#i hope you know these are just my scattered thoughts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elixirfromthestars · 2 days ago

Text

Two idiots in love are my absolute weakness, so you have me hooked from the second I read that. 🤭💖

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

“You’re telling me you share an apartment with a man who looks like that and you haven’t fucked him?” Natasha stares after your roommate as he heads to the bar to grab the drink he promised to purchase you for losing a bet the weekend before.

^ Nat my dear that is an excellent point 👀🩷 Because I don’t know how long I could go having that man walk around and not lose my mind at how gorgeous he is 😩💕

“Well if you’re not interested, do you mind if I go for it? Pretty sure he’d be the best sex of my life.” Your heart drops through your stomach like an anvil. The thought of Bucky being intimate with anyone, let alone your best friend, is enough to send you into a spiral.

^ No because my heart would’ve sunk too ☹️💔

“You know if you give it a chance, you might find he likes you too. He’s got a smitten little smile for you.” This is what you’re afraid of. Hope.

^ I totally get her because it’s like on one hand when you have a crush you can be a little blinded to things around you, so other people might be able to see what you can’t—but they also might misinterpret things so I completely understand being afraid of hope 😭

The buoyant feeling in your chest which swells as you picture what dating Bucky might actually be like. How soft his lips would be against yours, how he’d mumble sweet devotions against your skin before tasting every inch of you, how in a room packed to the brim like the bar you’re in now, his eyes search for yours and everyone else in the periphery fades into nonexistence because you are the focal point of his entire world.

^ THE IMAGERY 🤭💗💗 You have me giggling and kicking my feet over here at imagining this 🥰

Reading the reader’s inner turmoil and her back and forth with herself is so relatable as a plus size girlie myself 🥺🩷 I’ve gotten better with the voice inside my head, but reading some of this stuff is like reading younger me’s thoughts and it just makes me want to give the reader a big hug 🥺❤️‍🩹

“Here you go, Sunrise.” His nickname for you ignites a flame in both your cheeks, and you’re forced to look down at the table in attempts to hide your reaction. He started calling you that within the first week of moving in, realising your love for staying up to read all night, until the sun came up the following day.

^ Wait that is such a cute nickname omg 🥹🌅💛🧡 And the reason behind it—ahhhh!! 🤭💛🧡

You try not to read into it too much that you are the only person you know of that Bucky has a nickname for. He’s just being friendly. A nice roommate.

^ friendly….a nice roommate…🫠 idiots in love will one day be my ending but it’s okay 😌💖

You are so far gone for him.

^ And I so relate to this. 🥰

His finger traces a light trail down your bare forearm which lights your skin on fire. You’re not even sure Bucky’s aware he’s doing it, it seems so casually intimate, such a soft touch as his eyes bore into yours, but it sends your brain into a meltdown. “Oh Sunrise, you don’t know the kind of heat I can bring if I really tried.”

^ TRY ME 🤭 SURPRISE ME 🤭💖

His face is so close to yours you can smell the beer on his breath and see how he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. He’s got these freckles scattered along his high cheekbones which reach the tips of his ears, that you want to place delicate kisses to, learn the constellations of pigmentation over his body so you could point them out blindfolded. And those fucking eyes, they’re impossible not to fall in love with. Those saxe eyes which hold so much wonder and tenderness, which seems to pool in the slightly darker flecks at the centre. You really would be perfectly content if those eyes were the last you ever see, being lured underneath the waves of blue to your doom, but like a siren's victim, you’d dive in with a smile on your face.

^ MUTUAL PINING MY BELOVED!!! 🤭💕💕💕 ITS ALWAYS THE LITTLE THINGS 🥰❤️❤️❤️ All the tension in this scene was so *chef’s kiss* and I am just ahhhhhhhhh!!! 💕💞💕💞 You write in the most beautiful detail Em, I am in awe of your writing!! 🫶🏼 Your prose is so wonderful I love it!! 🥹❤️

“I’m gonna go up to the bar and see if I can flirt my way to scoring a shot.” She announces as she stands, a shameless look passing between you and Bucky. “Some of us don’t have sex personified living in the next room we can flirt with to buy us free alcohol. You kids have fun continuing whatever that was. Just make sure to use protection.”

^ Oh, Nat you little—I love you for that 😂🩷🩷 She’s like the extroverted friend that adopted an introvert a.k.a. the reader 😂🩷

“Sex personified, huh? Is that what you two were whispering about behind my back before?” You might just burst into flames if you actually admit that to him, but the cocky smirk he shoots you suggests he is already fully aware how much sex appeal he has.

^ I mean…looking at us like that….were we wrong? 👀💗

“No, not that it’s any of your business, but don’t act like you don’t know how gorgeous you are Barnes.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he smiles and scrunches his nose in that way which makes your tummy somersault.

^ The way I pictured the nose scrunch perfectly in my mind and it just brought the giddiest smile on my face 🥰❤️ Thank you for that image my darling 😌💖

Bucky quickly goes through the rules you were vaguely familiar with already, then shows you how it’s done by throwing two darts into the single twenty score area and then hitting a bullseye. He looks proud of himself too, and it brings a smile to your face just how cute he looks. Is he trying so hard to impress you?

^ Trying to impress her omg that’s so adorable 🥹🩷

“It takes a special kind of talent to miss by that much Sunrise.” He snickers, but his eyes still softly gaze at you even as he teases. “Shut up, it’s my first attempt.” You playfully rib back.

^ Mutual pining and cute banter? oh, how I love these two already 🥹💕

“C’mere, let me show you.” He stands at your back, so close you can smell his aftershave, a spicy cinnamon that reminds you of home, as his touch ghosts along your arms. He fiddles with your fingers, delicately directing them where he wants them on the dart. You’re pliant to his every command, conforming to the stance he wants you in, you even tilt your head up when he uses two fingers under your chin to carefully guide your eye line to where he wants it. Holding the small projectile in line with your eyes, you’re extremely aware that Bucky’s examining you, gazing at your profile, the curve of your nose, the undulations of your lips. You feel exposed, like he’s critiquing you, but when the outcome of that is him beaming a besotted smile in your direction, you feel like you must have done something right. You let the dart fly, barely able to concentrate on where it’s going, too caught up in how close Bucky is, how his hand rests on your waist like he was made to hold you, how his broad chest behind you is as solid as a wall, yet would be the perfect place to rest your head as you fell to sleep every night.

^ THE TENSION!! PERFECTION!! 🫠🩷🩷🩷 If that man was holding me that close I would not be able to concentrate on anything else I swear 😮‍💨💖

It punctures into the board this time, scoring a measly four points, but it’s sufficient for Bucky to wrap his arms around your middle, rest his head on your shoulder and give you a squeeze as he lowers his husky voice in your ear. “There you go, great job Sunrise.”

^ Ahhhhhhhhhhh 🥰 The things I would do to stay like that forever 🤭💞

He’s sitting at the table where you just left him, chatting up one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. It’s as if someone’s poured a bucket of ice cold water over you. This devastating, borderline nauseating, chasm cleaving your chest in two is exactly why hope is the most dangerous feeling to cultivate unchecked.

^ Oh no ☹️💔 I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding, but our poor reader nooooo ☹️💔💔

It feels like there’s a cyclone wreaking havoc in your stomach as you watch their interaction. It looks sort of casual, at least given how far they are seated apart in such a noisy room, but there’s an axe carving your heart into splinters at the mere thought of what flirty chat is bouncing between them, the smile curving on his lips, and you find yourself needing to turn away. You know you can’t lose what was never yours in the first place, but then why does it feel like your soul is disintegrating and being sucked out of your body through a hole in your sternum?

^ Wreck my heart in the absolute prettiest detail, seriously 💔 This paragraph was so hauntingly beautiful and I could just feel the pain in my own heart too ☹️💔

What you don’t realise as you make your hasty exit, head down to avoid watching Bucky flirt with the beautiful blonde, is that he watches with an aching heart as you take every step without so much as saying goodbye - because he notices everything about you, in every scenario, hoping for any fraction of your attention in return.

^ MUTUAL PINING + IDIOTS IN LOVE + MISUNDERSTANDINGS = THE DEATH OF ME 😭

He swiftly grabs his jacket to chase after you, muttering a quick apology to his coworker he really doesn’t mean. He sees enough of her Monday to Friday for her to consume his weekends as well, especially when it's taking time away which could instead be spent with you.

^ And he’s going after her right away?? Ughhhh my heart 🤧🩷🩷

“Firstly, you're daft if you think I’m letting you walk that far by yourself. I’d be worried about you the whole time.” He tilts his head to the side and it reminds you of a sweet puppy gazing at their owner with fondness, willing to pursue them anywhere. “Secondly, you’re not ruining anything. It’s no fun without you there anyway.”

^ He’s so sweet to her 😭🩷🩷 I wish the reader could see just how special she is to him 🥺

Warmth blooms in your chest that even though it’s just as roommates, you’re the one Bucky’s returning to the apartment with. He’s not going home with Nat, or any other stunning girl he could pull with a single flirty glance. Instead it’s you who he drapes his jacket around when he notices you shivering and slows his large strides to allow you to keep up as you walk casually back home. Taking your time to extend your conversation and absorb the scent of his coat as you pull it tighter around yourself.

^ I’m going to lock these two in a room and make them talk 😂🩷 They’re so cute and they need to confess!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Em, my darling, thank you so much for submitting this piece for my writing challenge 🩷🩷 My apologies for letting life get too much in the way that it took me some time to get to this fic 🥺 I mentioned this already, but your prose is so pretty I swear I’m obsessed with it!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 I’m so soft for these two, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to, but I definitely added the part two to my reading list because I need to see these two get a happy ending 😭🩷🩷 Love you lots, and thanks again for participating!! 🥹🩷🩷

Right Here, Waiting

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

PART 2 > >

Summary: You’re pining after your insanely attractive roommate, but are convinced he doesn’t feel the same way.

Prompts: Roommate AU for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration & you can’t lose something you never had for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge 🎥

Warnings: strictly 18+, talk of sex, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, sucking in her stomach, VERY insecure reader, angst in the form of belief of unrequited love, jealousy, idiots in love

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: as the winner of this very close poll, here is a little roommate AU with our beloved Bucky 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“Men and women can just be friends you know.”

“If my roommate looked like yours, I’d be jumping his bones every chance I got.”

He’s way out of my league, and as much as I might want him, he doesn’t think of me like that, is the rather depressing thought that has been replayed on loop in your mind since the devilishly attractive yet sweet as an angel Bucky Barnes moved in with you.

But instead of voicing aloud your insecurity, you simply hum in agreement. It’s easier than trying to explain your one sided crush that’s only ever going to end in heartache.

Nat’s much more the type he’d go for anyway, beautiful, skinny, quick witted. Everything you’re not. She’s always the one who gets attention from guys at places like this, whereas you’re the ‘approachable one’ who gets asked if Nat’s single.

No one’s ever interested in you, especially not when you’re sitting next to your much hotter, thinner best friend.

“C’mon, there’s lots of guys here you could take home. You really have to make things awkward by sleeping with my roommate?” You try to sound as calm and collected as possible, but the lump in your throat betrays you.

Nat gives you a knowing look, seeing straight through your weak facade. She is your best friend after all, and knows you better than practically anyone in the world. “Of course I wouldn't, darling - I’m just trying to get you to admit you like him.”

There’s something almost worse about Nat knowing you’re crushing on Bucky - she can be so incessant, honing in on something and making it her mission to see it come to fruition, even if it’s to a bitter end. Which is exactly how your one sided crush will play out if she tries pushing you together.

You have an understanding which she hasn’t grasped yet that Bucky would never be attracted to you like that, and you’d rather spare your poor heart from his rejection and find a way to be content with friendship than risk hearing you’re too big, too unattractive, too much not his type for anything to happen.

“Can we just drop it. We’re roommates, nothing more.” But you know Nat’s incapable of letting something go once she’s got her claws sunk into it. You mostly love her for it, but in this one instance, it’s a right pain in the ass.

“You know if you give it a chance, you might find he likes you too. He’s got a smitten little smile for you.”

This is what you’re afraid of. Hope.

But it’s that blind belief which will tear your heart to tatters. Hope will be your cause of death in the end. The expectation of a happy outcome despite all available evidence which will be your ultimate downfall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, look at him, there’s no way he’d ever be interested in me.” But yet, despite how much you tell yourself you’re destined for heartbreak, you can’t quite snuff out that last ember of hope deep in your chest when Bucky turns around with your drink in his hand and smiles reflexively as his eyes set on you all the way across the room.

“I hate it when you put yourself down like that.” There’s a glint in Nat’s eye like she wants to say more, but she notices Bucky returning from the bar and the words die in the back of her throat.

You try not to read into it too much that you are the only person you know of that Bucky has a nickname for. He’s just being friendly. A nice roommate.

“That’s the last time I bet you anything to do with food. Clearly you can eat and drink me under the table any day.” You know he’s just teasing about your bet, who could eat more spicy Indian food without needing to take a drink to subdue the burning heat on your tongue, but any comment related to the amount of food you eat or your weight always hits a little too close to home.

“Thanks Bucky.” Taking your drink from him, your fingers brush, sending goosebumps shivering down your arm, and his dazzling blue eyes regard you with what your hopeful heart believes is warm adoration. “At least you’re not being a sore loser this time round.”

“Excuse you, I’ve never been a sore loser. You just like to bend the rules to suit yourself.” He retorts before taking a sip of his beer, and you find it impossible to look away from how his perfectly plump lips cover the opening and his Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a sip.

You are so far gone for him.

“Sore loser.” You call in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle in that way you can feel down to your bones. “Don’t blame me just because you can’t handle the heat, Barnes.”

“Oh Sunrise, you don’t know the kind of heat I can bring if I really tried.”

And those fucking eyes, they’re impossible not to fall in love with. Those saxe eyes which hold so much wonder and tenderness, which seems to pool in the slightly darker flecks at the centre. You really would be perfectly content if those eyes were the last you ever see, being lured underneath the waves of blue to your doom, but like a siren's victim, you’d dive in with a smile on your face.

There’s a cough from your left which breaks the trance Bucky’s eyes have you in. You would never admit it aloud, but you’d forgotten, just for a brief moment, that your best friend was at the table with you.

Nat’s looking at you with a bold grin and you know before she even opens her mouth that she’s about to say something cheeky and probably completely against your wishes to keep your yearning devotion a secret.

Nat walks off without another word, but after her quip, you find you can’t look Bucky quite in the eye.

You’re positive in this moment he’ll laugh at the insinuation that anything remotely romantic or sexual exists between you two and you brace yourself for the puncture to your heart.

But instead, he just looks at you with those big blue eyes and smiles warmly, as if Nat had simply commented about needing to use the restroom to excuse her absence.

It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you answer and you pray he can’t hear the difference in your voice.

“No, not that it’s any of your business, but don’t act like you don’t know how gorgeous you are Barnes.”

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he smiles and scrunches his nose in that way which makes your tummy somersault. You could be fooled into thinking you were back in your apartment alone with him, the only girl within a hundred miles with the way his pupils grow wide and fixate solely on you in this bar crowded with people much more alluring than yourself.

You shake your head, almost imperceptibly, trying to rid your mind of sanguine thoughts that are just setting you up to be greatly disappointed.

You can’t get your hopes up.

There’s a dartboard which becomes available beside your table and you stand with your drink. “C’mon, last weekend you told me you’d show me how to play this ridiculous game and I’m holding you to that.”

It’s not that you don’t already understand the principle of darts, but when Bucky promises to spend more time with you, you’re not about to turn him down.

There’s this gleam in his eye you can’t quite place as he stands and follows you to the dark corner of the bar. You want to believe it’s something of endearment at calling him ‘gorgeous’, a fondness he reserves only for you, but you try reminding yourself that’s the kind of false hope you’ve been desperately shoveling out of your chest and you have to be stronger to not allow such optimistic concepts to penetrate through your defences.

Pushing that thought from your mind, you step up to take your aim. Your first throw goes very astray, not even hitting the dartboard at all, but instead sticking into the wood panelling about a foot below it.

You feel horrified that you’ve just embarrassed yourself, not only in front of Bucky, but the entire bar. Looking around with a sheepish grimace, you find fortunately no one is paying any attention to you, and when your eyes land on Bucky, you can’t help but both burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that lasts so long you’re cheeks start to hurt.

“It takes a special kind of talent to miss by that much Sunrise.” He snickers, but his eyes still softly gaze at you even as he teases.

“Shut up, it’s my first attempt.” You playfully rib back.

“C’mere, let me show you.” He stands at your back, so close you can smell his aftershave, a spicy cinnamon that reminds you of home, as his touch ghosts along your arms.

He fiddles with your fingers, delicately directing them where he wants them on the dart. You’re pliant to his every command, conforming to the stance he wants you in, you even tilt your head up when he uses two fingers under your chin to carefully guide your eye line to where he wants it.

Holding the small projectile in line with your eyes, you’re extremely aware that Bucky’s examining you, gazing at your profile, the curve of your nose, the undulations of your lips. You feel exposed, like he’s critiquing you, but when the outcome of that is him beaming a besotted smile in your direction, you feel like you must have done something right.

You let the dart fly, barely able to concentrate on where it’s going, too caught up in how close Bucky is, how his hand rests on your waist like he was made to hold you, how his broad chest behind you is as solid as a wall, yet would be the perfect place to rest your head as you fell to sleep every night.

You try not to think about how large your stomach is as he holds you, sucking in slightly, instead trying to savour the feeling of being in his arms. If he recognises how fast your heart is now beating against his chest, he doesn’t mention it.

The two of you continue to play your game, forgetting all about the hearty atmosphere of the bar, just enjoying each other's company, and your atrocious attempt at beating Bucky in a game he’s had far too much experience with.

You suspect he downplays his skill - you hope to spend more time alone with you, but more than likely just so you don’t feel completely embarrassed by your endeavours.

Once he’s beaten you for a second time, you find a free table to set yourselves, before you go up to the bar to order a second round. You can’t seem to shake the smile off your face as you give the bartender your order. A sense of light optimism builds in your chest, Bucky’s just given up his night to spend with you as you make a fool of yourself playing darts.

He could be out with anyone, giving them all his attention. But instead he’s with you. Eyes softening and an enchanting smile spreading on his features as if he’s already precisely where he wants to be.

You turn to look back at Bucky to find the one thing in the world that could dampen your high spirits.

He’s sitting at the table where you just left him, chatting up one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

It’s as if someone’s poured a bucket of ice cold water over you. This devastating, borderline nauseating, chasm cleaving your chest in two is exactly why hope is the most dangerous feeling to cultivate unchecked.

She’s absolutely stunning, with shoulder length blonde hair, a glittery, low plunging top that brings out the radiance in her light eyes and accentuates her fit figure. She’s everything you’re not, everything Bucky deserves, and everything that makes you so acutely aware of how much physical space you take up in the world.

How someone as beautiful as Bucky could never be attracted to the likes of you when women like her walk on this earth.

You know you can’t lose what was never yours in the first place, but then why does it feel like your soul is disintegrating and being sucked out of your body through a hole in your sternum?

Bucky’s single, the two of you aren’t even remotely dating, you are purely roommates. You just so happened to have a spare room available at the same time he broke up with his ex and needed somewhere to sleep. You were a convenient solution to the awkward situation he found himself in.

And you’ve never been anything more.

He has every right to flirt, fuck and date whomever he pleases. Which decidedly isn’t you.

You search out Nat who’s over by the other side of the room, your extremities almost feeling numb as you walk past so many groups of friends and handsy partners, knowing that the one person who consumes your entire world simply views you as just someone whom he shares a bathroom with and occasionally bets wagers of buying a round of drinks.

She’s flirting with some handsome, tall stranger who appears to have bought her a couple drinks. You don’t want to ruin her night either, but you know she’d be irate if you disappeared without telling her.

All you want is the comfort of your bed, snuggled underneath a mountain of blankets where you can escape into a world where Bucky isn’t flirting with someone who is both much prettier and much thinner than you.

Should you even go home if Bucky brings her back to the apartment where you’d be subjected to listening to the entire affair?

Probably not, but at this point you just need to get out of here, as far away as possible from the scene which is causing your throat to constrict and tears to sting behind your eyes.

You touch Nat on the upper arm to pull her attention. “Imma head home.”

Her line of sight specifically redirects to the table you were seated with Bucky at, to find the source of your crushing heartbreak.

“Alright, then I’m coming with you.”

“No, please stay, have fun, I’m fine it’s just getting a little loud in here.” You lie through your teeth, but after pretending all night you're not about to start admitting your feelings now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The look Nat gives you is a clear indication she doesn’t believe your fib, but you simply turn away from her piercing eyes and stalk towards the door, trying to avoid bumping into the crowd of people in your path.

“Sunrise, wait up!” You hear a very familiar deep voice call from behind you just as you’re about to put on your headphones. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if he hadn’t used your nickname.

“Bucky? What’re you doing?”

“You think I’m gonna let you walk home alone this late at night?” He says with such an ease, as if it were the only possible outcome given the situation. Like he didn’t have a drop dead gorgeous woman in the bar waiting to take him home and do downright pornographic things to him.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your fun. It’s only a couple blocks, I can walk it myself.” You can’t find it in you to feel guilty about pulling him away from the woman inside, especially not when he looks so content having followed you out into the cold night air.

Dammit, there’s that incessant hope again.

You really are too enamoured with him for your own good. Even if it wasn’t tonight, you're just setting yourself up for a more agonising downfall in the end.

Part 2 > >

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications

To be tagged in additional instalments of this AU, please add yourself to the taglist here

#elixirscinema #em ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#lovely mutuals ♡🎀♡#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes angst

986 notes · View notes

formulaonecrumbs · 2 days ago

Text

thirteen days and my thirteenth reason ✍️

Lando Norris x depressed!reader

summary: she’s drowning under exam pressure, but lando stays beside her through it all.

warnings: established relationship, depression, burnout, academic pressure, comfort

A/N: this is the most self-indulgent fic i have EVER written. it’s based off my exact situation so if it seems specific uhhh that’s why. i literally only have 12 days till these exams start (most imp of my life i think) and i haven’t began studying for a single subject KILL ME. ADHD paralysis is real asf 😔😔 i originally wrote this only so i’d feel motivated to actually study but it didn’t work so now i’m posting it so it doesn’t go to waste ☺️ embarrassing to say but i will be coming back to read my own fic. i need it rn 😕 anyways enjoy lovies!! ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the curtains hadn’t been opened in three days.

the floor was a mess—scattered notebooks, a few balled-up tissues, a hoodie half-hanging off the edge of the bed. her laptop sat untouched on the desk, still open to a study schedule she’d typed up with shaky hands three weeks ago. color-coded. hopeful. delusional.

it was thirteen days until her final exams. the most important ones of her life. everyone kept saying that. like she didn’t already know. like the weight of it wasn’t the reason she could barely lift her head off the pillow.

she’d meant to start studying two weeks ago. then one week ago. then yesterday. then this morning.

and now the sun was setting again, and she’d done nothing. absolutely nothing. just stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry. or did cry. she honestly couldn’t remember. it all blurred together now—hours and hours of feeling like she was stuck underwater while the world kept going on without her.

the front door opened.

she didn’t move.

“baby?”

lando’s voice was gentle. careful. like he already knew what kind of day it had been.

he was home earlier than she expected. that or her time perception was fairly off (it was. she thought it was sunday, it was tuesday). she heard the shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the clink of his keys on the counter, and then quiet footsteps down the hallway. the bedroom door creaked open slowly.

there was a pause.

then the bed dipped beside her.

she didn’t look at him.

lando didn’t say anything at first. he just lay there beside her, head propped up on his hand, eyes studying her profile in the dim light. she looked so small. in a pathetic i-can-barely-hold-myself-up kind of way. like the duvet was the only thing keeping her together.

finally, he spoke. “have you eaten?”

she shook her head. barely.

“studied?”

another shake.

lando sighed softly, but not in a disappointed way. more like it physically hurt him to see her like this. like the girl he loved—his girl, the one who once made him laugh so hard he spilled water out his nose—had been replaced by this quiet, heavy version of herself who barely spoke anymore.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered against her cheek.

“talk to me,” he whispered. “please.”

her throat tightened.

“i can’t,” she said hoarsely. “i don’t know what to say.”

“say anything.”

“i feel like a failure.”

lando’s chest ached.

she blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy. “i have thirteen days. and i’ve done nothing. nothing. i’m so behind. i’m going to fail. and i don’t even care. that’s the worst part. i don’t care. i should care, but i just… don’t. and then i hate myself for not caring. and then i just lie here and do nothing again.”

her voice cracked on the last word.

lando didn’t try to fix it. not yet. he didn’t offer solutions or motivation or some inspirational quote he found online.

he just reached for her hand under the covers and held it tightly.

“you’re not a failure,” he said quietly.

she shook her head, tears slipping down her temples.

“you’re not,” he said again. “you’re burnt out. you’re exhausted. you’re scared. you’re human.”

she didn’t respond. just squeezed his hand tighter.

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he murmured. “you don’t have to be okay.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

they lay there for a long time. eventually, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his chest. she didn’t resist. just let herself fall into him, cheek pressed against his hoodie, fingers gripping the fabric like it might anchor her back to the world.

“i’ll help you,” he said into her hair. “we’ll figure it out. we’ll make a plan. we’ll break it into little pieces. you don’t have to do it all at once.”

she shook her head weakly. “i don’t think i can.”

“then we’ll start with something small. just one thing.”

she didn’t say anything.

“we’ll do it together,” he promised. “and if all you can do today is brush your teeth or drink some water, that’s enough. you’re enough.”

she exhaled a shaky breath.

“i’m so tired,” she whispered.

“then rest,” he said. “you’re allowed to rest.”

he didn’t leave her side. not for the rest of the night. he ordered takeout—her favorite. he brought her a glass of water and sat beside her while she drank it slowly, like every sip was a mountain climbed. he helped her brush her hair when she couldn’t lift her arms without trembling. and when she finally crawled out from under the covers to shower, he waited outside the bathroom just in case.

the next morning, he woke her with a soft kiss to her forehead and a sticky note stuck to the lamp that said:

baby steps.

she sat up.

she opened her laptop.

and for the first time in weeks, she tried.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

four days in, she was already starting to fray at the edges.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t trying. for the first time in a while she was. she’d stuck to the plan—lando’s plan, the one he’d helped her make with gentle hands and sleepy morning kisses and a color-coded spreadsheet that didn’t feel like it was out to kill her. one subject per day. built-in breaks. kind reminders written on sticky notes in his handwriting like: you’re doing amazing and five minutes of dancing > five minutes of crying.

but trying didn’t mean it was easy.

especially not tonight.

she’d been sitting at the kitchen table for two hours now, blinking at the same paragraph in her textbook without actually reading a word. her brain was buzzing, her back ached, and the weight of everything—every page she hadn’t read, every topic she didn’t understand, every second slipping by too fast—was pressing against her chest like a vice.

her eyes burned.

her fingers curled into fists in her lap.

and then, just like that, it snapped.

a single sob cracked out of her like a warning shot, and then the floodgates opened.

she pushed the textbook away with trembling hands and dropped her head onto the table, tears slipping fast and hot down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. she didn’t even try to stop it. she couldn’t. all the pressure she’d been holding in for days, weeks—it came pouring out like it had been waiting for this exact moment to break her.

“fuck,” she whispered. “fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“hey—hey, hey.”

lando’s voice was soft but immediate.

she hadn’t even heard him come in.

he crossed the room in two seconds, dropping to his knees beside her chair and cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears even as more fell.

“what happened?” he whispered.

she tried to talk, but it came out in a choked sob.

“breathe,” he said, gently. “deep breath. c’mon, baby. with me.”

he inhaled slow and deep. she tried to follow. couldn’t quite get there. tried again.

“that’s it. good girl. again.”

a few breaths later, her chest started to ease—just a little.

“i can’t do it,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i can’t—i don’t know anything, i’m so behind—“

“hey,” he interrupted, rubbing her arm. “no. don’t say that. you’ve been doing so well. i’ve seen you.”

“but it’s not enough—there’s too much—and i’m so tired, lando. i can’t think straight. i feel like my brain is broken—”

“it’s not,” he said immediately. “you’re not broken. you’re overwhelmed. you’re exhausted. and you’ve been pushing through it like a fucking warrior.”

she sniffled.

“you don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he added. “not to me. not to anyone else. not even to yourself. you’re already enough, just like this.”

“but the exams—”

“will come. and we’ll face them. one question at a time. one hour at a time. but not like this. not when you’re this close to burning out.”

he pulled her into a hug—tight, grounding, real. she clung to him like a lifeline.

“you’re not alone, okay?” he murmured into her hair. “you’ve got me. always.”

they stayed like that for a while, her tears slowly soaking into the shoulder of his hoodie.

eventually, she pulled back just enough to whisper, “i’m sorry.”

he frowned. “for what?”

“for falling apart.”

“baby,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “falling apart doesn’t scare me. not when it’s you. not when i love you.”

her lip trembled.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispered. “sometimes being strong is letting yourself break and asking someone else to help you pick up the pieces.”

she nodded, barely.

“come on,” he said softly, standing and tugging her up with him. “no more tonight. you need rest.”

“but—”

“i’ll quiz you in the morning,” he promised. “i’ll make flashcards and everything. but right now, you need to lie down. cuddle quota’s running low.”

she cracked the tiniest smile through the tears. “that’s not a real thing.”

“sure it is,” he said, leading her to the couch and pulling a blanket over the both of them. “mandatory. doctor’s orders.”

she curled into his chest, still aching, still overwhelmed—but held. safe.

and for the first time in hours, her breathing slowed.

lando pressed a kiss to her temple. “we’ll get through it, baby. together.”

THE END :>

202 notes · View notes

elryuse · 2 days ago

Text

Obliviation Pt. 5

Wonyoung X Male Reader X Winter

Tags : Yandere, Dangerous Love, Toxic Love, Depth, Dark Romance, Psychopath, Maniac Words : 3,880 Words

A Lovely Commison From My Friend @Pizza_anon From Ko-fi. A Continuation of Obliviation Pt.4 I Hope You Guys Enjoyed it.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as Wonyoung adjusted the hem of her designer dress, her heels clicking against the polished floor of her penthouse. She was hosting a gathering for her IVE friends, an event she’d meticulously planned to distract herself from the storm brewing in her mind. Yujin, Liz, Rei, Gaeul, and Leeseo were already scattered across the room, laughter and champagne glasses clinking in the air.

“So, Wonyoung,” Yujin teased, her voice light but probing as she leaned back on the couch. “When are you going to settle down and have a baby? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

The room erupted in laughter as Wonyoung forced a smile, though her knuckles whitened around her glass. “Oh, come on,” she replied, her voice smooth but edged with something darker. “I’m perfectly fine where I am. And besides, my husband is… busy.”

Gaeul raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “Busy? Isn’t he always busy? Where is he, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here with you?”

Wonyoung’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered, her tone dismissive. “He’s handling some things for me. You know how it is.”

But the questions lingered, and Wonyoung could feel the weight of them pressing against her chest. She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles doing little to ease the tension coiling in her stomach.

Just as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the doorbell rang. Wonyoung frowned, glancing toward the entrance. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else,” she murmured, setting her glass down.

She walked to the door, her heels clicking with each step. When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat.

Winter stood there, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, a soft, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant outfit, her presence commanding the air around her.

“Hello, Wonyoung,” Winter said, her voice calm but laced with something sharp. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Wonyoung’s cheerful facade shattered, replaced by a cold, calculated expression. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Winter’s eyes flickered past Wonyoung to the room beyond, where the IVE members were gathered. She stepped inside, her movements deliberate. “I thought it was time I paid you a visit. After all, we have… unfinished business.”

The room fell silent as Winter made her entrance, her gaze sweeping over the curious faces of the IVE members. She turned back to Wonyoung, her smile widening. “You see, there’s something you’ve been keeping from them.”

Wonyoung’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Winter,” she hissed, her voice a warning. “Don’t—”

But Winter cut her off, her voice ringing out clear and strong. “Your husband, the one you’ve been parading around as yours, was originally mine. We were married long before you decided to crash into our lives and rewrite his memory.”

The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, the IVE members exchanging shocked glances. Wonyoung’s face flushed with rage, her manicured nails digging into her palms.

“You’re lying,” she spat, stepping closer to Winter, her voice trembling with fury. “You’re nothing but a delusional woman trying to steal what’s mine.”

Winter didn’t flinch, her gaze steady as she faced Wonyoung head-on. “Am I? Then why don’t we ask him?” she suggested, her tone dripping with challenge. “Oh, wait. He’s not here, is he? I wonder why.”

Wonyoung’s mask of composure slipped entirely, her eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity. She stepped closer, her voice a venomous whisper. “You should have stayed away, Winter. You’ve just made a huge mistake.”

Winter tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “No, Wonyoung. The mistake was yours the moment you thought you could keep him from me.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. The IVE members watched in stunned silence, their champagne glasses forgotten.

“Wonyoung,” Yujin began, her voice hesitant. “What’s going on? Is this true?”

But Wonyoung didn’t respond, her attention fixed solely on Winter. Her cheerful persona had vanished entirely, replaced by a sadistic killer’s gaze that sent a chill through the room.

Winter took a step back, her expression softening for a moment as she addressed the IVE members. “You should know the truth about the woman you call your friend. She’s not the perfect CEO she pretends to be. She’s a manipulator, a liar, and a thief.”

Wonyoung’s patience snapped. She lunged at Winter, her nails clawing for purchase, but Winter sidestepped her with ease, her movements as graceful as a dancer.

“You won’t win this, Winter,” Wonyoung snarled, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “He’s mine. He’ll always be mine.”

Winter’s smile returned, her eyes gleaming with a mix of pity and defiance. “We’ll see about that.”

As the two women faced off, the IVE members exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what to do. The once-joyful gathering had turned into a battleground, and the stakes were higher than any of them could have imagined.

Wonyoung’s voice dropped to a whisper, her words meant only for Winter. “I’ll destroy you,” she vowed, her voice like ice. “And when I’m done, he’ll forget you ever existed.”

Winter met her gaze head-on, her own whisper just as chilling. “You can try. But I’m not going anywhere.”

The room was still, the air heavy with the promise of violence. The IVE members looked on, their faces a mix of shock and fear, as Wonyoung and Winter stood locked in a silent battle of wills.

Without another word, Winter turned and walked toward the door, her steps unhurried. She paused at the threshold, glancing over her shoulder

The silence in the room was deafening, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Wonyoung’s eyes burned with a fury that could have set the room ablaze, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. Winter stood her ground, her silver hair catching the light as she tilted her chin up, unflinching. The IVE members were frozen in place, their expressions a mix of confusion and unease.

And then, suddenly, the doors burst open.

Karina led the charge, her strides purposeful and her eyes sharp. Giselle and Ningning followed closely behind, their faces etched with determination. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the balance of power tilting. Wonyoung’s gaze flickered to them, her lips curling into a snarl.

“What is this?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “A little backup, Winter? How quaint.”

Karina stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Wonyoung, this ends now. We won’t let you hurt Winter or the man she loves any longer.”

The words were like a slap to Wonyoung’s face. Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing into slits. She took a step back, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “You think this is over?” she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “It’s just beginning.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her silk dress billowing behind her like a dark cloud. The sound of the door slamming echoed in the silence that followed.

Winter exhaled shakily, her shoulders sagging with relief. She turned to Karina, Giselle, and Ningning, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft but sincere. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Giselle stepped closer, her expression softening. “We’ve got your back,” she said, her voice steady. “Always.”

Ningning nodded, her playful demeanor replaced with uncharacteristic seriousness. “She’s dangerous, Winter. We need to be ready for whatever she throws at us next.”

Winter’s gaze drifted to the window, her eyes distant as she watched the city lights flicker in the distance. “I know,” she said quietly. “And we will be.”

—---

You stood in the corner of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. The confrontation had left you shaken, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Winter’s friends turned their attention to you, their gazes assessing but not unkind.

Karina was the first to approach, her presence commanding but not overwhelming. “How are you holding up?” she asked, her tone gentle.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling deeply. “Honestly? I don’t even know. This is… a lot.”

Karina nodded, her expression sympathetic. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But you’re not alone in this. We’re here to help.”

Giselle joined her, her arms crossed over her chest. “Wonyoung’s not going to stop,” she said bluntly. “She’s obsessed. And that makes her unpredictable.”

Ningning chimed in, her voice softer now. “But we’re not going to let her win. We’ll protect you both.”

Winter moved to your side, her hand slipping into yours. The warmth of her touch grounded you, pulling you back from the edge of your spiraling thoughts. “We’ll get through this together,” she said, her voice steady. “No matter what.”

You squeezed her hand, your chest tightening with a mixture of fear and determination. “I just… I need to remember. There’s so much I still don’t know.”

Winter’s eyes softened, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead. “You will,” she promised. “And until then, I’ll remind you every day of who you are.”

The moment was interrupted by the sharp buzz of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket, your stomach dropping when you saw Wonyoung’s name on the screen. The message was short but chilling: “You think you’ve won? You’ve only made me more determined. He’s mine, Winter. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him.”

Winter’s jaw tightened as she read the message over your shoulder. “She’s not going to stop,” she said, her voice low. “We need to be ready.”

Karina stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. “We’ll set up a plan. She’s not getting near either of you.”

Giselle nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to be careful. She’s got resources, and she’s not afraid to use them.”

Ningning’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “But so do we. And we’re not afraid to fight back.”

The drive back to Winter’s apartment was tense, the silence in the car heavy with unspoken thoughts. Winter’s fingers intertwined with yours, her grip firm but comforting. She kept glancing at you, her silver hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights as she tried to read your expression. Something’s wrong, her eyes seemed to say, but she didn’t press you—not yet.

Karina sat in the passenger seat, her sharp eyes scanning the road ahead, while Giselle and Ningning murmured quietly in the backseat, discussing strategies to keep Wonyoung at bay. The air was thick with unease, but there was also a simmering determination among them. They were all in this together, ready to protect what mattered most.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the sound felt like a gunshot in the quiet car. Winter’s hand tightened around yours as you hesitated, the screen illuminating your face as you pulled it out.

Wonyoung.

The text was simple, but it sent a chill down your spine. “Stop fooling around. Come back to me. If you don’t, danger will come for you both. Don’t test me.”

Your heart raced, your fingers trembling as you stared at the message. Winter leaned closer, her breath warm against your ear as she read over your shoulder. Her grip on your hand tightened almost painfully, her jaw clenching.

“What does she mean?” Winter asked, her voice low but laced with worry. “What’s she planning?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. The threat felt too real, too immediate. Wonyoung wasn’t one to bluff, and her desperation was starting to boil over. You could feel it in the way she’d stormed out of her own gathering, in the venomous edge of her texts. She wasn’t going to back down—not now, not ever.

Karina glanced back at the two of you, her eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”

Winter showed her the phone, and Karina’s expression darkened. “She’s escalating,” she said simply, her tone cold. “We need to move faster.”

Giselle leaned forward, her brows furrowed. “What’s the plan? We can’t just sit around and wait for her to make the first move.”

Ningning’s voice was calm but firm. “We’ll figure it out. But right now, we need to make sure you two are safe. She’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants.”

Winter turned to you, her silver hair framing her face as she searched your eyes. “We’ll handle this,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil you could see in her gaze. “She’s not going to win. I won’t let her take you from me again.”

Her words should have comforted you, but the weight of Wonyoung’s threat hung heavy in the air. Danger will come for you both. The words echoed in your mind, a dark promise you couldn’t shake.

When you finally arrived at Winter’s apartment, the group moved quickly, locking the door behind them and checking the windows. Karina pulled out her laptop, her fingers flying across the keys as she muttered under her breath about tracking Wonyoung’s movements. Giselle and Ningning busied themselves with reinforcing the locks and setting up a makeshift security system.

Winter led you to the living room, her hand still firmly in yours. She sat you down on the couch, her eyes soft but serious as she knelt in front of you. “Look at me,” she said gently, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging inside you. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

You nodded, but the fear gnawed at you. “What if she tries something? What if she—”

Winter cut you off, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “I won’t let her,” she said fiercely. “You’re mine. She can’t have you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but not from fear. There was something electric in the way she looked at you, something primal and possessive that made your pulse quicken. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft but urgent, as if she was trying to remind you of what you’d lost and what you’d found again.

The kiss deepened, her hands tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer. You could feel the tension in her body, the way she clung to you as if she was afraid you’d vanish. Her lips moved against yours with a desperate hunger, her tongue teasing yours as she poured all her fear and longing into the kiss.

When she finally broke away, her breath was ragged, her silver eyes dark with desire. “Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please. Don’t let her take you from me again.”

You nodded, your own hands gripping her waist as you pulled her onto your lap. Her body pressed against yours, warm and familiar, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of you, lost in each other, the threat of Wonyoung lurking in the shadows but unable to touch you—not yet.

But then your phone buzzed again, and the spell was broken. Winter stiffened in your arms, her eyes darting to the phone on the coffee table. The screen lit up with another message from Wonyoung, and this time, it was a photo.

Your blood ran cold as you picked up the phone, the image sending a wave of panic through you. It was a picture of the cabin—Winter’s cabin. The one you’d just left. The message underneath was short and chilling: “You can’t run forever.”

Winter’s breath hitched as she saw the photo, her hands tightening on your shoulders. “She’s watching us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s been watching us this whole time.”

Karina’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent. “We need to move. Now. She’s escalating faster than we thought.”

Giselle and Ningning were already on their feet, their expressions grim. “We’ll take you somewhere safe,” Giselle said, her tone steady but urgent. “But we need to go.”

Winter looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. “We’ll get through this,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “No matter what it takes.”

But as you stood, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a text—it was a call. Wonyoung’s name flashed on the screen, and the room seemed to freeze.

“Don’t answer it,” Winter said quickly, her voice tight with panic.

But you couldn’t help yourself. Your finger hovered over the screen, your heart pounding in your chest as you hesitated. Before you could make a decision, the phone stopped ringing. A second later, a new message appeared: “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

The room felt heavy with tension, the weight of Wonyoung’s threat lingering in the air like a storm cloud. Winter’s eyes were locked on yours, her silver hair catching the dim light as she stepped closer. Her hand reached out, fingers brushing against your arm with a softness that contrasted the chaos unraveling outside these walls.

“Forget her,” Winter whispered, her voice low and steady, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—desperation, longing, fear. “She doesn’t get to control you anymore. You’re not hers.”

Her words stirred something deep within you, a mixture of anger and defiance that had been buried under layers of confusion and misplaced loyalty. But before you could respond, Winter’s lips were on yours, soft yet insistent, as if she could erase Wonyoung’s presence with the heat of her kiss.

Her hands slid up your chest, fingers tangling in the fabric of your shirt as she pulled you closer. There was no hesitation in her movements, no lingering doubt. It was as if she’d been waiting for this moment, needing it, to remind you of who you were—who you had been before Wonyoung’s lies had clouded your mind.

“Look at me,” she murmured against your lips, her voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and desire. She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes dark with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I want you to see me. Really see me.”

Her fingers found the hem of her shirt, and she slowly tugged it over her head, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. The air between you seemed to shift, charged with an electric current that made your heart race. She wasn’t just undressing for you—she was offering herself, piece by piece, as if to remind you of the connection you’d once shared.

Her hands moved to the zipper of her jeans, and she stepped out of them with a grace that left you spellbound. Standing there in nothing but lace, she was a vision—silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her delicate frame radiating a quiet strength that made your chest ache.

“Touch me,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She took your hand in hers and guided it to her waist, her skin warm and soft beneath your fingers. “I need to feel you. I need to know that you’re still mine.”

Her words sparked something primal within you, a hunger that had been buried for too long. Your hands moved of their own accord, tracing the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She leaned into your touch, her breath hitching as your fingers brushed against her sensitive skin.

“Winter,” you murmured her name like a prayer, your voice thick with emotion. Her lips crashed into yours again, this time with a fervor that left no room for doubt. Her tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing and insistent, as if she could taste the memories you’d lost and reclaim them for herself.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, her movements frantic yet deliberate. She wanted you exposed, vulnerable, hers. When the fabric finally fell away, her lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and possessiveness.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands slid down your chest, fingers tracing the lines of your body as if she were memorizing every inch. “Every day we were apart… it felt like a piece of me was missing. But now… now I have you back.”

Her words were like a knife to your chest, cutting through the fog of confusion and doubt that had plagued you for so long. She was the missing piece. She was the one who had been torn away from you. And now, as her lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, you could feel the pieces of your shattered memories beginning to align.

Her hands moved to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. She glanced up at you, her eyes dark with desire and something else—something that made your heart ache. “Let me remind you,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “Let me remind you of what we had.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your breath coming in shallow gasps as she slowly pulled your pants down, revealing the evidence of your arousal. Her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as she knelt before you, her hands resting on your hips.

“Winter,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief. Her name felt like a lifeline, a beacon of truth in the storm of lies that had consumed your life.

She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to. Her lips parted, and she took you into her mouth with a gentleness that made your knees buckle. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth as she worked you into a frenzy.

Her eyes never left yours, as if she was silently communicating everything she couldn’t say out loud—I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t let her take you away from me again.

Your hands tangled in her hair, your hips instinctively thrusting forward as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity. She moaned around you, the sound vibrating through your body and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Winter,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure in your groin reached its peak. She pulled back just in time, her lips wrapping around the tip as you came undone, your release spilling into her mouth with a force that left you trembling.

She swallowed every drop, her hand still moving as she milked the last remnants of your orgasm from you. When she finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

She rose to her feet, her body pressing against yours as she kissed you again, her tongue seeking out every last trace of your release. Her hands moved to your face, her fingers tracing the lines of your jaw as she poured every ounce of her longing into the kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve never stopped loving you. And I won’t let her take you away from me again.”

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #yandere #yandere stories #apreciation post #kpop smut #aespa #ive #aespa winter #ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung #kim minjeong #dark romance

118 notes · View notes

ihopeinevergetsoberr · 19 hours ago

Text

playing with this bow (and arrow)

— chapter 3

author’s note: VERY suggestive (we’ll get there properly someday), but mostly sad again (everybody act surprised). i just wanted to drop some of their lore and make you understand viktor’s perspective. reader is NOT in a good place. you’re going to hate for that one. sorry in advance. also, there’s some context for you to look up at the end of this chapter (mostly music and czech shehanigans).

word count: 6,1k

—

Viktor’s first performance in London converged with the Velvet Divorce. It was an honest accident, a random calamity pulling ahead of his usual luck. His flight has been delayed, then cunningly cancelled altogether. Perfect timing, too. The thirty-first of December. Seven in the evening.

He remembered staying at his closed gate, bitterly grinning at alliterative murmurs of the English—fellow victims to irresponsible airlines, furious in their mutual misery. He watched the commotion fray around him into flurries of ‘bollocks’ and ‘bloody hells’, greige trench coats billowing behind vamping legs like angry Victorian frocks (They weren’t seriously planning on landing in Prague in this? Do they even know it snows farther east?)

He called the hotel and tried to get his room back. Everything was fully booked. He called, and called, and called, occasionally pivoting to assault the nearest trash bin with his cane. It achieved nothing but a huge dent in the shiny thing, and there it stood, distorted and guilty of failing to relieve his hardship. His back wept inside his sweater, sorely foretasting a long, tiring night in the waiting area: the flight he was transferred to wasn’t leaving until noon. Fitfully, he slept in his seat, stirring awake whenever a hoarse bullhorn made an eerie announcement, and Viktor swore to avoid holiday tours at all costs henceforth, no matter how seductive the pay might be.

In the morning, he called home. Your drowsy sigh tickled the receiver, then thawed into a happy squeal when you’d recognised the brunt of his ‘good morning’, each weary consonant thick with nasal anger.

“Happy New Year,” you chirped. “You’re divorced now.”

He cracked a staticky laugh.

“Are you that mad at me for missing a holiday? I assure you, it was the least pleasant night of my life—“

“Oh. No, it’s not that. Slovakia divorced us. Amicably. Or, rather, we did? Anyway, we’re a republic now. Isn’t that crazy?”

And crazy it was, in a way. Because later that day, as he lay crammed chest to chest with you in the confines of white linen, the hum of planes and buses still stiffening his thoughts into incoherent lumps of consciousness, not the faintest inkling of forthcoming misery could languish the treacle of those reveries—the mundane all stupefied by your hair in his wincing face. For now, they were beyond his reach, those years preceding a separation of his own, albeit not nearly as amicable and definitely not velvet. Stuck in London once again, this time in September and by reluctant choice, Viktor contemplated splitting into republics. Oh, the conniving history and its stupid recurrence. Or maybe he just ought to stop performing in England. He always seems to run out of luck in that country.

He’d rather be in Brno—more faultlessly, in that dreamy version of it from the portentous year of Orwellian dystopia, back where taking what’s his is a nascent notion of a shy, thin-lipped thing crumbling agape on another’s wet, welcoming mouth; where the first, firm twine of shaky fingers is its polite predecessor. I hope I’m not overstepping—I really hope you are. I can’t do anything to you until I receive a ʼyesʼ—Does ʼpleaseʼ suffice? You’re spoiling me—I’m merely treating myself. Oh to fall in love in Brno again. A yearning half-coherent.

He’d met it as a first-year at JAMU, in Music Theory. It was a cloying, magnolia-scented nape in the row beneath him—always benumbing his wits ad nauseum and keeping his scattered alerts off the triads and chord progressions. That absconder was maddening him once a week—a tauntful whiff embellished with unkempt hairs, always peeking out of your starched collars or, on one blissful occasion, concertedly unconfined. And, with it, a splendour of pretty shoulders—the darling curse of Indian summer indulged in a flimsy dress. That did it for him. He’d lasted—no, toiled—through three redolent Wednesdays (ironically enough), but the medley of skin and perfume hindered even his composure.

When the class was dismissed, he’d chased you down through the rustling of briefcases and hurrying musicians, reached an adroit hand and tapped-yanked on your back, pliant skin recoiling under his polite grip. You turned around—petulant and audacious, an accusation already germinant in your throat. He remembered it graphically: your brisk scrutiny of his face, the defensive pout, his hold of you gaping open and scurrying away. He used to keep his hair neatly cut back then. Yours was always in updos, teasing sweet swivels of skin. His speech was more opaque, frankly—a tad pretentious. Yours was expressive, excited with aspirations. He dressed smartly on an everyday whim. You did so too, albeit more effortlessly. He savored them—those last quizzical seconds spent as ambitious strangers, and wondered what you saw in him just then: a day short of nineteen, obstinate and so very lofty. Must’ve been a brisk affair. A sincere friendship. A sexually frustrating challenge of tainting a precocious pianist. Or, maybe, precisely what had evolved from it all: the beginning of a twelve-year-long journey yet to be over with.

You spoke first. “Do I know you?” He faltered with his answer, clumsily tripping over his cane: someone had struck him in the shoulder running out of the lecture hall, and he pivoted just in time to restore his wavering balance, glaring after their rushed apology. You glared with him, and the grievance became mutual—a strange, fleeting comfort. He smiled.

“Watch your step, asshole!” You yelled and hoped that it reached the intruder. And reach it did: more distant sorries were thrown your way, ceasing in the doorway at last.

“Oh, there’s no need for profanities,” Viktor was laughing now—a creaky, throaty sound. Your attention was all his again—ruminative, foolhardy, daring eyes scoping him from tie to forehead. “There’s nothing a little violence can’t fix. I’ll return the blow next time.”

“Of course. Nip it in the bud. Make sure you aim for the throat.”

“Certainly.”

“Right. Sorry, did you want something?”

“Actually, yes. What perfume are you wearing?”

“Why, is this for your girlfriend?”

“No, I would never subject a significant other to that scent. My babča, on the other hand…” He bit his tongue, tiresomely late. The conduit from clever to insulting has been crossed, and the damage was staring at him askance, irretrievably furious, white-cuffed wrists pressed tightly to the plaid decollete as if aching to do him in right there, in the now-empty classroom. “Excuse you?”

“Oh, I came with a qualm. I’m terribly sorry”— he wasn’t; well, not terribly—“but that scent is nauseating. Terribly floral. I could barely concentrate on the augmented chords sitting behind you.“

“Then find a different seat.”

“That’s impossible, I’m afraid. By the time I get here, it’s the only vacant spot. Well, except for the one right next to you, but I prefer to stick to the lesser evil.”

You snuck your partiture under an armpit and swung hard on squeaky heels; thrifted vintages tapping out a languid drollery. Not rejecting, but not quite beckoning either. But his cane consorted, and into the hall they clicked—the first one of many pieces you’ll play together.

“Who do you think you are?” A mean susurration. But your pace was bereft of hurry. Thorough, wide, anything but hasty: you made sure that he could keep up.

That posed a meddling. Viktor smiled again. “Nobody. Just a mere mortal begging you to take it down a notch.”

“Why would I care for a mere mortal’s request?”

“That’s fair, I suppose. I shouldn’t have articulated it so crudely. You smell lovely, just a tad… excessive. What I’m trying to say is—“ he chewed on his cheek, a sweet, bashful thing, “I’d like to keep looking at you without having to feel like I’m in a funeral home.”

His severe case of smartassness was peeking through every syllable—the kind of speech you want to dissect into minutiae, preferably by taping it for future reveries. You turned around and stared past him into the hall, an upright competition of who blinks first. Fellow aspiring musicians kept shuffling around, jubilant, ever so busy, each one scurrying to their classes or band practices. You, too, should’ve been headed upstairs to set up for Elgar with the orchestra. But you craved a revanche. Some quaint, reversed jab. All the while simply revelling with him not-quite-tête-à-tête in the humming not-quite-silence.

Both backs clung to the wall and straightened against it, let the mildewy cool creep under your smart clothes. Both chests heaved post-cigarette-break-like (both pairs of lungs have dabbled before, you were sure of that), and there you stood—shivering, canine-flashing, heads thrown back in your first shared laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Viktor stumbled over a guilty smile, pretty fingers shaking against his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I should’ve complimented you first. Oh, this is a disaster…”

“You’re funny,” you managed through a faulty rasp, and he emulated with a finishing chuckle of his own. “Funeral home, huh?” You drew a breath. “That’s a first.”

“Truly?” He turned to you in a clumsy half-lean, and another staring contest followed—less dispute, more incredulous. “Does your cohort lack the sense of smell, or are they just being polite?”

“Neither. My ‘cohort’ consists of me and an inanimate object.”

“Inanimate?”

“Yes. It’s just me and my cello.”

“Interesting. Would it care for a playdate with my piano?”

“It depends. What’s your repertoire?”

“Oh, let’s see. Schumann. Some Fauré, but I haven’t practiced that Élégie in a while. Chopin, of course. Some Debussy, if we’re feeling sensual.”

“Hm. Versatile. And your name is?”

“Viktor. Viktor Knirsch.”

“Right. Fine, Mr. Knirsch. Pick me up after orchestra practice in about three hours, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

And so it began. The invariance of ardent rehearsal rapidly progressing into circumspect touches atop the partiture; their labile austerity—a swing from subtle to intentional, fingers delving into lower backs innocuously at first, then steadily inching southward. More shared laughs interspersed with each mishap—dissolving defensiveness, unraveling the innermost. Reserving an evening for duets in both tight schedules. Then another one. And another. Until they’d become extracurricular and branched out into dorms, streets, his parents’ house, every desolate room of the Academy, and, of course, the movies (albeit often illegally—sneaking in was too adventurously frugal to pass up on). All of it commonly threaded by a game of who manages to confine a confession longest.

But of one, Viktor is certain: his favorite version of you is forever the prodigious first cello with a penchant for Saint-Säens and an opinion on just about any repertoire—the stern girl unfurling her audience’s ribcages to steal shaky heartbeats (or souls, for all he knows). She reads ambiguous fiction and plays Lacrimosa to bed, eating apricot Hamé with a silver spoon he’d nicked for her from the flea market. “Sleep is a trial of death,” she says, licking the stolen trinket, “If I absolutely must adhere to it, I’d rather it be sweet and with a decent accompaniment.” She always loses against him in checkers and renders adorably testy, wraps him in her arms like a headlock, and promises to ‘get you next time’, but when the next time comes, she blunders a triple jump within a couple of moves. She likes everything crescendo: her voice, her step, but, more importantly, her music. She throws her head back performing The Swan with him and becomes swan-like herself: her neck—arched and elongated, her shirt—crumpled white with jam speckles. She aces every subject and teases him for having aced his with a two-point lead, and there she is, just beneath him in the list—not yet Knirsch, but already half-his and willing.

She has her moments, of course. Such as concerningly long rehearsals resulting in open wounds on her fingertips. A strange, self-inflicted treaty of banning herself from going to bed until she’d studied her two hours of music theory. An even stranger aim to please every examinee, which, when not met, resulted in a sobbing stunt. But we all have our vices. For her, it is, evidently, the cello. Surely, there’s nothing wrong with being a tad overzealous? She just really loves what she does.

That was a summary of year one, both as music students and bashful eye-fuckers. But also, eye-kissers. And eye-I-want-to-know-you-body-and-soul’s, too. That one was omnipresent. And evident.

Which led Viktor to be braver in year two, after an entire summer break spent in your absence. Being in Brno without you didn’t feel right anymore: playing Debussy on his own was now daunting, practically inconceivable. So was longing to challenge you, when the Music Theory professor would inevitably drift into irrelevance, to a discreet game of checkers. He missed classes, annual solemn concerts, exams, and performances. But, more importantly, he missed your drunken attempts at kisses and hushed secrets spilled alongside cheap cherry wine onto your favorite comforter. From I can’t stand baroque to I feel safe around you. He’d call you every night, rambling on about his July boredom, his side-kick at a local jazz-bar—anything and everything you were missing out on by spending the summer break in your hometown, and you hummed along, an excited, darling reciprocation, always so very forward to tell him about your days, nights, and reminiscences.

“I’m so glad you used to smother yourself in that mortuary-esque perfume.”

“Are you, now?”

“Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met the most fascinating person in that entire Academy.”

“Do I not possess other distinguishing features? Only that tart smell?”

“Of course you do! I was trying to be romantic—“

“You could start by giving me a proper compliment for a change.”

“I compliment you all the time.”

“Really? Jog my memory.”

“You’re the most talented cellist of our generation. Everybody is besotted with you, and I might just be the most lost cause of them all. Your dedication is precious.”

“Just my dedication?”

“…You’re also incorrigible, but I keep enduring it for your sharp wit and beauty.”

“See! There. Beauty. That’s what I’d like you to elaborate on.”

“I’m not talking dirty to you on my parents’ phone. Good night.”

In August, he cracked and asked you to come to Brno. His greed was biblical, endearingly so: he wanted to spend those last weeks of scorching boredom with you all to himself. So what if the dorms were closed for summer? You’d reside in his room. His parents didn’t deem that an inconvenience: if anything, they were thrilled to witness him finally fall for something that wasn't eight dozen piano keys. Money wouldn’t be an issue either: you’d do fun improv at his smokey jazz bar as a duo. Everything could be taken care of if only you pretty please came to indulge him.

He had to beg into the receiver for precisely five minutes. You had your answer by the time he’d uttered his first please, yet couldn’t resist a tease. Cruel? Perhaps, but did it really matter when you bid farewell to your family after putting the phone down, and fled to the train station like the lovesick fool you were, having packed just your cello and some clean clothes? In a few hours, you were throwing your arms around his neck in a deliberate, finally sober kiss, and your life outside him and Brno mattered no longer. You were a voluntary victim of young, all-consuming love, its onslaught nothing but wispy, drunkenly overbearing. And you liked being a goner. There’s nothing like falling casualty to obsession, both musical and romantic. You took the jazz bar job. His parents were happy to see you. Everything foretasted three weeks' worth of bliss, tiring rehearsals, timid walks, and first, loutish attempts at sex.

That last part used to be a tad tricky. Later that night, he engrossed himself in big, gentle handfuls—a tad shaky at the fingertips, somewhat jumpy at mutual clenches of teeth, but the imagery was impeccable: you, in your naked glory at his disposal, stuffing his face full of breast, skin, and open legs. Feline-like grins growing loose around plush earlobes, aureoles, and thumbs. Moans—raspy, titillating, and hushed (at times not so much, more so paired with the bed’s squeaking). Going steady, coming hard, gasping sweet. Concealing plum evidence with insufferable wool turtlenecks (a true summer torture) and cheap makeup much too warm-toned (eighties be damned).

“Would you look at that,” you’d pant afterwards, draped in sweat and bedsheets, all tangled legs and not-so-bashful flush. “You never frown upon debauching me at your parents’ house, but talking dirty on their phone is where you draw the line?”

He’d smile into his nuzzle against your neck, teeth just shy of a reproaching bite. “It’s a continuum. You, coming here—“

“Coming for you.”

“Precisely that, yes. You, coming here—coming for me, always weakens my restraint.”

“Was it ever there to begin with?”

Or, sometimes, he could be a vulnerable thing. His arms around you like a trembling headlock, his face a pained scowl hidden against the pillow. You’d tend to him, then. Prying his mouth open to push in a bitter painkiller, sitting nose-to-nose as he’d stumbled over a cramp. Listening to his copious sorries while wishing to hear none, rubbing his sore limbs, tracing his vertebrae, kissing his damp temples.

“This is torturous,” he’d hiss, leaning against you. “I’m sorry,” (you’d roll your eyes here, passing him a glass of water), “all this… must be such a mood-killer.”

“It’s not. You, apologising for it, is.”

“I’m sor— Eh.”

“Viktor—“ you’d cup his face, matching his frown. “Quit it. The only unfortunate thing about this is your pain. I’ve seen your episodes before. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Of course, but during… sex?”

“Oh please. I had an ex burst into villainous laughter when he came. Nothing can beat that one.”

“Mmm. Maniacal laughter, you say? Is that why you left?”

“That, and his penchant for being whipped with my bow. I got tired of having to buy new ones. Those things are expensive.”

“Really? Now that’s inapt. I was just about to suggest a similar endeavour.”

“Calm down, Casanova. Let’s deal with your flare-up first.”

After that, Viktor was insatiable. Not physically, but rather emotionally, as if fuelled by closure. He wasn’t giving up deciphering your soul. He merely intended to pay even more attention to the body to better prove his devotion.

Your return to the dorms in September didn’t dilute that debauchery. Sex became solipsistic. There existed no one but you two—perpetually tangled up, beautifully wretched. A tad voyeuristic at times. Between rehearsals, performances, and classes, he’d look for darling opportunities to confess his love in ways involving hands, tongues, and other appendages (although verbal confirmations and dates were omnipresent, too). The entirety of your second year as music students was spent on all kinds of surfaces. The stage, of course: talented students became concert musicians and started making money. And then, a more ambiguous list: beds, floors, desks, kitchenettes. A grand piano once. Wherever Viktor could manage. Wherever the audience receded. Although the risky grand piano incident remained a favorite.

He remembered taking you apart on the keyboard, the weight of your limbs hazy with thrill. His only witness was the piano lord himself: Beethoven’s strict eyes were staring down at you from the wall, his portrait a stern, judgmental thing.

You sprawled across the lid and stretched your arms out—let the hot, naked swivels spill out of your bralette, tense calf a hearty quiver over Viktor’s scrawny shoulder. He put his lips to your thigh and licked his way up, sleazy tongue inclining towards obscenity. You peeled your eyes and smiled at Beethoven, head cocked back in a filthy moan. The incipient jab was tickling at the back of your throat, then forced its way out with a chuckle.

“You scandalous little prick!” You chimed, grabbing Viktor by the nape. He pulled away, slick-mouthed and reluctant. “Pardon?”

You laughed—a full-blown, silly spurt. “You told me we’d be alone here. Look up.”

Viktor obliged. He tilted his chin—peevishly, with an eye roll. “Ah.” He grinned. “But he’s too high up to get a good view.”

“Yes, but we’re both rather vocal.”

“Respectfully, milackú, the man is deceased. Not to mention deaf. I don’t think he cares either way.”

Those were his dear interludes. They lingered, flimsily, throughout your entire long-cycle Master’s program, and became concrete as more years went by. You quit spending summer breaks at home. Viktor had had enough of lonesome hot months. He fancied that loop no more. After graduation, he found the Veveři apartment and offered to merge solitudes for the humble price of five hundred korunas split in half—the bed in his childhood room had become much too squeaky from four years of discreet debauchery. The only remaining question was one of marriage. Breathlessly, it was posed a year into your doctorates, amid a long Chopin rehearsal. Breezily, it was accepted right that instant.

After five years of overgrown puppy love, on the fifth of June, 1989, you were privately wed in the helpful presence of random witnesses—some big-eyed first-years plucked from the orchestra practice. A romance consummated. Happily ever after coming through.

Unless. An ever-inconvenient conjunction.

Viktor didn’t like peeping at your coarseness through the cracks in his rose-lensed glasses. Frankly, he didn’t want to admit there were any cracks to begin with. Even franklier—he’d hoped you’d be just as rouge to his naked eye.

But rejection is merciless. It flaunts one’s rage as it is—unabashed and belligerent; all smeared angry makeup and puffy lids sizzling with damp salt.

He’s seen your tears before. He’d kissed them off and let him pinprick his fingers; he’d held you through it like a man who mourns along—faithfully, as he should, with but a sparse sigh. You’ve shown him raw before. You’ve even shown him angry. You’ve shown him every madness in the book—but not quite like that. That one was truculent. Sibilant. It didn’t just add a crack to his lovesick glasses. It had shattered them right on his nose bridge and plunged tiny shards into hollow tissue. And, for the first time ever, you weren’t there to clean the wounds.

It happened three years into your doctorates. The dissertations weren’t due for another few months, but the household’s ambience had already shifted stonewall. Both of you spent your days elbows-deep in research: you—examining styles of the cello repertoire over the current century and rehearsing to teeth-grinding frenzy, Viktor—inventing efficient piano-teaching strategies for undergraduates. Except he genuinely enjoyed the research bit. The disheveled scholar-pianist looked and acted the part. And you? Well. You were slowly losing your mind.

Your supervisor despised the paper. Every single time you’d retrieve your submitted draft, an infinitude of evil, red-ink corrections were staring back at you like a torturous eye-sore. Chapter four had to be rewritten yet again. You bought a pack of cigarettes for the first time in a decade and bled academic word-vomit onto the typewriter. A bow-harakiri never seemed quite so seductive.

And Viktor? Barely any edits whatsoever. Just praise, and brown-nosing, and friendly brunches with his professors—like he’s already in on the joke. Like he’s already a peer.

At first, there was shrinking. Away from him, his touch, and his pale, fellowly eyes loving you across the room. An execration. Of kind smiles sent back as bitter sulks; of a cruel accretion of your side of the bed towards the very edge. A jealous pit permeating throughout. No, you didn’t want him to fail. You merely wanted to be seen the way he is. Yes, he is skillful. Yes, he is passionate. Indeed, his research is tremendous. But so is yours. Arguably, even more so. You had to suffer for it while he sat there, soaking in his knowledge so naturally. Surely, that counts for something?

Viktor was patient with you. And you detested it. You’d bury yourself in papers, trying not to think of his big, confused eyes in the bedroom—so lonely in their morning drowsiness every time they’d find your side of the sheets already cold and dentless. He’d get in and out of bed to the static of your typewriter in the kitchen. It didn’t bother him. He’d simply hoped you could complete your work in time. He craved your touch in confused silence, and brought you warm meals amid fervent writing sessions. He’d attend your every concert, and ask to assist you every time you rehearsed at home, abandoning his own dissertation to become your accompanist, even if only for a flimsy hour. It reminded him of your early JAMU days, of the summer jazz-bar job and the timid walks following suit. He’d throw sheepish glances from his stool, envying the cello for the sheer way your hand curls around the fingerboard. He never probbed. He assumed you might be much too on the rack to aid his predicament.

It was the day of your final appointment with a supervisor. With a croak, he emerged from the piano as his wristwatch ticked a quarter to five; his world a black-white smear of keys, letters, and iron-deficient whatnots from sedentary days of editing his paper and learning a capricious Chopin piece. And yet, he limped to the kitchen, popping a quick supplement into his mouth—his tread a timid struggle of clumsy feet tangled in his pajama pants.

Your keys jingled in the lock precisely when he’d poured the milk into your tea—a wobbly, light meniscus, just the way you like it. It drew a smile, one praising his adept timing. It didn’t linger. Your footsteps shook the liquid, startling him half-turned over his shoulder.

Shambles. That’s what he gasped at. Of coal-like tears rolling into open mouth as you choked on a sniff and wiped wet, greyish hands to a paisley shirt. The briefcase wept yellow papers on the parquet. Viktor dropped the stolen silver spoon into a cup.

“Milovaná—“

“She hates it!”

He felt an eardrum contract—the nasty ricochet of your scream had bounced off the wall straight into his head. Then came a jumpy sequence: groping the air for his cane, finding the loop of your elbow, dragging you down into the squeaky chair over a wreck of hoarse sobbing. “What do you—“

“She hated it. All of it. She’s never had so many issues with my fucking dissertation before—“ You mumbled through a napkin stuffed against your nose, folding it in your hand like a crumpling onslaught. Viktor pried a fresh one into your grip and watched it face the same fate, rubbing his nape to redness in a nervous lean forward.

“Please, slow down. How do you mean, hated? Wasn’t she notorious for her grievances as is?”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me I can’t do a fucking thing right!”

Viktor sulked. His fingers slipped off your wrist and retreated to his lap, twitching into a meek fist.

“Please, don’t insult me. I’m not your supervisor. Just tell me what happened.”

“Basically, my work holds no value—it’s not innovative, painfully dull, and devoid of relevance. It reads more like an essay on a niche favorite subject. She doesn’t get what on earth I want my PhD for.”

“The audacity of that woman!”

“Oh, there’s more!” You scoffed. “She said that I’m a hopeless scholar. If I’m that interested in cello repertoire, I should just stick to being a concert cellist—apparently, there’s nothing else to me.”

“Sakra, we should report her. That’s unacceptable. I’ve proofread your dissertation many times—it’s brilliant. Beautifully put together—“

“You’re my husband, Viktor. Of course you would say that.”

“I’m not biased in the slightest. Don’t you think I’d tell you if it was unsatisfactory?”

“I don’t know, would you? Wouldn’t it feel great, being the first, and, possibly, only one of the two of us to get a doctorate?”

At that, he recoiled. The next napkin didn’t make it to your hand. It stayed in his fist, disintegrating into curly flakes, and there he sat—frowning, in disbelief, hollow cheeks sucked in as if scathed with horror. The silence thickened. A passing tram screeched somewhere nearby.

“What are these accusations.” He found his voice, strained in the statmentish travesty of a question. Like his limp got his vocal cords, too, and he had to relearn using them all of a sudden.

Unfortunately, you were well-versed with yours. Perhaps, even a tad too much.

“Oh, please.” So sybillic. So nefarious. You threw the tear-soaked napkin into the bin and dropped your weary head into your palms, taking a stance so sorrowful that Viktor gulped in quizzical impatience. “You’re a brilliant musician.”

“So are you.”

“Perhaps, but your dissertation is flawless. Flaw-less, Viktor. And you haven’t even lost your mind over it.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Since when is one required to go mad over a doctorate?”

“Since forever. But not you. You’re a natural.”

Another tram screamed on the rails—plangent, like an alarm. The draft plunged through the window, billowing Viktor’s hair into angry stakes. You still sat Socrates-like, weeping into your fist.

“Are you implying that I’m not working hard enough?” He whispered, dry-throated, and hoped that you didn’t mean it with all his might.

“Of course not! I’m not implying that. I’m just saying— Oh, fuck!” You groaned, peering at him through spread fingers. “You’re a great concert pianist. You have that contract in Europe. You’ll be playing Schubert in the fucking London Conservatory later this year. And, on top of that, you’re a great researcher who’s definitely becoming a Doctor anytime soon. And I’m happy for you—because of course I am—but it’s not easy. Working yourself to sleep deprivation, nervous tics, and utter exhaustion while your husband just gets to enjoy the process!”

“Are you… jealous of me? Is that it?”

“No! I’m happy for you!”

“Are you trying to fool me or yourself?”

“Viktor, I just want some recognition. I deserve a doctorate, too.”

“And you will get it. Your supervisor does not represent the committee’s opinion. As for recognition—“ He cleared his throat—you could tell it was getting harder for him to breathe. His speech was getting opaque—a sign of utter helplessness. “You already have it. A mere mortal who can’t tell a cello from a double bass knows your name. Your private lessons are any first-year’s wet dream. You are going to Europe next year. You are well-known, you make good money, you are talented. Where is all this coming from?”

You hitched a breath and plowed a gnawed-off nail over your cuticle, watching the scab unravel into a glistening bloody stripe. “I just want to be good enough. Is that too much to ask?”

Viktor averted to the ajar window. The city finally stopped screaming.

“No,” he whispered, as if addressing the sky, “you want to be a natural.”

“Oh, I didn't mean it like that! Am I to be reminded of that heat-of-the-moment thing forever?”

“Yes!” He snapped, and so did his neck-joint, pivoting in a stare so dagger-like that your knees buckled in. “My wife just admitted to a plethora of concerning circumstances, how do you think that makes me feel? I thought I knew you, milackú. And this suggests anything but!”

You lurched for him, but your sleeve got caught in the crack on the lacquered table, pulling you backward and tearing the cuff in half. By the time you’d spewed another profanity and sprang up, the thumps of his cane had already merged with a door-slam. The flea-market spoon loudly clanked against the cup, and a splash of milky tea spilled onto the countertop. You drank it anyway. It tasted of lukewarm tears.

Later, there would be apologies. Heartfelt, whiny things pressed to pulsing temples alongside bashful kisses—a convalescence building up on word and touch. Semantics were powerless on their own. The matter demanded physical backup. Unfilthy, sincere, adroit. A tagline of every good redemption. And more tea, of course. This time, without salt.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into his hair, tickling a quivery breath into his scalp. “What was I even thinking?” He curled into you like a missing piece, tucking himself somewhere between chin and sternum, and the blow was returned lower—sheepishly, to your neck, in a tender kiss implying repentance. His sweater shuffled along.

“You need help, milackú,” he croaked. “Promise me you’ll get help.”

“I promise,” you swore—the first one of many lies. He might’ve believed it back then, but both of you will lose count soon enough.

Because Viktor had finally solved you. Your rehearsals at four in the morning. All the choking on bitter tears every time you mildly mess up an audition. Your scary fixation on precision. The intentional sleep deprivation to ‘catch up’—such an obvious self-torment! All these years built on a lie he’d spoon-feed himself oh so eagerly. All long, it wasn’t dedication. It was an obsession. An entirely different beast.

In a few months, the committee ended up loving your research on the cello repertoire of the 20th century. The obnoxious supervisor has never been so wrong. You got your doctorate.

Only Viktor already knew that it wasn’t a matter of another academic milestone. In fact, it could only get worse. You needed help. Not a PhD. And you were only ever keen on seizing the latter.

After a year of empty promises, Viktor stopped believing them. There was a minor improvement around the time you first found out about your narcolepsy. He’d refrained from ‘told-you-so’s. He was just happy you were finally getting it all checked out—who knows what else might slumber in that exhausted body of yours, so mercilessly stained with years of negligence in favor of becoming a new du Pré? You got a few prescriptions from a sleep specialist. You even found a therapist, but that one didn’t stick around. Counseling demands consistency. But so do concerts. It wasn’t hard to guess which one you’d pick.

Another year went by. Then another. A loop of accepting and ditching help had uroborosed into insanity, developing new cross-currents. A hobbling marriage was but a pebble. That Viktor could get by. What turmoiled him the most was not the expulsion from your passions. You can’t negotiate with an obsessed artist.

He became tired. Of ‘Love, it’s three in the morning. Go to bed.’ Of ‘Have you taken your pills today? Should I set you an alarm?’ Of ‘Please, spend an evening with me. You haven’t been outside in days.’ Of saving someone who, to his utmost horror, didn’t want to be saved.

Viktor had endured enough. One can only handle so many years of being but an unseen husband. His patience was wearing thin.

His separation request was calm. He didn’t raise his voice once—merely packed a suitcase and promised to be back sometime in a month. He was about to go to Europe anyway. Having one more week to himself wouldn’t make a difference.

You didn’t beg or cry. That bit was reserved for after he’s out the door. There was no point trying to dissuade him. The ‘you had it coming’ mindset had already clouded your thoughts.

You sat on the bed, gently rocking back and forth, and stared at him as he struggled to tie his tie with trembling fingers. You’ve never seen him shake like that—fervent, unpianist-like. It made you bite your lip in that nasty, blood-drawing way, so much canine that you almost split it in half.

“Can I help you?” you offered, a resigned half-whisper. Strangely enough, the tremor hasn't gotten to your hands yet. Viktor accepted.

You knelt and picked up what he had started—wrapped the top part around the bottom one and pulled it through, working the loop tighter. He hunched in his piano stool, looking down at you with dry, bloodshot eyes. He didn’t sleep last night. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

When you finished and returned the stare, his dry eyes became glassy. For a second, he felt like he had his darling back—courteous, tender, with a kind, pallid smile. Here you are, looking up at him just like you used to twelve years ago in Music Theory. Livelier, less obsessed, not as hollow. And here you go again—slipping through his stretched out fingers and becoming your disparate, new self. But he still reached out to touch you and mourned the warmth of your skin, shaky hand struggling to cup a twitching cheek. You leaned into it, sneaking a cowardly kiss to his wrist. The confabulation ended when you dared to blink, trading your first-year eyes for weary twelve-year ones.

“Promise you’ll come back to me,” you mouthed into his palm. “Please.”

And Viktor’s hand tumbled away, reaching for his cane instead.

“Promise you’ll come back to me, too.”

—

1. The Velvet Divorce — The split of Czechoslovakia in 1992, 31 of December.

2. JAMU — The Janáček Academy of Performing Arts

3. Hamé — a Czech jam brand

4. Jacqueline du Pré — a famous English cellist

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x reader fluff #viktor x reader angst #playing with this bow (and arrow)#viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic

73 notes · View notes

90slavenderh4ze · 2 days ago

Text

“if i ever go to azkaban, will you still write to me?” - sirius black

pairing: bit of marauders era!sirius black x reader in the beginning, post azkaban!sirius black x reader mainly.

summary: a dumb joke he made in seventh year. you didn’t think it would become your reality. you wrote him every week anyway. he never replied. now he’s back.

warnings: none that i can think of; slight angst, hurt/comfort, soft ending.

a.n: finally wrote something after over a month lol had to be post azkaban!sirius.

He had said it like a joke. Of course he had.

The fire had been low that night in the Gryffindor common room, casting honey-colored flickers on his cheekbones, and he’d been bored—lazy-limbed and draped over the arm of the couch like a prince exiled from his own throne. James had been arguing about something, Remus trying to shush him with a book pressed to his chest, and Sirius—he had looked at you. That stupid, sharp-eyed grin crawling across his face.

“If I ever go to Azkaban, will you still write to me?”

You’d scoffed, not bothering to look up from your book. “Only to gloat.”

“Cruel,” he said, dramatically clutching his chest. “Heartless. I bare my soul and this is what I get.”

“You’re not baring anything. You’re being an idiot.”

He had leaned in, just a little. Close enough that you could see the mischievous glint in his grey eyes, the hint of something softer tucked beneath it—something too fragile for a boy like him to admit. “So you’re saying you would write.”

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers had gone still on the page. “Don’t flatter yourself, Black.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

“Goodnight, love.”

It was nothing. A throwaway moment between teenagers who didn’t know anything about war or loss or cages of cold iron and madness.

And yet, you remembered it.

You remembered it the morning the news broke. The headlines burned themselves into your vision:

Twelve Dead. One Man Responsible. Sirius Black Arrested. No Trial.

You remembered it when you held the letter in shaking hands, rereading it as if the words might reorder themselves into something that made sense.

You remembered it as you sat on the floor of your flat, back against the kitchen counter, and wrote your first letter with a hand that wouldn’t stop trembling.

November 2nd, 1981

Dear Sirius,

What the fuck happened?

No signature. No softness. Just raw disbelief.

You didn’t think he’d get it. You hadn’t even known if they let prisoners receive mail in Azkaban. But you sent it anyway.

And then you wrote another. And another.

Every week. Rain or shine. War or no war.

You didn’t stop.

—

By the third year, your letters had changed. Less fury. Less confusion. Just little updates. Things he wouldn’t care about. Things you needed to say.

March 18th, 1984

I saw a dog today. Big. Black. Shaggy fur. I almost thought…

Never mind.

Hope the Dementors don’t get in your head too much this week. Bastards.

You joked sometimes. Sometimes you cried. Sometimes you wrote three sentences and tore up four pages before settling on the fifth.

October 31st, 1986

I lit a candle for James and Lily.

Harry looks so much like James. He’s even got the same shitty smirk when he knows he’s being clever. He has Lily’s eyes though.

Still, no response.

The owl came back empty every time. But you kept writing.

You didn’t even know why anymore.

—

Years passed.

You stopped telling people you were doing it. Remus had disappeared after the war. The Order scattered. Nobody really checked on each other anymore. You learned to make your peace with silence.

Until Dumbledore wrote to you. Until the words Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban landed in your lap like a ghost resurrected.

You didn’t know what to think. The Prophet screamed murder, but your hands didn’t shake with fear. They shook with hope.

That hope almost killed you.

And then—one night, long after the world had gone quiet again— him.

Stepping in like death incarnate. Pale. Hollow. Wild-eyed and soaked to the bone, like he’d swum through every nightmare just to knock on your door.

You didn’t speak at first. Just stared at him.

He looked like a man on the edge of disappearing.

“Sirius?”

His throat moved when he swallowed. “Hi.”

Your breath caught, and you crossed the room without thinking. Hands on his face, fingertips tracing the hollows beneath his cheekbones like you were trying to map the years that had stolen him. “You’re real.”

He laughed, soft and dry and a little broken. “Barely.”

And then you pulled him in.

You held him like he might collapse, because he might’ve. You felt the ribs through his shirt, the way his heart pounded beneath thin layers of muscle and fear and grief. He didn’t speak. Didn’t pull away. Just let himself breathe you in like it hurt.

When you finally let go, he looked at you like he was afraid to ask what came next.

“I got your letters,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You stared. “You… what?”

“They didn’t let me keep them. But they let me read them. Once a week. Maybe to mock me. I don’t know. I read every single one.”

You stepped back, blinking hard. “You never replied.”

He shook his head, eyes cast low. “Didn’t know how. Didn’t think I deserved to.”

“Sirius.”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

You laughed, bitter and breathless. “You were rotting in a cell, and you thought you were protecting me?”

He looked up. “I didn’t want you to wait for a dead man.”

Your voice cracked. “I wasn’t waiting. I was remembering.”

The silence between you stretched, full of ghosts.

“I thought about you,” he said, quietly. “All the time. More than anything else. You were… the only thing that didn’t fade.”

You didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the desk and opened a drawer.

He froze.

You pulled out a box. Set it down. Opened it.

Inside: copies of every letter you’d ever sent.

“You kept them.”

You nodded. “I didn’t want to forget what it felt like to believe in something.”

His voice wavered. “You believed in me?”

“I still do.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You thought he might shatter.

“Tell me I’m not too late,” he whispered.

You stepped forward and placed his hand over your heart.

“Feel that?”

He nodded.

“You never left.”

And that was it. The dam broke.

He kissed you like he’d been starved of warmth for twelve years. Like you were the only thing he remembered how to want. You held him like you’d been waiting a lifetime, because you had.

You’d never meant to wait.

But you had.

And now—finally—he was here.

Not a ghost.

Not a memory.

Real.

Yours.

#sirius black #post azkaban sirius #post azkaban!sirius black x reader #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black headcanon #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x reader #sirius black scenario #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you

81 notes · View notes

hmhas-00 · 9 hours ago

Text

Ch. 34

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- uuhhh ohhhh!🥲 Sorry, can’t hear y’all over my own SCREAMING because my drafts are sooo READY for you lately. I love to read all your comments and messages so much btw! 🩷😤

Billie’s POV

I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the bright rays of sunlight coming in through the little window. To my right, was a passed out Remy, using my arm as a pillow, with the covers all the way up to her neck.

When I finally regained full awake consciousness, my stomach sank.

It was the morning after.

Fuck.

I was supposed to be home before 8pm last night. I promised Ellie.

I quickly, but carefully, got out of bed, cautious not to wake Remy up, and searched all over the place for my phone.

My phone was no where in sight.

I rush to grab my shoes off the floor, and my keys off the nightstand, trying not to waste any more time. I quietly close her bedroom door behind me and leave a note on her fridge, letting her know I went home, and to call me when she wakes up.

If I ever found my phone, I thought.

I immediately race back to my house, cussing myself out while speeding and weaving through cars on the highway, knowing it’s too late either way.

I pull into my garage, running inside the house, probably looking like a hot mess. The only thing I care about is apologizing to Ellie for breaking my promise.

“Ellie?” I look around, my voice echoing through the halls. Not a soul in the living room, not even a sound. No one in the kitchen, no one in the backyard.

I hurry up the stairs, going straight into my room, only to see a ton of clothing items scattered all over my bed, and all over the floor.

“Babe?” I peek around the corner.

“Hey, love.” I see Ellie in the master bathroom, putting a bunch of her things in a huge, reusable bag.

She looks up at me, then back down at her stuff.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I walk in, confused about the mess.

She doesn’t reply, she just gets off the floor and closes the cabinet doors, walking over to my bed. She places the bag next to a large, open suitcase, and begins to fill it with her clothes.

“Ellie, talk to me, why are you packing all your things?” I furrow my brows, freaking out a little bit. This can’t be happening.

She ignores me, walking back and forth from different areas of my room, taking her belongings, and throwing them on the bed.

“Ellie! Stop! Talk to me, please!” I grab her arm, wanting her to just tell me what’s going on.

“I’m done. I’m not doing this with you.” She resisted my pull, “Let go of me! I’m getting my shit and I’m leaving, Billie.”

I let go of her, staring as she walks back into my closet to grab her shoes.

“Ellie, please, I know I didn’t come home in time, but I can explain, just let me tell you-“

She cut me off, turning to face me. “You weren’t just late, Billie, you fucking stayed the night! It’s 10 in the morning!”

“I know, I fell asleep— I swear, I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffs, throwing more things in the suitcase, not bothering to fold any of the clothes before shoving them wherever they fit.

“What do you think happened?” I follow her around.

“If you think I’m really that stupid—“

“Ellie, I swear to you, we just lost track of time! She was completely breaking down, and I just wanted to—“

“You wanted to what? Make her feel better? Take care of her?” She looked furious, her eyes darker than usual, and her brows arched. I can tell she wants to say more, but being hurtful isn’t her style.

“I was comforting her, I was just trying to be a good friend! That’s all it was!” I follow her around as she paces the room.

“She needed me! She’s going through a lot right now, El! I couldn’t just leave her like that. I wanted to wait till she fell asleep first before—” My words came out so fast, hoping she’d believe me.

“I needed you! I’m your girlfriend! Not her!” She raised her voice. “You’re about to leave me for months and all I wanted to do was spend one day with you! Alone, without Remy!”

I ran a hand through my hair, aggressively. “Ellie, stop packing, please!” I stood by her suitcase as she continued to fetch more belongings. “I swear to you, nothing happened! She couldn’t stop crying and—“

She ignored me, picking up her speed.

“Ellie, I’m so sorry that I didn’t come home last night, like I promised. Please, baby, forgive me. It won’t ever happen again!” My heart ached. I could feel myself losing her.

“I stayed up until two o’clock in the morning for you, Billie, I waited for you! You promised me you’d be home last night!”

“I’m sorry, baby! I fucked up—“

“You have no idea how it felt, knowing you— Ugh! Knowing you slept in her bed, and I was here, making up scenarios in my head, thinking of the worst!”

I begin to take things out of her suitcase, desperate to stop her. “Baby, please, just stop packing. Let’s talk about this!”

“No! I’m fucking done, Billie! I can’t take this anymore!” She yells, yanking her clothes out of my hands.

She pointed her dainty, freshly manicured fingers at me, “I’m not going to compete with your friend, I’m just so not that type of girl!”

“Compete with— What are you talking about, Ellie!” I furrow my brows, my arms held out in bafflement, as if I didn’t cause this myself.

“Oh, fucking please, Billie.” She forced the rest of her stuff into the suitcase, struggling to zip it up.

“There’s no comparison, Rem- Fuck! I mean Ellie!”

She rolled her eyes, pointing at me again, shouting, “See! There it is!”

“No— We’re literally talking about Remy right now, that’s the only reason I— God, Ellie! Just please, don’t leave! I’ll do anything! I swear, I didn’t mean to—“

“I’m done! I told you, I’m not doing this anymore!” She refused to listen, putting all of her anger towards shutting the suitcase, and pulling it off the bed, onto the ground for her to roll.

I stood in front of her, walking backwards as she pushed forward, toward the hallway. I shut my bedroom door, standing in front of it.

“Billie, get out of my way! I mean it!” She yelled.

“No.” I supplicated, my eyes fogging up my vision.

“I’m serious, move!”

“Ellie, you can’t just leave like this! We can talk about it!”

She reached for the doorknob before I could block it. I grabbed her arm, trying to keep her from opening it, pushing all of my weight into the door. I began to tear up, feeling hopeless, feeling desperate.

“You have to believe me, baby. Nothing happened! I would never do anything to hurt you!” I shouted, my chest aching.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home, I’m sorry I didn’t call— I honestly don’t even know where my phone is and—“

She stopped, backing away from the door, taking a deep breath.

“Do you have feelings for Remy?” Her voice firm, calmer than before.

I stood still, my insides turning into ice.

“Do you, Billie?” She waited for my answer, her eyes burning holes in mine.

“No.” I lied, my heart pounding out of my chest.

She nodded her head.

I began to walk towards her, thinking she believed me. But I was wrong. God, was I so wrong.

She pulled my phone out of her back pocket. My blood ran cold, knowing exactly what this was all about.

“You lied to me.” Her voice was soft as she burst into tears.

“No, Ellie, baby—“ I panicked, sprinting into damage control mode. “Don’t cry, please.” I begged, as tears streamed out of my own eyes.

She handed me the phone. “It was still in my fanny pack after our hike. You forgot it.”

She opened it and showed me a message thread between Finneas and I, from a week ago. I told him all about Remy and I making up. We talked about my feelings for her and how they aren’t going away. About how I couldn’t stop comparing Remy and Ellie to each other. About how awful I felt, how horrible it was that I couldn’t shake those feelings.

She crossed her arms, dissolving into a puddle of tears. She stood by my bed, weeping into her hands, feeling defeated.

She knew. She wanted to see if I would lie to her.

I want to run over to her, hug her, and make her feel okay again. But, how could I do that when I’m the one who caused her so much pain.

49 notes · View notes

ghost-bard · 4 months ago

Text

how do i talk about taash being a realistic character while also acknowledging that they absolutely couldve and shouldve been written better in every aspect

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #dragon age critical #taash #dragon age taash #i can only take so much “they act like a kid” takes from ppl #or ppl not understanding them saying no one likes being a woman #LIKE CMON #bioware get some non white ppl in that writers room im begging #get some non white trans ppl in there #anyway. i think some of how they act was unintentional can i be honest #to me they read as an autistic person that has a weird relationship with the world around them #i say this. as someone that is that. lmao #its like. man idk. them choosing a culture is dumb and ugh #but also their trans journey is interesting to look at #IDKKK #i wanna talk about them but i dont want weirdos or freaks in my notifs lmao #and like. god they couldve been written so much better #but also ppl not knowing that aqun athlok is a binary within the qun #and could get ascribed to ppl that ARENT that bc the qun has strict gender roles #but we dont see them look into qunari gender roles or customs #or rivaini gender roles/customs #UGHHHHHH bio ware you fumbled but also didnt but you did lord have mercy #if youre reading these #i hope you know these are just my scattered thoughts #one day ill do a real analysis on them #its an issue of them wanting the audience to know theyre nonbinary while also not creating an in world term #like aqun athlok. which again. does not describe taash lmao #and while i think its a good thing how up front their gender indentity is

60 notes · View notes

martyrbat · 2 years ago

Text

hm hm hm i feel like this will be really interesting to read with the knowledge of korra and how that effected her instead.... because korra (from my limited knowledge so i could be talking out my ass here) knew she was the avatar at an early age and DID get that community. she had katara and her parents, she had her mentors, she was isolated from the real world during so and perfected the elements other than air (which i kinda recall her struggling with and how its the opposite element of earth so im excited to see if those kinda play out :3) and she was more eager to be the avatar and the excitement and significance it brought (which was a bit clouded by her being sheltered but also would have been expected more before the war impacted things)

i also remember matty saying kyoshi struggled with earth bending (which im super excited to get to and see/see her journey and how it will differ) but!!! i just think its really fun how theyre kinda off the bat setting up this expectation and new grounding for readers who have a past grasp of the avatar universe. even as someone who isnt super familiar with the lore, i know enough to recognize that oh! thats something new!! so just kudos to the writer(s?) for just setting this up to be something very different and in a natural way :3

#again. talking out my ass here. if im an idiot no one say anything okay? okay <3 #but i think its fun to already see some parallels or ways kyoshi and korra are different or similar #and how korra got the set-up stage that was considered ideal (i think?) for these two characters #like !!! the avatar is supposed to know theyre the avatar at a young age!#and aang learning when he was 12 instead?? i think?#or being told hey man you gotta fucking get ready/do your teen duties instead of preeteen ones cause theres a war....#but no sorry my head is scattered i cant keep a line of thought but the point was i know a lot of people bash korra because shes too #‘abrasive’ or comfortable with being the avatar when?? for previous experiences that eagerness was something more expected (i think)#like its so difficult to make a solid grounding argument when im not lore caught up but korras excitement to be the avatar and that she #knows its significant and important is something that would been encouraged before the war because of that hope and belief #that the avatar will keep that balance or save the world when others cant. aang disappearing and the genocide and war #obviously effected how people will see the avatar in universe and how her teachers are more hesitant and restrictive #none of this makes sense im just thinkin to myself while half distracted lol but ! go cringegirl bosses go !!!!#RoK (ransom style)

37 notes · View notes

bisexualmaedhros · 9 months ago

Text

transfem furries hornyposting online about the relatively niche/"out there" things they're into have inadvertently helped me accept myself more than the body positivity movement of the 2010s ever did

#this will not be rebloggable because i don't want people to get transmisogynistic in the notes #it's just something i've been thinking about lately #i hope i'm not like out of line for saying this please let me know if i say anything disrespectful #i just have a lot of love in my heart for transfems; especially those who log on to this website to be gay on my dash and do their thing #trans wlw being proud of their identities helped me come to terms with my own in a way. idk how to properly explain it but #idk. our experiences are very different - you have to fight to be seen as a woman and i have to fight not to #(though that is part of my identity in most cases people would use it to negate the rest)#(and of course none of us should Have to fight that but. i hope it's clear what i mean lol)#and idk like. womanhood is not achieved painlessly for you and yet so many of you embrace it so beautifully and in so many ways #it makes me want to accept that part of myself i thought i had to kill for so long #i am not entirely a woman but i love being a woman and loving other women-#platonically romantically sexually it doesn't matter #i'm so grateful i get to share a community with you all and read/hear/watch your thoughts and experiences and such #which goes beyond sex stuff but sex stuff is a particular personal struggle of mine and it's something i've been trying to cultivate a more #healthy relationship to lately. and i also know that unfortunately transfems get treated even worse than everyone else when it comes to #kinks or whatever. i don't mean to imply that everyone has to be open about that stuff. i just mean that i'm grateful for those who bravely #and proudly are. anyway i'm losing my train of thought bc i'm packing for a trip and i'm a little scattered atm but the point is #transfem wlw i love you dearly thank you for existing #[oh also this post isn't meant to bash body positivity stuff and i know it's not all the same. it just often felt too sanitized and forced #for me to relate to. ok bye]#finielspeaks

5 notes · View notes

odoraful · 1 month ago

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬)

it's date night and the boys react to you wearing a new dress

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel/caleb x gn!reader; established relationship; complete & utter fluff; compliments & showers of affection; dresses are described (i had dress references that i thought would suit the boys' vibes hehe, but feel free to picture whatever dress you want!); ~0.5k words per scene

⟡ a/n: my first time writing for caleb GASP! it was very fun to write him but, admittedly, i don't own all of his cards (the struggles of f2p 😞), nor have i done all of his memoria/other content, so i hope i was still able to do him justice! 🥺

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ⟡

Subconsciously, Zayne rose from his seat as soon as he saw you. His body somehow told him that appreciating you whilst sitting down was a horrible injustice. It was true, though. Standing gave him the proper vantage point to admire your outfit. The way the smooth white material draped around your curves and flowed down to your ankles, the fabric turning sheer near the hem. Blue watercolor-like flowers were scattered across the dress—the softness of it all made it seem like you were a walking dream. A silvery necklace rested against your collarbones, matching the teardrop gemstones that dangled from your ears.

You were still in the middle of adjusting your earrings when you walked out, not paying any mind to the effects your entrance had on your enamored partner.

Zayne’s lips parted, the air seemingly sucked from him. He blinked multiple times as if he were trying to see whether you were an illusion.

It was no trick conjured by his mind. You were real, you were his, and you were stunning.

Finished with your earrings, you looked up at him with a smile. It took every ounce of will for Zayne’s knees not to buckle and fall back onto the chair.

“I’m ready to go now,” you said, walking over to him, your heels giving a dull click against the hard floors.

“It’ll be a bit colder tonight,” was all Zayne could muster saying with most of his thoughts entangled by your appearance.

Your face immediately fell into a pout. With a disappointed sigh, you hung your head.

“Alright, I’ll go get something to cover up…”

Before your feet could even move to walk away, Zayne’s hands snaked around your waist. A short gasp fell out of you.

Beneath the thin fabric of your dress, you could feel the press of his cool fingertips. He held you in place with a firm grip, his body flush with yours. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his closeness leaving shivers up your spine.

“T-to bring something to wear on top of my dress? You just said that it would be cold.”

His brows lifted, realizing the misunderstanding he caused. “I apologize. What I meant was I’ll bring my jacket for you to wear if it gets too chilly.”

Your stomach fluttered, though you didn’t know if it was due to the proximity of his body, his low voice, or his offer to keep you warm during the night out. You turned around in his grasp, meeting his gaze.

“There is no need for you to hide it beneath extra clothing if you want to show it off. You look beautiful in that new dress, my love.”

Now you knew exactly what caused those tingles in your stomach.

The direct compliments Zayne tended to give always affected you deeply. Combined with the nickname that rolled so effortlessly off his tongue, you were the one left entangled now. And he would admire you a thousand times more just to see that expression on your face.

”Perhaps I should change the color of my tie to match.”

“Dr Zayne wanting to do couple matching?” You feigned a gasp of shock, bracing a hand against his chest. “How unheard of!”

Zayne breathed a fond and quiet laugh. “Yes, I’ve been learning a lot of new things when I’m with you.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ⟡

“My, my, my,” Sylus sounded out as you walked into the kitchen. He chuckled in astonishment, the resonant sound warming your senses. “Don’t you look absolutely divine this evening?”

Sylus washed his hands at the sink and dried them off with a towel. He was in the middle of preparing dinner for the two of you when you made your grand reveal. Naturally, he had to stop everything to give you the attention you deserved.

“Do you notice anything different?” you asked innocently, hands tucked behind your back.

Sylus smirked. He rested his chin on his hand, indulging your theatrics.

“Hmm, let me guess… is it your hair?” he began, reaching out to tuck a strand behind your ear.

You tempered your expression, trying to remain neutral despite the corners of your lips curving upwards.

“Or… maybe your makeup?” he trailed his hand down to your cheek, lightly brushing against your skin with his thumb.

Sylus’ hand moved to rest at your back, guiding you closer to him. His gaze travelled from your head to your toes.

“Ah, I know what it is.”

You were wearing an elegant black dress that reached your ankles—certainly fit to be in attendance at a high class function. The bodice resembled a corset, with faux boning running from the square neckline down towards the waist before disappearing before the skirt. Thin black straps tied off in ribbons at your shoulders. A necklace of silver and ruby dazzled under the warm lights of the kitchen. Contrasting with the rest of your outfit, rather than wear a matching pair of shoes, on your feet were your prized fuzzy slippers that you wore around the Onichynus base. Sylus could help but break into a smile.

Tonight’s date was a night-in after all, so comfort would be given number one priority.

“It’s this lovely new dress.”

His compliment seemed to be amplified by the husk in his voice. You clasped your hands around his neck, pulling him nearer.

“Correct!” you grinned. “It’s the one you helped me pick out, remember?”

He nodded. Two weeks ago you had gone clothes shopping together and stumbled upon this simple black dress. Sylus saw the way your eyes lingered on it, even after being alarmed by the price tag. You were prepared to say goodbye to it on the clothing rack. Little did you know, Sylus had already signalled to the shop assistant to have it wrapped up and sent to his home.

“I do,” he answered, drawing small circles at the small of your back with his finger. “It seems we both have good taste.”

Your eyes darted away from his gaze. “I know you’re just making dinner for us, but I wanted to dress up a little.”

There was very little that could make the leader of Onichynus lose his composure, but the shyness on your face was enough to make him weak.

Sylus kissed your forehead. “Trust me when I say this, my dear, the gesture is greatly appreciated.”

He tilted your face upwards. Sincerity brimmed in his crimson gaze as he spoke,

“You know you can wear whatever you want around me. Whether you dress up or dress down, you always look stunning.”

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ⟡

Eyes growing wide as porcelain plates, Xavier watched with awe when you exited the bedroom. He’d never seen you wear this dress. He didn’t even know where to look first.

The white fabric ruffled in two tiers around your thighs, with loose frills lining the neckline, accentuating your decolletage. It was shoulderless, with long sheer white sleeves that extended from the dress. To complement its shorter length, you wore white lace socks that ended below your knees.

It was the embodiment of flirty and sweet, only made more so by the twirl you gave him.

“You got a new dress,” Xavier observed.

He walked over to meet you, a smile blooming across his face as you toyed with the ruffles at your neckline.

“Mhm, I did! How do I look?”

Xavier ran his fingers down the sleeve, feeling the material. He trailed the length of your arm, the light touch leaving goosebumps in its wake, until he reached your hand.

“The color is just like starlight.”

Lifting your hand up to his lips, he gave your knuckles a tender kiss. It was almost a scene from a storybook—a prince boldly showcasing his affection for his lover. Though, rather than a castle, you were standing in his apartment on his blue striped rug. It didn’t matter. For you, it was a fairytale nonetheless.

“You look radiant,” he said, looking up at you with admiration and… something else.

Xavier straightened himself and inhaled. Unexpectedly, he leaned over and began unlacing his shoes, taking them off his feet. Your face contorted with confusion. Whatever he was doing now was a stark difference in tone from the previous moment you just shared.

“Xavier… what are you doing?”

He neatly lined his shoes up on the edge of the rug on the wooden floorboards.

“Can we change the date to just staying in?” he asked.

“Huh? Why?”

His answer came in the form of pulling you into a hug and collapsing on the sofa with you. You gasped in surprise. Cupping your face in both his hands, Xavier began to kiss you. Starting from your forehead down to your cheeks. In that fraction of a second each time he pulled away, he eyed you—your expression a mixture of surprise and delight, the way your chest rose and fell in that ruffled dress. He continued his affectionate ambush, his gentle lips leaving your skin warm and rose-colored.

“Xavier!” you cried out, bursting into giggles.

Though you had your hands on his shoulders, you didn’t give much resistance, letting your partner shower you with kisses.

“We’re going to be late for our reservation—mmph!”

He finally reached your lips, slowing his movements, letting himself savor the faint sweetness from the gloss you applied. You too almost got lost, brain clouded by the familiar and tempting sensation. Xavier felt your hands tap his shoulders and he pulled back to find your lips in a pout.

“You know we’re never going to leave if we stay like this.”

Xavier sighed resignedly. “Okay, okay, we’ll go.”

Nodding his head he rested his forehead on your shoulder, as if it took all his strength to move away. “I just couldn’t help it. It’s hard to resist kissing you when you look like that.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ⟡

Being a denizen of an underwater kingdom meant Rafayel had seen many pretty sights in his life. But, none would compare to when he was looking at you. Especially now when you walked into his studio wearing a new dress. His lips curved into a smile, unable to contain the wonder on his face.

The dress was made of a taupe-coloured chiffon with red flowers and olive leaves patterning the fabric. From the open window of his studio, the light breeze made the flowy material flutter around your legs. The waistline ended just below the bust, with a heart-shaped neckline that gave the perfect space for your shell necklace (given as a present from Rafayel himself). Your white sandals tapped against the floorboards, ready for your evening by the beach.

“Is there a special anniversary I’m forgetting?” Rafayel asked, placing his hands on his hips. “Why am I receiving such a lovely gift?”

You chuckled, speaking with a playful lilt, “Sometimes there’s no reason for nice things to happen. I just thought I’d try on something new.”

He approached, holding your hands in his. The swirl of violet and pink in his eyes gleamed with splendour. “You look beautiful, like you just stepped out of a painting.”

“You can thank Aunt Talia,” you said. “She helped choose it for me when she visited Linkon.”

Rafayel shrugged, though, there was pride in his voice as he spoke. “It’s easy to pick when you have a perfect muse like yourself.”

With his hand still in yours, Rafayel stretched his arm outward, creating distance between you two before leading you towards his chest. You twirled into his arms like a ballroom dancer, the skirt of your dress dancing along with you.

He wished he had something to record your laugh in that moment—the pure delight in your voice. Perhaps he could keep it in a seashell for him to hold to his ear whenever he missed you. More of your giggles erupted when he swung you out from him once again. This time, when he pulled you in, he braced an arm around your back, dipping you.

His face was inches away from yours. He looked at the pink dusting your cheeks, the sparkle on your eyelids, and the giddiness in your smile. The statement remained true. No other sight could compare to you.

Lifting you back to standing position, he kept his arms encircled at your waist.

“The fabric of the dress flows just like water,” he commented. “And the colour compliments you so nicely.”

Rafayel appeared entranced, as if he was staring at a rare artwork sitting in an illustrious gallery. Studying your features with that same painter’s eye.

“You’re giving me that look again.” You lightly poked the tip of his nose with your index finger. “Am I to be the inspiration for your next piece now?”

He shook his head in amusement. “Cutie, you should see the margins of all my sketchbooks.”

“You’re always an inspiration to me, every second of every day.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ⟡

Waiting for you to come out of your room made Caleb’s stomach flutter in anticipation. It wasn’t dissimilar to the very first time he tried flying. The sudden change in speed and altitude. That momentary weightlessness before everything dropped. He didn’t realise being at your apartment in Linkon City, waiting to see what you were going to wear for the night, would provoke the same feelings as being in a fighter jet. He covered his face with his hand in an act of controlling himself–conscious of the effect you had on him.

The moment ended when he heard your door click shut. Caleb turned around from staring at the photographs on the wall to finally see you.

At a first glance, the dress was simple–made of a silky material with no embellishments, and two thin straps at the shoulders. However, in the light, your green dress shimmered with iridescence. The gold that shone through the fabric shifted with every step you took towards him, ever changing depending on where the light was hitting you.

Caleb folded his arms, his eyes shamelessly wandering up and down. A slow and intentional gaze that ensured he could memorize the image he saw before him.

You were practically beaming at him, and his own heart leapt from his chest.

“I don’t recognize this from your wardrobe. Is it new?” His question came out almost breathless.

“It is, how observant of you,” you chirped. “What do you think?”

You took one more step closer until he could reach out and feel the material for himself. It was smooth and delicate under his touch. He let it slip off his fingers before looking back at you, completely transfixed.

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed. The earnesty in his voice made your pulse skip.

“You know,” Caleb circled around you, hands at his back. It seemed as though he wanted to admire the dress from every angle, “any person in their right mind would want to get close after seeing someone as cute as you.”

Without you realising, he had actually cornered you against your wall of photographs.

He placed his left hand against the wall beside your head, satisfaction plain on his face. You puffed out your cheeks in mock annoyance at Caleb’s sneaky position switching. Only you got to witness this mischievous, boyish side to him.

“I guess I’ll have to keep a lookout tonight,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay right by your side,” you reassured, patting his head.

“Mmm, that’s good to hear.” He leaned into your touch, lips curved into a soft, nostalgic smile.

“I remember you weren’t too fond of wearing dresses when you were younger.”

“That was a long time ago,” you commented, brushing your fingers through his dark hair to tidy it up. “Things can change.”

He caught your hand in his, interlocking his fingers with yours. Warmth radiated through your palms.

“Then, I want to see you in more pretty clothes like this,” he said. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow, I’ll get you anything you want.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

3K notes · View notes

almadelsur · 6 months ago

Text

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone.

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau.

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him.

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart.

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you.

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned.

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know.

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken.

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning.

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under.

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj.

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.”

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

#back on my shit #jj Maybank #Rafe Cameron #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #love triangle #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #jj maybank angst #jj maybank smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #jj maybank x you #rafe cameron x you #tsok #the secrets one keeps

6K notes · View notes

biteyoubiteme · 6 months ago

Text

black cherry flavored

ot5 txt x fem!reader

synopsis: how many ghostfaces are there again?

warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some

wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)

an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics! [dumdum m.list]

"whats your favorite scary movie?"

You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?”

It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.

“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,”

“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,”

“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,”

“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin.

“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-”

“Huening,” yeonjun warns.

“I'm just saying…”

Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp.

“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed.

The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman.

It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work.

“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?”

“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class.

“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden.

“No-”

beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,”

“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead.

“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen.

“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight.

“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark.

“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?”

“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,”

“So wrong it would get you killed?”

“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,”

“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand.

“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,”

“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently.

“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,”

“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,”

“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,”

“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair.

“Past it, i didn't pause on it,”

“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,”

“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed.

“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes.

“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place.

“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens.

“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles.

“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.

Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising.

“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”

Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,”

It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.

All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door.

As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes.

“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group.

beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”

“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye.

“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk.

Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path.

“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon.

“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from.

“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?”

“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,”

“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.

“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,”

“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…”

“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out.

“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,”

“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?”

“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,”

A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?”

“Next week?”

It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived.

You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on.

The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat.

“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.

“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him.

As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen.

“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,”

“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,”

“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is.

“They come out here to check too?”

“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,”

“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,”

He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,”

Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn.

“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,”

“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,”

“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy.

“It's a good thing for us now i guess,”

It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,”

It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed.

He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up.

You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his.

The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.

The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other. You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs.

He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing.

every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked.

“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that.

You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit.

It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?”

Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,”

it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?”

“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs.

You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn.

Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag.

You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence.

“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs.

No response.

The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them.

In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame.

The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone.

Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it.

“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone.

“What's your favorite scary movie?”

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,”

You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?”

He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?”

“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it.

“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it.

“They don't?”

“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,”

“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen.

“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?”

“I'm not alone, i have you,”

He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,”

“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,”

“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,”

“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.

Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,”

You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago.

“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two.

You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke.

“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?”

You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window.

He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?”

“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway.

Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move.

You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!”

The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-”

“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart.

“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face.

“I know where one is, if you want it,”

It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell.

The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door.

You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks.

As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,”

You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock.

But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him.

The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it.

“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,”

It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,”

“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back.

Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,”

You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”

he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,”

“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at.

“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail.

Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back.

You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue.

“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,”

It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,”

“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.

“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine.

Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch.

Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground.

“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into.

Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum.

Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?”

“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,”

yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,”

Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from.

But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you.

“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question.

“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film.

“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him.

“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth.

You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound.

Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him.

The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”

“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,”

Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?”

The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot.

Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot.

Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,”

You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away.

“No huening please!”

“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response.

“Kai…please!”

“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss.

“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you.

“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,”

“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon.

“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out.

Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up.

It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,”

But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days.

When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust.

His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-”

“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies.

It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings.

“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,”

You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?”

You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out.

“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds.

“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,”

🏷taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

thank you so much to @beomiracles @prince-jjae and @thetxtdevil for beta/proofreading the first part of this fic!

4K notes · View notes

tangerineastronaut · 2 months ago

Text

bibliophile ⟡ j. yunho

part two

you're stressed...your study buddy has an idea.

Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Student!Reader Genre: Smut - dark twist Requested: Yes/No w.c. 5.8k Warnings: heavy on the smut, semi public sex (ish), mutual pining, food? - THE SUCKER - he does...things with it. Yunho is a FREAK. Reader is desperate for yunho dick (yes YOU, reader) Spoiler warnings are in comments if you need them. A/N: So, this is sort of two requests in one, however I don't want to disappoint anyone so I'll post it solo. I hope it's okay! <3 god deleted my ticket to heaven with this one. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92 If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

You release a tired sigh and rub your eyes, throwing your pen down. It bounces off of your ridiculously thick textbook and lands on the papers scattered around your study partner.

“Ah ah. No crashing yet, we’ve got three more chapters,” Yunho says with a laugh, tapping you on the end of the nose with his own pen. You pout, making a face at him before dramatically collapsing on the table.

“I give up. You can become a lawyer, I’ll go back to making sandwiches,” you groan, muffled against pages of your future.

“I thought you liked working at the sandwich shop?”

“I did,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. “But sandwich shops don’t pay me six figures.”

“Then stop whining,” Yunho shrugs. You grumble words unintelligible even to yourself and sit up, fixing your hair. You stretched, yawned, checked your phone for the thousandth time that evening. Finals were next week. Then there was the Bar exam. You were so close to being y/n l/n, attorney at law…but you were beginning to feel nauseous at the mere sight of words on a page.

“Wanna take a break?” Yunho suggests, leaning back to stretch. You avoid looking at the way his sweater rides up, revealing inches of what appears to be a toned belly.

“No,” you mumble, forcing yourself to look away. “If I leave this library…I think I may never return.”

Yunho chuckles and nods, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. For a few minutes, you both just sit there, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Usually the library is filled with students, exactly like you—stressed, depressed, drowning in student debt and reading assignments.

“Yunho?” you mumble. He hums a response, looking over at you. You swallow. “If I start to cry, will you judge me?”

“Not at all,” he responds. You nod once, feeling tears burning in your eyes.

For the next hour or so, you take turns reading passages and summarizing them, going through various laws and statutes that you could barely comprehend. Your brain felt as if it might explode, and you considered calling it a night, but it was only 10 p.m. and you’d be damned if you gave out before midnight.

“What the hell are these ‘title 16 provisions?’” you scoff, crinkling your nose. “Were these even part of our assignment?”

“Let me see,” Yunho says. He scoots his chair over to your side of the table rather than just moving seats, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. And god, his arm slides over the back of your chair as he leans in to look at the tiny words on your page.

He smells like coffee and the peanut butter granola bar you shared earlier, and this close you can see that he has very light freckles on his cheeks. You kind of want him to never move.

“Ah, no this isn’t part of this assignment but we will have to know it for finals,” he says, words going in one of your ears and out the other. He begins talking about these provisions, but you must be numb to all forms of communication other than Jeong Yunho’s body heat.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, shaking your head. Yunho has a funny look on his face, one brow raised. Oh god. Oh god. He caught you staring like a fucking creep.

“...You good?” he chuckles. You swallow and quickly nod, brushing your hair back so fast you nearly hit him in the face.

“Yep, uh huh,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Oh,” he says as though relieved. “Good. Well, if you need to take a break, let me know.”

He begins to move; you panic and grab his wrist.

“Wait! You didn’t explain this part to me,” you say, pointing at a random section on the page. Yunho sits down again and tilts his head.

“You need me to explain…marital property to you?” he asks, sounding both amused and disbelieving.

Well, if you’re gonna be a bad liar, at least you’ll be persistent.

“Yes,” you nod. “Just like a refresher, you know? My brain is cooked.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It feels like he knows something you don’t know, and you don’t like that. So you yank him back into his seat and let go of his wrist, pretending to be very interested in one of the most basic aspects of your degree.

Marital property is boring, even when the hottest guy in your class is explaining it to you. And what’s worse—he knows. You know he knows. He’s explaining basic concepts to you, and then explaining the basics of those basic concepts, all the while keeping a little smirk on his handsome face. You consider caving, thinking of any possible excuse for your behavior. You’re delirious from lack of sleep, that’s actually true. But you were too deep in this to give up now.

“That’s most of it,” Yunho finally says, long fingers splayed over the textbook. They nearly reach from one end of the open book to the other. You shiver. “I guess we should move into parental rights—”

“Yunho,” you begin with a sigh, ready to admit defeat. He smiles innocently, resting his chin in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“I—”

You freeze, having forgotten how to form sentences. Yunho’s still smiling at you, but his free hand is now resting on your thigh. You thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a skirt today.

His palm is large, warm, spanning much of the plush skin there. He’s not gripping it, but it’s still very obviously intentional. You feel your cheeks burn hot; you’re determined to remain unaffected.

“Nevermind,” you mumble. He chuckles and turns back to the page, though he doesn’t move his hand.

You don’t ask him to.

You go back to your respective chapters, thankfully far beyond the basics, but his hand stays right where it is. He even reaches over his other arm to sip his coffee, refusing to move it. Your skin burns in the shape of his fingers; you almost want to push him away simply because your body is reacting to his touch in a way that’s making you feel crazy. You’re practically feverish, just because he’s near you. Pathetic, honestly.

When you sigh and rub your eyes, those long fingers twitch, making you jump. You try to play it off, though you know he’s aware of your reaction, because he does it again. When you don’t react as dramatically, he squeezes gently.

Your knee jerks up so fast it hits the table, causing your belongings to rattle, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Yunho chuckles, though doesn’t move his hand. You clear your throat as though everything is normal. As though he’s not currently squeezing your upper thigh.

“Yunho,” you say quietly.

“Hm?” He doesn't bother looking up from his textbook.

“What are we doing?”

He does look up this time.

“Studying,” he says, giving you a sweet smile. You narrow your eyes.

If he was going to do this, then so were you. You were sleep deprived, numb to the world, and horny as hell. So you parted your knees.

Not much, just an inch or so, but very obvious. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly not expecting the reciprocation. You go back to your textbook, but your victory is short lived, however, as his large hand slides further inward.

You’re flustered. But you’re also stubborn. So you drop your pen and look him in the eyes as you open your knees. Yunho’s gaze is steady as he slowly moves his hand, as though expecting you to stop him. You don’t.

Yunho went back to reading and you did the same, just as his pinky brushed the crease of your inner thigh. You knew you were wet, knew he could probably feel the moist heat radiating from your body behind your pink panties, but you chose to be nonchalant. Until he rubbed the back of his knuckle against your panties, over your clit.

The soft moan that escapes you is mortifying.

Yunho quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as your brows pull together and you shudder. He looks as shocked as you are, though now you’re hazy, focused only on how good it felt, and wanting more.

“Shh,” he chuckles nervously, glancing around despite the fact that you’re the only ones here. “No wonder you act like you’re walking around on thin ice. You’re frustrated as hell, huh?”

“P-Please,” you whimper pitifully against his palm, though it’s muffled. He moves his hand and you grip his wrist, looking up at him. You silently communicate your needs, praying he has mercy and doesn’t force you to say it out loud. Yunho glances around one more time, licking his lips before looking down at you like a fucking steak on a platter.

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be quiet for me,” he murmurs. You nod quickly, gasping when he effortlessly yanks your chair closer to him. He adjusts his glasses before lowering his hand to your thighs, gently stroking them.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly. You open your mouth, but he presses a finger to your lips. “Quietly.”

“Yes, yes,” you whine. “T-Touch me.”

Yunho bites his lower lip, as though imagining doing much, much more than that. When he rubs your thighs again, your knees fall open and you stifle a moan behind your sleeves. Yunho smiles at the sight of you, slipping his hand between your legs again.

This time, he’s more careful, though it’s much more frustrating for you. You squirm when he strokes either side of your cunt, making a ‘v’ and squeezing your plush pussy lips between them. You moan again, loudly, and Yunho scrambles to cover your mouth.

“Baby, you’ve gotta be—”

“Quiet, I know,” you pout, gripping his wrist. “C-can’t help it…feels good.”

Yunho swallows, letting his fingers brush against you again. You manage to stay quiet this time, but your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, drawing his hand back. You nearly protest, but he presses his index finger to your clit like a button and you jolt, covering your mouth just in time. Yunho smirks.

“H-Haven’t had sex,” you say, fisting the sleeve of his sweater as he pushes again. “In m-months.”

“Why?” he asks, beginning to rub slow circles against your panties. You feel your wetness spreading beneath them, but you don’t care. You grip the edge of the table and swallow.

“Busy,” you breathe, licking your lips. Yunho’s eyes follow your tongue. You don’t notice.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes,” you nod frantically.

Yunho uses the hand between your legs to turn your entire body toward him. You want to mention how attractive that is, but he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

His kiss is nothing like his touch; there’s nothing dirty or hurried about it. His nose brushes the crease of yours as he tilts your heads to the side, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss that makes no sense when his fingers are currently resting against your panties beneath your skirt.

He seems to have forgotten what he was doing amidst your soft kisses, as you break away from his lips to impatiently bounce and whine. Yunho smirks and begins rubbing his middle finger directly over your clit, applying very little pressure. He kisses you again, and you throw your arms around his neck, trying to push your body into his. His knee prevents you from doing so.

“Nng…what are you doing?” you whine, fisting his sweater. “Wanna…wanna be in your lap.”

Your own admission makes your cheeks flush red, but you don’t care. You’re horny and your crush’s hand is between your thighs.

“Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, stealing another lazy kiss. “Wanna keep you like this. I like how desperate you are.”

“I…I’m not desperate,” you mumble. Yunho bites his lower lip and applies more pressure to your clit, you buck your hips and grip his sleeve. He’s laughing, but you don’t care, aching for more of him.

“Desperate,” he hums, pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t understand his obsession with kissing you; wasn’t he as horny as you were? But you kissed him back anyway, because you’ve had a crush on this guy since your freshman year and even the slut hormones clouding your brain couldn’t block that much out. He was a damn good kisser too, taking the lead and hardly giving you time to breathe.

In contrast to his soft mouth, Yunho’s index finger hooks your soaked panties, tugging them to the side. His finger brushes your bare cunt, though he knowingly silences your moans with a kiss.

“What can I do?” he asks once you finally break apart. You’re unwilling to let him go, however, pulling his lips back to yours..

“Don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, body buzzing with need. “Whatever you want.”

“Can I go in here?”

He prods at the needy hole between your folds and you fucking purr, clutching his sweater and pulling him close with a whine.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. He waits for you to eagerly nod, then brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. “Open.”

You do as he says and he slips his fingers inside. You nearly moan around them as you instinctively suck and lick his digits; they’re long and thick, two of them practically as big as a few hookups you’ve had in the past. Yunho watches, pupils wide as you act like an obedient doll a little too eager to be fingered in a library at midnight.

When he pulls his fingers out, they’re slick and shiny with your drool, and you see him suck in air. You blush, a little embarrassed at how thorough of a job you’ve done. You expect Yunho to go beneath your skirt, but he slides his wet fingers in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen, next to the look of pure bliss in his eyes as he sucks your saliva off of his fingers and replaces it with his own. You decide then that you do not want him to finger you.

“Fuck me,” you blurt out.

You barely register what you’ve said, but you’re damn near ready to jump his bones. Yunho blinks in surprise, obviously not having expected that. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Really?” he asks. He sounds surprised for reasons you don’t understand, but you nod.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. “Want you inside me. All of you.”

“Fuck,” Yunho groans. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you back, harder. Your hands are shaky as they go for his jeans, but then he freezes like you’ve just slapped him.

“What?” you ask, breaking the kiss. Yunho curses and rubs his face with both hands, tilting back in his chair. “What is it, yu?”

“I don’t…fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

He runs a hand through his hair like this is the biggest mistake of the century. You bite your lower lip—the idea of leaving tonight and not getting fucked by him makes you genuinely want to cry.

“We could…you know?” you mumble, face hot. “I mean, I-I’m clean. Obviously, haven’t had sex in god knows when—”

“No,” Yunho says, shaking his head. “I don’t trust myself.”

“Don’t trust yourself to what?” you frown. Yunho looks at you,

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make myself pull out once I’m in you,” he murmurs. “We need a condom.”

You swallow. You really shouldn’t push; but you need to hear more.

“How do you know?” you breathe, licking your lips.

“C’mere.”

“What?”

Yunho reaches over, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and you gasp, able to feel the rigid line of his cock beneath you. But he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss again.

“I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he hums, and you mewl in response, grinding down against him. He kisses you again to stifle what was no doubt a moan.

“Y-Yeah?” you manage to squeak out. Yunho nods.

“Yeah. Not gonna be able to pull out if I’m balls deep in that little cunt with you fucking crying for it like this.”

Fuck. You needed him. To be honest, with or without the condom, but if he felt it was necessary.

“Let’s go get one,” you mumble dizzily. “A c-condom. There’s a convenience store down the street.”

Yunho frowns, looking at the clock on the wall.

“The library will be locked, won’t it? Don’t we have to lock up?”

You lean back in his lap, smiling.

“Yes. But I’ve got a key,” you chime.

The moment you stepped into the store, you immediately regretted it and felt all the horny escape you. Not really, but it was embarrassing as hell, and painfully obvious as to what you were doing here. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightly clasping yours as he guided you toward the back.

You had a little trouble finding the condoms—it made you inexplicably happy when Yunho suggested asking the clerk as he didn’t know either, even though your answer was a firm NO—but eventually found the rack next to the sex pills and cold sore cream.

Hot.

Yunho squints, and you cross your arms impatiently. You grab a box and shake it.

“It’s not a shoe store, here,” you mumble, pushing the box into his hand. Yunho glances over the label and smirks, tossing it back on the shelf. You want to ask what the hell is so funny when you’re so fucking wet your panties are sticking to your thighs, but then he finally makes a choice and puts the box in your hands. Oh.

Oh.

XXL. Makes sense.

You make him grab a few more things as though that makes the purchase less shameful. When you go to check out, you look everywhere but at the clerk—until he has the audacity to speak to the man holding your hand, very obviously purchasing condoms so the two of you can go fuck in a library.

“Finals week?” the guy says. Yunho slides his card across the counter and squeezes your hand.

“Finals week,” he nods.

“I just realized we could’ve gone to my apartment,” you say, unlocking the library door. Yunho leaned against the wall, unwrapping the candy he’d apparently decided on last minute. A red round sucker. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

You’d been given a key to the library your second year here, as you were a trusted student who often pulled all nighters—and you lived in the shitty part of campus where the power often went out. You were aware this was a total abuse of that power, but you figured if you showed Yunho to Ms. Lin, she’d understand.

“Yeah, well, my fantasies during puberty weren’t at apartments,” Yunho shrugs, holding the door for you. You head inside and find your table, where you drop the bag of your purchased items. Yunho grabs it, immediately fishing out the box.

“Very boy of you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, the hot librarian offers to help you find your dick? Is that part of the dewey decimal system?”

Yunho smiles. “Can we get back to you whining for me to fuck you? I liked that.”

“I was not—”

Your freakishly tall study partner grabs your wrist, tugging you against him. You swallow and look up, lips parted at the sudden contact.

“Not what?” he asks. You blink, but something is suddenly pushing at your lips. You open dumbly, feeling too obedient as you take whatever he’s putting in your mouth apparently. The taste of artificial cherry makes you grimace.

Yunho backs you up to the table, crowding you against it. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheek, thumbs brushing below your ears. You realize you’ve been staring at him wordlessly, sucker in your mouth.

“How’s it taste?” he asks.

“Good,” you mumble. It doesn’t taste good, you hate cherry, but if Jeong Yunho puts something in your mouth, you love it, you decide. Cherry is your new favorite flavor.

“I doubted if they sold gags, so,” he chuckles. “This’ll do.”

You frown, but he takes the stick of the sucker before you can respond.

“Open,” he says. You open.

You see his eyes twinkle, almost like he can’t believe how well you’re listening to him. If only he knew you’d do anything he asked.

Rather than pull it out, Yunho rubs the sucker around your mouth. He coats your tongue with the sticky flavor, then the inside of your cheek. By the time he pulls it out, you don’t realize you’re drooling, mouth open for him.

He pops the sucker in his own mouth, just like his fingers, and you shudder. Then he’s slipping his hands beneath your skirt, pushing your panties down your thighs.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, more curious than concerned. Yunho takes the sucker out and kisses your cheek, then your lips. You can taste it on his tongue, just like yours.

Something sticky and wet prods at your clit and you gasp, but Yunho wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you from pulling away. You squeak helplessly in shock, caught between mind numbing bliss and disbelief. He’s rubbing the bulbous head of the sucker against your clit.

“Shh…figure it’s too risky to eat you out properly,” he hums in your ear, crushing you to his chest. You squirm, though not out of discomfort.

You have no idea how to react, hands gripping his sweater as he holds you in place. The candy feels warm and sticky, sliding through your cunt juices as he teases you with it.

“I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice strained as though he’s doing all he can to hold back. “But I saw it and…well fuck, baby, if I’m honest, I just wanted to see if you were desperate enough to try and fuck yourself on a piece of candy.”

You whine and bury your head against his shoulder, because you fucking are. You are desperate enough to try, because he slides the candy between your lips and you jolt when it brushes your hole.

“F-Fuck, Yunho,” you gasp, nails digging into fabric. You hear him laugh, and it sounds so fucking cocky, like he knew you’d end up like this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you work yourself to ruin on a piece of candy.

He slides it beneath the hood of your clit, twisting the stick in his fingers. Your knees buckle, but he’s gripping you tight. He works it like a toy, rubbing up and down, focusing on your clit until you’re nearly there before he moves it again. It didn’t feel this big when it was in your mouth, but you’ve never wanted something inside you so bad.

“Oh my god,” you moan, thighs clamping together. It doesn’t stop his hand, or the candy, the rounded tip pushing against your hole. He starts rolling it again, and you gasp as you feel yourself snapping inside, the hot neediness spilling over the edges. You try to warn him, but only manage to squeak.

“Are you…are you cumming on a fucking lollipop?” Yunho asks, voice filled with awe. You nod.

Your ears ring, your vision blurs, and you feel something pushing against your mouth. It’s Yunho’s hand you realize, but you can’t stop, can’t stop shaking and screaming and there’s something wet on your cheeks.

You haven’t had a proper orgasm in months, maybe even a year, and were it not for Yunho holding you up, you’re pretty damn sure you would’ve fainted.

When you open your eyes, Yunho is laughing quietly and hugging you tight, rubbing your back.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he asks, sounding concerned and impressed. You sniff and nod, using the back of your hand to wipe your cheeks. Yunho cups your face and uses his thumbs to clean you up. You were crying.

“I’m sorry, jesus, I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize then that the damn sucker is in his mouth.

You whine, yanking him forward until you’re kissing him. It’s clumsy, but he takes the sucker out and tosses it on the table behind you. You begin working desperately at his jeans, and hear him release a cherry flavored groan.

“Still gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, keeping his lips against yours.

“God yes,” you say in a shaky voice. “P-Please.”

“I can do that,” Yunho breathes. He places a large hand on the softness of your belly, gently pushing you back.

Yunho towers over you, one hand moving to cup your thigh and open you up so he can stand between them. The other goes to his jeans, and you find yourself biting your lip and digging your nails into your palms.

XXL?

“Since you look like you’re about to fucking eat me,” Yunho says with a laugh, “why don’t you do it? Hm? When’s the last time you put a condom on?”

You feel yourself blush at having been caught, but sit up to snatch the box near you.

“Asshole,” you mutter, refusing to give him a proper answer.

Your hands are too shaky to open the box, so you end up ripping it down the side, condoms spilling out. You sigh anyway and grab one, slipping the foil packet between your teeth. You move your hands to his jeans, and realize that for the first time…you’re nervous.

Until now your brain had been sex focused; it still was, but your post orgasm clarity made you realize how fucking desperate you looked. You roughly popped open the button of his jeans.

Yunho was so damn tall that his hips were practically level with your face whilst you were on the short table. This meant that, as soon as you’d tugged his boxers down, you suddenly found yourself face to face with the biggest cock you’ve ever seen.

XXL.

For a moment you were too dumbstruck—why did they bother sculpting the soft dicks when the hard ones could look like…this? All veins and smooth skin and a pink mushroom head that looked perfectly designed for…use. You wanted it in your mouth. But he hadn’t technically put his mouth on you, and you were both in a library, and right now you were starting to get a little shaky at the idea of this thing going anywhere near your neglected pussy, so you swallowed your resolve and took the condom from between your teeth.

Yunho watched as you struggled to tear open the packet, biting your lower lip in frustration. You finally got it open, sighing as you placed the rubber at the tip. He grabbed your hands then, and you paused. Shit. Were you doing this wrong?

“We don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles softly, cupping your chin. “You wanna stop right now? We stop. Not trying to ruin the mood, just want you to know it’s okay.”

You shake your head.

“I’m okay, thanks,” you say quietly. “It’s just…fuck, Yunho.”

He laughs, his little ego having returned just a bit, you wanted to roll your eyes and kiss him at the same time. He bites his lower lip and strokes his thumb over yours.

“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. “You can take it for me.”

Fuck. Yes, you absolutely can.

Yunho guides you onto your back, though you settle on your elbows, propped up for him. You watch as he squeezes the rest of the lube from the packet onto his cock, giving a few tugs before nodding at you. You weren’t sure if you were excited or scared, but there were two heartbeats and one was between your legs.

He pushes your legs apart and guides his cock forward. You lick your lips and let your knees fall open, bunching your skirt around your waist, offering yourself to him. Yunho sucks in air through his teeth and curses.

“So fucking pretty,” he hums, supporting his weight on one palm as he brushes his cock against you. You shiver as the cold lube is smeared around your sensitive cunt. “Knew it from the day I saw you freshman year in a skirt just like this one. Thought I was gonna die when you smiled at me.”

“I didn’t know you remembered,” you mumbled. You were so nervous your first day, which wasn’t helped by the hot guy who approached you and asked if you were lost. Apparently you could stop feeling ashamed for having mind fucked him back then.

“Of course I do,” Yunho chuckles, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. “So cute, how you blushed when I talked to you. You still do that, you know.”

“Shut up,” you mutter. Yunho laughs, then licks his lips.

“Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. You nod.

The swollen head of his cock catches on your hole, and Yunho uses his weight to lean forward and urge himself inside. It aches a bit, not just from the size but fuck it’s been so long since you’ve had something more than your own fingers in you. Your thoughts go from not so bad to okay damn to holy fuck there’s more? Because he keeps pushing and you keep taking, and you feel every inch of him filling your insides while his body offers more.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” Yunho whines, still gripping the base of his cock as he guides it into you. Your head falls back and you curse at nothing; his cock is somehow too big but perfectly sized at the same time and you’ve never felt so god damn full. “Look at you, that needy little cunt is swallowing me babygirl. Keep fucking taking it.”

His words make you dizzy, and you whine when he’s finally fully seated. You feel heavy, pinned to the table, as though you can’t move. You reach down and feel the rigid sides of his cock, shocked to feel just how much is inside you.

“How’s that, beautiful?” Yunho asks. He places both palms on the table, either side of your body, and you tense. If he started thrusting, it would fuck you up.

“Good,” you say, nodding. “Big, but good.”

“Knew you could take it. 'm gonna fuck you now. Stop me if you need to," he murmurs. You can take it.

"I can take it," you nod. He smiles, kissing you once, then twice.

You squeak as Yunho begins fucking you properly, ploughing into you hard and fast, moving with need and instinct rather than reason.

The table shakes with his heavy thrusts, pistoning into you so hard it makes you dizzy. You’re surprised you can take him like this, able to feel every inch of him when he’s seated inside, pressing deliciously on your walls.

Yunho ruts into you like an animal, unfortunately one with a very big cock as he struggles to keep every inch buried inside you. He wasn’t lying about not pulling out, as he refused to do so even when thrusting. You had no room to breathe, no chance for air, as he fucked into you repeatedly while trying to go deeper.

You’re at a loss for words, lips parted, eyes following his expression and movements. He’s desperate in his own way, obviously holding back, though you don’t know from what. You consider encouraging him to let go—until he groans loudly and snaps his hips, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. So fucking…need you to hold still for me and take it,” he breathes. "Hold still. A-Almost done, fuck, keep taking it so good for me."

You do as he asks without question, clinging to his shoulders, nose to nose with Jeong Yunho as he forces his cock as far as it can go in your body and begins to pump a thin condom full of cum that should be you.

Yunho takes a few moments to breathe, arms shaking where he holds himself up on the table. You run a hand through his damp hair, watching as he moans softly and leans into your touch.

“You okay?” you giggle. He nods, tilting his head to kiss your palm.

“Just…You’re so fucking perfect. Want more of you if you’ll let me, wanna make you feel good every day," he says.

You blink at the surprising tenderness of his words, feeling they were more than sex related. You wanted to ask questions, but right now, you were both sticky with sweat and fucked out on a library table that would need to be wiped down with holy water.

You separated, which left you shuddering from the sudden cold emptiness inside of you. Yunho exhaled sharply, waiting a few moments before removing the condom and tying it off.

You both cleaned up and fixed your clothes as best you could—though you stuffed your panties in your bag because the sticky wetness was a little much.

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, making sure your skirt is covering your ass. “You know. To clean up.”

Yunho smiles, which makes you smile, and then you’re blushing and cursing at yourself. He nods and brushes your cheek with his knuckle.

“Sounds good,” he hums. You beam and gesture for him to follow you. Yunho watches as you collect your things with shaky legs, smiling to himself.

You were so damn pretty. Intelligent. He’d noticed right away that you were someone he was going to want.

He grabbed his own bag and walked past the table, pausing as he stepped on something.

The sucker.

You crinkle your nose when you notice it, too.

“Guess we need to throw that away,” you mumble. He nods, bending down and picking it up. He holds it in his hand for a few seconds.

What a good idea it had been.

He slips it into his pocket, for the memories.

Memories like, your name. Your favorite color. That skirt you wore on your first day. Apartment 2B, where you lived. You like the right side of the bed, don’t you? Yunho likes the left side.

The last man you slept with—11 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago.

Yunho hated that one.

You had waffles for breakfast this morning. You usually have oatmeal. You sleep with a nightlight on.

You’re afraid of the dark.

“You coming?” you ask with a shy smile, pausing at the door. Yunho looks up. You didn’t see him slip the sucker in his pocket. You never notice things like that.

“Yeah,” he says. He follows you out the door and waits for you to lock up. Then, without thinking too much of it, he takes your hand. You don’t pull away. Your hand is small compared to his, and he squeezes it. You squeeze back.

You like hot showers.

You sound so pretty when you moan, especially when you think you’re alone.

Your bathroom window is never locked.

You're never alone.

Yunho has a good memory when it comes to you.

2K notes · View notes

reilemon · 4 months ago

Text

🌹Surrender❄️

♡︎ synopsis: Sylus and Zayne show you that you can't get away with lying.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne

♡︎ tags: barely any plot, mfm dynamic, oral (both male and female receiving), orgasm denial, dvp

♡︎ word count: 5.5k

♡︎ a/n: this fic is part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event made by @nanamiscocksleeve and I wrote for @laddelulu30 . It was challenging ngl, but I had fun and I hope you'll like it!

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping. divider by @anitalenia

The car hums softly, the tension inside it palpable. Zayne’s hands grip the wheel, his hazel green eyes fixed on the road ahead, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror. In the back seat, Sylus sits with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You sit beside him, looking out the window, twisting the damp hem of your shirt as you can feel Sylus’ glare on you.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zayne’s calm voice breaks the silence.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It wasn’t planned,” you mumble. “My friend called last minute... I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Sylus shifts beside you, leaning closer. “You didn’t think lying about being at a coffee shop might be a big deal? Or leaving your location on so I’d find out anyway?”

You stiffen, guilt tightening your throat. “I thought both of you were busy and it was just easier that way.”

Sylus scoffs. “Easier? For who? You, sneaking out? Or us, finding out you’re not in your apartment like we thought?”

“Sylus,” Zayne interjects, his eyes flick to the mirror, catching yours. “This isn’t about the coffee shop, or even going out. It’s about trust. We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”

The word trust stings more than Sylus’ sharper tone. Your fingers clench tighter around your sleeve, twisting the fabric until it wrinkles under your grip. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” you say with a lump in your throat. “My friend needed me tonight. She just got out of a bad relationship, and wanted to go out.”

Sylus presses further. “And when it got dangerous? What then? You knew enough to text me—why not just tell me the truth from the start?”

Zayne’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Do you know what went through my head when Sylus told me you weren’t home?” he asks, his voice quieter now. “When I saw where you were? You’re lucky we got there in time.”

Your throat tightens, and you glance out the window as you mumble, “I didn’t think it’d turn into such a mess.”

Zayne exhales slowly, and you can see Sylus in the corner of your eye shaking his head. You know you’re in the wrong and that you made a few stupid decisions tonight, but your pride is not letting you admit it.

The car slows to a stop at a drive-thru, and you hear Sylus grumbling under his breath.

“This place again?”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you catch Zayne roll his eyes before answering. “Yes, it’s the only nearby place that works at this hour.”

Sylus sighs dramatically but complies, rattling off an order as though it’s beneath him.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The apartment greets you with its familiar scent and warmth. What also greets you is pieces of clothing and makeup scattered around the living room. You’re sure your boyfriends noticed the mess, but you’re surprised no one made a single comment as they made their way to the kitchen. You take off your shoes and join them.

Sylus places the bag of food onto the table, his gaze flicking toward you. “Are those the new jeans?” he asks.

Caught off guard, you glance down at yourself, smoothing your hands over the denim. “Uh, yeah.”

“Told you they’d look good,” he says, leaning back against the table, his arms crossing over his chest. The way he says it makes your cheeks warm.

Before you can respond, Zayne’s voice cuts in, giving you the same compliment. He steps closer, his eyes softening as they glance over you. Tonight, their attention makes you more flustered than usual, so you thank them, your cheeks burning, and you busy yourself with helping Zayne unpack the food.

The three of you engage in small talk as you eat the late-night meal, the earlier tension from the car ride dissipating with each bite. Despite his complaints, Sylus cleans his plate with the efficiency of someone who secretly enjoyed it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Remnants of the day washed away after the shower, the three of you settle on the sofa to watch a movie. Zayne and you slipped into pajamas while Sylus put on a shirt and sweatpants he kept in your apartment. As you sink into the sofa, the warmth of their presence surrounds you. You cover yourself with a blanket, nestling into the space between them. Sylus leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to send a small shiver through you. “Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

You nod, your cheeks warming as Zayne reaches for your hand. His touch is light as he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It’s been a long night,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “You should try to relax.”

The tenderness of each gesture dissolves a little more of the tension lingering from the car ride. For a moment, it feels like the night’s events have been smoothed over.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The blanket draped across your legs is warm, wrapping you in comfort as the faint scent of soap and shampoo lingers from the showers. You stretch out slowly, eyes still on the tv as you move to rest your head on Sylus’ lap. His hand rests on your head, the light touch of his fingers soothing. Your legs find their place on Zayne’s lap, his strong hands moving to cradle your feet. When his fingers press gently into your arches, eliciting a soft sigh from your lips. The way his thumbs knead into your soles sends tiny ripples of relief through your body. Sylus’ fingers gently massage your temple, while Zayne’s hands work slowly over your calves. For a moment, you’re content to lie there, letting their attention wash over you.

But your hand starts to wander.

It traces along the fabric of his sweatpants as you brush over the firm muscle of his thigh before your palm settles over his crotch. Sylus chuckles, and you feel his body tense slightly under your touch. His hand stills as he glances down at you. “You sure you’re not tired?”

You nuzzle against his thigh, “I’m sure,” you say softly.

Sylus’ gaze flicks past you, meeting Zayne’s over your head, the exchange passing in an instant.

You shift onto your back, blissfully clueless, the warmth of the blanket replaced by the cool air of the room as Zayne slides it away, folding it neatly onto the backrest. His hands move to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending faint shivers along your body as he pulls off the piece of clothing. You draw a sharp breath as Zayne’s long fingers trace the sensitive spot between your legs, the barrier of your underwear doing little to dull the sensation. His thumb presses gently, testing your reaction.

Above you, Sylus watches your face as you’re still resting your head on his lap. His hand threads through yours, his grip steady as he lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

Zayne’s eyes flicker down, his full attention locked on the slow movements of his fingers. The pads of his ring and middle finger press firmly against the soaked fabric of your panties, sliding back and forth at a slow pace. The pressure builds as he alternates his rhythm—pushing his fingers harder against you, dragging them in slow strokes, then pulling back just enough to make you whimper. The dampness of your arousal soaks through the thin barrier, your panties clinging to your folds.

“Fuck,” Zayne murmurs. “You’re so wet, my sweet girl. You like this that much? Being teased like the needy little brat you are?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but before you can respond—his thumb circles your clit, pressing firmly enough to draw a gasp from your pretty lips. Your hips shift against his touch instinctively, desperate for more, but his movements remain infuriatingly measured.

Zayne shifts, his hands pressing against your thighs, keeping you open as his head hovers just between your legs. Your legs tremble in his hold when you feel it - the slow swipe of his tongue over the fabric. A quiet moan escapes your lips as he does it again, his tongue dragging across the sensitive spot, his saliva mixed with your slick making the fabric cling to you. Your free hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding into Zayne’s dark hair, urging him closer, urging him to give you more. His eyes flick up briefly, and then you hear Sylus’ sharp tut from above.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice is rich with mock disapproval. He reaches down, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your hand away from Zayne’s head with. He presses your hand above your head, holding both of your wrists in place with one hand, while Zayne’s grip on your hips tightens, making it impossible to move. His fingers press into your skin, holding you down as his tongue flicks out again, swirling slow, maddening circles over your clit. Your head tilts back against Sylus’ thigh, a frustrated sound escaping your lips as you try to shift against Zayne’s hold.

“Look at her,” Sylus muses as he watches you squirm. “So fucking needy. Isn’t that cute?”

Zayne chuckles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. But, after a few more frustratingly dragged out swipes, he finally relents. His hold on your hips loosening just enough to slide your soaked panties to the side, the cool air kissing your exposed skin, spreading goosebumps all over your skin. His thumb brushes lightly along your folds, spreading the slickness, before his tongue is finally on you, dragging slow swipes from your entrance to your clit. Relief courses through you, your thighs trembling as the ache that’s been building finally begins to ease. His tongue moves with precision, parting your folds and swirling around your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Above you, Sylus’ ruby gaze flickers down, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. The fabric bunches in his hand as he lifts it higher, revealing the soft curves of your breasts, the cool air making your nipples pebble instantly. His free hand traces slow circles around one hardened peak, his thumb brushing lightly over it, teasing, before he pinches just enough to make your back arch off the sofa. Then, slowly, his hand trails up, over the side of your neck, before settling on your bottom lip. The gentle pressure makes your lips part instinctively, your tongue swirling around his finger. Sylus adds another finger, the digits sliding deeper as your lips tighten around them, coating them in saliva. Then he pulls them free and drags them down, swirling over the hardened peaks, the added slickness making you moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Sylus asks, his smirk widening as his fingers press harder, rolling your nipples between them.

Zayne’s lips seal around your clit with just enough suction to make you cry out. Each stroke and suck builds the pressure inside you to a breaking point, your toes curling as the pleasure coils tight in your core, threatening to snap. You’re so close—so close you can feel yourself teetering on the edge—

And then Zayne pulls back.

The loss of contact draws a frustrated, broken whimper from your lips, your hips jerking against nothing.

Zayne looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t look so surprised,” his voice calm and infuriatingly composed. “Brats don’t get to finish so easily.” His hands stay firm on your hips, keeping you still as you try to move.

Your lips part in protest, but Sylus cuts you off with a smug tut. “Ah, ah,” he smirks. “You’ll have to earn it first.” His fingers slide down, gliding over your soaked folds before delivering a sharp tap to your swollen pussy, the sudden jolt making you flinch with a yelp.

“Look at this mess,” he mutters, his voice dripping with mockery as he taps again, watching you flinch. “Needy little thing.”

His fingers glide through, your body arching into his touch in desperate need of more. But then he pulls away, leaving you trembling in frustration. His glistening fingers rise to his lips, his eyes locking onto yours as his tongue flicks out, savoring the blend of your juices and Zayne’s lingering taste. He chuckles, “You know we don’t let bad behavior slide.”

Before you can protest, Zayne’s hand slides along your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His hazel eyes meet yours, “You know we’re not angry,” Zayne says softly, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “But we will take our time making sure you understand.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body trembling under the weight of their attention. Frustration wells up, but so does the thrill of knowing exactly what they’re doing. Of course, they wouldn’t let you off so easily—it’s Sylus and Zayne.

Sylus releases your wrists, and before you can process the absence of his touch, Zayne reaches for your hands, pulling you upward with ease until you’re sitting on the sofa. Sylus stands up, stepping beside you as his hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. He tugs them down just enough to free his cock - thick, flushed with a bead of precum at the tip. Your breath catches as he strokes himself lazily, his eyes glinting when he notices your gaze drop to his length.

“Come here,” Sylus commands as he plants one foot on the floor, the other on the sofa, your mouth watering at the sight. He strokes one last time before dragging the head of his cock toward your parted lips. The salty bead of precum hits your tongue, and you can’t stop the whimper that escapes as you take him in. Sylus growls, his hand resting on the back of your head, holding you steady.

Beside you, Zayne stands up, mirroring Sylus’ stance, as he slides his pajama pants down and frees himself. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your hand to him, curling it around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, twitching as his hand envelopes yours, his grip firm as he helps you stroke him. “Slow,” he murmurs softly. “Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

Sylus’ hips begin to move, his thrusts shallow at first, as the thick head of his cock pushes deeper past your parted lips. You hollow your cheeks, your tongue flattening beneath him, and the sharp hiss that escapes his lips goes straight to your core.

“Deeper,” Sylus growls, “I know you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust—his grip keeps you firmly in place as his hips roll forward, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, swallowing around the thick length stretching your throat. Spit drips from the corners of your mouth as he moves, hitting the back of your throat, making you choke with each thrust. Sylus’ movements falter for a moment, his thrusts growing erratic and then, abruptly, he pulls back. The sudden loss leaves you breathless and you look up to see his jaw clenched, his hand squeezing the flushed tip.

“Fuck,” he mutters in a shaky voice. “Almost made me finish down your throat.”

Before you can catch your breath, Zayne’s hand tilts your chin, guiding your mouth toward him, your lips parting instinctively as the head of his cock brushes against them. He presses forward, filling your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as your tongue swirls around the tip, savoring the salty taste. A low groan escapes him, his hand resting on the back of your head as he sets a languid pace. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but the weight of him—hot and heavy against your tongue—makes you moan softly, the sound vibrating against him. Your hand finds Sylus, wrapping around his slick length as you stroke him in rhythm with Zayne’s thrusts. Sylus hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching in your grasp as he watches.

The ache between your legs becomes unbearable, your thighs pressing together in the desperate need for release. Unfortunately for you, Zayne’s sharp eyes catch the motion. Abruptly, he pulls back, his cock slipping free with a wet pop.

“No,” he says firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His grip on your chin forces your gaze upward. “Spread your legs.”

You almost whimper at the tone. “But—”

“Spread them,” Zayne repeats. The authority in his voice makes your thighs part, the frustration growing as Sylus chuckles above you.

Zayne’s hand shifts, guiding your mouth back to him. His cock slides past your lips again, and this time his thrusts are faster, each movement pushing deeper until the tip hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, the sound of your gagging pulling a guttural growl from him.

“Just like that,” Zayne murmurs, his voice rough. “Take all of it.”

Beside him, Sylus’ breaths become rough and uneven as his hand tightens over yours, his hips snapping forward, drawing Zayne’s attention.

Zayne’s hand slides to the back of Sylus’ neck, pulling him forward until their faces are almost touching. His voice drops low, quiet enough that you can’t make out the words. Their whispers drip with intent, and the thought of them planning your undoing makes your pussy clench desperately, slick spilling over as your body begs to be used exactly the way they want.

Sylus’ eyes flick to Zayne’s, hazy with arousal, with a faint smirk on his lips. Zayne’s lips press to the sharp line of Sylus’ jaw, followed by teeth dragging over his skin before he bites down, rough enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting rips a guttural, feral sound from Sylus’ throat, his cock twitching in your hand, precum spilling along your fingers.

“Good,” Zayne mutters against Sylus’ jaw before he pulls back, releasing Sylus’ neck. Their eyes meet for a moment, before their full attention is back on you.

Zayne’s thrusts grow erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat one last time before he pulls out, leaving you gasping. You barely have time to recover before Sylus’ hand grips your jaw, tilting your face toward him, but his other hand grabs at the hem of your pajama top, tugging it upward in one swift motion, leaving you bare before him.

“Open,” Sylus commands, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue slipping out. The flushed tip of his cock presses against it, dragging across it as he smears the salty slick, before his release spills suddenly, the first hot spurt hitting your tongue. The rest paints your cheeks, dripping down your chest, and clings to your skin in messy streaks. Zayne watches, his hand gripping your wrist as you stroke him. His cock twitches violently in your grasp, and when your fingers tighten, slick with his precum, it pushes him over the edge. A sharp, choked groan escapes his lips as his hips snap forward, his release spilling over your face and breasts, mingling with Sylus’ mess.

You’re trembling, every inch of your body aching with unfulfilled need. Sylus tilts your face up with two fingers under your jaw, making you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”

Zayne’s fingers brush the corners of your tear-streaked eyes. “She is,” he agrees with a smirk.

You bite your lip as your gaze flicks between them - they’re both still hard, their cocks twitching and glistening.

Zayne moves first – he sits back on the sofa and grabs a large pillow and positions it behind him. Reclining slightly, he leans back against the cushion, his legs spreading as his cock juts upward. His hands reach for you, pulling you toward him, guiding you onto his lap and helping you recline against him. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth melting some of the tension from your muscles. His arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Just relax,” His voice is calm and soothing as his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

Sylus steps closer, his sharp gaze raking over your trembling form, smirk widening as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters, his eyes burning as he spreads your legs, his grip firm.

Zayne’s hands glide upward, smearing the mess of their release over your chest before his fingers close around your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp. Then, his fingers trail downward, leaving a sticky path until they stop just above your needy core. You grab onto his veiny forearms at the first stroke of his fingers over your clit, before his fingers dip lower, gathering your slick before gripping his cock. He presses the tip to your entrance, dragging the length of his shaft through your folds, catching your clit in the motion, making your pussy flutter.

Zayne shifts beneath you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before nudging inside. The stretch is immediate, the delicious ache making your breath hitch as he pushes deeper, steadying your hips with firm hands. A raw, breathless moan escapes as he fills you, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it.” Zayne whispers in your ear, his grip tightening as he holds you in place.

Every slow thrust presses against your most sensitive spots, each movement tightening the coil in your belly. Sylus watches as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly to match the roll of Zayne’s hips.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters. “Look at her—dripping down to the base, and you’ve barely started.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his lips brushing your ear as his thrusts grow deeper, each one sinking to the hilt. The intensity builds with each roll of his hips, his cock filling you completely. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound making Sylus’ hand quicken as he strokes himself.

“Are you ready to take me too?” Sylus asks, his voice low and teasing.

Your body freezes momentarily at the question, your pussy clenching around Zayne’s length.

“You… both?” your voice trembles. The idea intrigues you, but you’re hesitant. “I don’t know if I can - I mean – I’m not sure it’ll fit -”

Sylus’ smirk widens. “Oh, it’ll fit,” his voice is almost mocking, “You’ve been so needy tonight. This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?”

Zayne nuzzles against your ear, his lips brushing your skin. “But only if you want it.”

You fall silent, your breath shallow as you process their words. Sylus’ expression softens, his hand smoothing over your thigh as his gaze meets yours. “You can say no, darling.” he says softly.

Zayne presses a kiss just below your ear. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. You don’t have to take this any further.”

The sudden shift in their demeanor makes your chest tighten and their patience reassures you. You take a second to think. They’d never tried this before—never pushed to see if you could take them both at once. With how thick and long they both are, the idea had always seemed impossible. But tonight, the need is unbearable. You need to feel them—both of them—stretching you, breaking you, until there’s nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of them taking you completely.

You take in a shaky breath, “I want to. I’m ready.”

Zayne’s hands tighten gently around your waist, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll take care of you.”

Sylus’ teasing smirk returns. His hand grips his cock, the flushed head pressing against your stuffed entrance. Sylus’ cock nudges forward, catching your clit one, two times as he struggles to push inside. “Relax, sweetheart.” he whispers. Your legs tremble as Sylus presses forward again, the thick head of his cock pushing at your entrance again. A high-pitched whimper escapes you, as Sylus’ cock slips over your clit once more before the head finally begins to ease inside. Sylus moves slowly each inch forcing your body to adjust to the impossible fullness. The tip finally slips fully inside, your walls clamping down tightly around both of them. The sensation is almost too much, your gasps and desperate moans filling the air as your body struggles to adjust to the impossible fullness.

“Shh,” Zayne soothes, as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing perfectly. Just breathe, my darling.”

Sylus growls, his hand gripping your thighs as he stills. “So tight. Goddamn, Zayne, you’re not leaving much room.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his voice calm but you can feel his muscles tensing. Sylus shifts his hips, his tip stretching you impossibly as he inches deeper. The new fullness is overwhelming, every nerve inside you screaming for more.

“So fucking sensitive,” Zayne teases. “I bet she’ll cum before you’re even halfway there.”

The words make you whimper, your cheeks burning as Sylus pushes further. His hands tighten on your thighs as he finally bottoms out, holding still to let you feel every throbbing inch buried inside you. The maddening stretch of having both of them makes your pussy fluttering around them, pain and pleasure blurring together. Your breath comes in ragged, broken gasps as the tension in your belly coils tighter and tighter, impossibly close to snapping. You try to roll your hips, desperate to chase the climax that is right there, but their strong hands hold you still, denying you the friction you need

“I’m so close - !” you whimper, the desperation spilling from your lips as your head tilts back against Zayne’s shoulder. “I’m gonna—please, I need to—”

Sylus smirks down at you, “Close already?” he taunts. “I haven’t even fucking started yet.”

His hips shift slightly and that is all you need to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you with devastating force. The tightness of your walls pulls guttural groans from both men, Zayne’s breath hitching against your neck as Sylus growls above you. They hold you steady while your body trembles in the aftermath, shallow gasps leaving your lips.

Sylus’ hand digs into your thigh, the grip bruising as his other hand braces on the backrest. His cock moves with shallow thrusts, the friction making your eyes roll back.

“You’re so sensitive,” Zayne murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “I can feel you clenching every time he moves.” Sylus’ pace quickens slightly, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightens impossibly fast.

“Already?” Sylus teases, as he watches you writhe.

You don’t even register the question as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench tightly around them both, the overwhelming tightness pulling a groan from Sylus, his hips stuttering briefly, while Zayne sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on your waist.

But Sylus doesn’t stop. His thrusts deepen, slamming into you, the drag along your oversensitive walls pulling pathetic whimpers as your pussy tightens around him. The slick, maddening friction of their cocks sliding together, every thrust dragging a raw moan from your lips as the stretch pushes you closer to the edge. Your breath catches, your back arching as the coil snaps. Pleasure rips through you, blinding and raw, tears streaking your face. You clench around them tighter, milking them both as the aftershocks crash through you.

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his chest heaving against your back as his cock throbs inside you. The tight clamp of your walls around him has him on the brink, but he holds on as his hand moves downwards from your waist.

“You’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.” he rasps.

His fingers find your swollen clit, the first touch sending a shock through your body, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Easy,” Zayne soothes, as he presses his fingers firmly against the sensitive spot.

Sylus’ grip on your thigh is bruising as he rams deeper, his eyes locked on yours – watery and heavy-lidded. “You’re milking me—gonna pull me apart.”

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his fingers merciless on your clit, rubbing slick circles that make your hips jerk wildly. “Cum,” he rasps. “Now. Let us feel you, my love.”

Your body obeys - your walls clamp down hard, as you completely lose your voice from the overstimulation. Sylus curses, as your fluttering walls drag him deeper. His cock throbs hard before he cums, his release, hot and thick, floods you as his hips stammer. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice breaking. In your fucked out daze you hear Zayne moan in the crook of your neck, as his hips still, burying himself to the hilt, his release hitting in heavy hot waves, mixing with Sylus’, leaving you completely full, dripping, and ruined.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your head lolling back against Zayne’s shoulder. His lips press softly against your temple, his hands stroking your waist gently as Sylus leans over, his breaths heavy and uneven. Every inch of you feels hypersensitive, your skin slick with sweat and cum. You’re pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fullness lingering even as the men stay still, both of them still buried deep inside you.

Sylus’ hand moves from your thigh, his gaze scanning your face. “Breathe for me.” he says, still breathless. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that streaked down your face. You nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak, and you focus on steadying your breath. Sylus smiles softly. “You did so good.”

Zayne’s lips press against your temple again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “She handled it perfectly. Didn’t you, darling?”

The praise makes your cheeks flush, though you’re still too dazed to say anything. Sylus shifts first, pulling out slowly, the movement making you wince. His hand stays steady on your thigh, stroking softly for a moment before he walks away. Zayne follows a moment later, his withdrawal careful and deliberate. The sudden emptiness pulls a small whimper from your lips before Zayne’s arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. His hands rub soothing circles over your sides, grounding you as he shifts to sit upright, cradling you in his lap.

Sylus returns quickly with two warm damp cloths. Zayne takes one to clean your face, while Sylus kneels in front of you as he gently wipes away the mess from your thighs and belly.

Zayne murmurs against your temple. “Do you need water? Anything else?”

Your voice is faint, barely above a whisper, as you manage to say, “Just stay… both of you.”

Sylus chuckles softly. “Like we’d go anywhere,” He tosses the cloth aside and sits down on the sofa beside you, while Zayne adjusts his hold, setting you gently to sit in between them and covers your lap with the blanket. The warmth of their bodies, every soothing stroke of their hands, their quiet breaths, soothe you. Though, you can’t relax.

Their care, their unwavering attention, makes the guilt bubble up. Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. You swallow hard, your fingers clutching the blanket as you glance between them.

You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For lying to you. For sneaking out.”

Zayne presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice calm as he replies. “I’m glad you admit your mistake. We need to know where you are to keep you safe.”

Sylus’ nods as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Exactly. We weren’t mad because you went out. We were upset because you didn’t tell us.”

Tears prick your eyes again, but this time they’re from relief. “I won’t do it again… I promise.”

Zayne smiles softly. “We’ll hold you to that promise.”

You nod, the exhaustion catching up to you as your body sinks further into the sofa, your eyelids heavy. But Sylus doesn’t let you rest – he stands up and takes you hand in his. “We need to wash up.”

You whine. “I don’t want too - I’m too tired.”

Sylus grumbles something before he leans down, grips your waist, and hoists you up over his shoulder. You yelp as you’re suddenly upside down, your protests turning into a mix of laughter and annoyance as you squirm in his hold.

“Sylus!” you laugh, your fists half-heartedly thudding against his back. “Put me down!”

“Not happening,” he replies smugly, his palm landing a playful smack against your bare ass.

Behind you, Zayne shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he stands up, going around you two and towards the bathroom. “Take it easy, Sylus. She’s had enough for tonight.”

By the time you’re back in bed, wrapped snugly in fresh blankets, sleep takes you almost instantly, nestled between Sylus and Zayne, with your heart light.

#ncs secret santa #merry ficmas #sylus love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne smut #zayne x reader #zayne x you #sylus smut #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #l&ds zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne lads #love and deepspace

2K notes · View notes

tsunodaradio · 28 days ago

Text

everyone wants him (that was my crime) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE 📀 if you're gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

♫ starring: lando norris x reader. ♫ social media au. ♫ includes: romance, fluff, angst -ish. profanity, hate towards lando/reader, suggestive jokes. @opastries81 requested slut! by taylor swift. <- (another warning: a lot of the lyrics will be scattered throughout this one! lol.) ♫ commentary box: maira, the amount of good requests you've thrown my way.. i am indebted. this one grabbed me by the neck and wouldn't let me go, sooo 🤷 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others paddocktea 🕵️ Is lando seeing someone new?! Fans allegedly saw him with a girl on his back near Plague de Pont de Fer and this is the pic they snapped. Side by side with a pic of Lando from the same day. That black hoodie and white shirt... 👀

View all comments

user1 oh paddocktea this is a reach even for u user2 That fuckass first pic... is lando in the room with us rn??? user3 lando norizz 2025 sry user4 His Ass CANNOT Carry Anyone Like That 🤣🤣🤣 user5 Isn't Lando's dating history like 80% models anyway lmao. ⤷ user6 CLOCK HIMM. Pretty sure he's learned his lesson

Liked by carlossainz55, quadrant, and others lando 📷

View all comments

user1 The film photo aesthetic!! Okayyy king user2 can u pls revive lando.jpg pls pls pls 🥺 ⤷ user3 AND land0.mov WHILE YOU'RE AT IT. user4 Is this a tease for smth new??? Merch??? PHOTOBOOK??? user5 me zooming into the mirror selfies 😜 b/c i'm #insane user6 Whoever took that 2nd slide: Thank you so much for my new lockscreen!

Liked by yourbestfriend, notl4nd0, and others yourusername flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard

View all comments

yourbestfriend that last slide... GIRLLL is there something you're not telling me ⤷ yourusername :) notl4nd0 simply lovely x ❤️ Liked by creator

Liked by user1, user2, and others ln4updates lando in NYC today! 📷 by landodotcom & ln4wdc

View all comments

user1 he looks sooo good 🤤 user2 THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELET user3 why are ppl on tiktok saying he was on a date ⤷ user4 People on TikTok js be saying shit tbh. 🤷‍♂️ ⤷ user5 i think there would also be pics if he was w/some1 user6 Where can I cop that cap ? user7 congrats to whoever's bouncing on it!

Liked by yourbestfriend, user1, and others yourusername wrong place / right time

View all comments

yourbestfriend "it's pretty casual" ⤷ yourusername 🤫 user1 THE WAY THIS SHOWED UP ON MY EXPLORE PAGE AND I-- IS THAT LANDO FUCKING NORRIS ⤷ user2 I THINK SO TOO??? LIKEEE CHECK HIS NEWEST IG STORY

lando posted a story.

Liked by user1, user2, and others yourusername lovelorn and nobody knows

View all comments

user1 Hey are you dating Lando?? user2 okay non-oomf u slayed with olivia rodrigo 💜💜💜 ⤷ user3 Having a fellow livie date LN? This is how we take over the world!!!!!!!! user4 is that last pic NOT lando omg ⤷ user5 I thought so too!! I would know that bracelet from anywhere. ⤷ user6 do we have any official confirmation yet or user7 waht's lando's favorite olivia song pls respond it's for science ⤷ user8 bet it's all-american bitch. 🇺🇸 user9 Gliter hand?? Lando's too?? Need someone to be all detective up in this sh*t pls

Liked by maxfewtrell, danielricciardo, and others lando being this young is art smth smth

View all comments

user1 PEAK summer break content! hope you're having fun lando!! xoxo user2 If I can't have Lando, can I just have one of his friends? Lol. user3 can we pls talk about the concert venue with the olivia rodrigo confetti HELLo. ⤷ user4 oh so this is confirmation yourusername went with him ??? INSANE. ⤷ user5 This breadcrumb trail is crazy 😳 ⤷ user6 Try Not To Speculate About Driver's Private Lives: [FAILED] user7 king and queen of soft launching yourusername

Liked by lando, lando.jpg, and others yourusername taking my time in the tangerine

View all comments

user1 Oh! Alright! user2 AAAND there it is folks user3 Does she even know what a DRS is??? lilymhe Sooo loved meeting you x ⤷ yourusername thank you for being so nice ❤️ ⤷ user4 yourusername now a WAG #confirmed ⤷ user5 lily being like "hey me and my boyfriend saw you across the room and liked your vibe" ⤷ user6 lily >>> yourusername user7 okay but... lando liking this post with his main account, .jpg, .mov, quadrant, lnracingkart, AND lnfour? ⤷ user8 boy is down BAD. 😮‍💨 ⤷ user9 It's sooooo over. Everyone pack up. ⤷ user10 Went to the alex albon school of yearning iktr user11 so now that yourusername you've gone to a race, you're done with lando right?? kidding kidding user12 Do you have any more pics of/with him :( Please share with the class

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX 🏆

View all comments

user1 LANDO NORRIS OP user2 let's fucking GOOOOO 🐐 mclaren One of our own user3 No more LandoNoWins!!! user4 mans had a girl in the stands and was MOTIVATED ❤️ Liked by lando ⤷ user5 WHAT DO YOU MEAN LIKED BY LANDO ⤷ user6 We need yourusername at EVERY race now actually,, user7 Absolutely ELECTRIC, Lando!!! ⚡️⚡️⚡️

Liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and others lando they might as well be looking at us. thanks everyone. better words when i'm not buzzin 🧡

View all comments

user1 brb still crying user2 WHY DO I FEEL LIKE A PROUD MOM oscarpiastri love wins ⤷ user3 I Know What You Are. ⤷ user4 oscar seal of approval?! ⤷ user5 broo idk why but she gives off gold-digger vibes or smth user6 bet the trophy isn't the only thing lando will be kissing tonight ❤️ Liked by creator ⤷ user7 LANDO LIKED THIS. WHAT. ⤷ user8 I'm going to be sickkk. he's a SIMP 🤢 ⤷ user9 get a room wtf ⤷ user10 can we not make this win about his relationship??? he worked his ass off and you're all just making dumb jokes user11 No pic of/with yourusername tho.. Guess it's not that serious lol ⤷ user13 #real. bet she's gone by the next race ⤷ user12 he's litchrally liking comments left n right about her but go off ig

Liked by lando, maxfewtrell, and others yourusername love sick all over my bed

View all comments

user1 That hint of lando in the very end ahhh user2 flowers from lando??? Or user3 No offense but this soo does not look like Lando's type of girl ⤷ user4 he must b bored out of his mind out there kekekeke user5 girl. if i was dating lando norris i'd b hard launching him every two working days. pls give us more. ⤷ user6 GIVE IT TO ME RACHEL 🙏🙏🙏 ⤷ user7 No thnx I might throw up user8 The domestication of Lando Norris. We Loveee to see it

Liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and others lando hand prints in wet cement

View all comments

user1 MY SHAYLA. user2 blocking out his gf's face in the bereal bec even HE knows she's ugly like that's insane work ⤷ user3 How could you say something so controversial... but so true... user4 the pottery class and bouquet snaps matching up <3 cuties! user5 You're gettin soft mate!!! Stop dating and focus on driving. user6 lando i promise i can treat you wayyy better give me 5 mins in a room and a hair tie user7 Oh they're still a thing? Lmaoooo. 🫣 ⤷ user8 i give it four more months ⤷ user9 That's generous. *Two months

Liked by notl4nd0, user1, and others formu1agossip lando in yourusername's recent Stories!

View all comments

user1 Can we study why she keeps soft launching him like this? Like bae we know who that is. You're not slick. user2 Alexa, play break up with ur girlfriend i'm bored 🎵 user3 i don't get the negativity in this comment section :(( he's allowed to have a life! user4 yourusername can you fight user5 she's such a slut sorry 🫠 ⤷ lando jesus fuck do you have nothing better to do with your life ? ⤷ user6 O H MYGOD ⤷ user7 SHOTS FIRED!!!!!!!!! ⤷ user8 mclaren this y'all's driver? ⤷ user9 serves you fucking right assholes ⤷ user10 Wowww. Lando is NOT happy.

Liked by lando, notl4nd0, and others yourusername in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

View all comments

user1 ANY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST lando AND yourusername SHALL FALL user2 His smile :( Ohhh he loves her so much user3 i'm a convert (that first photo where he looks at her.. ok this shit is real real) 💕 user4 still not convinced user5 The hard launch to end all hard launches!!!!! user6 may a love like this find me pls. preferably with yuki tsunoda user7 Betting pool on the breakup, anybody? lando looks like a loverboy ⤷ yourusername is a loverboy ⤷ user8 DECORUMMMM?!?1?!?! ⤷ user9 Can I be adopted pls pls pls ⤷ user10 my new fav wag !

Liked by mclaren, yourusername, and others lando worth it 4 once yourusername

yourusername pretty casual ⤷ lando not today, not ever

Comments on this post have been limited. ⛐

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one smau #formula one fluff #⛐ ln4 #⛐ kae prix #⛐ event: this is f1 #oh do NAWT ask me hm time it took me to do this...

1K notes · View notes

amiableness · 6 months ago

Text

Kiss and Makeup

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: James ruins reader’s date and attempts to make it better.

Word Count: 2829

Warnings: Jealous!James; kissing; and reader wearing heels, jewelry and makeup.

A/N 💌: A quick James oneshot that’s been on my mind, but I’m heavily consider making a second part to this.

As usual, thank you to @moonpascal for reading!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Go on, kiss and make up!” Sirius’ voice trails after you as you hurry down the corridor, James close on your heels. On any other day, you might have tossed a playful jab back at Sirius, well-accustomed to his relentless teasing about you and James. But today, the weight of everything made your throat tighten, leaving you silent, your focus fixed on reaching the safety of your dorm.

The sharp click of your heels echoed off the stone walls, and James’ muttering about your surprising speed in heels barely registers. Your anger simmers, blocking out his words as you storm ahead and shove the door open. James is right behind you, catching it just before it could slam shut in his face, determined not to let you shut him out.

“Get out, Jamie.” Though your voice was laced with anger, the way you used his nickname gave him a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t hopeless—there was still a chance to make everything better.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” James says, stepping forward and leaning against the post of Lily’s bed as he watches you roll your eyes and turn into the room. He doesn’t say anything as you begin furiously grabbing clothes and scattered heels off the floor—remnants of you getting ready for a date, now tainted by the tension hanging between you two.

“There’s nothing to figure out! You ruined my date, plain and simple.” You spin around, clutching a black heel in your hand, and for a fleeting moment, James braces himself, half-expecting you to launch it at him in a fit of frustration. But it’s you, his sweet best friend—the one who cares so deeply for others that you always put them before yourself. It’s a trait that drives James a little crazy sometimes, knowing you’d sacrifice your own happiness without a second thought.

The realization only sharpens the sting of your anger, an unfamiliar weight he’s not used to carrying. He can recall times you’ve been disappointed—maybe after one of his careless pranks or his thoughtless disregard for someone’s feelings—but never this. Never this level of anger.

“I said I was sorry.” He tries, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you scoff and turn away, angrily kicking off your heels. You bend down to pick them up, and despite himself, his eyes drift to the curve of your body. He knows he shouldn’t be looking, but he can’t help it—he’s never been able to take his eyes off you. And now, a bitter feeling twists in his gut, knowing you’re dressed all pretty for someone else.

“You’re not, though. Why the fuck did you feel the need to scare him off?” You toss the heels into your trunk and turn to face him, arms crossed. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die before they form—because he doesn’t know how to tell you the truth. He knows exactly why, but admitting it out loud would change everything between you. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

The silence between you stretches, heavy and unspoken, as you wait for an answer he isn’t ready to give. You both know exactly what you’re waiting for—a proper explanation.

One you’ve been holding out hope for, quietly, for years.

“It’s not fair, you know.” You let out a deep sigh, turning to face your desk, your gaze falling on the mirror. James watches as you begin to remove your jewelry, your back turned to him, but his reflection still catches glimpses of you.The anger in your voice has softened, but he knows that if he says the wrong thing, it could all flare up again, as sharp and sudden as before.

“What isn’t?” He hesitates, watching you carefully as he takes a cautious step forward. His eyes follow the way your lips part in the mirror, the soft exhale of frustration escaping you as you fumble with your necklace.

He wants to step forward, to gently brush your hair aside and unfasten the clasp, to press a soft kiss against the back of your neck once the necklace slips away. But he can’t—so he remains still, trapped in silence, as he watches you instead.

“Why is it that you go out with girl after girl, but when I show interest in a guy, you scare him off?” You already knew the answer—weren’t blind to it. It had been clear to everyone that you and James had been circling each other for years, dancing around unspoken words.

But he refused to admit that he cared for you as more than friends. It felt pointless to tell him how you felt when it was clear James was intent on keeping you in the friend zone.

From the moment crushes became a part of your life, James had been yours. But you were never certain about his feelings—until that one night when he got blackout drunk and confessed he was in love with you. He has no memory of that drunken night, but you overheard him later, telling the boys he’d never drink that much again because he wanted to actually remember the parties he went to. You’d felt a pang of disappointment, but you were gathering the courage to confront him about it. Then, the next day, he hooked up with a girl from Ravenclaw, and just like that, all your resolve crumbled, leaving you feeling more invisible than ever.

He didn’t remember what he’d said, and if he was out with other girls, it was clear he didn’t care enough to mention it while sober.

That was a year ago, and you still hadn’t brought it up.

So, to cope with the mess of it all, you went on a date—a rare one, the first in nearly a year. And now, here was James, wrecking it all over again.

“I—” He stops himself, clearing his throat, the tension in his voice betraying the lie before he even finishes. “I don’t think that’s true. You go out on dates.”

He knew he spent a lot of time flirting with girls—whether it was during class, when he should have been paying attention, or at parties where conversation flowed too easily. But when someone showed interest in you? That was a different story altogether. He’d like to blame it on the fact that you were his best friend, but deep down, he knew better.He was protective of you because he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone looking at you the way he did. Was it selfish? Definitely. But the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything.

“You know that’s a lie. You saw how excited I was! Why did you take that from me?” You were fully aware of how weak and accusatory your voice sounded, but you didn’t care. You were hurt, and it was clear in the way you shook your head, disappointment heavy in every movement. James watched your reflection, noticing the way you swallowed hard as if trying to shove down the swell of emotions threatening to break free. And with that, a wave of guilt slammed into his stomach, settling there like a stone.

“I just didn’t want him to hurt you!”

“So you decided to take that off his hands and hurt me instead?” You scoffed, making James flinched as if you had slapped him. It probably would have hurt less if you had.

“Merlin, no! Sweetheart, that wasn’t what I was trying to do—”

“Then what were you trying to do, James? Because I’m getting tired of this little game, we have going on.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes following your hand as you gently remove one of your earrings. For a moment, your gazes meet through the mirror, and the weight of it all presses down on him. He wishes, desperately, that you would justturn around and face him.

He was racking his brain, searching for the right words, trying to find a way to fix this. He considered stepping back, giving you space like he did when you got agitated with him. But this felt different. It wasn’t just about a moment of frustration—it was something deeper, something that could damage your friendship permanently if he didn’t speak up. He knew he had to fix this.

“You guys make up yet?” Sirius hollered, and James could practically picture him standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted at the both of you.

Sirius’ words from earlier echoed in his head as if they were taunting him, swirling around like a cruel mantra.

Go on, kiss and make up.

It felt like an accusation, a reminder of how much he’d messed up. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, twisting in his gut. Every nerve in his body screamed that his next move would either make everything worse—digging the hole even deeper—or finally give him a chance to tell you why he’d ruined your date. But the fear of losing you pushed him forward.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart.”

“Stop what—?” You ask, tossing your last piece of jewelry into the ceramic dish with a sharp clang before turning to face James. Your breath catching in your throat as he moves closer, and without thinking, you instinctively take a step back, bumping into your desk. The sudden movement rattles the items on top, sending a soft, anxious clatter through the room.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as James reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and James can’t help but think how pretty you look—more than he’s ever allowed himself to admit.

He’s never been able to admire you like this before, not without the constant fear of you catching him.

His hands are shaky, and his proximity to you is making him nervous in a way that he couldn’t quite shake. But he didn’t know how else to explain himself. So, tentatively, he let his fingers graze your skin, admiring how you melted into him. He watches, heart pounding, as your lashes flutter and your lips part in surprise at the softness of his touch. The anger in your eyes had faded, leaving behind disbelief and something that looked dangerously close to hope.

He startles both himself and you when the words slip out, low and raw: “You make me so fucking nervous.” You blink up at him, silent, processing the confession. His gaze drifts over the mascara you’d carefully applied, the gloss glistening on your lips—details he hadn’t noticed before, but now felt like a punch to his gut. The jealousy flares, burning hot and fast in the pit of his stomach. It was devastating to realize you were all dressed up, and it wasn’t for him. Those heels, thoseglossed lips—they were for a guy who hardly knew you.

Not like James knew you.

You part your lips, and James unknowingly silences you with a gentle brush of his thumb just beneath your lower lip. A soft, satisfied smile tugs at his mouth as he hears the gasp escape you. His hand rests on your left hip, pulling you closer, grounding you against him. The tension in the room thickens, and just like that, your anger has melted.

“If you want me to stop, just say the word, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his voice low and thick with intention as he edged closer. His fingers caressing your jaw, tilting your face upwards, bringing you within a breath of him. The air between you crackles, heavy and charged, and you feel the pull—the tempting, intoxicating proximity. He was so close now, you could feel the warmth of his breath, and all it would take was the slightest movement for his lips to claim yours.

You thought about saying it—the words were right there, just on the tip of your tongue. But then his lips brushed against yours just barely, and everything else faded away. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no—not when this was something you’d wanted for years. Even with the anger simmering inside you, the frustration over James ruining your date, you couldn’t pull away.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

If anything, a strange sense of relief was starting to wash over you—relief that he had ruined it. Because if he hadn’t, it might have been another guy standing where he was now, and the thought of that made something tighten painfully in your chest.

“Last chance.” He mumbled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, searching for any sign that you might stop him. The only sound between you was the uneven rhythm of your breaths, erratic and heavy, pulsing with the desire that surged between you both. When you didn’t say a thing, no rejection, no hesitation—only the warmth of your breath mingling with his—he offered a barely-there smile before leaning in, his lips finally capturing yours with a slow, gentle kiss.

He started slow, cautious, as if afraid he might push you away. But the wrecked hum that escaped your throat—the sound of pure desire—told him everything he needed to know. You wanted this as much as he did.

It was overwhelming how quickly the kiss shifted—what started as sweet and searching, quickly turned frantic and hungry. The slow, deliberate pace gave way to a fiery urgency. The gentle brush of lips became a desperate meeting of mouths as the two of you gave into years of pining.

Your hands, which had been gripping the edge of the desk hard, moved slowly toward him. You let your fingers trail up his stomach, feeling the dips and ridges before reaching his chest. Your other hand found its way into his curls, youtugged softly, the motion pulling a low, pleasure-filled groan from deep within him. That sound, the sound of him unraveling, seemed to shatter something inside James. In an instant, he stepped closer—if that was even possible—until your bodies were pressed together, the heat between you two undeniable, consuming.

He pulled away just an inch, and the desperate whine that escaped your lips was enough to pull him back in, his arms circling your waist before effortlessly lifting you onto the desk. You gasped his name, the sound caught in your throat, as his lips claimed yours again, urgent and hungry. One hand slid around your thigh, pulling you closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he stood between your parted legs. His grip on your hip was firm, grounding, while his other hand found its place at the side of your throat, fingers warm and possessive.

You had never been kissed like this before. It was overwhelming—an all-consuming heat that ignited deep in your belly as James kissed you with a hunger, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

And it was ruining you, because if this was how it felt to kiss James Potter, you never wanted to be kissed by anyone else ever again.

He rocked his hips against yours, the pressure making you gasp, and that breathless sound was all he needed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were so completely immersed in him—the feel of his lips, the taste of him—that the low, teasing whistle from your doorway barely registered in your mind.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect you to actually go and kiss her.” Sirius’ voice rang out, loud and unfiltered. The words struck a panic through you, your body warming with embarrassment as you instinctively tucked your head into James’ chest, hoping to hide from the intrusion. You would recognize Sirius’ voice anywhere, and you knew you would be teased about this for ages.

James, with you still propped on the desk, remained a shield, his body pressed protectively against yours. He glanced over at Sirius and Remus, who stood by the doorway. Sirius, leaning against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, while Remus stood next to him, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of awkwardness.

“Fuck off and shut the door, mate.” James groans, his arms pulling you tighter as he fights the urge to hurl a book at Sirius and Remus. Instead, he sends them a warning glare and brings a hand up to the back of your head, the heat of the moment still burning between you, and silently dares them to say anything more.

The boys hesitate, but not before Sirius calls out with a teasing smirk, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Potter. You finally got your girl.” And just like that, the door slams shut, leaving the air thick with tension and you cringing in embarrassment.

Maybe telling him you loved him wasn’t that pointless after all.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write and spread my work! 🤍

#james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine

2K notes · View notes