long enough to satisfy.

"No?" He mimics your weak protest, tilting his head as if he’s actually considering giving you a break. But the smirk playing on his lips says otherwise.

Then he sees it—sees the way your eyes keep flickering downward, dark and hazy, locked onto him. The way your breath hitches just slightly at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, standing between you.

“Mmm, we should let this body rest, shouldn’t we?” His tone is soft, almost pitying, but there’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “You’re so sensitive, all worn out, we should stop—”

He pauses, trailing a teasing finger up your inner thigh.

“But,” he drawls, watching the way you squirm, “the way you’re looking at me right now? Fuck, sweetheart, you’re practically salivating.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “You know you’re trouble, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters, but you shake your head weakly. “Mmm… no.”

His eyes darken instantly. “Liar.”

You swallow, voice barely above a whisper. “Want you.”

His grip on your thighs tightens.

You’re relentless now, pleading, your voice thick with need. “I really want you.”

Soobin hums, his fingers skating dangerously close to where you need him most, barely there, teasing. “Didn’t you just say you needed a rest?”

You nod, breathless. “Yeah…”

He raises a brow. “So what happened?”

You whimper, arching into his touch, impatient. “I—fuck—I want you,” you admit, your voice trembling with desperation. “It’s been too long. Please.”

Something in him snaps.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“You want me that bad?” His voice is dark, full of something you can’t quite name.

You nod rapidly, your whole body begging for him.

He chuckles again, low and satisfied, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against your jaw.

“Then, baby,” he murmurs, “you better take what you asked for.”

And just like that—despite the way your body trembles, despite the way you're still reeling from the last two orgasms that left you oversensitive and dazed—he enters you.

It’s slow at first, agonizingly slow, as if he’s savoring the feeling of stretching you open, of feeling you take him inch by inch. Your breath hitches, a gasp spilling from your lips at the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being filled.

But then he snaps.

A sharp inhale, a guttural curse under his breath, and all that patience vanishes. His grip on your hips tightens—no hesitation, no holding back.

"Gotta fuck this pussy like she deserves to be fucked." His voice is rough, wrecked, tinged with something possessive.

He drives into you, deep and unrelenting, his hips slamming against yours with a force that makes your head spin. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin against skin, the wet, messy proof of just how much you need this, how much you need him.

Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into his skin as he pounds into you, dragging you closer, forcing you to take every inch. Every thrust sends a new wave of pleasure tearing through you, unbearable and yet not enough.

"So fucking tight," he growls, watching the way your body swallows him whole, clenching around him, greedy. "Like you were made for me."

You can't even respond—your words lost to the moans and cries spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

His hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Look at me," he commands, voice dark, dangerous. "You feel that? Hm? You feel how deep I am?"

You nod weakly, barely able to think.

"Good," he grits out, snapping his hips even harder. "Because I'm not stopping until I ruin you."

He does ruin you. Completely.

The sound of it—wet, obscene, filthy—fills the space, each thrust echoing between the walls like a symphony of pure sin. Your body is a mess beneath him, pliant and wrecked, reduced to nothing but sensation, but pleasure.

And Soobin devours you.

His lips find every inch of your skin—your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat—leaving open-mouthed kisses, sucking bruises that will linger long after this moment. His hands roam, gripping, kneading, worshiping. Every touch is possessive, claiming.

Your only response is to take it. To surrender to the way he stretches you, fills you so perfectly. It’s been too long since you’ve felt like this, since you’ve felt this full, this good.

"You feel that, baby?" he mutters against your jaw, his voice thick with lust, his thrusts sharp and punishing. "This is what you’ve been missing. What no one else can fucking give you."

You moan—a broken, desperate sound.

"Say it," he demands, his fingers slipping between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and pressing down hard.

You jolt, eyes rolling back. "You," you gasp. "Only you—fuck—no one else."

He groans, burying his face against your neck as if the admission undoes him. And then he snaps, fucking into you like he wants to make sure you’ll never forget this, never forget him.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," you practically scream, your voice breaking, body trembling.

Soobin chuckles, low and taunting, never slowing his ruthless pace. "Oh, poor baby," he coos mockingly, his fingers slipping down between your bodies, finding your clit with wicked precision. He presses down, rubs slow, lazy circles—just to watch you squirm.

"You wanna cum that bad?" he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, eyes dark with something feral. "So fucking desperate. Look at you—shaking. You can’t even take it, can you?"

You whimper, your fingers clawing at his back, his arms, anything you can reach. It’s too much, too good, too perfect. Your body is fire, every nerve on the edge of combustion.

"So needy for me," Soobin groans, leaning down, his lips brushing over yours. "But you know I love it when you beg, sweetheart. So why don’t you be a good girl and ask me for it?"

Your pride and sanity shatter.

"Please," you gasp, wrecked and mindless. "Please, Soobin, let me cum. Please—"

"That’s my girl," he growls, and then he rubs harder, fucks you deeper, until you break—until you fall apart around him with a sobbing cry, your body seizing, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

And Soobin watches it all, drinking in every second, every sound, every tremor of your body as you unravel beneath him.

It takes him a few seconds—just long enough to watch you come undone beneath him, to feel your walls flutter and clench so tightly around him that his restraint snaps like a frayed wire.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as his hips stutter, losing rhythm. His fingers dig into your waist, hard, holding you still as he buries himself to the hilt.

"Fuck—" he rasps, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he spills inside you, the heat of it making you shudder. He pulses, each wave of his release drawn out by the way your body still clenches greedily around him.

He pants against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Shit," he mutters, pressing absentminded kisses against your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he can reach. His hand slides up your side, lazy, possessive. "You feel so fucking good—"

You're still trembling, body sensitive, spent, but you turn your head, catching his lips in a slow, messy kiss. He groans into it, hips rolling shallowly, like he can't stop, like he’s still savoring every aftershock.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your mingled breathing, his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his release still deep inside you.

Then, finally, Soobin exhales a small, breathless laugh against your skin.

"Yeah." He nuzzles into your neck, voice lower, softer now. "You're mine."

You smile, breath still uneven, body still trembling. "I always was."

Soobin exhales sharply, like the words hit him somewhere deep. His arms tighten around you, pressing your body closer, unwilling to let go just yet. He kisses you—slow, lingering, almost tender now. Like he’s sealing something between you.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only the warmth of his body wrapped around yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers lazily traced circles into your hip until everything faded into darkness.

You wake up to sunlight slipping through the curtains, golden and soft, warming your skin. The bed smells like him—clean and musky, something uniquely Soobin. His arm is still draped over your waist, heavy and possessive, fingers curled slightly like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

You shift slightly, your body sore in ways that make heat curl in your stomach. That definitely happened.

A low, sleepy hum comes from behind you. "Mmm, morning." Soobin’s voice is rough, thick with sleep. He tightens his hold, nuzzling into your neck. "Where do you think you’re going?"

You let out a soft laugh. "Nowhere."

"Good." He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm and slow, like he’s savoring the moment. "Stay right here."

You roll over to face him, and god—he looks unfairly good in the morning. Tousled hair, drowsy eyes, lips still slightly swollen from last night. He blinks down at you, then smirks. "You look wrecked."

"Whose fault is that?" you mumble, stretching.

"Mine." He grins, completely unapologetic. "And I’d do it again."

Your cheeks heat, but before you can reply, Soobin rolls on top of you, caging you in effortlessly. His weight is comforting, his bare skin warm against yours.

"What are you doing?" you ask, even though you already know.

"Making sure you don’t regret it." He brushes his nose against yours, voice still thick with sleep, but his hands are already moving, slow and teasing. "And if you don’t, then I think I have some unfinished business with you, sweetheart."

It’s practically lunchtime when you and Soobin finally decide to leave the bed. Your body aches in the best way possible, but more importantly—your stomach aches for actual food.

You call for delivery, and right in front of you, like fate, they drop off food from your favorite restaurant just a few blocks away. Perfect.

Soobin busies himself preparing the table, setting out plates, pouring water into glasses, smoothing out the tablecloth like this is something the two of you do all the time. Like he belongs here. Like this isn’t completely new and terrifying.

Everything is so domestic, so effortless—it almost scares you.

You watch him for a moment before blurting out, "Soob, you’re truly an idiot."

He freezes mid-reach for the utensils, turning to look at you, confused. "Huh?"

You inhale sharply, then murmur, "We didn’t use protection last night… or today."

Soobin’s eyes widen. "Fuck." He looks absolutely stricken, like the realization just knocked the air out of his lungs. "Oh my god, I was too focused on— I mean, I was so into you that I just—fuck."

You cross your arms, watching him spiral.

"Babe, I swear, I’m clean." His voice is urgent now, panicked. "I got tested two weeks ago—I think I still have the document on my phone. You can check—"

You can’t help it—you laugh. "Lucky for you, I’m on birth control."

Soobin sags in relief, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Jesus." Then, his expression shifts to something more serious, his brows knitting together. "This is a thing for two—I should have been more responsible. I’m sorry."

You step closer, poking his chest. "Damn right you should have been."

His lips quirk into a sheepish smile. "I’ll make it up to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "How?"

Soobin leans down, voice dropping, teasing, "Well… I could start by feeding you before you get grumpy."

You roll your eyes but let him press a kiss to your forehead anyway. The moment should feel awkward, heavy even, but instead, it feels warm. Familiar.

You don’t even think before you say it. The words just spill out as you sit across from him at the table, food untouched between you.

"We need to talk."

Soobin looks up immediately, jaw tightening like he’s already bracing for the worst. His fingers tighten around his chopsticks, but he doesn’t interrupt.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Before you say anything, I know." His voice is quieter now, a little rough. "I know how hard it was for you back then."

You open your mouth, but he keeps going.

"Babe, I didn’t pay attention to you."* His eyes flicker with regret, dark and heavy with memories that still linger between you. "And I am so sorry. But I didn’t have the time back then—I had just made it into university, and I was juggling a full-on trainee schedule. I barely had a second to breathe."*

He looks down at his hands like he can barely stand to face you.

"At the time, I didn’t understand why you made such a fuss. I thought you were overreacting. But looking back… fuck, I was selfish. I was spending fourteen hours a day training, barely sleeping, and the little time I had left, I should have given to you."

His voice cracks, and when he looks up, his eyes are shining with something raw. "You were at university too, just as busy, and still… you made time for me. You always made time for me. You’d cook my meals, check up on me, make sure I ate something even when I got home at 2 AM—and I took you for granted."

Your heart clenches painfully.

"I will always be deeply sorry for that," Soobin continues, his throat bobbing as he swallows. "I should’ve been better. I should’ve been there for you like you were for me."

His hand reaches out across the table, tentative, fingers brushing against yours.

"But I never stopped loving you. Not even once."

Silence stretches between you. The weight of his words sinks into your skin, deep and unshakable.

It would be so easy to let that be enough—to fall back into him completely, to pretend the past doesn’t matter.

But it does.

So you take a breath, steadying yourself, and finally, finally, you start to say everything you’ve been holding in for years.

"You really hurt me, Soobin." Your voice is quiet, but steady. "I don’t think you ever realized how lonely I felt back then. It wasn’t just that you were busy—it was that I felt like I didn’t exist to you anymore."

He flinches, like the words hit him straight in the chest.

"I’d wait for you. Every night, I’d wait. I’d cook you something, even if I knew you’d barely touch it. I’d leave you messages, even if I knew you wouldn’t answer until hours later. And I told myself it was fine. That I could handle it. That I was just being selfish for wanting more of you."

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. "But it wasn’t fine. And I wasn’t selfish. I just wanted to be with you."

Soobin grips your hand tighter. "I know. I know, and I was a fucking idiot. I don’t think I really let myself see how much it was affecting you. I was so focused on surviving every day that I just… I don’t know. I thought you’d always be there. And that was unfair of me."

He swipes a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. "I can’t change what I did back then. I can’t undo the times I hurt you. But if you’ll let me—if you still want this—I swear I’ll spend every day making up for it."

Your chest tightens.

The truth is, you never stopped wanting him.

And maybe that’s the most terrifying part of all.

You squeeze his hand. "I’m still scared, Soobin. I don’t know if things will be different this time."

"They will be." His voice is firm, certain. "Because I’m different. And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you."

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the way his fingers tighten around yours like he’s scared you’ll slip through them again. You watch the way he looks at you—like you’re something he refuses to take for granted ever again.

"For the record," Soobin starts, voice quieter now, steadier, "my career will not be a problem anymore."

Your breath catches, but you let him speak.

"I don’t want to hide you. I never did, and I won’t—not unless you’re uncomfortable with how public it’s going to get. If you are, then I swear I’ll respect that. But me? I will always stand for you."

His fingers tighten around yours, warm and firm, like an unspoken promise.

"I will always be there from now on." His voice wavers just slightly. "I should’ve been there before, but I wasn’t. I don’t deserve you after all the ways I hurt you… but I love you, and I want to make you so fucking happy, babe."

A lump rises in your throat.

"You’re the only reason I keep working so hard," he continues. "Every day, I push myself so I can prove that it was all worth it. But the thing is… none of it means anything without you."

Your heart stutters.

"I have everything I ever dreamed of, but I don’t have the one thing I want most." He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles. "You."

The word sinks deep, heavy with meaning.

You exhale shakily, watching him. Soobin—your Soobin—who once felt like a memory you had to let go of, is here, right in front of you, holding on like he’s terrified you’ll slip away again.

"Do you mean it?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

His brows furrow like the question physically pains him. "Of course I do. I’d never say it if I didn’t."

You hesitate, searching his face for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there’s none. Just unwavering determination, just love—raw and unshaken.

Soobin lifts his free hand, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "Give me the chance to make it up to you. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve."

You don’t realize you’re leaning into his touch until your eyes flutter shut.

And then, all of a sudden, Soobin is kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just sweet, meaningful. The kind of kiss that says more than words ever could. His lips press against yours with a quiet reverence, like he’s savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of you. Like he’s afraid of letting go.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Could you be my girlfriend?" His voice is barely above a whisper, hesitant, hopeful.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze—soft yet so intense, like he’s holding onto every second.

"I can make my company release a statement," he murmurs, pressing a lingering peck on the tip of your nose. "They can say that I’m very much taken. That I belong to you."

Your breath catches, but Soobin isn’t finished.

"I have an event coming up—a fancy, over-the-top party, filled with industry elites, idols, actors, CEOs. Everyone who’s someone will be there." He swallows, brushing his fingers down your arm. "I can introduce you to the world."

Your heart pounds.

"You don’t have to," he adds quickly, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. "I know this isn’t easy, and if you don’t want that kind of attention, I’ll keep us private. But I don’t want to hide you. Not anymore. I want everyone to know that you’re mine, and that I—" He exhales shakily, eyes glistening with something raw. "That I’m yours."

Your lips part, but words don’t come.

Soobin doesn’t rush you. He just waits, watching you like your answer is the most important thing in the world. And to him, it probably is.

You take a breath, steadying yourself as Soobin watches you with hopeful, expectant eyes. The weight of his words lingers between you, thick with meaning, with promise.

"Yes," you finally say, your voice soft but sure. "I want to be your girlfriend."

Soobin's entire face lights up, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, like he's grounding himself in the moment—like he can’t believe this is real.

You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t love the attention, and I know the media follows you everywhere... but if you want to release the statement, you can. I just—" You hesitate, chewing on your lip. "I don’t know about the party though."

His eyes search yours, carefully gauging your comfort. "We don’t have to go," he assures you, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your palm. "I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. If you’re not ready, we’ll do things your way. The world can wait."

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. "You’d really be okay with that?"

Soobin chuckles, tilting his head. "I waited this long to have you again. What’s a little more waiting?"

His words make your heart clench, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft, full of quiet gratitude.

Soobin sighs into it, his hands finding your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "God, I love you," he breathes against your lips. "I’ll do this right this time."

And you believe him.

When Yeonjun finds out, it’s messy.

There’s yelling. A lot of it.

"How the hell did this happen, and I didn’t notice?!" Yeonjun practically explodes, his voice bouncing off the walls. His expression is a mix of pure disbelief and mild betrayal, his hands flying through his hair like he’s on the verge of losing his mind.

Then, in the middle of his outburst, realization hits. His mouth clamps shut, and his face shifts from outrage to something quieter—understanding.

Of course, he didn’t notice.

He wasn’t here.

He was studying in the U.S. when everything went down. He missed it. All of it.

His gaze flickers between you and Soobin, and for a long, drawn-out moment, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Then, without warning, his eyes lock onto Soobin’s with a silent threat—If she ends up hurt, I’ll make sure you regret it.

Soobin swallows thickly.

But then—almost unexpectedly—Yeonjun smiles.

It’s not exactly a warm, welcoming grin, but it’s something. A reluctant acceptance, maybe. A begrudging fine, but if you screw this up, I will personally end your life.

Soobin lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, tension leaving his shoulders.

And then it clicks.

A memory. A conversation. Something that doesn’t make sense.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, completely thrown. "Babe... that day at the wedding… did you say something to Yeonjun about us earlier?"

You blink at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Taehyun told me he overheard you talking to Yeonjun about us.*"

Your face scrunches in confusion. "That never happened."

Soobin freezes. "What?"

"I never talked to Yeonjun about us before everything happened. Not at the wedding. Not before it. Never."

The realization crashes down like a ton of bricks.

"He probably lied to you," you murmur.

Soobin’s eye twitches.

Oh.

Oh, he’s gonna kill Taehyun.

And then, after that, he’s going to buy him one of those weird torture-looking gym machines he’s always obsessing over. That’ll shut him up.

Thank fucking god for Taehyun.

Let me know what you think about this hehe :D

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Heyy, because I love your writing so much I wanted to ask something!

So what about Wanda Maximoff x reader like romantic... like wands and y/n are really really close friends, but also they're in love with each other, and because of the Valentine's Day Wanda will take a step and will send her secret love greetings all week long such as (flowers, love letters...) and y/n, She's so curious about who's sending them to her that she finally catches Wanda in the act.

And they 💋

I hope u understand, because I'm so sorry about my English!

THANK YOU!

This is SUCH a cute request, I love it!! I decided to turn it into a drabble series, I hope you enjoy!

Not So Secret Admirer - February 7th

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You start getting anonymous Valentines and you're determined to find out who is sending them.

Warnings: None, just cute

Word Count: 400

Part 1 of 7

February 7th

You had just finished your morning training session with Steve when you walked back to your room. As you approached you saw a single red rose placed delicately in the door handle. You tilted your head to the side as confusion painted your features. You plucked the rose from the door and took a deep breath. The beautiful aroma coating your senses, it was sweet and fresh, you could smell the faint remnants of water droplets.

You opened your door and were met with rose petals beneath your feet. You let out a soft giggle and your face was painted with a huge smile. You looked into the rich red and it reminded you of one person and one person only. Wanda. The depth and complexity mingled with the soft nature and beauty.

You had known Wanda for a long time, you became an Avenger around the same time she did and you bonded with each other very quickly. You had lost people close to you so you were able to help Wanda with her brother's death. She told you all about Pietro and Sokovia, she even taught you a few words and recipes. Wanda was your best friend, the person you trusted, the person you always turned to, the person you loved.

"Y/n" The sound of Sam saying your name startled you out of your thoughts.

"Yes?" You ask as you open the door.

"You busy?"

"No, is something the matter?"

"I need your advice"

"Come in" You usher him over to the couch and sit down.

"See I've got this friend. And my friend is in love with their best friend and they won't say anything. Their friend is clearly in love with them too but my friend can't see or maybe is afraid of seeing it"

"I think I know the solution"

"You do?'

"It's simple. Tell Bucky how you feel"

"Bucky?! What?!"

"Just tell him, Sam. Like you said, he clearly loves yo back"

"He does? No, that's not my point. The friend isn't me"

"Sure they aren't"

"No, I really mean it"

"And I believe you"

"Stop that"

"Stop what?"

"Saying you believe me when you don't"

"Okay, Sam"

"You know you are just so-" He took a deep breath "I have to go, I'm late for training"

"With Bucky?"

"Yes, no, just stop it!"

You laughed to yourself as he stormed out of your room, you knew he was crazy but this was new.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core @leloishere @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @marcelinethe-vampire-queen @twentyonetornmyheart @yelldontwhisper

[pyfsan]

You're my best friend

Synopsis: Your mother makes you attend a trip with your family's friends after your break up with your boyfriend. You don't want to talk or see anyone. Except, maybe, Jake... your childhood best friend

Pairing: bff!jake x reader

Genre: smut, kinda fluff (idk???

wc: 3k

warnings: oral (fem rec), sex with no protection (don't do thiiiiss), nipple sucking, friends to ??? dynamics, family gathering ambient, jake is soooo down for her

N/A: honestly there's not much to warn in this one, i feel like it's vanilla but in a good way!!! Please bare with me —smut under the cut

You had just broken up a long term relationship and you're feeling like shit. It has been weeks since that happened but still you were so lost, it feels like yesterday... still your parents insisted on this stupid trip anyway.

"Jake and Julia will be there!" Your mom tells you with a big smile like it was supposed to make you excited too. But you have known Jake and Julia for your whole life now, you're not exactly jumping with the idea of seeing them again.

"Mom, I'm not feeling like family trip right now... please! They'll ask questions and I don't wanna talk about it"

"Then don't talk about it!" She says as if it was that simple. You sigh "You're going. I'm not traveling and leaving my daughter alone here to rot and starve herself for a whole week"

"Fine! Fuck" you say as you walk to room so you pack up your things.

You left before dawn and arrived at the lake house on the evening. Your family's friends were already there, since they also had the keys to the house. Your moms were childhood friends so the families were this close since before you, julia or jake were even born. You loved them, truly, you could not picture your life without them, but right now you are not in the mood to family gathering, dinner at the table and small talk.

"You look disgusting" was the first thing jake said when you arrived. Sure you look bad after weeks suffering with this fucking break up thing you had going on...

"And you smell bad" you say back going straight inside with your backpack on your back.

"Is everything ok?" He asks, getting the heavy backpack off your shoulder to get it upstairs. You bet an eye on him again before seeing Julia getting downstairs. You two hug and she starts talking so you feel glad you don't need to answer Jake's question.

Dinner is torturing, your dad let it slip that you and your boyfriend broke up and you can see pity in everyone's face. They try to ignore the matter after noticing you are almost crying at the table but still... the way they kept eyeing you made it worse. So you just left dinner early and went to your room to crawl on your bed.

Some time later the door opens and you see Julia and her brother entering with bottles of wine in their hands and you can't help but smile. It was a you guys thing to drink hidden in your rooms late at night.

They crawl up the bed with stupid grins that makes you laugh and jake opens up the first bottle.

"When were you going to tell us about the breakup?" Jake starts and julia slaps her brother's arm

"I was preparing myself... sure wouldn't be at the dinner table" you sigh before leading the bottle of wine to your lips. "Just forget you know about it, ok? I don't wanna talk about this tonight"

"And what about tomorrow?" This time Julia raises an eyebrow to you and Jake is the one scolding his sister.

"I don't know. We'll see... but tonight let's just drink, I wanna forget this stupid breakup, I wanna forget him" you say and instantly feel a release for saying these words out loud.

And as the good friends they are, they answer your call. So the three of you spend half the night drinking until two bottles of wine are empty and dry rolling on the floor and you are laid-back with your head hanging out of the bed with Julia. Jake is sitting on the floor near you. You're laughing so hard you feel your ears burn as he starts imitating the way his sister's hands were trembling to talk to some friend of his the other day.

"So this is your thing now? Getting boys to your little sister?" You raise a brow and he gets defensive.

"She's not little, we're exactly the same age!" He explains himself. "And I only did that once because he was a nice guy"

"Can you get me one of these?" You ask, pouting at him but jake suddenly goes awkward.

"I think you're busy right now" he says with a dying smile that gives you shivers. But you ignore that weird feeling and his weird stare

"You're stupid" Julia rolls her eyes before getting up the bed. "To your information I had a fever that day."

"Ok grandma, I'm sure you did" her brother says sarcastic. The thing with Julia is that she's never kissed a guy before and everytime jake jokes about her shyness, she gets angry.

"Fuck it... I'm going to bed" julia stands up leaving the room.

"Damn, she's mad" you murmur to yourself as you watch your friend almost slamming the door. "You shouldn't have messed with her tonight, i need her around" you whine, pushing jake by the shoulder.

"Hey, I'm still here" he protests.

"And what about it? Me and julia would spoon all night"

Jake sighs before standing up and climbing the bed. You watch in silence as he gets himself under your covers.

"Just until you fall asleep" jake justifies when you open your mouth to protest.

No matter how close you are, this is not common. You would share beds as kids or before puberty, but since Jake's voice started changing and your breasts started growing you were both too aware of the fact that you were not actually siblings. Sure you never felt or thought anything about him, you actually got sick of the idea when both your parents would make jokes about you two getting married someday. But you guess cuddling a little won't hurt anyone, specially tonight when you're feeling so lonely.

You accept his cuddle and get yourself under the covers too, feeling his arms embrace your body. It feels cozy and warm and jake is smelling like alcohol.

"You smell like my grandpa right now, pure alcohol" you whisper and he chuckles, his hot breath hitting your neck and giving you shivers

"And you smell nice" he whispers too and you suddenly get the urge to hide your expressions from him so you just force yourself to not smile. "Bryce is fucking stupid for breaking up with you" oh, there it is... you almost sigh but you hold it in, too nervous by the closeness to his body to actually move an inch.

"How'd you know he did it?" Your voice is so low that he almost can't hear you but he does anyway.

"You wouldn't be drinking and crying if you were the one to do it" jake guesses

"Let's not talk about this. I wanna forget him" you say after some awkward seconds in silence.

"Okay" he nods behind you. "Can you turn to face me?" He asks and you feel your body stiffing. You don't know if you can actually face him this close so you hesitate in your place. But then you feel his hand moving from your stomach to your waist and all of a sudden the air smells different. "Y/n" he calls you

You flip your body in one quick move and then you're face to face. You can see him even in the dark, knowing his face so well you don't need much time to recognize his expression.

"Jaeyun" you let slip your voice as he touches your waist again.

"Is it ok?" He asks massaging your skin under your shirt, squeezing it softly with his slender fingers. You nod quietly, feeling shy. "Relax, it's ok" he whispers encouraging you to close your eyes and you do it.

You close your eyes, feeling your muscles ease under his touch. You allow yourself to get comfortable in this situation, even thou there's a sound far away inside your brain yelling to you that this is not ok. Jake is not allowed. This is not an innocent act. But you choose to ignore it, you lie to yourself that this is in fact an innocent act. Until you feel his lips against your own. Until his tongue is parting its way inside your mouth. Until you're guiding your hand to hold his neck. Then you start lying to yourself that jake is allowed and that this is in fact ok.

He traces his way until he's above your body, pressing you down on the mattress with his weight, but you don't even care. He's stupidly hot right now and his mouth is doing wonders to you. Your face is heated, your body is on fire and his tongue is the only thing that can put out that fire.

You find yourself giving up of that thought at the back of your head telling to end whatever this is. Oh no, you're not doing that. You let him pull your shirt up and taste your skin, you let him suck your nipples and let him touch between your legs. In fact, you take his clothes off with your own hands when you find him taking little too long to get there. Jake himself is in awe watching the way you move so swiftly as you undress both of you.

"You're so hot" he says in a way he sounds like not even him was expecting to confess this. You look at your friend, suddenly too aware that this is the guy you've known for your whole life and had a room at your family's house. He looks at you the same way, but not feeling afraid of this fact.

His hands are now on your face and jake gets close again, his lips touching yours softly and making you forget that you are literally at your panties in bed with him. You touch his slin body, feeling with your hands the flesh you've seen only by far but feel like you know every inch of it. You've seen him shirtless around the house, by the pool, at the beach a million times, however you've never thought that he would feel so good on you.

Jake lays on top of you, wearing nothing but his boxers and everytime he presses his hips on yours, you wish this little piece of fabric would vanish.

"Jaeyun" you call him, starting to get uncomfortable with your sticky panties.

"If you keep calling me like that i will think of you like this everytime you say my name" he says as he slips his boxers away and you try to act cool about it. You wanna look at his size, you wanna see how your childhood friend actually is before he is stuffing his cock inside you for real. "What?" He notices your looks.

"This is crazy" you mumble looking at him on his knees between your open legs, hard cock and heavy balls. Not gonna lie, you're blushing.

"Still want me to do it?" He asks, running his hands smoothly on your legs. Although he is asking a question you don't feel like he is not certain of what he wants. "Please, let me do it" oh my god, you're so fucked up. Jake waits for you to say something but you actually just pull your panties down and off, opening your legs for him again.

With no words needed he gets down, face disappearing between your tights. You were not expecting this, so you are chocked when his puffy lips touches your wet cunt for the first time.

"This is crazy" you repeat yourself but this time it sounds more like a moan.

He takes this as a compliment and starts working his tongue on you, nose pressing on your clit time and time again making you almost squirm. He's moving like a feral, mouth eating your entire pussy like it was nothing, it actually makes you drip even more. But this is not what you need right now, you want him to end this madness already. All this making you so horny and it starts to feel like guilty because this should not be happening. So the sooner he fucks you, the sooner it ends.

"Please, come up" you say, poking him with a finger. Jake stands on his knees again, a little confused on why'd you stop if he knows you were feeling good. "I just want you to fuck me and end with this, ok?"

"Oh... fine" he whispers back.

You choose to do it in the same position you were cuddling earlier, his chest against you back. Jake slips his cock into you with ease and holds your upper leg open in the air so the angle is better. When he starts picking his pace you close your eyes tight. It all feels so good it's frustrating... when the bed makes a sound you look at him on alert but his stupid ass only let out a smirk and continues to fuck you.

"This is too loud" you whisper over your shoulder.

"Shut up, no one hears a thing around this house" jake sounds carefree

"How'd you know that?" you ask still scared someone will notice the noise but he doesn't give a fuck...

"My own experience" he says and holds your left boob to play with your nipple with his fingers. It makes you moan instinctively and he smiles with that.

"You're ridiculous" you sigh.

You wake up next day with your mouth dry and head feeling heavy. You did not drink enough for a hangover but still... you guess that wine is just not for you. Then you notice you're fully naked and your underwear is on the ground together with the rest of your clothes. That's when you recall. Jake was here, he has been on this bed and now is somewhere in the house acting innocent around your families. As if he hasn't spend half the night making you moan and squirm over his veiny cock. Oh your head hurts just by the thought...

You get up the bed to get ready for breakfast although probably everybody else have already eaten. So you take a quick shower and get dressed before swallowing your shame and walking downstairs. It's 10pm, your moms are watching tv in the living room with julia and dads are on the kitchen preparing some fishing equipment with jake.

"Good morning, sweetheart" your dad greets you and you smile at him before looking at jake at the counter. He eyes you back as if he's about to say out loud for everyone to hear that he fucked you last night.

"What" he mimics with his mouth over to you and you roll back your eyes. Jake chuckles then goes back to ignoring you.

You go to the fridge and prepare yourself something for breakfast then walk back to the living room to stay with the girls. Julia was making bracelets so you join her after eating your bowl of cereal.

"Who's fishing today?" Julia's dad enters the living room. He was talking to you girls as you always join them when they go fishing on boat, but today you're not really interested in sitting on a limited space with jake.

"I am" julia says standing up quickly. She looks at you, waiting for your excited words too. And when your moms both look at you too you feel pressured.

"I am" you say as you stand up.

Five of you walk out the house, jake approaches you and leaves a bucket on your hand.

"You're doing nothing" he says annoyingly before leaving to walk ahead of you. You wanna start throwing fist right there but you suddenly remember the sound of his whimper and you freeze on place.

This was driving you crazy. Everytime someone looked at you was like they knew what you did and everytime jake would say something was like he was bragging about it. But in fact... no one knows, only you two. And maybe this was even worse considering that jake was the type to act dramatically mysterious when he had a secret. You were doomed.

The group finally gather inside the boat and your dad starts the engines to get it to the middle of the lake. Julia and jake both sit beside you and it makes you nervous again. You look at the view on his side, just as excuse to see him at your panoramic view and he looks as normal as ever. Not carefree, nor mysterious, nor like he's plotting something, not even stressed like you.

"What you looking at?" he asks cockingly but with a smirk after he notice his sister walking away from you. And when you take a bit to respond he leans more to you and whisper in your ear "bet you're thinking about me naked" oh great now your face is red. He is laughing when you face him again and it makes it all even worse. Not that you were thinking of him naked, but was it necessary to out you like that?

"Can you not say stuff like that around everyone?" You whisper back with a serious face and jake starts acting innocent again which is common but still annoying. "I'm being serious, this shouldn't have happened" and that's when his face changes.

"So you regret last night?" He asks with his voice low.

"What the fuck do you think?" You're whispering to him but avoiding eye contact at this point "stop trying to tease me, it won't work" you tell him and leave to sit next to julia on the bow.

For the next two hours you avoid talking or even looking at him. Which is difficult, almost impossible, but you try anyway. And when your dad finally calls it a day to get back to the house, you're feeling drained. You knew it was going to be exhausting to be around people after the breakup but you never thought jake would be the reason.

This stupid guy who you've seen eating nose snot is now looking at you like he would open your bra with the power of his mind only if he could and for the first time in your life this is a real problem. Getting railed is a problem.

[katxbuckyx]

It turned into something bigger. (Bucky Barnes x plus-size!reader)

Hello!

I'm coming with my first ever Bucky's fanfic published in English so please have mercy on me, English is not my first language! And I will proofread it later, I swear!

Disclaimer: It is tagged as a Plus-size!reader, but the description of body is really brief, so can be read as "a reader"! Everyone can read it, so enjoy!

Title: It turned into something bigger.

Word count: 2 660

Description: You overheard someone talking badly about Bucky, and you had to intervene. Enemies-to-lovers!trope.

Warnings: None, mentions of blood, a kiss at the end, nothing explicit, some swear words, but still, Minors don't interact!

Enjoy! (And gif's not mine!)

****

Bucky could be called many things. He was smug, sarcastic, sassy, grumpy, stubborn, a pain in the—, he was also loyal, sometimes kind, he believed in doing the right thing, but he definitely couldn’t be called your friend. No, definitely not. From the moment you met, you disliked each other. You couldn’t stand being around the other, it was a constant banter between you both. Every time you bumped into each other, it always ended up in a fight. That’s just how it was, and it didn’t seem to change.

It started with an exchange of snarky comments in the car Steve had rented back in Germany when you had to get to Siberia to stop Zemo. The argument was about a stupid seat in the backseat of that small car that barely fit you both. You were squashed like sardines. Your thighs were touching, arms nearly stuck to each other. You weren’t comfortable yourself. You’ve just met him, and he already seemed to not like you. He was giving you side eye all the time since he saw you for the first time. You didn’t know what his problem was. Maybe it was because you were so close to Steve, but you were his assistant and a close friend, so obviously, you will be close with him. Maybe he didn’t like the way you looked, it wouldn’t be the first time since somebody started to dislike you before they even got to know you. Just because you didn’t meet their beauty criteria. You were used to it, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt you. So, sitting next to him while wondering what you could have done wrong, so soon, wasn’t pleasant at all.

And yet, he dared to boss you around. First, he nearly ordered Sam to move his seat up, and he refused. You exchanged looks with Wilson, he did it on purpose. You had to stop yourself from laughing at it. Then, Barnes started complaining that he didn’t have enough space. You wanted to kick him out of the car, but you couldn't. Steve would rather kick you out than his best friend. And you didn’t want to run after the car, so you kept silent.

After Germany, he started living in the compound. On the same floor that you lived on. It was a nightmare. You were seeing him all the time, in the morning, in the evening. In every damn room of this building. It was a constant war between you both. You were throwing comments at each other like your life depended on it. Nothing could go unnoticed. You had a stain on your shirt? Bucky was on your ass to mock you about it. You stumbled? He was the first to call you a clumsy kid. You made a mistake? He didn’t let you live without reminding you about it every day. But you didn't let him live in peace either. He fell during the training? You almost died laughing. Bucky had a cut from shaving? You mocked him about it. He burned the pan while making pancakes? You bought him a fire extinguisher as a ‘gift’. The team had enough of you both. Steve had almost retired after you started throwing things at each other, and Natasha had to drag you out of the room sometimes. When you were watching movies, you had to sit on opposite sides, or if there wasn’t enough room, someone had to sit in the middle.

However, there was one thing that you never joked about or made comments about. It was a barrier that couldn’t be overstepped. Your looks. He never commented about your appearance. It was always about your mistakes, failures, etc. Never about how you looked. You sometimes were self-conscious about your body, even though you appeared to be confident. You liked your body, at least you were learning how to do it, and it was going better. When you were feeling down about it, he never made fun of it. And you did the same thing. You never jabbed at his arm or anything. You’ve seen that it was bothering him, and you would never make fun of this. It would be too much. Even for you both. Appearance and other conditions were things that couldn’t be joked about.

So, when you heard some kid making fun of it. You saw red. You were walking down the corridor to the office area. You had to give reports to Steve. It was about the last mission, from which Barnes came back slightly injured. To your surprise, you were worried about it. When you saw him, lying on the medic bay’s bed, looking so weak, something had stirred in you. Your heart started to ache at the way his hair was splashed on the pillow, his face flushed from the fever he got. No one knew about it, but late at night, you came to him, and spent a few hours, watching over him. You were changing his compress every hour, to make sure the temperature would go lower. He was a super soldier, he would be fine in a day or two, but still, he didn’t look good, and you couldn’t stand looking at him in this state. Yet, you were gone in the early morning before the medics and nurses came to work. You didn’t want anyone to know you were there, you had to keep the façade that you couldn’t stand him, but you weren’t so sure anymore. You stopped arguing that much, it was some occasional banter. It took you only two years, but you could sit in one room and act civil. If you weren’t so stubborn you probably would notice that he treated you differently too, he was nicer and offered some help. When you had a rough day, there were pretty flowers in your room, out of nowhere. When a guy you were about to go on a date with called you names, Bucky came back with bruised knuckles to the compound. Other than those little acts of service, he was still the smug, sarcastic bastard. Nothing changed. So, why do you feel some kind of affection towards him?

You did not, you told yourself, as you shook your head, coming back to the reality. You must make haste, you have a lot of things to do today, and you don’t have time to think about whether you like Bucky, or not. As you were passing the lounge area you overheard a conversation. It was Mark, a new IT guy, he was annoying. He was younger than you, and he acted like a smart-ass all the time. He always brags about how his father is an entrepreneur and a CEO of a big company in London. Yeah, and you were a ballerina. No one ever heard about his father’s company. Stupid kid.

“You know, I’m glad he was injured.” you overheard, and that made your interest pick up. You stopped to listen, making sure they couldn’t see you. Mark was talking with Pepper’s assistant. Another spoiled brat. You continued to listen. “At least, we don’t have to watch that metal arm anymore. It made me sick when I was looking at it,” he said.

When you heard that, you wanted to enter the room and smash that kid’s head on the wall, but you stopped yourself. He didn’t say anything that bad yet, you had to wait until he said something more, so you could have more reasons to rip his head off, and of course, to justify why you did it.

“You know, I don’t know why they keep him here, he should be put in a madhouse or a circus.” he laughed, and it made your blood boil. “He could be put next to one-eyed Joe, they would make quite a pair!” he continued. “With that one arm...”

That was enough. You wouldn’t let this guy joke about Bucky’s disability, it was too much. He didn’t deserve that. It’s enough that he blames himself for everything that has happened to him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you little shit.” you nearly growled at him, entering the room. They almost jumped at your sight, and that made you smile. You knew you were respected here. After all, you were Captain America’s assistant and best friend.

You grabbed the kid by the collar and pushed him against the wall. You were taller and bigger than him, so you almost towered over him, making him intimidated. “Don’t ever speak like that about Bucky again. He’s better than you will ever be, you get it?” you asked him, pushing him more into the wall. He squealed.

“He’s just a murderer, nothing more. He doesn’t deserve redemption.” Mark muttered, looking at you with fear. And that was the last straw before your fist connected with his cheek.

 You kicked him out of the building when you finished with him. You were almost seething when you were walking back to your room. You entered it and slammed the door. You walked straight to the bathroom and started washing your hands. You washed the stains of that bastard’s blood from it. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You were surprised with yourself, you were never violent. You completely lost your temper. And it was all because of Barnes...

Friday announced a meeting in the living room. You sighed, they must know about Mark. They don’t know who did it, you made sure he won’t tell anybody. Still, you had to face them. You changed your shirt into a long-sleeve, because you had to cover your bruised knuckles. And you went down the stairs to the living room.

They all were there, including Bucky, who was sitting on the couch. Looking uninterested as usual, but when you walked into the room, he turned his gaze to look at you. There was something in his eyes, that you couldn’t quite recognize.

Steve was standing in the middle of the room, with Tony standing behind him, and mocking his every movement. You let out a laugh at it. “What happened that you decided to gather all of us here?” you said and sat down on the sofa next to Sam.

Steve explained Mark’s accident, and you were trying hard to not show any emotion at that. They can’t know that it was you, especially not Bucky. It would ruin everything, and you would have to explain why you did it, and you had no idea.

“Y/N, you were the only one walking down the corridor, you were caught on the corridor’s cameras. The other was shut down immediately after Mark was attacked.” Steve said. “Did you do it?” he asked.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. One gaze was burning you the most. If eyes could burn you, you would be ashes on the ground.

“Do you have proof? If not, it wasn’t me,” you said, standing up, and walking away from the room. You didn’t know that when you were crossing your arms, Bucky saw a glimpse of your red knuckles. He raised a brow and followed you right after you left.

You were almost back in your room when you heard someone calling your name. You turned around and saw him rushing after you. “What do you want?” you asked.

“Why did you do that?” he asked when he got to you. He was looking at you intensively. His blue eyes almost burning into yours.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. You still kept a poker face, you didn’t tell the truth.

“Oh, yeah, so you didn’t knock Mark out? You didn’t beat him up and threw him out of the building? Tony told me that you insisted on firing him. Why?” Bucky came closer to me, his question making you uncomfortable.

“It’s not your business, Barnes!” you snarled, and turned around, wanting to walk away but he stopped you. He grabbed your arm with his flesh one.

“Yes, it is mine! You did it for me, why?!” he almost shouted in your face, and you couldn’t keep it in anymore. You jerked your hand out of his grasp.

“Because he insulted you! He made fun of you, and you…” You trailed off, looking away from him. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You repeated Mark’s words to him. You could see the hurt in his eyes. “You see? No one deserves to hear something like that, and that’s why I kicked him out. He deserved more.”

There was silence between the two of you. Bucky was trying to process what you had said to him. He couldn’t believe that you would beat someone. Not for him. You were always getting on his nerves, always jabbing at his mistakes. He couldn’t stand it, but deep down he liked it. Everyone was always so careful around him, always tip-toeing around him, and you didn’t care about it. You were loud and stubborn, you were always doing your own thing. When they kicked you through the door, you would come back through the window. He always admired that about you. You didn’t pretend to be somebody else, you were yourself. And he thought that you were beautiful. And it wasn’t just about your looks, you were beautiful to him in every way, and that’s why he tried to hide it underneath all of his comments. Bucky tried to soothe it with small acts of service, but he still didn’t say anything about his feelings. And he had them for you, plenty of them. He was a coward, and he didn’t say anything about it. He was scared of rejection.

Right now, he was standing in front of you, with you telling him that you beat a guy because he insulted him? That guy didn’t say anything that bad. Bucky had said worse things about himself. Yet, you stand up for him. You protected him, didn’t let anyone talk bad about him, and his disability that he was still conscious about. It made his heart flutter. And before he could think, he shot towards you, grabbed your face in his hands, and kissed you senseless. He pressed his lips against yours in a deep, a little sloppy but very passionate kiss. You didn’t expect that, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. You closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

“What was that?” you asked when you parted. Both of you were breathing heavily.

He pulled away from your embrace to look at you, he placed his big hands on your hips, giving them a soft squeeze. Bucky had this soft look on his face, one you would never dream that you would see on his face.

“A thank you, I guess,” he said, and sent you a breathtaking smile.

You let out a laugh and kissed him again. You cupped his face in your hands, you had to stand on your tippy toes to reach him. “If you will thank me like that every time, I will knock out every guy who frowns at you,” you said.

“I have no doubt about it, doll,” he said and pulled you for a tight hug.

Being held in his arms, made you realize that what we had, was always more than this little banter. That our dislike towards each other was actually hidden feelings that we couldn’t express. And right now, it turned into something more. You weren’t so sure about what you both were, but you were not enemies anymore, and you weren’t friends. It was something more than lovers, your souls were calling for each other. You never believed in soulmates, but maybe that’s what you always were? Long lost soulmates, that turned into enemies, to become lovers in the end? You didn’t know, but you were sure that you had plenty of time to find out.

[sunrisecaminus]

Ultra Magnus x Government Agent Reader SFW

Summary - Ultra Magnus falls in love with an human Agent after realizing she has a sweet side to her personality.

Warnings: Light Hurt/Comfort

Never have you ever thought you would be seeing real aliens when you first met the Autobots. Being one of the Agents from the US Government, you were assigned to see if Agent Fowler was doing his freaking job. That man has not gotten anything done to defeat the Decepticons that are trying to destroy the world. Now, you have been best friends with Fowler ever since college, but dang from what you have been hearing from your boss, he has been getting lazier and lazier. It was your job to see if he should be fired or not and get a replacement.

After a few months at the base, you have realized two things. One, the Autobots don't have enough recourses to even kill one Decepticon. Two, Fowler has been working his ass off for everyone to survive. Optimus was very kind to you when you arrived and introduced everyone to you. Ultra Magnus was professional, but you can tell he did not like your presence. The US government have been yelling at them about sitting on their afts, while also not providing anything for their survival. He has been warned by Fowler and Prime that humans don't understand what they were going through and so they will be very uncooperative if the bots even tried to explain themselves. "Prime sir, we should not be having anymore interference with these human leaders. Non of them have even came up once to listen to reason." He stared at Optimus with a pleading look, he didn't like to be similar to Ratchet, but he understood why Ratchet hated almost all humans. Optimus looked up from the data pad and gave him a stern look. "Ultra Magnus, I understand your lack of faith my friend, but you have to remember the humans that have helped us so far. Agent Fowler is one of the reasons we have not been kicked from this planet, the children have saved our lives, and Agent Y/n is here to help us get more supplies from the human's government if we give her reason that we are efficient enough."

Ultra Magnus hated that Optimus was right, but he was a bit suspicious of the last sentence. "I am sorry sir, but Agent y/n has not even once reported to the government in three month. I don't think we are up to her standards at all." Optimus closes his eyes to think. Magnus was right about that, you have not been really doing anything around the base except observe everyone's movements and work. Hell Ratchet has been quite annoyed by your presence since he has to stay at the base for most of the missions. He is holding on to you though, giving you hope. Only one person has been supportive of you, and that was Fowler. He told Optimus whole stories about you saving his sorry ass from college professors all the time. He told him many stories of you supporting him and even giving him a place to stay when he needed it the most. Fowler has said though you were a calculated person, and never really showed your emotions a lot. It was hard to tell if you are being nice or just straight cold. "We shall see Ultra Magnus, though I cannot confirm if she is as troubling as you say. I will talk to Agent Fowler once more, so please look over the kids."

When Optimus walked off, Magnus stayed around to make sure Miko wasn't going to prank Ratchet and helped Ralph with any questions he had about Cybertron. He than starts to hear the clicking of heels from the elevator. You had a clip board in hand and was already writing something down. Your h/c (hair color) hair looked all neat and your outfit seemed nice and custom made. Walking over to Ratchet, you ask for his latest findings from last night's mission and both of you started to talk about work. Honestly if Ratchet had a scale for which human was more annoying, you were probably around in the middle. He was able to keep a conversation with you, but from far away he would grumble about things he didn't like that you did. After a few minutes you walked over to Ralph and Ultra Magnus. You stood behind the couch and watched as Ralph was making a nice online form about his cultural findings. Of course, it wasn't public for other humans to see, but if he ever forgot about something he could always click over to his notes and see what he put down. "Ah, you are doing so well Ralph. Although you spells that wrong, the symbol you put down actually has a small line going across the bottom." You pointed out something on Ralph's computer and he gasps. "Oh crap! Your right! Dang I thought I studied that!" Magnus sees you smile for the first time. "Oh it's ok. It's impressive to see you learn so much already after only a week. Better than what I could do."

After you turn around, walking back to the railing from across the base to keep writing in your clip board, Magnus looks at Ralph confused. "What were you and Agent y/n talking about?" Ralph looks up at Magnus and shares his screen for him to see. "Oh? Y/n is teaching me how to read your alphabet! She knows a lot about Iaconian and helped me learn so I can surprise Optimus later! Don't tell him though." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You knew Iaconian?! When did you have the time to learn such a difficult language?! Magnus couldn't help, but be flabbergasted by the fact you took the time to learn Iaconian and finally had enough. Did you like them or not? Why were you not reporting to your bosses and why haven't you left yet? You were only here to stay for a week…why haven't you left yet? He was getting to the bottom of it one way for another. He excuses himself and walks over to you. You see that a shadow surrounds your body and looks up. "Oh, good evening Ultra Magnus." You put your pen away and stood up straight to give your full attention to him. Magnus narrows his eyes and leans down just a smidge to be a bit closure to your frame. Look he may not like you, but at the very least he did not like intimidating people who are not Decepticons. "I need to speak with you Agent y/n. You have been keeping secrets from Prime and the rest of us, but now all of sudden you are learning Iaconian? What is your motivation?"

The smile that grew on your face made him a bit taken a back by the reaction. The smile looked nice on you, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "I have been monitoring everyone's work so I can give a long report to the government if they should give you their energon findings." WHAT?! The government had not only supplies, but they had the one resource they have been dying to get this whole time?! He clenched his hands into fists and looked angry. "You have energon is your procession? That stuff is useless for your species. Why didn't you report us being useful sooner. We could use those energon cubes to help give us more energy to fight for your planet." Before he could get even more angry, you put a hand up to shut him up. "Do not worry, I have already reported to them about you all working your hardest even with such little food. They needed a better report from me just in case you were pretending to be efficient for a week, so they have extended my stay for five months. At the end of my stay I will be in a very important meeting with all the higher ups to give my findings. Then they will happily give you all the crates they have by helicopter or by truck, just matters how much they are willing to give you." He could not believe this right now. This was the worse news he could get from you and he is trying not to go ape shit. "I understand this could be frustrating right now, but understand I am trying to poke them as much as I can to give you what you need. All of you have past the bar. In my book I would have given you everything by now after the first week. Right now I can't do anything but listen to their orders so you can be granted free supplies. Oh, and Optimus told me about where he lived back on Cybertron, I was curious about your culture so I had Bumblebee and Ralph help me learn. I am now known as one of the only human translators for Cybertronians and Humans. Luckily it seems you all already know English, though I would not have minded to be your spokes person."

This kind of made his anger fade…Your voice was not cold to him anymore. It seemed…sweet. This was the most care he has heard from you and it made him feel things he didn't want to feel. "W-well I appreciate you trying your best from what you have." Did he just stutter?! Oh Primus no, he needs to control himself. Why was he feeling such lovely feelings for you now?! He was just pissed a moment ago! You snapped him out of his staring and giggled. "Awe you are too kind. I need to go to Fowler now. I will see you before you all charge for the night, ok?" He nods and watches you leave. Your laugh was so cute. He needs to stop himself from feeling this way before he says something he is going to regret.

...

Bonus: Ratchet glares at Ultra Magnus while he scans him. "So a professional lady who works at the top has taken an interest in our species, her personality is a sweet yet serious person who gets the work done before she does anything else?" Sighing, Ratchet grabs his data pad and walks over to Ultra Magnus who looks at him for an answer to his condition. "You are not sick, you are just an idiot who fell in love with a fleshy."

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION sweet epilouge ✫ jeon jungkook

the company heads out for a corporate retreat, where tensions run high and personal boundaries blur. During a casual evening event, the HR team inadvertently discovers the secret relationship between you and Jungkook.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

The private resort was a picture of luxury—secluded, sprawling, and nestled between mountains and a crystal-clear lake. It was meant to be a “corporate retreat,” a weekend of bonding and strategizing between the HR and PR teams, with the CEOs in attendance to ensure productivity.

In reality, it was an excuse for overworked employees to drink expensive wine on the company’s dime while pretending to network.

And, unfortunately for you, it also meant being stuck in the same space as Jungkook for an entire weekend—with no desks, boardrooms, or email chains to act as a buffer.

The HR and PR teams were already packed onto the large charter bus by the time you arrived, hurrying down the aisle in search of a seat. Unfortunately, it seemed every spot had been taken—except one.

Right next to Jeon Jungkook. Great.

Jungkook, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, barely spared you a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Uh… there aren’t any other seats,” you muttered, gripping the headrest beside him.

He exhaled through his nose, then shifted slightly, gesturing to the open space next to him. “Sit.”

You hesitated for half a second before sliding in, careful not to brush against him. But the space between seats was too small, and despite your best efforts, your thigh pressed against his.

Jungkook stiffened but didn’t say anything. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from his body. This was ridiculous. It was just a bus ride.

Minji, sitting a few rows ahead, turned and wiggled her brows at you. You shot her a glare. The bus rumbled to life, and soon, the city blurred into the countryside. Conversations hummed around you, but in your little corner, silence stretched.

Until Jungkook spoke.

“You’re fidgeting.”

You glanced up, caught off guard. “Huh?”

He tapped his thigh. “Your leg. You keep moving it.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—Sorry.”

You stilled, but then the bus hit a bump, and you really didn’t have a choice but to press into him. Jungkook tensed. His jaw ticked.

“Relax,” he muttered after a beat, voice lower than usual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal? Easy for him to say.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as your heart pounded against your ribs. It was going to be a long ride.

The night was warm, and the resort’s pool was dimly lit, the water reflecting the soft golden glow of the nearby lights. Jungkook leaned against the edge, half-submerged, the cool water doing little to dispel the heat curling in his stomach.

Because you were there. Laughing. Smiling. Completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

You had arrived late, dressed in a sleek black swimsuit that made his throat dry. The HR team had cheered when you finally joined them, and he had tried—really tried—to keep his eyes off you.

It didn’t work.

Especially not when you waded into the pool, water gliding up your body, trailing over your skin in ways that made his fingers twitch.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away.

“Bro, you’re staring.”

Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of it. He turned to find his friend floating lazily beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Jungkook scowled. “Shut up.”

Taehyung chuckled, but before he could say more, a splash of water hit them both.

“Oops,” you said, all faux innocence, blinking at Jungkook through your lashes. “Was that too much?”

Jungkook raised a brow. “You did that on purpose.”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Something hot and dangerous curled in his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play this?

Without a word, he lunged—water sloshing as he grabbed your wrist and tugged, sending you tumbling toward him with a yelp. The movement was quick, effortless.

Suddenly, you were pressed against his chest, eyes wide, breath hitched.

Jungkook smirked, voice low. “Still feeling playful?”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, Minho’s voice rang out.

“Hey! No making out in the pool!”

Laughter erupted. You pushed away from Jungkook, face burning, while he merely leaned back against the edge, looking far too pleased with himself.

Yeah. This weekend was dangerous.

The resort’s garden was quiet, the scent of blooming flowers lingering in the cool evening air. You strolled along the path, enjoying the peace—until you spotted Jungkook leaning against a wooden railing, watching the koi pond.

Alone. You smirked, perfect.

“CEO Jeon,” you drawled, stepping beside him. “Brooding again?”

He didn’t look away. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

You blinked. Heat flooded your face. “What?”

Jungkook finally turned, lips twitching. “You’re easy to fluster.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I hate you."

Jungkook smirked, the glow of the lanterns catching the sharp curve of his lips. "No, you don’t."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I came here for peace, not to be bullied."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Funny. I thought you came here looking for me."

Your stomach flipped. The way he said it—low, teasing, dangerous—made heat creep up your neck.

Before you could retaliate, a voice cut through the still night air.

"Jungkook!"

You stiffened. Eunji.

She walked toward you both, poised and effortless, her form-fitting dress swaying around her thighs. She wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t rushing. No—Eunji never rushed. She moved like she owned every room she entered. And worst of all? Jungkook didn’t immediately tell her to leave.

Your stomach twisted.

“I was looking for you,” she said smoothly, barely sparing you a glance. Then, with a practiced smile, she added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

With her.

The unspoken words lingered, thick as smoke in the air.

Your mood soured instantly.

Jungkook, oblivious—or maybe just indifferent—to the sudden shift in energy, raised a brow. “What do you need?”

Eunji stepped closer, closing the space between them. Then, as if it was nothing, she laid a hand on his arm.

Your breath hitched.

“Just a quick chat about the PR strategy,” she murmured, her fingers grazing his sleeve like she had every right to touch him. Like it was normal. Casual. Expected.

Something bitter curled in your chest. Seriously? She couldn’t have waited? You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm.

Forcing a tight, polite smile, you cleared your throat. “I should go.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his focus snapping back to you. “You don’t have to—”

But you were already turning away. And when you glanced back, Eunji was still touching him.

Still smiling up at him like she belonged there. Your chest ached.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

The scent of burning wood curling into the cool evening air as the flames from the bonfire flickered against the dark sky. The corporate retreat had been filled with structured team-building exercises and tedious strategy meetings, but this—this was the first moment that truly felt alive.

People gathered in clusters, some perched on wooden benches, others sprawled out on blankets across the grass. Laughter echoed around the open-air patio, the sound of clinking glasses blending with the low hum of conversation.

You glanced across the bonfire-lit patio, where your HR team—Soojin, Dohyun, Minji, and Minho—were deep in conversation, laughing over something Minho had said. Further down, Hajun, Jungkook’s ever-efficient assistant, was nursing a glass of whiskey while keeping a watchful eye on his boss.

Jungkook, for his part, had claimed one of the large wooden logs arranged in a circle around the fire, lounging with an effortless kind of ease that contrasted sharply with the tension you felt coiling in your stomach. He was surrounded by his cousins, Seokjin and Yoongi, both looking equally relaxed.

Seokjin, as usual, had taken up the role of storyteller, gesturing wildly as he spun some exaggerated tale from their childhood, much to Yoongi’s quiet amusement.

And then, of course, there was Taehyung. How he had ended up at a corporate retreat when he didn’t even work at the company was beyond you. But when you’d asked, he’d merely smirked, claiming he was an “unofficial consultant” before pouring himself a generous glass of whatever expensive liquor had been set out.

“Someone had to make sure this trip wasn’t completely boring,” he had added with a wink.

The fire crackled, sparks dancing into the night as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions loosened. Someone had brought out a speaker, soft music blending into the conversations. The warmth of the flames mixed with the lingering buzz of the drinks, and for a moment, the lines between colleagues and friends blurred.

But as you watched Jungkook from across the fire, his jaw tight as he laughed at something Seokjin said, his gaze flickering to you for the briefest second—something told you tonight was going to be different.

Then there was Eunji—your not-so-subtle rival from PR—who had been eyeing you all evening with barely veiled suspicion.

"You're being weird," Soojin murmured beside you, nudging your arm.

You blinked. "What?"

"You keep sneaking glances at CEO Jeon." She wiggled her brows. "Got something to confess?"

Minji, overhearing, gasped. "Wait—no way. Do you have a thing for Jungkook?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"She better, considering they’ve been secretly dating for months."

Every head at your table snapped toward the source—none other than Seokjin, who had the smuggest expression imaginable as he leaned back in his chair.

You choked on air. Jungkook, seated beside him, tensed but said nothing, his gaze flicking toward you as the words registered across the firelit patio.

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted.

Soojin nearly spilled her drink. Minho swore. Dohyun clapped a hand over his mouth. Minji, ever the dramatist, gasped so hard she nearly lost consciousness. Hajun, sipping his whiskey, merely raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised.

Eunji, on the other hand, looked delighted. "You and Jungkook?" She leaned forward, eyes glinting. "So that's why you've been so smug lately."

"I— No, we-" You turned to Jungkook, expecting him to deny it, but instead, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered something under his breath.

That was all the confirmation anyone needed.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TRUE!" Soojin shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjected. "Since when?!"

Yoongi, who had been silently sipping his drink, finally spoke up, deadpan. "Since forever."

"Why are we just now finding out?" Dohyun demanded, looking genuinely offended.

Jungkook sighed. "Because it was none of your business? We're not dating."

"Wrong answer." Minji shook her head. "The correct answer was, ‘Because we were waiting for the right time to tell you, our dear and beloved friends whom we trust deeply.’ But no, you went with ‘None of your business.’ Unbelievable."

Soojin turned to you, still in shock. "Are you seriously dating Jungkook? As in, our CEO Jungkook? Grumpy CEO Jungkook? Will-fire-you-with-one-look Jungkook?"

Your face was on fire. "Yes."

The reaction was instant—cheers, dramatic gasps, and a round of mock applause. Even Taehyung looked impressed.

"I'm actually kind of proud of you," he told Jungkook, nudging his arm. "I thought you'd die alone."

Jungkook shot him a glare. "Thanks, Taehyung."

But before the conversation could spiral further, Hajun finally spoke, his voice calm and steady as always. "Alright, enough with the theatrics," he said, setting his glass down. "What matters is that they're happy. And if they wanted to keep it private, we should respect that."

A pause. Then—

"You knew, didn't you?" Minho narrowed his eyes at Hajun.

Hajun smirked, taking another sip of whiskey. "I know everything."

Jungkook groaned. You buried your face in your hands. This retreat was not going as planned.

The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly against the darkened sky. Most of the group had dispersed—some retreating to their rooms, others lingering near the patio, finishing off bottles of wine and whiskey. But you had wandered away, needing space, needing air. The cool night breeze off the lake did little to calm the turmoil in your chest.

You were still thinking about earlier. Jungkook and Eunji.

Eunji’s hand on his arm. Her effortless smile. The way she had looked at him—like she had a right to be there. Like she had a right to him. And worst of all? The way he hadn’t immediately pushed her away.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you stared at the water, your reflection rippling under the moonlight.

Then, footsteps. Jungkook.

He approached quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Something cautious. "You okay?" His voice was low, just for you.

You let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked humor. "I mean… our secret kind of... relationship just got very public, so I’d say I’m still processing."

Jungkook’s lips twitched. "Seokjin is never going to let me live this down."

You scoffed. "Seokjin? Jungkook, none of them are letting us live this down."

"True." He tilted his head, watching you carefully before adding, "Are you… mad?"

That made you turn to him fully. "Why would I be mad?"

Jungkook hesitated, his jaw tightening for just a moment. "Because of earlier. At the park."

Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew.

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze back to the lake. "I mean… you didn’t exactly stop her from touching you."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. "You think I wanted that?" His voice was firm now, edged with something frustrated—like the idea of you doubting him genuinely bothered him.

You bit your lip, but before you could speak, he took a step closer, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill. "I only have eyes for you," he said, voice quieter now, more certain.

"I don’t care about Eunji. Or about my ex. I never have. And if I didn’t shut them down fast enough, it’s only because I was too busy watching you and trying to figure out how the hell to make it right."

Your breath hitched.

"So let me make it right now," he murmured, closing the last bit of space between you.

You reached for his hand first, lacing your fingers through his. "I don’t mind," you admitted. "If anything, I think it’s kind of a relief. I hated pretending you weren’t—" You swallowed, cheeks warming. "—important to me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head. "Because I’m done pretending, too."

And then, under the soft glow of the moon, with the sound of the lake lapping against the shore, he kissed you—not in secret, not hidden away, but out in the open.

For the first time, it wasn’t a secret. And for the first time, it didn’t need to be.

previous

[stellamarielu]

Hear me out babes (may I call you babes?)

Declan x reader who is Taggie's friend and has a secret daddy kink..it almost slips out while teasing so Declan makes sure it fully comes out later ;) and maybe some more of that "be the sweet thing we both know you are and take it like a good girl" type shit if ya feel like it? Love you and your writing so much!

daddy

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: you're mocking the way declan's daughter is always calling him daddy, but the teasing only has the two of you discovering something new about your preferences in the bedroom

content: nsfw, 18+, literally just porn with a sprinkle of plot, cursing, daddy kink, risky quickie, teasing, penetration, praise kink, him calling the reader good girl [duh], him calling reader babygirl [idk i blacked out], hair pulling, slightly degrading, kinda rough sex, pull out game strong on this one!

author’s note: you can call me whatever you want when you’re dropping requests like this in my inbox, god damn! i’ve had tons of taggie’s best friend x declan requests lately so i hope this can feed you all– i’m looking directly at the anon who said “what if reader was taggie’s best friend and declan bent her over the closest platform and fucked her brains out.” [fucked her brains out had me on the floor]

—

You were having dinner at the O’hara’s for the second time this week. You'd like to say you helped taggie cook, but really you just watched her stride around the kitchen and handed her different ingredients as you talked her ear off. Now, after all her hard work and little boasts of encouragement from you, you were both sat at the kitchen table finishing dinner and laughing. Her father was sat across from you shaking his head at the cackling going on between you and Taggie. You were having a hard time keeping your composure with him only being a few feet away. It was hard to focus- hard to act normal when you knew you’d be sneaking into his room later.

It wasn’t your fault Taggie’s dad was so hot, and it also wasn’t your fault that you'd been hooking up with him.

You weren’t proud of it- in fact you felt guilty for doing something as blatantly wrong as having sex with your best friends dad. But it was Declan. You'd had a massive crush on him since the first time you walked through Taggie's front door. Not to mention his wife recently left and he was walking around all sad and lonely, practically begging you to fuck him out of his sorrowful daze. It wasn't like you were some home wrecker, Declan was the one who had initiated it weeks ago. Pulling you aside after taggie had fallen asleep one night and practically ambushing you with dirty whispers and not so innocent touches. In retrospect you had been doing everything within your power to break him down; so it didn't come as a surprise when he finally gave in to temptation and took you against his bedroom door.

Regardless of who tempted who first, you were now in some kind of relationship. You weren't really sure what it was exactly, all you knew was that you couldn't keep your hands off each other which made things complicated seeing as though his daughter- your best friend- was always right there next to you.

Like right now, she was sitting next to you and chatting with her dad about something that happened earlier and you couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Instead, you were fixated on the man in front of you. Declan was leaned back in his chair, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and all you could do was stare at the exposed skin beneath it.

"You done?" His voice was breaking you out of your trance.

He was leaning forward and reaching for the empty plate in front of you. The grin on his lips told you he knew exactly what had you so zoned-out. In fact, he had probably unbuttoned his shirt on purpose just to tease you.

“It’s alright daddy, i’ve got it” Taggie was chiming in as she stood to her feet, stacking your plates on top of one another and carrying them across the room to the sink.

Daddy, a term of endearment for her father. The word sounded so sweet and innocent coming from her mouth. It was a name she called him frequently and each time she did, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to say it yourself. To use it as so many people often did, in the bedroom.

Now that Taggie was away from the table, you and declan were left sitting across from each other, just staring. An amused smile had taken over your face at Taggie's recently spoken words.

He raised an eyebrow mouthing “what?” in curiosity to the look on your face.

“Nothing… daddy” You were sing-songing almost silently underneath your breath, careful not to let taggie hear.

Declan's brows furrowed and his mouth fell open slightly as if he were about to respond when you abruptly stood from your seat and grabbed the remaining dishes off the table, striding over to join your best friend across the room.

Then, Declan was sitting alone, his mind reeling from hearing you call him that. A name exclusively reserved for his children. He never even thought about what it would sound like to hear it from your lips. But now, it took on an entirely different meaning, the way you said it with your eyes all wide and challenging. It was as if you needed him to put you in your place. declan was accustomed to being in control in the bedroom but that word, “daddy” had him craving the authority that hid beneath its meaning and your submission that came along with it. He needed to hear you say it again. Wanted to hear it as he railed into you from behind with your hair wrapped around his fist.

You were standing with Taggie at the sink and stealing the sponge out of her hand, demanding to do the dishes since she cooked. Then Declan was behind you muttering something about “You’re our guest you’re not doing the dishes” and ushering you both out of the way. This was followed by you retorting, “Guest? I’m here practically every night.” determined to do the chore at hand.

After you and declan argued a bit more over who would do the washing up, taggie gave in, leaving you both to take care of the mess.

She was grabbing a tinfoil covered plate off the counter and waltzing out the front door before either of you could protest. She had promised Lizzie left over bread pudding and told the two of you she would be right back as she walked out the door to their neighbors house.

In taggie’s mind she just left her best friend and her dad to clean up the kitchen while she ran a quick errand– harmless. But the reality of it was much less innocent. In fact, the second taggie was down the driveway declan was pawing at your waist.

“You think it’s funny teasin’ me in front of Tag like that? you’re gonna get us both in trouble.”

You turned slightly so that you were facing each other.

“I’m not the one with my entire chest out.” you were accusing him, finding the third button from his collar and popping it open to match the two preceding it.

“Wish you were” He was chiding playfully as he molded to your touch.

You let your hands explore his exposed chest, gliding over the smooth curls hiding underneath the undone material of his shirt.

“Say it again.” His eyes were burning into you as you traced his collarbones.

His voice was deep and gruff, skipping over the playful tone you had introduced moments before.

“Say wha-“ Your brows were furrowed at his command, confused as to what he wanted you to repeat, and then it hit you.

“Daddy?”

You looked up at him with a devious sparkle in your eye. You were completely joking earlier, just mocking his daughter when you had said it the first time at the dinner table. Never in a million years did you think he would be into that sort of thing. You’d had a lot of sex over the past few weeks, all of it hot and dirty and at times a bit kinky, but the word daddy had never once come up.

“Oh you like that? You filthy old man.” You were giggling, every word fell from your lips in a joking tone, but the look in declan's eyes was far from playful.

You'd seen him wearing that expression before. In fact, the last time he had that unchecked feral look in his eyes, he had three fingers in you, telling you to "take it like a good girl." while your eyes were watering from pleasure.

"Bend over." His words were simply spoken and his eyes were blown wide as he peered down at you.

"Declan-" you were ready to tell him no, that you couldn't, that the risk of getting caught was far grater than the reward of a quick fuck against his kitchen sink.

"I wasn't askin'."

His rough hands slid to your hips, his strong hold on you forcing you to pivot until the front of your body was pushed against the kitchen counter.

"Declan, Taggie-" you were beginning to express your worry of getting caught when he interrupted you, his breath hot on your neck.

"She’ll be gone for at least twenty minutes." He was roaming the expanse of your torso with his big hands, not leaving a single inch of your body untouched.

"We've got plenty of time." His whispers were in your ear as he stood behind you and the invitation of his warm embrace had you falling back into his touch.

"You gonna take it while I bend you over the counter sweetheart?"

This time his voice was taunting as he spoke against your neck. One of his hands was coming down to the hem of your dress, hiking it up to your waist in one quick movement.

"Yes"

You were giving in. You had to. Everything about his hands on your body and his words swimming in your brain made you willing to do anything he wanted– a slave to his touch.

"Yes, what?" The teasing tone was back in his words as he coerced you into saying the one word he desperately needed to hear. His fingertips were pushing between your legs running over the embarrassingly damp material of your underwear.

"Yes daddy."

As soon as you said it, the gentle touch of his fingertips against your clothed core turned into a firm grip. His palm was flat on your cunt as he cupped your heat, and the friction of it had you biting back a squeal.

"There you go."

He was so satisfied by the feeling of having your body in his grasp- all bent over for him, that he let you have a little taste of your own satisfaction. He was hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, replacing the lace material with the pads of his fingertips as they played in the mess of arousal gathering there.

"This all for me sweet girl?"

He was cooing in your ear, with his fingers painstakingly gliding over your opening.

You were whispering out a hushed, "yes" in hopes that he would finally fill you with something. You were desperate for relief and knew Taggie would be back soon.

"What’s that? Couldn’t here ya."

He was enjoying himself, teasing as you were submitting to his every whim.

"Declan, we have to hurry." You were mumbling through a moan as your back arched, reminding the man behind you that you were meant to be racing against the clock of his daughter's inevitable return.

“What happened to my pretty little obedient girl huh? Not very nice to rush me.” As he spoke you felt his touch vanish from between your bodies.

A pitiful noise erupted from your mouth at the loss of his touch on you.

"Declan..." You meant for this name to come out as a stern warning but instead it was just another deplorable whine, and he still wasn't touching you. It was as if he were waiting for something. Waiting for you to be compliant with his need for dominance.

"Please daddy, I'll be good for you." You were mustering up the sweetest little voice you could manage and pushing your ass into his crotch.

"I promise." you were purring out a vow of compliance as you looked over your shoulder at Declan.

The second your eyes found his all filled with innocence, it was a wrap.

He was working at his pants in a frenzy, quick to get them off so he could line himself up with your center that was exposed and ready– all for him.

Your gaze was once again fixed forward but you could feel Declan's length at your backside threatening to finally push into you.

You were getting ready to say something– anything– when a surprised yelp escaped your lips.

He had plunged his cock all the way into you in one swift movement. The wetness already drowning your core was enough to let his member slip right in and slide deep inside, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Yeah? Gonna be good?" He was huffing out as his hands gripped onto your hips, hard.

"My good fuckin' girl." His voice was a groan as he pulled your hips back to meet his over and over again, his cock diving into you with each movement.

One of his hands was letting go of your hips and sliding up your body until you felt him intertwining his fingers in your hair and gently pulling at it as he buried himself deeper with each thrust. The slight yank of your hair causing a perverse moan to seep from your mouth.

Your lewd noise made Declan's pace quicken as he bottomed out with every thrust.

"You like it when daddy pulls your hair like that huh baby?"

He was relishing in the pleasure of your walls wrapped tightly around his cock and the power he had over you in this position. The surge of control was bringing out the most unholy parts of him, causing filthy words to fall from his tongue.

And with each word off his lips you could feel your walls clenching harder around him and your body tensing in anticipation.

"Fuck- are you gonna come already?" Declan could feel the way you were squeezing and squirming against him, he knew exactly how your body reacted to him when you were on the verge of release.

"That's pathetic baby."

His voice was jeering as he reached around your body and placed the smallest amount of pressure over your clit with the pad of his index finger. The careful touch was especially surprising to you given the way he was currently pounding into you from behind. Everything about the contrasting sensations had your abdomen burning with pleasure.

"Gonna give it to me sweetheart? Gonna be a good girl for me?" His voice was spilling out of him in the most sinful groan.

you were whining out a "yes daddy" as he continued driving into you, simultaneously pushing your hips back to meet each of his relentless thrusts.

it was all too much; his attentive strokes to your clit, his tight grip in your hair, his unyielding pace as he filled you with every inch of him. You could feel the tension building in your body ready to snap, and your legs threatened to give out underneath you.

Bracing yourself against the kitchen counter, you pressed your forearms against the cool surface.

"That's it babygirl." Declan's sinful chants were filling your ears as you allowed your release to wash over you. White hot pleasure shot through your entire body as you folded even further over the kitchen sink.

"There's my good girl."

His praise was a low murmur as he took in the way you were melting into him with relief. Your body gave into him completely as your grip around his cock tightened.

"Fuck look at you."

The astonishment in his voice made yet another pitiful whine slip past your lips. You were still trembling as he continued thrusting into you, his movements much slower than before.

"Came so fast. Ya needed me that bad babygirl?"

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, instead you just nodded your head pathetically as you remained slumped against the countertop.

"So fuckin' tight sweetheart." He was marveling at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him like a warm perverted hug.

He was picking the pace of his thrusts back up, unable to keep himself from giving in to how good it felt to have you bent over for him with your mind all dazed and your cunt pulsing.

With one hand pulling at your hair and the other grabbing at your waist, Declan was practically slamming himself into you, the breathy groans leaving his throat made your head spin.

"Feels so good daddy." You were mewling out a statement of flattery for the man currently ruining you, hoping your words held the same power of his.

Judging by the way his thrusts ceased and the fact that he was pulling out of you in mere seconds, your use of his new favorite nickname must've pushed him right over the edge.

He was using the hand at your waist to gather your dress higher on your body, ensuring that his eventual mess wouldn't ruin the material.

Thick, hot strands of come came pulsing out of him, covering his own fist and the exposed skin of your lower back. He fought to keep his eyes open as his orgasm pushed through him, watching the way his load spilled over your body.

You were both regulating your nervous systems and sharing a few smitten chuckles as Declan grabbed a nearby dishtowel to wipe away the evidence of your shared debauchery.

After a few minutes of normality and washing dishes, you watched through the kitchen window as Taggie made her way back up the driveway.

You and Declan shared one last brazen smile before going back to being nothing more than acquaintances.

"I'm back!" Taggie's voice filled the Priory like a song as she came bounding in the front door.

She entered the kitchen with a smile on her face as she took in the cleanliness of her surroundings, somehow you and Declan had managed to finish washing up after he fucked you over the kitchen counter.

"Look at that! My heroes." Taggie was exclaiming as she pulled you both into a loose embrace, you on her left and Declan on her right.

She proceeded to grab you by the forearm pulling you away from her father and toward the doorway of the kitchen; taking you back for herself so the two of you could go gossip and listen to music in her room.

"Oh daddy, Lizzie says hi by the way!" She was speaking to her father right as you were about to exit the room, and you couldn't help the smirk that found its way to your lips.

Declan's eyes found yours at the sound of the word and both of you were fighting back a laugh as Taggie hauled you to the stairs.

my masterlist

[gallivantingheart]

pillar of warmth

who?: assistant!seungcheol x CEO/management!(f)reader

word count: 1424

genre/s: non-idol!au, hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: stalker, invasion of privacy (mentions under the cut), swearing, inaccurate corporate and construction industry mentions (pls I'm sick of food corps.)

synopsis: you finally find evidence of your stalker and call your assistant seungcheol in for back-up.

a/n: trying to stretch those angsty muscles. Also cheol's muscles in a plain black tee.

The way the controller flies out of your hand has you screaming, scrambling in thin air. You cringe when the decoration your downstairs neighbour got you as a housewarming gift teeters dangerously on the shelf and tips to shatter on the wood floor. Well there goes your Just Dance session. Carefully you stoop down to collect the pieces, going still when you find more than ceramic and a lightbulb. A device with a lens, now shattered as well. Some kind of other accessory as well, still softly beeping. Electrical tape keeping it all neatly twined together. Your mouth dries up and your stomach goes through your feet.

Your stalker. Has been beneath you this whole time. Tracking your comings and goings so easily - that was how he knew about the company drinks. You feel as if you’ve been doused in slime. The notes and packages of outfits just when you complained you had none.

I can’t wait for you to try it on. Please wear it when you leave.

You scoot back on your butt away from the shards, a choked sob breaking free. It’s been here for months. You let them right in!

You let yourself cry, the pause music in the background, feeling as if the rug has been yanked out from under you.

Then the sun went down and the switch turned itself off after being idle for so long and the silence returned you to yourself. You had evidence now to prosecute. Quietly you put the device on the coffee table and gathered the shards into a plastic bag, then a paper one from your last shopping trip. You grabbed your phone and changed as quietly as you could in your bathroom, nothing out of the question. Then you sat outside your flat in the safety of a bug-free zone and called Seungcheol.

He picked up in two rings. “Miss, it’s your day off. Are you okay?”

His voice is so soft and attentive your chin wobbles. “I- no I’m not. Can you please come to my building? We need to go to the police.”

You can hear rustling and banging. “Why! What happened!”

“I have evidence of my stalker and I want to take it to the police but I…I can’t go alone.”

Then still again. “What? You stay right there - I’ll be less than 10 minutes.”

“I-I’ll meet you out front.” You murmur.

He grunts agreement and his voice gets closer as he tucks his phone to his shoulder.

“Okay. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“Oh no, no. I’ll be okay. Please don’t tell anyone though.”

A huff. “Of course not. See you soon, Miss.”

He hangs up and you wade back inside, picking up the bag. You'd put a sweater and scarf over top to hide your shame.

The elevator trip down felt tense and you wished you weren’t lazy and took the stairs. So was waiting in the lobby. Just as the white lights of Seungcheol’s car flashed over the top of the hill -

“Hey, I’ve been calling you. Are you hiding from me?”

A shiver rockets up your spine. A wafer thin smile on your lips as you turn.

“Huh? Have you? I’m sorry I’ve been super busy.” You mumble.

“Too busy for me, your best neighbour?” His easy smile sits funny on his mouth and makes your skin crawl, as does the way his eyes dance.

He’s seen far too much of you and your stomach twists.

“Yes.” You’re a little firmer, sight moving to Cheol’s car starting up the lane.

He peers into your bag and your heart lodges in your throat. “What’s that? Where are you going at this time of night?”

Then his hand is on your shoulder, too heavy. Oh God, oh no!

“I-I a friend’s place. She has a thing and…she likes my scarf. I said - well, I said that…”

The car breaks yanks to a stop and Seungcheol comes out flying, brow creased. You surge for him.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?”

You make a negative noise, mouth pressed shut. His arm curls around your shoulder but you lead him to the boot of the car. Yunho, chases after.

“Hey, did you just lie to me?” His voice is stern but shrill.

“Back off. We’re busy.” Is all Seungcheol says over your shoulder.

“No, no I’m not finished. You avoid me and now you’re lying. Where is our friendship, huh? Was it all shit to you?”

You drop the bag in the boot, eyes screwed shut. But you can hear his breath and see the beep of the recording light in your mind and you see red. You break free of Seungcheol and spin around.

“YES! Yes it is! Because you’re my stalker and you lied to me! You-you’ve been listening and recording me and creeping me the hell out ever since I moved in. Leave me alone!” You scream.

“He’s your stalker.” Seungcheol’s voice is a deep growl.

Yunho goes white then red and you’ve never seen a face so grotesque.

“You’re a lying, stuck up bitch! Some CEO bullshit when really you could have had it easy with me. I gave you so much and you gave me nothing! Didn’t you want me so bad you’d crawl? I heard you!”

A bucket of cold water. That wasn’t about him at all. That was about…

“Fuck off. Get out of here before you lose an eye.”

Seungcheol’s hand is splayed out behind him to protect you and you can barely see over his shoulders, a black cotton wall. Your eyes prickle and you tip up your head to stem the tears.

Seungcheol surrounds you with his body and that soft spiced pine scent you would sink into. He murmurs and hums, gently swaying the two of you. Your face is buried so deeply in his chest you can’t see any light.

“Shhh, it’s okay. He’s gone. You’re safe.” He says, lips in your hair.

You twist your fists into the fabric of his shirt. “God, it’s been horrible.”

“I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get this to the station.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol shuts the trunk and guides you to the passenger side, even going as far as buckling you in, smoothing your pants over your knee. He gets in next and it’s a quiet trip to the police station, seeing as he doesn’t want to push you and you’re not up for giving any info.

He’s such a gentleman and a pillar in your figurative storm, sticking with you the whole time you give the broken ornament and your statement. He only moves twice - once for the toilet and another to get you a crappy hot chocolate from their self-serve machine, and that was only because you tucked your fingers into your sleeves and badly buried a shiver from the barren cold of the station. The detective takes both the camera and listening device away for any assets retrieval, leaving you at the desk.

“Hey.” He’s soft and you turn.

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing great, you know. It’ll be over before you know it.” He continues.

There is a respectable distance between the two of you but you miss him. You need warmth that was human and safe. So you reach for him and grab his free hand, holding it between both of yours, squeezing it briefly before moving it to your lap.

“I just…I don’t know what to do next. I really loved my place but I can’t stand the idea of being anywhere near him any longer.” You sigh.

His hand squeezes back in return. “Don’t you worry - that’s my job now, as your assistant. We’ll call Cully after this and put you up there with her for the night. I’ll find a new place with as much security as you could want and by next week it will be a fresh start.”

As your assistant. You wanted more. But propriety said no. Your position and pay check said no. Your drunken confession as you burst into your apartment said yes. You bite your lip and nod. You didn’t like feeling so powerless. You were the CEO of Helios Construction for goodness sake, leading corporate construction in South Korea. You were supposed to be strong and dauntless. Instead you were meek sitting in a cold unforgiving police station clutching Seungcheol’s hand like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“I- yeah. Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Se-Cheol.”

He blinks, surprised at your informality and gives you a warm expression.

[vshiftsss]

MY RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS - (MULTIPLE DRS)

hello everyone!

since it’s valentine’s day, i’ve decided to finally commit to a post idea that’s been sitting in my drafts for-fucking-ever. i’m going to talk about my relationships in my drs and small things about them <33

HOGWARTS UNI DR: MATTHEO RIDDLE

dynamic: enemies to lovers (ofc) / brother’s best friend

honestly, the only reason i’m shifting for mattheo in particular is because i like his archetype, and from what i’ve seen about him, he intrigues me. i feel the same way in my dr, though the subtle fascination is paired with a rampant irritation i feel every time i look at him. we keep the insults to a minimum since my brother blaise is close with him, but in the rare moments we’re alone, we don’t hold back. there’s a deeper level of respect that prevents us from going too far, but ultimately, it’s the typical enemies-to-lovers pipeline. i’m excited for this one because it also has an academic rivals aspect to it.

FAME DR: SABRINA CARPENTER

dynamic: friends to lovers / friends with benefits / secret dating

ah, sabrina…the loml here and in my dr! i adore her and this was just a sudden realization i had when i was listening to her music. in this dr, me and her were both on disney channel around the same time, so we knew of each other’s existence. however, we don’t really become friends until 2023 (the year i’m shifting to). then, yk, its the classic “will they, won’t they” situation until we start dating. no angst here (hopefully). sigh, i love her.

SPIDERVERSE DR: PETER PARKER

dynamic: friends to lovers / opposites attract

MY MAN!!! the man i’ve been wanting since i first watched into the spiderverse. love him, love his concept, and i really like his voice. and his face. so i’m dating him. as some of you know, in my spiderverse dr, i’m from the future, so it’s the opposites attract trope. i’m looking forward to the interactions we’ll have. also, we’ll meet through the whole kingpin situation. eek i love him.

BAKERY DR: MYSTERY MAN #1

dynamic: soulmates / nonbeliever & hopeless romantic (me 😞)

last but not least, the man with no name. or face. literally just gave him a voiceclaim and said he was a rich ceo. he is extremely handsome though! he also appears in my dreams. we’re soulmates, and in my dr your soulmate appears in all your dreams. could be a main character, could be a background extra. doesn’t matter. i’m hella invested in this whole soulmate thing, so imagine my surprise when dreamy man from my dreams shows up at my bakery late at night. HE DOESNT EVEN BELIEVE IN SOULMATES!!! so i have to convince him somehow. i’ll pull him in with my croissants and coffee, for sure.

(i hope.)

sidenote: i’m cutting it close, but i’ve been distracted all day. also, i’ll be posting about my outer banks dr soon. happy valentine’s day!

END OF POST - HAPPY SHIFTING!

[colettebronte]

30,000 Feet Up in the Air (Drop Down)

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Ao3 Link

Bridgerton Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x Fem Reader

Summary: A sequel to (Not Exactly) A Fairytale in New York, our couple decides to join the Mile High Club on a Transatlantic flight for two on Valentine's Day

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ specifically for vaginal fingering and anal sex. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: I knew I wanted to revisit this version of Anthony and Reader for Valentine’s Day. The title comes from a line from the Gregory Porter song, Concorde. This was a another fun one to write and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @fayes-fics for betaing. Yoda best, my friend! 🫶❤️

If someone had told you that having the entire contents of a large cup of iced coffee dumped all over you just days before Christmas would lead to you dating a viscount, let alone one had his own airplane, you’d have told them they were nuts. And yet . . . . 

In the month and a half since you met Anthony “Please for the love of everything, stop calling me Lord” Bridgerton; you’ve amassed more stamps in your passport than you have in the last several years you’ve had one. First, it was ringing in the New Year in Paris. Then it was a long January weekend in Bruges. Next it was an overnight stay in Amsterdam. In between all those were weekend jaunts across the pond to stay at his apartment in London.

So you were unsurprised when on your lunch break, just days before Valentine’s Day, Anthony texted to see if you wanted to spend a long weekend in the UK, this time meeting his family at their country estate. While you were nervous, you were also excited to take your relationship to the next level. Never mind that you and his mother were already texting on a regular basis.

It’s early evening when you step out of the town car and onto the tarmac, the plane you dubbed “Anthony One” sitting with the bay door open and the stairs down, waiting for you. You thank the driver as they pull out your luggage and hand it off to Mary, one of the flight attendants. Taking hold of the silver railing, you climb up and into the plane.

Once aboard, the sight before you leaves you speechless. The long, plush couch that spans half the length of the main cabin of the plane is lined with six of the largest bouquets of roses you have ever seen, each a different color, the air fragrant with the scent of fresh petals. Anthony emerges from the back and chuckles softly at your shocked face.

He comes to stand beside you, taking your hand and says, “I wasn’t sure which was your favorite color so I . . . .”

“Bought out an entire florist’s shop supply of roses,” you finish for him.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Something like that.”

You reach up and tug him down into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as his tongue dips effortlessly into yours. After a few moments, you break apart to catch your breath. 

“Ant, this is too much,” you gesture to the half-dozen bouquets. He gently pulls you back against his body, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He nuzzles against your cheek and then murmurs into your ear, “Think of them as a thank you gift in advance for dealing with my family this weekend.”

You huff a laugh. “Still. What am I going to do with all these roses?”

Anthony presses a kiss into your hair and then pulls back, entwining your fingers together. “You could just enjoy them all,” he suggests.

What you choose to do instead is pick your two favorites and before the crew makes the final preparations for departure, you give the remaining four bouquets to Mary, the other flight attendant Theo, the pilot and co-pilot.

Once the door is closed and secure, you and Anthony sit in a pair of large, plushly cushioned captain armchairs and buckle in as the plane prepares to depart. As you taxi down the runway, you look out the window and watch as the city lights begin to fade in the distance, becoming tiny dots of light as the plane takes off and begins to gain altitude.

Soon enough, Theo comes into the cabin to let you know you’re able to unbuckle and move freely about the cabin as he takes your drink and dinner orders.

Toeing off your shoes, you get up and move to sit in your favorite spot, Anthony’s lap. He smiles up at you as you tangle your fingers into his hair and press your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne. You reach down to undo his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Anthony shifts around you to tug off his suit jacket. Before you can unbutton his shirt all the way, Theo returns with a bottle of champagne and a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries.

“Surely not dessert before dinner,” you gasp in mock horror.

Anthony smiles and shrugs as you go back to your seat and swivel it around to face him. Theo says nothing as he sets the bottle and strawberries down on a small table and places it between you and Anthony. A moment later, Theo produces a pair of champagne flutes as well. You take a strawberry while the bottle is uncorked. Once Theo hands you both filled glasses, you toast each other and then enjoy the strawberries and chat about your day while you wait for dinner to be served.

You’re flying over the Atlantic Ocean when Mary comes into the cabin carrying your dinners on a large tray. You and Anthony move to the other side where a large table with cushy seats on either side sits near a large tv mounted to the wall in front of it. She places the tray down on the table and you both sit and tuck into the meal. After being assured you both have everything you need, Mary excuses herself back into the crew cabin.

Dinner passes pleasantly as you continue to catch up, a movie playing on the screen while you eat. Once you finish, Mary returns to clear your meal while Theo offers to turn down the bed.

The bed. The first time you ever entered Anthony One, your eyes had been drawn to the queen-sized bed that sat at the rear of the main cabin. Lavishly decorated in a plush, light blue comforter, adorned with gold and light blue accent pillows, it was your second favorite spot in the whole plane. After a long day of work you love snuggling under the soft blankets and against the 500 thread count sheets. None of this has ever been your normal, but if this was the price that came with being in love with and loved by Anthony Bridgerton, it was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

While Theo turns down the bed, you step into the bathroom; which has an actual shower, to wash your face and change into something cozier to rest in… along with a little surprise you have for Anthony underneath your fleece sleep pants and loose-fitting sweatshirt.

When you emerge, ready to beckon him to join you in bed, you find the window shades closed, the cabin lights dimmed and your boyfriend nowhere in sight. After a moment, he emerges from the cockpit, still fully dressed, his messenger bag in hand.

“Apologies, Love,” he says softly. “I have to check in on the Asian markets, but I’ll join you in a bit.”

You pout inelegantly and Anthony places his bag down and comes over to you. He tugs you into a heated kiss, pleasure zinging through your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and hop up to wrap your legs around his waist. He rocks back to land on the couch and you get lost in each other for a few minutes, hands roaming up and down his back, attempting to free his dress shirt from his pants. Anthony finally pulls back, out of breath, hair adorably mussed. The glint in his eye holds a promise even as he gently extricates himself from you.

“You are far too distracting,” he murmurs as he pulls out his laptop.

You stand, your smile unrepentant as you head to the back of the cabin. “You have ten minutes to get your work done, Lord Bridgerton.”

Anthony laughs and counters, “Thirty minutes.”

You turn around and shake your head, putting an extra sway in your step. “Fifteen,” you call out.

“Deal,” Anthony says with a laugh as you pull closed the curtain that separates the bed from the rest of the cabin.

**********

You awaken alone sometime later, unsure of the time, but you’re certain it’s been far longer than fifteen minutes. Sitting up, you push back the blankets, pick your phone up off the charging station and check the flight path tracker to see where you are.  Frowning, you note it’s been nearly two hours since you fell asleep. With a sigh, you get up and push aside the curtain, ready to give Anthony a piece of your mind for not joining you.

But as you stride into the main cabin, you stop short at the sight before you. Anthony is fast asleep on the long couch, his partially unbuttoned shirt and dress pants rumpled, head lolled to the side with the blue light of his laptop illuminating his handsome face. You wince as you imagine how much his neck is going to be hurting. Sighing, you close his laptop and gently shake his shoulder. He comes awake with a jolt, blinking up at you in the dimly lit cabin, his hair adorably sticking up in all directions. 

Taking in both you and his surroundings, with a wince he offers up a quiet, “I’m sorry.” He sits up and rubs his neck as you push away his laptop and sit down on his lap. You feel Anthony’s interest, hot and hard, through your sleep pants as you grind down. He tugs you closer, hands banding around your ass.  You undo three more buttons on his shirt, exposing the dark thatch of hair on his chest that you love running your fingers through.

As you do just that, fingers slowly walking across his pecs, you lean into his ear and whisper, “My Lord, I would love to join the Mile High Club. I don’t suppose you can help me with that, can you?”

Trapped between the couch and your body, Anthony leans back a fraction of an inch to stare into your eyes. Even in the semi-dark, you can see them glimmer with mischief. “We can join it together,” he murmurs hotly.

Without another word, you pull your sweatshirt over your head, tossing it behind you, showing off part of your surprise. Anthony moans as the top of your see-through black lace lingerie is revealed.

In one fluid motion, Anthony stands with your legs wrapped around his waist. Drawing you into a heated kiss, he starts to walk you to the bed, but you tug on his hair and he pulls back to look at you curiously.

Standing on your own feet, you gently push him back down on the couch. Anthony glances towards the bed and you gently chide him.

“We fuck in beds all the time, My Lord. I think for the true Mile High experience, we ought to use the couch,” you pause to add, “or better yet, one of the captain’s chairs.”

Anthony growls and then you squeal as he picks you up to carry you bridal style over to one of the large, plush swivel chairs, dropping you carefully into the seat as he unceremoniously strips off his clothes. You pull off your sleep pants while he kicks off his boxers to land in the pile with the rest of your clothes. You take his hand to tug him down towards your body. He gently lands on the floor before you on his knees, staring up at you reverently, pushing aside sheer black lace as you part your legs.

“No panties,” he murmurs as he runs a finger along your slit.

You can only moan as you slouch down in the chair, allowing him full access to the lower part of your body.

Breathless, you ask him, “What do you plan to do about that, My Lord?”

Anthony’s smile is sharp as he rocks back onto his heels. “Why don’t you ask me very nicely what it is you want and find out.”

Widening your legs, you say, “Please My Lord, touch me.”

Anthony clicks his tongue. In a low growl, he says, “Look how wet you are. Surely My Girl can do better than that.”

Nipples instantly hardening into pebbled peaks, you squirm in the chair as you try, and fail to keep the whine out of your voice as you beg, “Anthony, please, please use your fingers to make me come. Please.”

Anthony shifts only a fraction closer. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

His tone alone could bring you off, but you look him straight in the eyes and say, “My pussy, please.”

Anthony smiles another sinful smile and at last rucks your lingerie up around your hips, exposing your lower half to the warm air of the cabin. Leaning in, he nuzzles against one of your thighs as he dips his index finger into your soaked folds. You reach up to grasp the top of the chair to keep yourself from slipping down.

“You are so wet, aren’t you, My Girl,” Anthony murmurs. You moan in response, which seems to satisfy him as he adds a second finger. “How many fingers can you take, I wonder,” he muses.

You cry out, “All of them!” as he adds another one and swirls around your clit. He makes a thoughtful noise as he adds the fourth, continuing to move around inside you.

“We’ll save my thumb for another day,” he says softly and you nod. He strokes your clit with expert precision, your pleasure ebbing and flowing under his careful ministrations. Just when you’re sure you’re about to come, he carefully withdraws his fingers. You watch in fascination as he takes his wet digits into his mouth and stares into your eyes and smiles as he sucks your juices off them. Your eyes shift from his face to his fingers, down to his flushed, leaking cock.

Once finished, he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. Sitting up, you moan and tug him up into your lap. Grabbing his face you whisper, “Forget your fingers; I want to ride you in this chair, right here, right now, until we both come.”

Anthony’s shocked face gives way to another sharp smile. “As My Girl commands,” he says, rising up and then you’re shifting on shaky legs to sit on his lap as he takes your place on the chair. 

For a moment, you fight for balance as the chair starts to swivel under you, but Anthony plants his feet down firmly, steadying you both. Lifting the hem of your lingerie, you seat yourself fully onto his cock, which feels like velvety steel inside you. Anthony whines as you settle yourself as comfortably as you can, both of you feeling every minute movement you make. You grab onto his shoulders and he takes hold of your hips. You stare deeply into each other's eyes as you begin to move in tandem, easily building a rhythm. You’re still near the edge from his earlier ministrations and it’s not long before he joins you, leaning forward to gasp into the side of your neck, keening with pleasure.

You reach around to run your fingers up and down his bare back, something you know he loves the feel of as you continue to bounce gleefully on his cock. He reaches up to support your back and then soon enough, Anthony is throwing his head back against the chair and starts to yell out your name as bright, hot white light overtakes your senses as you, too, tumble over the precipice, crying out his name in return.

After regaining your breath a few minutes later, you carefully unseat yourself from him and, on even shakier legs, pull him towards the bed. Clearly spent, Anthony leans heavily on you as you walk slowly to the back of the cabin. Anthony falls onto the bed and you go into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to clean you both up with.

Once the task is done and you’re both settled comfortably under the blankets, Anthony pulls you onto his chest, your head resting under his chin. Sleepily, he says, “The sex was wonderful, as always, but I have to say . . .”

“Joining the Mile High Club in an airplane seat, no matter how cushy is not all it’s hyped up to be,” you finish, your last word punctuated with a yawn.

Anthony nods and with a yawn of his own says, “Exactly. Let’s stick to the bed from now on, shall we?”

You press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I like the way you think, Lord Bridgerton.” On the charging stand, your phone chimes with a notification that it’s officially midnight back home. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” you murmur sleepily.

Anthony kisses the top of your head. “Happy Valentine’s Day, My Beautiful Girl.”

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @hottytoddyhistory @laniec03 @kwbaby24 @queenofmean14 @jtheteenagewitch

[witchofthemidlands]

this isn't a criticism at all because they're all ultimately derived of the same source materials, this is something i want to say in the hopes i can nudge someone towards a special interest of mine that invaded my brain & will never leave.

if you liked nosferatu (2024) wow, do i have the show for you! with the same content warnings as you'd receive for nosferatu may i offer upon you all: penny dreadful (2014-2016)

filled with some of the best ever adaptations of the characters from dracula, frankenstein, jekyll & hyde, the wolf man & the picture of dorian grey is (in my personal opinion) the most phenomenal gothic series i have ever seen in all my years of being a gothic literature fan, i have a degree in literature, a segment of it being in gothic literature, i have read these stories over & over again, dracula is my second favourite novel of all time, frankenstein is also in my top teen novels of all time & i love jekyll & hyde & i don’t think i have ever seen a loosely based adaptation get these characters so well. do you vibe with nosferatu's ellen hutter? let me tell you about the beautiful, the love of my life, vanessa ives! played by the ethereal eva green! vanessa is tragic, beautiful & literally possessed by a demon. she is brave & brilliant, not to be a lesbian but oh my god, i rarely cry at pieces of media but i have shed so many tears over her & been in awe of her existence, she is derivative of both lucy westenra & mina harker, the calibre of acting from eva green is like nothing i have ever seen, her possession moments is just a masterclass in acting & the pain & desperation… oh vanessa will ruin your life. harry treadaway must have been touched by some acting deity & i cannot believe he isn't a massive name in television & film because he is the best version of victor frankenstein i have ever seen in any adaptation of frankenstein & this isn't even about just the frankenstein story. harrytreadaway!victor is an absolute cringefail pathetic wet cat of a man (affectionate) who sits there looking like he's on ten different substances whilst sometimes going off on side quests with his best friend vanessa & often judges the rest of the squad nobody is matching his freak. he is THE version of victor frankenstein of all time. if there is anything else that man has done that anyone recommends send it my way because that is an actor. rory kinnear gives the emotionl performance of a lifetime as frankenstein's creature & explores so many aspects of that character in ways i have never seen before in all my years of watching adaptations of frankenstein. josh hartnett as ethan chandler… that man's story is a RIDE, he is a disaster & a gentleman. he is also openly bisexual & for no reasons why & in no way beneficial to the plot, has sexual relations with dorian gray & speaking of dorian gray. i have never liked that book, that story has never been for me but that beautiful singer reeve carney made me see so many different aspects of a character i have never liked & is just brilliant because his character is just there to have sexual relations & not really benefit the overall plot that much at all. there are new iterations of mina murray, her father malcolm murray, a grumpy old man played the same bloke who portrayed niles caulder from doom patrol & basically plays the same character, van helsing, a charmingly sinister iteration of dracula & an otherworldly brilliantly acted version of dr. henry jekyll who seems like he had a situationship with frankenstein.

ultimately vanessa, sembene, malcolm murray, ethan & frankenstein are forced found family, they are strays, they are disasters, they are frenemies, they're forced found family bound together, in the most dysfunctional manner, the only one with a braincell is sembene who's too good for their shit & of course my love, the brilliant & the gorgeous billie piper plays a phenomenal iteration of the bride of frankenstein in the most raw performance i have seen from her. i am absolutely in love with her, she is so beautiful & so talented & did something to my brain chemistry. there is heartbreak, humour, adventure, the gothic, the weird & the tragic. this series is something else & that's not even the half of it.

also broadway legend patti lupone plays a genderbent dr. seward from dracula & i want her to do unspeakable things to me.