#i kind of pulled you into a mission with me

[pearlcigs]

fwb!vi who held pride thinking she had seen all the panties you owned.

fwb!vi who was heartbroken when she found out that she hadn’t even scratched the surface. shock on her face when you explained you had certain ones you wore when you were alone, claiming vi didn’t need to see your “granny panties”.

fwb!vi who makes it her mission to ‘unlock’ all you panties like she was collecting pokémon cards or something. sneaking into your dorm to try and catch you off guard.

fwb!vi who gets all cocky each time she sees you’re wearing your so called “granny panties” knowing she’s just collected another for her score.

"these aren't even half bad." she snickers as she kisses up your thighs. her hands run over your underwear, pulling them off with ease. "how many more are you hiding from me?" she asks with a cocky grin. your breath hitches, knowing she was never going to let this go.

fwb!vi who has seen so many of your panties she's forgotten which ones she has and hasn't seen before. so she starts taking a picture every time before she tears them off and treats you how you deserve.

fwb!vi who eventually sees your entire collection of underwear. every single pair. and is absolutely filled with pride.

"and you said i wouldn't be able to do it." she rolled her eyes, fingers deep in your aching cunt. you can barely hear her, legs shaking with an intensity you've grown familiar with.

fwb!vi who finds it kind of boring now. don't get her wrong, the sex is great. but that excitement of wondering if she was gonna find a new pair of panties was missing. so what other choice did she have but to just buy you new panties?

"vi, why are we at victoria's secret?" you look at her with skepticism. she sported a smirk on her perfect lips. "get anything you want, babe. i'm buying." she reveals, enjoying the shock on your face. she could get used to this.

[edward-munson]

three's a secret | E.M. x f!reader & S.H. x f!reader

Summary: You and Steve are friends with benefits. However, you've been wanting to try something way out of your comfort zone, and it brings Steve to a mission: find someone who agrees to your intentions. (Ps: your guest has a very peculiar piercing on his body)

Pairing: Love triangle! Eddie Munson x f!reader & Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: DIRTY SMUT!! (18+ MDNI), threes*me, p in v (both unprotected), oral (f and m receiving), fingering, choking kink, c*mshot, praising, aftercare. (I swear to God there's a fine amount of smutiness in this fic)

Word count: 7k

𓆩❤️‍🔥𓆪

"I found your guy" Steve slides into the booth during the break of his gig at The Hideout.

You look at him, confused, and he looks from you to the curly-haired guy leaning against the bar counter. That's Eddie. He's the backing vocalist for Steve's band.

"Remember? You told me you wanted to have a threesome and I found ourselves a guy" He leans closer to you, his beer breath fanning over your face.

You and Steve have been friends with benefits for months. You've shared multiple intimate moments together, either at his or your house, or by the lake, or in his car. Even at skull rock. And your latest discovery was that you had the wish to try ménage à trois, but you had never done it before. You were too embarrassed to tell Steve, and also too reluctant to even find someone who would be willing to do it.

Although you're both exclusive, he made an exception for you. He was always considerate of your feelings and wishes, being kind and caring. This is the same guy who splits you open and utters dirty things to you in bed.

"You just deliberately told him I wanted to be fucked by two guys?" Your voice cracks at the realization that you might be doing such thing.

"We're good friends. In fact, we talk about a lot of stuff when we're together. And he would love to get along with you better"

Steve gives you a comforting smile, but you're staring at him like you're having second guesses. You've met Eddie before, exchanging only a few words with the metalhead. You got along with him right from the start, but you were never around them when they would hang out, and he was with your group of friends only a couple of times as well.

You were sitting in a booth, swirling your drink, when a random man sat down beside you. He reeked of whiskey, and his hand rested on your bicep, startling you. You shot your eyes up at him as you watched him attempt to hit on you.

"Haven't seen you around before. Let me buy you a–" Before he could finish, a sharp scrape echoed through the room as Eddie pushed the chair back and pulled him by the collar of his shirt.

The man was looking up in shock as Eddie leaned over him, eyes dark with something dangerous. "Yeah, no" His voice was low and edged with amusement "This table's taken"

Eddie plopped down in the seat beside you, stretching out like he hadn't just sent someone almost crashing to the floor. He smirked at you, tilting his head. "Now, where were we?"

You could only chuckle at his action and tilt your head just like he did "Very humble, but thank you for that"

"Nah" He shrugged "Couldn't just stand there and watch a perv get his way"

You and Eddie immediately kicked off a conversation, the minutes extending as you both got distracted with each other. Steve was nowhere to be seen, probably just resting in the backstage room as he always does with his bandmates. The man next to you smelled like something woody, a few necklaces hanging down his chest and a bandana was wrapped around his head.

You remember talking about him to your friend. Telling him how exotic he looked and how pretty he was. Steve, the obvious man that he is, didn't say it right away, but he noticed how attracted you were to his friend. That's why he tried to talk him into doing the thing. And then, the subject was brought up.

"So, you're in?" You ask him with concern, but he leans forward, his gaze locking with yours, his voice dropping just a little more serious.

"Oh, I'm definitely in. I mean, c'mon, I'm only in this because of you. And how about you?" He smirks again, eyes glinting with mischief "I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride"

"You're not, like, worried about him seeing you naked or the other way around?"

He waves you off with a scoff "I couldn't care less about Harrington, I'm sure I'll have a peek of his dick just for fun. But for the rest of the thing, I won't even give him a single glance"

"Good. Because, well... the three of us? That's going to be a lot of fun"

Eddie chuckles, his fingers twitching as if ready to play with a few strands of your hair. Maybe that's the uphold you need to feel more intimate and comfortable around him.

"Yeah, I think Steve might end up regretting this. But, hell, I guess we'll just have to make sure he doesn't, huh?"

But it suddenly makes you feel too nervous and a little taken aback. The look on your face already gives it away and he rests one hand on top of your thigh, carefully.

"Why did you agree, by the way?" You ask.

He leans back, using his other hand to run his fingers through his hair. "Couple reasons. One, Steve seemed really into the idea because of you, and I trust the guy. Two–" His voice softens, he meets your eyes "I don't know, I just thought it could be fun. But only if you were actually into it. I don't wanna make things weird for you"

You shift a little bit in your seat, relaxing your tensed body "I appreciate that"

Eddie curls his lips upwards, squeezing your thigh softly, his fingertips grazing your smooth skin. You can definitely feel the callousness on them.

"Look, I know it can be… a lot. And I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. If this is too weird, if you're not into it, there's no harm in admitting it. I won't take it personally"

"You really mean that?" You study him, surprised at his genuineness.

He pulls his hand back, lifting both of them in a mocking surrender. "Swear on my Metallica records. No pressure. No expectations. Just making sure we're all on the same page before Steve starts planning some seduction act. And I'm definitely not interested in that"

Your laugh echoes through his ears and he swears he's more inclined to take you to his trailer and abduct you to himself, than rely on the idea of sharing you with Steve.

"That sounds exactly like something he'd do"

"Right? That's why I figured we should talk first. I want you to feel good about this, comfortable, before anything else. Because if you're not, then it's a no-go. Simple as that"

You find yourself sliding your hand to his firm bicep, down his forearm where his tattoo of bats peeks out from his shirt. Your eyes drift from your touch to his brown doe eyes. "Maybe I wanna test the waters first"

He looks from down your gentle, small hand, up to your expectant, glinting eyes. "Oh?"

Your heart pounds and hammers against your chest as you slightly lean in closer to him "Yeah. See what I'm getting myself into"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"By kissing you."

He freezes for a second, then lets out a slow chuckle "Well, well. Look at you, taking initiative" His voice drops slightly, more playful but still careful "You sure?"

You just nod, let yourself settle for your initiative. And your knees wobble when he leans in closer as well "Then by all means, sweetheart. Be my guest"

And then you finally attach your lips to his, soft at first, just testing. Eddie's lips are warm and taste like Negroni, and he kisses back easily, matching your pace. There's no rush, no pressure, just the slow, deliberate way his hand finds the side of your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. When you finally pull back, your lips hover over each other as a smug little smirk tugs at his lips.

He stares at you half-lidded through his lashes, a pink shade covering his cheeks. Eddie pulls you in for another kiss, using his tongue this time. It brushes against your lower lip first with a teasing motion before slipping past, slow and unhurried, tasting of beer. Your fingers tangle in the worn fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking. Eddie makes a low sound in his throat, half a chuckle, half a groan, and takes it as permission to kiss you harder, his other hand sliding to your waist. When you finally pull back, breathless, Eddie leans his forehead that's nearly touching yours, eyes dark and lidded with something smug and satisfied.

Steve watches from a distance how close you two sit next to each other. How you seem to feel unbothered by the way Eddie's hand rests over your thigh and how close you're leaning towards him, like you're groping him. His breath hitches and it feels like there's a tinge of jealousy there. He had never been a jealous guy, like ever. He tries to reason with himself, tell himself that this is only a one-time thing and that it's fine.

He walks to the table and sits across from you two, taking a swig of his beer, trying to act nonchalantly "So, how's the getting along going?"

"Very good. Just a little extra credit on our project" He winks at his friend.

He narrows his eyes slightly, trying to play it cool but failing a little when he catches the way you're still flushed, the way Eddie's looking at you like you just did something he didn't see  "Oh. Yeah?"

You clear your throat and try not to smirk "Yeah"

You watch as he leans back in the booth, taking a slow sip of his beer, acting nonchalant "Huh. That's… cool"

There's a hint of uneasiness when his fingers tap against the table incessantly.

Eddie grins wider, resting his chin on his hand as he watches Steve with amusement on his face "You sure, Harrington? You look a little… tense"

"Please. You think I'm shaken by this? I suggested this, remember?" He stifles a cough and waves his friend off.

"Uh-huh. And yet, you haven't stopped staring at my mouth since you sat down"

He blinks at you before covering it up with another sip of beer, voice slightly tighter "I have no idea what you're talking about"

The curly haired man nudges you under the table as he snickers "Oh, sweetheart. I think we might've broken him"

He tries to not look too bothered, but there's a hint of something else, something darker lingering in his gaze "Alright, you know what? If we're doing this, we're really doing this. So don't get cocky just yet, Munson"

"I cannot wait to see you naked, Harrington" He mocks in a playful tone, cackling at the sight of Steve almost choking on his beer from the comment.

You and Eddie are sprawled out on Steve's couch, as the low hum of music plays from the stereo, while some random movie plays on the TV. Steve is in the kitchen, grabbing beers for the three of you, giving you and Eddie just enough space for you two to get comfortable.

Eddie is leaning back against the couch, smirking at you as he twirls one of his rings between his fingers "So, how you feeling, sweetheart? Still good about this?" 

"Yeah. You?" Your heart rate picks up when you meet his eyes.

He stretches his legs out, looking at you with something unreadable in his dark eyes "Oh, I'm more than good"

Before you can respond, Steve reappears, carrying three beers, handing one to each of you before flopping down into the chair across from you both. He takes a slow sip, watching the way you and Eddie are sitting close, maybe a little too close for his liking. His jaw tenses just slightly, but the smirk playing at his lips gives him away.

"You guys look cozy" He tries to act casual, but deep inside he's feeling the nervousness. The idea of doing a threesome seemed less intense before.

Eddie extends an arm behind your back on the couch and chuckles "Just keeping your spot warm, Harrington. Didn't wanna start without you"

"How considerate of you" His eyes flick to you, a teasing edge in his voice "And what about you? You just letting Munson take over already?" 

You smirk through the rim of the bottle before taking a sip "Maybe I just like the attention" 

He chuckles, shaking his head, but there's something intriguing in his demeanor "Yeah? Then let's test that theory" 

He places his beer down and moves towards you, just enough to close the space between you, fingers grazing your knee before trailing up your thigh, slow and deliberate. Eddie watches with amusement, but there's something heated in his gaze too, like he's invested at the scene in front of him.

Eddie feigns a gasp "And here I thought you'd be shy about all this. Turns out you like being in the spotlight, huh?" 

You feel your breath hitching slightly as Steve's fingers press just a little firmer, his lips twitching at your reaction "Maybe" 

"Then let's give you a little more of it" 

Before you can react, he's kissing you. Slow at first, teasing, his lips warm and firm against yours. His hand slides to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to ground you. Then, just as you start to melt into it, there's movement beside you.

Eddie hums as he watches you kiss Steve, his fingers brushing against your arm before sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards him as Steve pulls away just slightly "Alright, alright. My turn" 

He kisses you without hesitation, deeper, rougher than Steve had, his tongue teasing against yours immediately, fingers still holding your face like he's savoring the moment. Steve doesn't pull away entirely, and if anything, he leans in closer, his warm breath against your neck, hands still gripping your waist. The tension starts bubbling inside your chest, it's a pressure that makes you feel fuzzy at first. He deepens the kiss, biting your inner lower lip, sucking on it for just a slight second before twirling his tongue around yours.

The weight of them on either side of you is dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. Steve's lips find your neck as Eddie kisses you deeper, hands roaming, heat building between all three of you. 

Steve hums beside you, clearly enjoying the show, his hand slipping higher up your thigh, fingers pressing just a little firmer, making you shift slightly under his touch. When Eddie finally pulls back, lips still ghosting over yours, Steve leans in, his voice is lower and rougher.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" His hot breath fans your ear shell, sending sparks through your veins. He knows you become submissive when it comes to him.

All the while, Eddie presses a kiss just under your jaw as he watches your reaction "Oh, she likes it. Look at her, already so needy and we've barely done anything." 

The man to your right laughs softly, his fingers finally sliding higher, brushing against your dripping pussy just enough to make your breath stutter "Damn. He might be right. You are needy, aren't you?" 

You bite your lip feeling heat flooding through you as Eddie kisses his way down your throat, Steve's fingers teasing in slow, torturous strokes over the fabric of your underwear "You two talk way too much" 

"Oh, sweetheart… you love it" Eddie rasps against your skin.

You feel Steve's touch become more determined, his long fingers circling your swollen nub "Let's see how much more you can take, then" 

The teasing, the touches, the kisses. It all blends together, overwhelming in the best way, pulling you under as you surrender completely to them. Eddie trails sloppy kisses down your chest until he reaches your nipple, latching onto it with his teeth, playing with it. His free hand gropes your other nipple, flicking your hardened skin through your crop top. Steve pulls your panties to the side and collects your wetness, using enough of your slick to slip his fingertips to your entrance. He glues his lips to yours before you can protest a whimper, barely keeping your eyes open. You slowly lift both hands and slide them over their thighs, fingers grazing their jeans, reaching their arousal. You are a dirty little slut tonight.

You love it. You feel their cock growing harder in your hand as you stroke them, while Steve slips two fingers and pumps them into your pussy. You can hear the squelch sound of it, his thumb pressing against your clit ever so gently in circles. Yes, you're a little whore who's getting off on the fact that these two men want to fuck you. You are getting wetter by the second. Your hips are thrusting up to meet his fingers, your body begging for more.

Eddie's mouth moves from your nipple to your ear, and he whispers "You're such a fucking slut"

You can only nod at the moment, sucking Steve's tongue, pressing your fingers into their tight jeans. They never leave you as they try to help themselves by removing their pants, their cocks straining against the boxers, dampening the material. You mewl between the kisses, Eddie's lips finally finds your exposed nipple and sucks on it, marking your skin with his teeth deliberately, flicking his tongue against it. He keeps one of his hands holding your leg up on his lap, pressing his fingertips on you firmly.

The other male curls his fingers and fucks you dumb, your hips meeting his hand while your hips roll against it. The immediate groan leaving their mouths is almost like a symphony when you finally grip both dicks in your hands, trying to focus on your coordination to stroke them in sync. You notice Eddie is thick, he has a piercing on his frenulum and it throws you off immediately. You use your thumb to play with the jewelry and he buckles his hips in response. His cock isn't longer than Steve's, while the latter is both thick and huge, but you don't care. You're having the time of your life.

Steve lowers his head, spreading kisses, leaving spit over your skin as he reaches to your other nipple. The action causes you to buckle upwards and moan, squeezing their cocks. Your fingers wrap around them and spread precum all over their shafts, pumping them as much as you can. They can't help but grunt against your tits, making you clench around Steve's fingers.

"God, you're such a fucking mess" He utters, sucking your nipple, pulling his head back bringing your skin along with his mouth, leaving you with a loud pop. You can't see it, but you can feel the sly grin washing over his face when you moan.

There's a fine line between shame and feeling lascivious. You're so wet, horny and eager for them. You feel your body yearning for them, even though they're both onto you right now.

Eddie slides his hand from your thigh, over Steve's hand, swatting his thumb away, using two fingers to stroke your clit. The touch is soft, but also antsy, and he circles your bundle of nerves as the other man finger fucks you mercilessly. You are three hungry people moaning and groaning almost to each other. You play with each frenulum using your thumbs, they both fuck your hands in clumsy motions, their hips stuttering as you twist your wrists.

You throw your head back, pumping them faster, Steve slowed his pace, ripping a sob out of you with a torturous stroke of his fingers while they curled. Eddie uses the other man's distraction for leverage and assaults your mouth again in a messy kiss. He laps at your tongue, sucking on it and you feel his ragged breath against your mouth the more you pump him. His ringed fingers pinch and stroke your clit, playing with your nub as you kiss feverishly.

Steve then halts his movements when you pull the skin of his shaft and squeeze his tip, jolting upwards in shock. "Fuck, I forgot how good you are with your hands"

He continues to fuck you nonchalantly, his fingers working on your throbbing pussy. You let out a hum against Eddie's lips, making him fasten his strokes. Maybe he made it a personal purpose of making you feel good as much as Steve does. This is no contest, whatsoever, but they're willing to give you a ride to the sky. You clench around Steve's fingers, your clit starts to pound and there's a building pressure growing uncontrollably inside of you. You're squeezing their cocks too hard with your hand, feeling the coil about to snap.

You keep your hips rolling, and they can feel your shuddering each passing second as you feel the pleasure approaching its apex. Eddie grins through the kiss, his fingertips now rapidly stroking your clit as Steve fucks your pussy, making you clench harder each time. Your hands are still holding them, but you feel your arms wobbly when it finally washes over you. Steve feels it first when your pussy cages his fingers, almost squeezing them. While the curly-haired man keeps his middle finger over your nub as you pulse and throb for them.

You're dripping wet when he pulls out of you, lustfully groaning at the sight, bringing his digits to his mouth, savoring your taste. He always does that to one of his fingers, offering the other one to you because he knows it brings you to the abyss of hysteria. Eddie watches with greedy eyes, dark blown pupils, and he does the same. Before even removing his hand from you, he collects your wetness, diving into your pussy and startling you with a whimper. He keeps them inside of you, he wants to have the same as his friend did. With a humbleness and eagerness, he circles his fingers around your spongy walls and makes your jaw go slack.

You can't help but whisper his name in a daze, and Steve just leans back against the couch as you try, but lacks strength, to still pump him and Eddie. The metalhead finally slips out of your pussy and immediately latches his fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them, eyes trained at your swollen, still throbbing cunt and he twitches. You feel it in your hand and almost bring him to the edge when you pull the skin of his shaft and squeeze the head of his cock just like you did to Steve. You use his piercing for leverage, stroking his skin side to side, ripping groans out of his mouth. He grunts, using one of his hands to squeeze your thigh and leave fingerprints on your skin.

"You did good, sweetheart" Eddie beams at you, before drifting his eyes to Steve. He's definitely trying not to have a peek at his friend's cock. He just wanted to have a small glance, like he's curious to know what it looks like. But he avoids going there, and he knows he thinks the same. "Care to let me guide her to the next round?"

You look between them, hands still wrapped around their length. Steve doesn't seem to be bothered, because the idea of the threesome is for Eddie to also enjoy it. And mostly you, obviously. They help you undress, pulling your crop top off, sliding your skirt along with your underwear down to the ground. The latter isn't subtle when he pulls you forward, almost laying you down on the edge of the couch, holding your waist as he spreads your legs apart.

Your head rests against the soft material, and Steve stands on his feet next to you. Immediately, your eyes become hazy at the thought of blowing your friend while Eddie eats you out. He kneels on the carpet and hangs your legs above his shoulders, diving in without any hesitation. He latches onto your slit, licking a long stride up to find your clit, clinging to it with his teeth. The air leaves your lungs and you force your eyes shut with the sudden dizziness.

You have lost count of how many times Steve ate you out, but knowing there are two guys fucking you, it makes your senses raise violently. Your body is in a state of insatiability. You tilt your head to the side and meet Steve's cock, licking your lips before wrapping your mouth around him. He thrusts forward, one hand flying down to grab a fistful of your hair as you waste no time filling your throat with his shaft, making yourself gag on him. Your tongue glides against his skin, while your hand squeezes his balls and cups them.

Eddie sinks his face on your dripping cunt, pressing his tongue through your folds as he strokes them up and down. He manipulates your entrance with the tip of it, swirling it around your pussy just before pushing in. Your hand flies up to his hair, pulling his strands with a messy buckle of your hips and a moan leaving your mouth against the cock you're gagging on. He slips in and out of you, nudging his nose against your already swollen clit. He shakes his head, grazing his teeth against you, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of your thighs. You hear Steve groaning from above, slapping his pubic bone against your face as he fucks your mouth.

He pulls your hair harder when the tip of his cock reaches your throat and he gasps when you hollow your cheeks and engulf his shaft, making him pulse inside your mouth. Eddie starts pumping himself, but still makes sure to give all his attention to your clenching pussy. He flattens his tongue and keeps his hungry pace as it swirls around your folds. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the skin, pulling it back before repeating the motion. He sucks on it, tasting every little bit of you, stroking himself, humming against your skin at the sound of your moans and whimpers.

Steve cradles your face with both hands and thrusts against your mouth gently, not pushing hard enough so he won't hurt you. You're a mess of spit, tears and sweat that's making your hair stick to your face. You're just glad you were using waterproof mascara at this point. Eddie flicks his tongue into your clit, watching as you roll your hips and jolt upwards when he takes notice of the patterns that make you most sensitive.

You suddenly pull back from Steve, looking down at the man eating you out. He doesn't budge when you're about to speak, he just presses his tongue harder against you, your head hangs back as he smirks against you. "Please fuck me, Eddie"

He freezes on his spot, leaving you just enough to carefully remove your legs from his shoulders, whirling you around. "Say no more, sweets. On your fours for me"

His tone is a little husky and demanding, and you lean on your elbows, bending your knees with your ass up for him. Steve looks astonished, feeling the heat of the moment wash over him as he goes back to fill your mouth with his cock. Eddie lines himself up from behind and spreads your folds with the tip of his cock, using your wetness for leverage before pushing inch by inch until you're used to him. He holds your waist, fingers pressing hard on your skin, as he distracts himself watching you blow his friend. He's cupping your face with both of his hands, ramming his hips forward as he fucks your mouth again. His cock twitches at the sight of you being a needy slut for them both.

Eddie sinks further into you, slamming his hips against your ass once. Your body lurches forward and you gag on Steve unexpectedly. He keeps his pace as he inches back and forth, hitting your spot viciously, feeling you clench around him. You're dripping wet, you can feel your arousal slipping down your thigh as he fills your pussy with hunger. He startles both you and Steve with the echo of his slap on your ass, bringing you to a turmoil. You push your ass against his hips, skin-on-skin slapping while you take in every inch of your friend's cock into your mouth.

"Such a busy little slut, aren't you?" Steve coos, thrusting harder and rather quickly. He brings your chin up so you can look better at him, swiping a tear away from your cheek "You like that, don't you? You love being fucked by two guys"

You blink at him, senseless. You bring yourself to push back and lick his length, your lips wrapping around his tip, sucking on it. He hisses looking down at you, pulling a few strands of hair out of your face. "So beautiful cockdrunk. You're taking Eddie so well"

Eddie, on the other hand, rolls his hips against your ass, watching as he slips in and out of you. He lets out a frazzled, breathy laugh, slapping your ass again. "You're taking me really, really well sweetheart. Your pussy is so good, fuck"

Both of them exchange a single, but pleasant glance before looking down at you. You're in your own little world, daydreaming about the fact that you're going to cum again if he keeps fucking you like that. Your heart rate is quickly rising, your belly is twisted as you feel your pussy throbbing again.

"She's going to cum for you, she's already a mess" Steve watches you from above, his eyes glinting with blissful pleasure. He didn't think he would also be able to feel so dissolute seeing you being fucked by his friend. But the sight of you crumbling apart for them is making him lightheaded.

"Fuck, cum for me. Let me fucking make you cum" Eddie is almost at the brink of an outburst. Your hips roll around his cock that splits you open. He almost slips out of your soaking pussy, pushing further into you, balls deep inside of you. He snaps his hips forward and moans your name, his eyes shut, brows creasing with anticipation. His jaw is locked and his head is thrown back.

You pull back from Steve rather quickly, your body begging for Eddie's release as he pounds on you firmly and quickly. His harder thrusts make you unbalanced, and your elbows give in. You look over your shoulder at him, whimpering his name, ripping him out of his own daze, making him stare back at you. He sees your lips caging between your teeth, brows furrowed when your stomach tightens and you clench around him bashfully. Your hand grips Steve's cock, and he feels himself twitching at you. You're already feeling limp, but you still fill your mouth with his cock and blow him majestically, hollowing your cheeks every once in a while because you know he likes the suction. He bites his inner cheek and fucks your mouth again, his breath becomes uneven and you feel his shaft become rigid before he cums in your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. Take all of it" He grunts, feeling his cock throb inside of your mouth as you swallow all of him. He gives you a lopsided, messy smile, and you try to smile back at him, even though your jaw hurts.

And it's only a matter of seconds until Eddie spurts inside of you, his hips stutter and he shudders against you. His fingertips are pressing on your skin, his nails digging into your waist as he jolts forward, filling you with his seed as well. He holds you in his grip and slams forward a couple of times, before slipping out of you with a painful yelp. He's exhilarated when he sees his cum dripping down your pussy, reaching your thigh. Eddie smirks at his own job, fascinated with the sight of your cunt still throbbing, pushing more of his fluids out of your entrance. He's quick to pick a few baby wipes and clean you up. The aftercare makes him look soft after he made you his own slut, after he made you scream his name.

"Harrington, do the honors" He motions to his friend, who's still holding your face, soothing you with soft strokes of his thumb against your skin. He's still hard.

Steve lifts you up, holding his gaze at you and kisses you gently. His tongue finds yours and he hums against your mouth, a low sound of approval, and his free hand moves to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin tingle. Your tongues sweep over one another, in a way that sends heat straight to your core. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you closer, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss turns messier, needier. His other hand slides down between your legs, his fingers once again stroking between your folds, slipping against your clit and you moan against his mouth. It sends a vibration down his stomach, reaching the tip of his cock again.

"You are the death of me, you know that?" He hovers his lips over yours, and you take this as an opportunity to grope him and pull him back to the couch as you lie under him.

You look to the side, glancing at Eddie, who's expectantly waiting for his turn to get a blowjob as well. Your eyes sparkle as you finally take in the piercing on his frenulum, a small piece of jewelry that shines under the light of the living room. He takes notice of your reaction and holds his cock up so you can have a better look. The smugness on his face and his bold demeanor make you clench around nothing, while Steve trails down his lips against your stomach, reaching your clit. He latches his teeth against your sensitive spot and you retract, shutting your eyes, biting your lip. You look back at Eddie half-lidded, blinking through your lashes as you watch him stroke himself at you.

"Like what you see?" His fingers graze around the head of his cock, playing with the piercing just for you.

You lift your head and lock eyes with him, nodding slightly before replacing his hand with yours. You start pumping him slowly, still glancing up at him, watching as he blinks and heaves a groan. Eddie bites his lip and slips one hand over your hair, pulling a strand of it. You take him in without a warning, your mouth and your tongue sliding over him until you reach the base of his cock. He tilts his head back and moans your name. Steve keeps you entertained as he laps his tongue over your slit, licking stripes and drinking your dripping wetness. He pulls back and holds his cock, slapping the tip against your clit, just how you like it.

He slides his length between your folds, collecting your slick before slipping inside of you entirely. He doesn't wait, he doesn't give you time to adjust. He's used to fucking you raw and senseless. Your hips buckle upwards and he rests one hand above your waist, while he uses the other to squeeze your throat. He thrusts into you at a quick pace, his balls slapping against your ass, his firm hand grips your throat scarcely, careful to not choke you to death.

But the tightening of your throat squeezes Eddie's cock and he pounds against your mouth too. You gag on him, you swallow him whole, you savor his salty taste and you lick his shaft, bringing him closer to a frenzy with you. You shift your eyes between him and Steve, the latter holding your waist down so he can fuck you without your hips rolling. He likes to play hard, he likes to torture you, make you squirm around him and beg for him to let you fuck him back. He likes it when you're submissive, even though he won't ever admit to anyone that he's on the bottom as well. He likes to play a fair game when it comes to this.

"You like my cock, sweetie? You like my cock fucking your dirty little mouth?" Eddie utters, his hips slamming against your mouth as he watches you struggle to answer him, but you nod "Yeah, are you going to let me fill you with my cum?"

You nod again and he makes you gag. You push yourself off him, your hand shoving his stomach as you grip his length with your hand, bringing your tongue to his frenulum again. You swirl it around his skin, flicking over the jewelry as you look up at him through hazy eyes. He's much more sensitive than Steve is, and he can't keep his gaze down at you because he forces his eyes shut from the pleasure that was still building up.

You speak up for the first time after several minutes "You wanna give me a cumshot, Eds?"

He's stunned at your words, at the way you spit on his cock and blow him gracefully, even though Steve is pounding on you so hard that his tip hits your cervix. You suck him, your teeth barely grazing his skin as you feel more of his precum filling your throat. You hum against him and it makes Steve twitch inside your pussy, his reaction making you clench around him as well. You're still watching Eddie, but your eyes trail over your friend, who's seemingly very entertained at the interaction. His brows are furrowed and he watches you get mouth-fucked by his friend. It all makes everything very vulgar, because way before you had this idea, you and Steve had only fucked like normal people. But the sight and the scene and all the reactions had switched something inside of him too.

"Fuck, baby" Eddie shakes his head, amused "Yes. Shit, of course!"

You don't usually touch yourself when you fuck with Steve. You like to feel his fingers on you, you like the sight of it. You love when his long fingers fuck you too. But tonight, you've made it a goal to go way out of your comfort zone to bring them to the edge with you. So you slip your hand down your stomach, reaching your clit and deliberately stroking your skin with your own fingers. Your hips are uncontrollably rolling against Steve, and he loses his shit when he sees you touching yourself. You're touching yourself and blowing Eddie. He couldn't be more aroused than that. The latter, on the other hand, feels the sweat coating his body, the long-gone twist in his stomach crawling back over him. He tries to brush off the urge to make you gag until he comes in your mouth, only willing to thrust into you so the tip of his cock reaches your squeezed throat.

"She's gonna lose it again, Munson" Steve pants, slamming his hips against you, watching you lose your balance to the way your pussy clenches around his cock "Look at this pretty thing falling apart"

"Fuc–" You barely have the time and energy to react to your apex. Your third orgasm of the day in a span of less than an hour. Your whole body goes limp again, and you stutter, crying out moans as your body shakes.

He removes your hand from your clit, lacing his fingers with yours with the one free hand. As he leans against your body and chokes you, he slams forward harshly, feeling the jolt of electricity wash over him. He watches your contorted expression, your lips quivering as you come down from your high, while he overstimulates you. Then again, there's something about you that makes them both cum all at the same time. Eddie tilts your head up to face him, pulling out of your mouth as he grips his cock and spills all over your face.

You stick your tongue out, trying to get a glimpse of his taste. You feel his warm cum coating your face, and when Steve digs his nails on your waist, he spills inside of you. His cock twitches and makes your walls flutter around him, his body is almost hovering over yours and his grip around your throat loosens. He breathes heavily above you, Eddie is also a panting mess and you're a mess of cum. Your friend slowly pulls out of you, his aching cock almost throbs again and you wheeze at the feeling.

You stay sprawled out on the couch, watching them put their boxers back on before cleaning you up. Steve is responsible for cleaning up your pussy, slightly pressing the baby wipe over your sensitive spot. While Eddie softly wipes his cum off your face, his gentle fingers holding your jaw up. It almost feels domestic, if it wasn't for the filthy conversation and the poundings filling the air in the living room. You stifle a laugh through a snort, clearly catching them off guard, making them pause their hands over you.

"What?" Steve asks with curious eyes, while you purse your lips.

"Just feels very domestic. The aftercare is funny, considering this meeting was one hell of a dirty ride"

Eddie gets you. He lets out a breathy laugh and resumes cleaning your face, and Steve can't help but grin at your comment. His expression immediately shifts as he looks at the white spot on his couch.

"Dude, not the fucking couch" He lets out a frustrated sigh and playfully tosses the used baby wipes at his friend, who doesn't quite gets to protect himself in time.

"Fuck off, Harrington! Keep your freaking jizz away from me" Eddie groans, tossing the baby wipes back at him and you laugh at the pestering "You never cum on your couch?"

You glance from him to Steve, who looks so astonished he can't even respond. If you didn't know better, you might think he was careless enough to stain the furniture, but he's always been too meticulous to let that happen. You're handed your underwear and Steve's t-shirt, and you dress yourself while witnessing both friends arguing over something comically weird. 

@kellyxo1 @sammybrrr @zafetycar @andvys @hellfire--cult @skeltnwrites @ghost-proofbaby @eddiesxangel

[honeyhae-svt]

(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원우 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

[heart2sea]

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ do you see (him) in the back of your mind? (read on ao3)

word count: 2k

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, mentions of his myth, dragon!sylus mentions

summary: on a particular day, you kept dreaming of him. One of those dreams catches your attention—horns, tails and all, and you decide to tell him.

a/n: some practice sylus writing because he's my second fav 🖤

You kept staring at him unabashedly, entranced.

He found that behavior amusing, finding and matching your gaze with an insufferable amount of mirth in his eyes. A teasing remark, a half grin on his lips—anything to get a blush out of you. That time, however, his words turned to mist on your brain as you took him in. You knew him well; the way his eyes glimmered under the moonlight, how his lips savoured every drop of his drink, as if trying to classify each note of flavor of it, and even the way his hair moved with the cold breeze. Sometimes you’d run a gentle finger, making way through the handsome shape of his nose, only stopping when he’d let out a scoff and grab your wrist, playfully.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” He stared back, a smirk gracing his sharp features.

You blinked, resting your head on your hand. You had agreed to have dinner (breakfast, for him) on his base before heading out for one of your assignments. This particular mission required pulling an all-nighter onto the outskirts of the N109 Zone. You didn’t particularly need to convince him, he just shrugged and nodded as if you’d asked him to go get something for you at the corner store, a small, non-inconvenient errand on his criminal routine. 

So you spent the entire daylight sleeping, trying to catch up on some required rest before going into battle. Sleeping during daytime usually meant naps, which is why you had a hard time staying asleep, waking up between forty minute intervals.

Each time, a stranger dream.

It had started with a regular one, just you and Sylus going auctioning. Then, fleeting dreams that resembled your first meetings, the oppressive force of the gunshot piercing his heart, his rough hand grasping your wrist like his life depended on it, forceful mannerisms that had quite actually scared you away from him, enticing you into running away and never looking back. 

And finally, a dream so foreign and out of place it took you a minute to break the barrier between dreams and reality upon waking up. How imposing, how impossibly handsome; your Sylus, tall and intimidating, sporting two wonderful spires on his head, and a long, thick, slithering barbed tail from his lower back. Scales had adorned his entire body, ebony and rough, and a single ruby emanated glow and warmth from his sternum, at the rhythm of a living heartbeat. His face was covered in blood—not yours, not his—as he stared at the glowing moon in longing and awe.

And still, in this dream, his eyes turned soft at the sight of you.

You gave him a warm smile, now back to reality to the real Sylus in front of you. “I dreamed about you earlier.”

He returned the smile, a glint of something playful and kind in his crimson eyes. “Was it a good dream?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, pondering. “It was quite the sight.”

“Tell me.”

“You’d laugh.”

He shifted on his seat, putting the fork down as he took a breath. Sylus tilted his head, the smile never wiping off his face, the now dying candlelight casting a warm, soft glow around you. “Oh?” 

You immediately shook your head, a slight blush adorning your cheeks, frowning. “Not like that. Ugh.” At least not this time.

The gentle sound of one of his classical vinyls cocooned the warm atmosphere of his dinner table, the melody one you had picked out a few weeks before, shopping with him. It was so effortlessly romantic, soft and tender—truth be told, so many dinners with Sylus were like that, and you started wondering how truly effortless or accidental it all was. It seemed so specifically tailored for you; the music, the special serving of food just for you, the way the moonlight would hit the table just right, the smooth silk tablecloths, the comfy cushions on the seats; it all screamed soft, soft, soft , as if he was self conscious you'd walk away again the moment you cut yourself on his edges. You'd grown to love him, gunshot powder and all, but something laid unspoken between you two. Something both of you should be aware of, but only him seemed to carry the weight of.

It stumped you.

Sylus let out a chuckle. “Well, then. I promise to be as straight faced as possible, kitten.”

“Not very comforting.”

He shrugged. “I'm simply doing my best.”

You inhaled, trying to recall more details about the dream. You grabbed a grape, placing it on your lips, letting it linger there for a moment before slowly biting down on it, staring into space. As you swallowed, you looked up briefly at the ceiling and finally spoke.

“ If you randomly woke up as an animal, real or fantastic—and don't say a crow—what animal do you think it would most likely be?”

One of his eyebrows raised in amusement, his smirk deepening. The candle was holding onto the last thread of light, the amber light surrounding the room slowly giving out. It gave the atmosphere an enigmatic mood, making the situation seem so serious it was silly. “Does that have to do with your dream?"

You rolled your eyes. “Just follow along.”

His gaze never left yours, carefully studying your expectant expression. He took out a casino chip out of his slacks and started playing with it, a fidgeting you immediately recognized as calculating and weighting every option on his mind, you realized he was holding back on answering what was truly on his head. 

You looked around the room, almost awkwardly, as the silence stretched on. “Hello?”

Sylus finally let out a scoff. “I'm more interested in what you thi—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“What? I'm telling the truth. Besides,” he leaned towards you ever-so-slightly. “I'm curious what brought this on.”

The candlelight went off completely, the only source of light being the moon gently cascading its glow on the room. You went to grab another grape, but stopped halfway through. Despite his aloof and seemingly playful behavior, you couldn't help but feel as if that question had held some unspoken weight on him. 

You laid back completely on the chair, staring out at the moon. “I had a dream you were some kind of creature. Horns, tail, scales—no wings that I remember, though. It was incredibly detailed. You looked like a dragon.” You took a deep breath, and almost whispering, still daydreaming about the mental image, you spoke: “It suit you.”

He didn't reply, not immediately, the chip on his hand ceasing its movements for a moment. A brief hesitation, a glimmer of something in his eyes (melancholy? Nostalgia?) flashed, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a half smile. He put the chip down and slid it towards you, taking a deep breath, beckoning you to keep going.

“We rested in a cave. Just like now, we were staring at the moon, and your tail—” You giggled fondly. “It was wrapped around me. Not asphyxiating me, mind you, but gently. And warm. It felt so real.”

You paused, and then continued.

“I wonder if that was some sort of…past life, or something.”

The room was completely darkened, and he had moved away from the glow of the moonlight, making it difficult to figure out what he was thinking. As the silence stretched on, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious — you'd half expected him to let out one of his earthy laughs upon hearing it. How cliché, how passè, the classical bedtime story of the beauty and her beast, deeply in love in his lair, a wonderful ever after following trials of blood and fire to be together. You've been watching too many romantic movies lately, sweetie , was the reply you expected him to blurt out, and then you'd pout, and finally go out to your mission and fight wanderers until the sun rose.

But he seemed to savor the recounting of your dream, as if taking apart thread by thread the tapestry of your words. You wondered what expression he had at that moment. Maybe he was coming out with a witty retort, something you've never heard before, or maybe he was annoyed at the prospect of him being a beast in the dream (when he'd been nothing but gentle with you lately), or maybe—

He let out a gentle chuckle, forcing you out of your thoughts. You stared at him, trying to find his eyes, until you met with a slightly glowing crimson gaze in the dark. A sign of danger, a pair of red eyes in the abyss—but they held none of the teeth that would swallow you whole. Instead, it enveloped you in a warmth that reminded you of cozy winter dawns, of summer nights, of a hot cup of tea after a draining day. 

How wonderful.

Sylus shifted on his seat. “Did something else happen in that dream?”

“Such as…?”

“We’ve watched one too many dramatic movies lately. Surely this one dream doesn't end in tragedy, likewise?”

You tutted, blushing, muttering. “Isn't the prospect of us cuddling under the moonlight enough for you?”

“With a monster —”

“A very handsome one.” You interjected. “And he is nothing but gentle with me.”

A pause of silence. Then, after staring deep into your eyes, as if attempting to break open your mind and peer into your jumbled thoughts, he let out a warm, almost elated laugh. 

“You do…have a fascinating way to look at things.” He spoke.

As if wanting to emphasize your earlier point, you stood up from the table and carefully walked towards him, two dinner knives in hand, and positioned yourself behind him. On the other side of the room, a body length mirror stood guard to the dark outlines of your bodies contrasting in the gentle glow of the moon.

The knives reflected the silvery light almost magically as you held them up the sides of his head in a horned fashion, a playful yet tender smile adorning your lips.

“You looked something like this.” You whispered, staring into the mirror. If you squinted hard enough, his silhouette looked very similar to the Sylus that had graced your dreams. “See? It looks good. It does suit you.”

He chuckled, his voice laced with something raw and unspoken. He gently grabbed your wrist, enveloping his calloused fingers around your soft flesh, as if counting every pulse under it. His digits interlaced with yours and he maneuvered you until you were at his side—then, he slid an arm around your waist and pressed you closer to him, his face burying on your sternum, something resembling a purr coming out of his throat. It made you freeze for a single second, the movement and the warmth so eerily similar to the one provided by his tail in your dream you wondered if you'd truly been the only one to dream about it.

“No tail. Is that alright?” He muttered, his voice muffled by your shirt. 

You shrugged. “Warm all the same.”

Something inside him opened at the sound of your words, and he let out a content, satisfied sigh. You could feel him smile against the fabric of your clothes, and under normal circumstances you'd tease him about it. Yet this time, he felt oddly vulnerable—like a cat bunting a beloved; it was not the time. You couldn't rob him of that.

“Let's go.” He broke the moment, pulling away. “It's getting late.”

He stood up, his arm leaving your waist—lingering for a fraction of a second, not truly wanting to pull away—and walked to the doorway with languid steps, taking his coat from the hanger.

“Does that mean I can call you that now?” You asked grabbing a last grape out of the fruitbowl.

“What was that now, kitten?”

“Dragon.” You smiled mischievously. “My dragon.”

He turned around, briefly speechless, and for a moment you feared you'd said something wrong—maybe he hated the nickname, or thought it was too silly, or preferred something else. But then his lips curved upwards, his gaze impossibly soft and cozy.

“If it's from you,” he reached for the motorcycle helmet and tossed it at you. “Any time.”

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[lv9su]

Everything inside me is stone.

Levi Ackerman x reader

I’ve wanted to write for him for so long this man is so fine💆🏾‍♀️ also this is based on the earlier seasons of aot

Age gap!!! Slightly toxic.. Angst, Forbidden Love (sorta) lots of sexual tension, always use of y/n, Levi being stubborn and you being stubborn back. 💋

~

Right now you weren’t in a.. strange predicament. Were you on top of Eren on the training grounds? Yes, but not in the way you might think. Why? Because you paired up for sparring, and you were very annoyed before this session started.

Let’s take it back to the reason why. The last conversation you had before everyone met for training. Maybe the word argument would be more fitted.

“Why do you keep on pushing me away?” You asked, getting frustrated at the sight of Levi getting out of the bed, cleaning the room you two had left a mess and finding clothes to get dressed. But you were having none of it.

“I’m not pushing you away, I’m protecting you.” Levi said, his back turned to you.

“Yes you are!? You know I can protect myself? You don’t need to isolate yourself from me.” Your voice began raising.

“I’m not the right person for you y/n. Since you’re so smart you should understand the risks of us! Whatever this is.” He turned around, pointing his finger between the both of you. He was self sabotaging because he felt you could do better than an older emotionally scarred man who just so happens to be the leader of your squad.

You felt the anger rise inside, and sure you could’ve screamed and yelled in his dumb face for saying what he said. Instead you were so angry tears pooled in your eyes, and you tried to hide it. Messily putting on your clothes you mumbled enough for him, to aggravated to speak normally.

“Fine.” You pulled on your white jeans.

“Whatever.” You began buttoning up your shirt.

“Just fuck off.” You hissed as his hands reached to help you button up since you being frantic.

You put on your socks and boots, the rest of your uniform in your room. “Leave me alone.”

He knew he’d fucked up. But seeing tears in your eyes, and your bottom lip quivering, he realised that was something he never wanted to see.

But why? It was so wrong. But when it was just the two of you it was so right.

It all started one drunken night three months ago began a kind of relationship you would’ve never ever expected to happen with Levi. Ackerman. Your. Captain.

I mean sure you always found him attractive, and he seemed to tolerate you more than anyone else in your scout group. He definitely did call you a Brat pretty much every day, but he didn’t ever insult you. Everyone else figured it was just favouritism when he’d tell everyone to fuck off and figure out their own shit except when it came to you he spoke in a normal tone. Needed help with the gear? He’d be behind you, guiding your arms and showing you what to do. Wanted to spar with him? He’d teach you new moves and would be very physical but not enough to hurt you, just for the sake of touch. You were thirsty? He’d make tea for the both of you. And so on.

You pretended to be oblivious to all of this, but in your mind you couldn’t help but daydream and zone out imagining what it’d be like with him.

“Thinking about the captain” Sasha nudged your arm as your hand rested on your face. She giggled as she sipped her alcoholic beverage. Yes, would absolutely were.

“No!!!! Shut up.” You slightly chuckled and rolled your eyes, as you began drinking a little more.

“Y’know y/n, if you change your mind and want someone your own age im your perfect match.” Jean winked at you, slurring his words and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“You need to sit down.” You grinned at the sight, standing up and sitting him down where you were sat.

You walked out of the tavern and sat outside in the dark, kissed by the moonlight and wrapped around the late night breeze of the summer. Everyone was here celebrating the recent mission, less people killed by titans and an increase in the titans being killed. That’s what it’s all about right? Until the next mission there’d most likely be some intense training so the plan was to try and have some fun while you still could.

“I’m surprised you’re with that lanky piece of shit. Out of everyone.” You heard from behind, not needing to look behind since you recognised the voice right away. He sat beside you, and you hummed questioningly.

“Tch don’t play dumb brat. Jean. The lanky horse-” you laughed and cut him off.

“I’m not with Jean. And it seems, someone was stalking me.” You smirk, speaking with the liquid confidence.

“I’m taking you back to headquarters. You’ve had too much to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you.

When you got back, one thing led to another and the next morning you were tangled in his sheets naked. Before you woke he left to make tea, except you woke while he was gone and assumed he’d just left. So you did too. And when he saw you were gone from his room he realised you might’ve thought it was a mistake. But he couldn’t blame you if you did.. he was older, there was a pretty big power dynamic and he came to the conclusion that is was for the good that he was alone. If he formed an emotional attachment there was always the chance he could lose you.

But you ignoring him? He didn’t like that. He tolerated 1 day of being ignored by you before he hollered you into his office and well.. let’s just say this time you were both sober when you did it.

After that you both said that it wouldn’t continue.. but it did. More often than not. You had fucked in his office, his room, your room, the stables, in the shower, in the forest and empty rooms. But as much as there was lust, there was sweet moments that were dates in disguise. Long talks, walks, rides, play fights, sparring in feilds and then having a picnic, slow dances and admiration. But hey what was more romantic than slaying titans together.

Back in the present.

“Cmon y/n, are you even trying?” Eren mocked as the two of you sparred, except you were thinking about the argument you’d had with him this morning.

So after a swift kick to the legs - which Levi taught you how to do - dropping him to the floor within seconds. And in that amount of time you’d began throwing punch after punch after punch. Poor eren. Too bad he underestimated you at a time like this.

“OKAY MISSY!!” Hange shouted in a high pitched voice as she grabbed the back of your arms and pulled you off of him. “You doin’ okay up there sweets?” She raised a brow moving closer to your face and tapping your head. You nodded and she rubbed your arm before you walked away.

Levi watched you the whole entire time.

Hange walked back over to where they sat. “You outta go get your girl short stack.” She smirked.

He went silent for a second, unsure of how to respond “what’re you talking about four eyes.”

“Oh don’t play dumb. I see that look in your eyes, I know you put up this cold front but seems as though she’s melting it down.” She readjusted her glasses “a little young but hmph! I get it. Better go get her before someone else does.”

“Tch. Shut up.” he abruptly stood up and followed in your footsteps.

Eventually catching up as he found you walking in the hq. “I told you to leave me alone” you frowned.

“I’m the one who gives orders around here brat.”

“Go boss around someone else then” you went to walk away and he grabbed your hand.

“No. You’re gonna stay and listen to me.” He began to get annoyed now. “And drop the attitude brat. You know i care, probably too much so quit acting like I don’t. I shouldn’t have pushed you away but I was trying to do what’s best for you. If I keep you to myself you don’t get a chance with any other guy your age.”

“But that’s my decision Levi, and I don’t want any other guy. I want you.” You interrupted, looking into his eyes. He now grabbed your face, and leaned closer “I didn’t say you could talk.” He then glided his thumb over your lower lip.

“It’s dangerous to live in a world like this.” Her brows lifted then caressed your jaw.

“I don’t care about that.” You batted your eyelashes up at him and he kissed you.

~

[bitter-me]

Hello! could you do Asaba Harumasa with A Loid Forger!Male!Reader who is his Fiancé? (For real not for a misson) And could you do like some general headcanons of it please?

Spy X Executive Officer

Harumasa Asaba | M. Reader as Loid Forger [SpyXFamily]

----------

"You gotta be careful. Because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to you."

----------

General Headcanons

First of all, the moment you two met Harumasa knew you are a spy. Come on now, he's responsible for Section 6's reconnaissance for a reason. In the main story he literally recognized the mercs are closing in on them by their shooting pattern alone. Are you kidding me.

Secrets out and from then on he'll rub it in your face that the Twilight was caught by an Executive Officer and through this process of endless teasing and "accidental meet ups" you two gotten quite close.

Yet despite making teasing the absolute daylight out of you his main mission. Harumasa would always comes to you for help with some missions of his. Come on! He has Twilight on speed dial! What kind of person would he be if he didn't abused use this power? The amount of times you have to pretend to be him for a meeting... too much to even bother counting..

Harumasa seems to have developed a habit since you two got together. One of which is how he looks like a wounded animal whenever you have to "be in a relationship" with someone. He's joking of course. But always seem to jump at the chance whenever Harumasa saw it.

But then again.. you're also using him for your own work as well. HAND has a lot of useful information and Departments. Having an insider on speed dial just make things ten times easier. In short both of you are using each other.. until it became something more as you two craves more with each interactions.

"You're cheating on me! I know I don't have much time, yet you--" "Darling, I am not seeing someone behind your back, it was a mission. We have this conversation before."

Endless teasing. Just endless.

By the way, are you a cat person? Well it doesn't matter you are a cat person now. Say hello to your son/daughter. Harumasa canonically has a cat, so..

Would jokingly as you to teach him some espionage with the excuse that it'll help him be a "more outstanding scout." You didn't, of course. Espionage is your thing. As if you'll let him steal your thunder like that.

Oh no. Harumasa isn't in the office again. He must have taken a sick leave. But how could he get another one? What? He has a doctor's note?

Yes, he would probably, maybe, say "please" a lot, just to get you to write him a doctor's note. Hey! Not his fault that your public image is a Psychiatrist! That just makes your notes 100% legal! And you are this awesome boyfriend of his right? So.. please~ he promise to give you kisses if you do write it~

Although Harumasa seems to know he can't use this trick a lot and uses it sparingly.

The proposal? It's the grenade proposal. I'm sorry but it's cute and it kinda fits ZZZ's world building. Both of you are running from the Ethereals and have gotten cornered. What a bad day it was. You were just about to propose when Harumasa got a call for a mission, since you don't want to waste any time. You decided to help your lover so that you can finally propose when all of these are done. But no, the universe hates you and decided to do this instead and damnit! You lost the ring! Cornered with nowhere else to go you spotted a grenade not to far away. Acting out of instincts you took it, pulling the pin and saying your vow as you put the "ring" on Harumasa's finger.

He ruthlessly tease you about the proposal though. Saying something like "Took you long enough. And here I thought I would die first before knowing the feeling of a ring on my finger." and, "A grenade pin? Seriously? How come those men and women you "marry" for a mission gets an actual ring while I--you're actual lover--only have this? I'm hurt!"

In the end you did get him an actual ring. As he deserved.

----------

Despite usually being seen slacking off. Harumasa works hard on his missions. After all, there's a reason as to why he's a member of Section 6. Naturally.

Yet he's not invincible. Harumasa knows that better than anyone else. Which is why he is now lying in the hospital bed with a sore throat and a heavy chest. It felt as if he were to somehow lie in a wrong way he'll start coughing out a lung. But he doesn't have to worry. He has [Name}. And that man would go full on doctor on him in a heartbeat.

"You're an idiot sometimes." [Name] sighs, sitting on the chair by his lover's bedside. He can't believe Harumasa had willingly injected that thing. Onto him like that. Sure, he understands. Harumasa can't let that thing exist in the world. But seriously?! Did he even think for one second what could have happened to himself if he weren't this lucky?! What if it's a one time thing?!

"You idiot." He whispers underneath his breath.

Harumasa really has to be careful.. because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to him.. and that person, is him. [Name] Forger.

For all of his time as a spy. No one had ever made him feel so.. complete. The thought of settling down never crossed his mind. But with Harumasa.. he might just consider it. But..

How is he supposed to settle when the one he loves is constantly on death's door?

[Name] snapped out of his thoughts the moment he registered the warm feeling on his hand. Harumasa's on top of his. Turning his head towards him, [Name] saw Harumasa giving him a reassuring smile. "I know.. but I'm your idiot."

"Don't worry too much. I'm not going anywhere. After all, no one cares more about my life than me."

[luvst4rc0r3]

hi!! could you write jinx with a reader who’s an international student and like. severely homesick? a fluff comfort kind of situation thank you, i love your writing :)

“Homesick food”

Jinx x Reader

You stared blankly at your phone, thumb hovering over your messages. The last conversation with your family was still open. They had sent pictures—home-cooked meals, your siblings goofing around, the neighborhood you knew like the back of your hand. You had smiled when you saw them, but now, the ache in your chest felt unbearable.

Jinx plopped down on the couch next to you, snapping you out of your daze. Her knee knocked against yours, and she peered at you with those sharp blue eyes, head tilting. “Alright, spill. You look like a sad kitten, and I don’t like sad kittens.”

You sighed, pressing the heel of your palm against your eye. “I just… I miss home.”

Jinx softened instantly. “Oh.”

Jinx’s teasing expression softened instantly. She tapped her fingers against her thigh, thinking. “Oh.”

She didn’t tease or make a joke, which only made the lump in your throat grow.

That was it. No teasing, no trying to brush it off. Just a simple oh. Like she got it.

You had been trying so hard to keep it together, but it felt like everything was piling up at once. The exhaustion from constantly switching between languages, the loneliness of not having anyone who really understood your culture, the small, simple things—your favorite snacks not being in stores, the way people here didn’t say things the way you were used to, even the weather being different. It made you feel like you were floating, unanchored, like you were here physically but some part of you was still stuck at home, desperately trying to reach back.

And the worst part? You couldn’t just go back. You couldn’t teleport to your family’s kitchen table, couldn’t walk down familiar streets with your best friends, couldn’t hear the background noise of your home city. You had to stay here and push through it, and right now, that felt impossible.

The lump in your throat grew. “It’s just—I feel so out of place. Everything here is different. The food, the people, the way things work… Even when I try to have fun, it doesn’t feel right. And I know I’m supposed to be grateful for this experience, but—I just want to go home.”

Jinx tapped her fingers against her thigh, thinking. “Homesick, huh? Yeah, that sucks.”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

Jinx watched you for a second before suddenly jumping up. “Alright! You need a distraction. C’mon.”

You blinked at her. “What?”

“No time for questions, foreign exchange baby! We’re going on a mission.”

Before you could protest, Jinx was dragging you out of the apartment, practically vibrating with excitement. You half-expected her to take you somewhere chaotic—maybe a roller rink, maybe a rooftop where she could throw fireworks into the street. But instead, she led you through twisting alleyways and side streets until she pulled you into a tiny shop.

The smell hit you first—familiar. Your eyes widened as you looked around, recognizing the ingredients on the counter. It was a small, homey restaurant that sold food from your country.

“How did you—?”

Jinx grinned. “I did some research. And by research, I mean I asked people annoying questions until someone told me where to find this place.”

“Found it place a while ago. Figured you’d need it eventually.”

“How did you—?”

Your chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness. It was warmth. Jinx practically pushed you toward the counter, nudging you forward.

“Order everything, babe. We’re about to drown your homesickness in food.”

You laughed—actually laughed—for the first time in what felt like weeks. And as you sat across from Jinx, sharing food that tasted like home, you realized something.

You still missed home. But maybe, with Jinx, you weren’t so alone after all.

If you can’t tell for the reading I’m HUNGRY

I WANT FOOD

[arcadia-smith]

One touch

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: You’ve lived your whole life carrying pieces of others—memories, emotions, pain. A single touch is all it takes. You never meant to fall for Bucky Barnes. Not when one touch showed you the full weight of his past—every wound, every scream, every drop of blood spilled. But the problem with avoiding someone is that it only makes you want them more. And Bucky is just as drawn to you as you are to him.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Bucky's memories, kinda slow burn.

Note: Might be inspired by that one POV I saw ages ago. Finally, wrote smth on it.

You’re careful, always. Gloves in the winter, long sleeves in the summer, avoiding unnecessary contact. But you weren’t expecting to meet him that day. You weren’t expecting his steel-blue eyes, the hesitant way he reached for you, the calloused warmth of his palm.

James Buchanan Barnes. You thought maybe it would be something vague, like the usual flickering memories you caught from strangers—forgotten birthdays, the feeling of laughter in their ribs, the taste of their last sip of coffee.

But the moment your hand slipped into his, you knew you had made a mistake.

Pain.

It surged through you in an instant, stealing the air from your lungs, making your knees nearly buckle under the weight of it. The sharp bite of a knife slicing through flesh. The suffocating grip of restraints against metal wrists. The echo of voices shouting commands in Russian, the chilling sensation of being stripped down to nothing but a weapon. The screams. The red star. Blood, so much blood—on his hands, on his soul, dripping onto snow-covered ground. The sensation of metal replacing flesh. Terror. Rage. Regret. The unbearable weight of loss.

You ripped your hand away, eyes wide, heart hammering. Bucky was staring at you, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You okay?" His voice was rough, but his concern was genuine.

You force a smile. A lie. “Yeah. Just—just got a little dizzy.”

It’s the first of many lies.

You avoided touching him after that. It was difficult. Bucky's a tactile person, more than he realized. A hand on your back when guiding you through a crowded space. Sitting beside him on mission briefings, careful not to let your knees brush. You handed him files with your sleeves pulled over your fingers. You trained in the same room but always kept your distance. It was exhausting, this careful, deliberate avoidance, but you had no choice.

He was kind, in a quiet, unassuming way. He made you coffee in the mornings when you were both in the compound kitchen too early for anyone else to be awake. He told you about the books he had been reading when sleep didn't come. He listened when you talked, really listened, like what you were saying was the most important thing in the world.

He made you want things you shouldn’t.

But you knew what was inside him. You felt it. You felt him break, over and over again, and you didn't know how to hold that without breaking too.

Bucky wasn't just the things Hydra made him do. He wasn't just the broken memories and the pain. The way he always waited for you to enter a room first. The way he softened when he talked to Sam’s nephews. The way he looked at you sometimes, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

He remembered things about you, little things you barely noticed about yourself. And it terrified you because you were falling for him.

And worse? He was falling for you, too.

“You don’t like touching me.”

You froze, coffee cup halfway to your lips. You were both sitting in the compound’s common area, the glow of the city outside casting long shadows across the floor.

“I don’t like touching anyone,” you corrected.

Bucky didn’t look convinced.

"Steve told me you have some kind of.. gift or whatever he called it." He huffed.

"A gift," you shook your head. It was all but a gift. "i can see.. and feel... memories of a person, whenever I touch them."

“What did you see, when you shook my hand that first time?” Bucky questioned, not knowing if he really wanted to hear the answer.

You hesitated. He deserved an explanation, an answer, but how could you explain something like this? How could you tell him that touching him had nearly broken you? That you’d spent weeks trying to separate your own thoughts from the pain you’d absorbed? That even now, sometimes, you woke up gasping, ice spreading through your veins, memories that weren’t yours pressing against your skull? He didn't deserve that. After all he'd been through.

"You were quite a skirt-chaser back in the day." You shrugged, hoping he'd let go of the topic.

Bucky let out a short laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what you saw?”

You forced a smile, lifting your cup to your lips. “That’s what I’m telling you I saw.”

You weren’t sure if he was buying it, but either way, he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, stretching his metal arm along the back of it, close but not touching.

“You know,” he said after a beat, “I might’ve been a flirt, but I was always a gentleman.”

You raised a brow. “That so?”

“Absolutely.” He smirked. “Always asked for a dance first.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “How chivalrous.”

Bucky chuckled, but you could feel the shift in the air. He hadn’t forgotten your deflection. The momentary ease between you wasn’t enough to erase the unspoken weight of his question.

What did you see?

What did you feel?

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

The ice-cold metal of an operating table. The burn of a shock collar. The sting of a fresh wound being ignored, a voice barking orders in Russian. The absolute, gut-wrenching terror of realizing—over and over—that you weren’t in control of your own body.

And beneath it all, buried so deep it nearly went unnoticed—loneliness. A yearning for something, someone, anyone to remind him he wasn’t just a weapon.

You couldn’t tell him that.

So instead, you clung to the lighter pieces, the moments before the pain, before the war. The golden haze of 1940s Brooklyn, the warmth of laughter, the way the air used to hum with the promise of something better.

“Steve always said I was a pain in the ass back then,” Bucky mused, snapping you back to the present.

You glanced at him, offering a small smile. “Some things never change.”

That made him laugh, real and genuine this time, and for a moment, the weight in your chest lightened.

The next few days were a blur of subtle moments, quiet exchanges, and the uncomfortable tension that lingered between you and Bucky. You tried to keep your distance, pretending that everything was fine, but the truth was far harder to swallow.

Every time Bucky walked into the room, the pull was undeniable. You’d find your gaze drawn to him, and when he caught your eye, you’d quickly look away, as if your body was betraying you, desperate for something you couldn’t have.

And then there were the little things—the way his presence seemed to fill the space around him, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, like he was trying to break through some invisible barrier that you’d put up.

You didn’t want to feel that pull. You couldn’t afford to. Because no matter how much your heart ached to close the distance between you and him, you knew the consequences.

That afternoon, when you were leaving the training room, you almost collided with Bucky in the hallway. He stepped back just in time, his eyes flashing with surprise as you tried to regain your balance.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low but steady, his hand brushing your arm to steady you.

You froze. The moment his fingers made contact with your skin, everything came rushing back. The sharp pain of a bullet slicing through muscle, the flash of a bomb exploding too close, the heartache of losing everything that had ever mattered. The memories of the wars he’d fought, of the things he’d been forced to do, filled your mind so quickly you barely had time to breathe.

You pulled away instinctively, your body trembling, your chest tightening as you fought to keep it together.

“I—I’m sorry,” you gasped, avoiding his eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you might just break, and you couldn’t do that. Not with him. Not when you already knew the kind of pain he carried inside him.

Bucky took a step forward, his expression softening as he reached out, his hand hovering just shy of yours. “You’re not okay,” he said quietly, his voice full of concern. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, willing the storm inside you to settle. “I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Just… tired. Long day.”

Before either of you could say anything more Steve appeared at the end of the hallway, calling out to Bucky.

“You coming, Barnes?”

Bucky hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer, as if he was torn between walking away and staying.

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to Steve, before turning back to you. “We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

You noded and you couldn’t breathe until he was gone.

The next day, Bucky found you in the courtyard, sitting by yourself, your eyes distant as you stared at the horizon. He walked up slowly, as though unsure of how to approach you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t look up. “It’s a free country.”

Bucky settled next to you anyway, the quiet between you comfortable for a moment, but not for long. He was too aware of everything. Too aware of you.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

You shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” His tone softened, and you finally turned to meet his eyes.

“I told you, I don’t like touch. And it’s not something I can just turn off. And it's hard to be around you... when all I want to do is touch you, for you to touch me, kiss me..”

You got up on your feet but before you could turn, you felt the weight of his hand on your arm, gentle, but firm. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. His touch was warm, steady, nothing like the icy remnants of war that had scarred him, but you still felt the sharpness of his past pressing against you like a shadow.

You looked down at his hand, at the way his fingers barely brushed your sleeve. It was a simple gesture, but to you, it was more than that. It was the invitation. The risk. The question you both had been dancing around.

You swallowed hard, fighting the sudden wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. But when you met his eyes, the vulnerability there, the honest want for connection, it nearly broke you.

You wanted to pull away. You wanted to stop, to keep him at arm’s length, but something inside you shifted, and you found yourself taking a step closer, just enough for your fingers to brush against his.

The world tilted.

The memories flooded you—faster, sharper this time. The face of a man who wasn’t quite Bucky anymore, wasn’t quite the soldier he’d been. The ache of betrayal, the desperate longing for redemption. The faces of people he’d loved and lost, the quiet rage of a man who had been turned into a weapon and was still trying to find his humanity.

Your chest tightened as the memories crashed over you, and you gasped, pulling your hand away, stumbling back like you’d been burned.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice ragged. “I—I can’t…”

Bucky’s face twisted, a flash of pain crossing his features “I’m sorry if I—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “It’s not you. It’s me. I just… I can’t keep doing this.”

[holylulusworld]

The Captain and his bombshell (2)

Summary: Golden Boy in the streets – the devil in the sheets.

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Post Endgame) x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, bullying, cocky reader, self-confident reader, reader has powers, implied kinky/rough Steve

A/N: A drabble collection of cocky reader & kinky Steve.

Catch up here: The Captain and his bombshell (1)

Steve is following you again. He has done it since the night you talked to his latest one-night stand.

He still cannot wrap his head around the fact that you fantasized about fulfilling his desires. His cock stirs anytime he recalls your words and how you dismantled that woman.

“Fuck,” he tugs at his pants, already on the edge again. Lately, he’s obsessively beating the meat, desperate to find release. It’s no use, though. All he can think of is how your cunt would feel wrapped around him and that you’d make the sweetest noises only for him. “You can’t do this to her.”

He hides behind a corner, pulling his cap down low over his face. His eyes scan the area, searching, observing as you sit outside your favorite café to have tea and a few chocolate chip cookies.

Steve licks his lips. Can he risk joining you? What if you find out that he’s following you around town—and that your meeting at the café is no coincidence?

He shakes his head. No. This won’t work out. If he walks over to you now, you’ll see right through his lie. And maybe, the erection pressing against his pants will give away a little more than his lie.

Steve is about to leave when his phone starts ringing. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, eyes widening as your name flashes up on the display.

With shaking fingers, he unlocks his phone to answer your call.

“Hello?”

“Steve, it’s getting boring,” you chuckle. “If this is some kind of undercover mission, you failed. I already saw you when I left the building. So, come over and join me for tea, or go home.”

You end the call and look in his direction, winking at Steve.

He stares in your direction, unsure what to do. You caught him red-handed. Denial is not an option. “Go over, have coffee with her, and lie. You can just tell her that you wanted to buy books, scented candles, and cake.”

You watch Steve talk to himself, smirking as he looks nervous as hell.

It takes him several minutes before he finally crosses the street to join you for coffee.

“Hi, uh—doll,” Steve clears his throat as he stands in front of you. “How was your day?” He drops his eyes to the bags filled with the things you bought on your shopping trip.

“I think you already know,” you deliver your answer with a sweet smile. “Steve, for how long are you following me around town now?” Leaning back in your chair, you watch his eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bobble. “What kind of game are you playing, Captain?”

“I-I,” he swallows thickly. “I was wondering what you do in your free time. I like to explore the town too and wanted to join you. I didn’t want to ruin your day off and…”

“Followed me around town like a creep,” you giggle while crossing one leg over the other. You lick your lips, slow enough to let Steve watch your skilled muscle touch your soft pillows. “Who would’ve thought that Captain Rogers is a naughty man?”

“I—what?” He nervously runs his hands over his thighs. His hands twitch to touch and conquer your body. “That’s inappropriate, Y/N.”

You sip your tea, eyes trained on Steve. “Captain, this is the naughty truth.” You dip your head to look him up and down, eyes dropping to the prominent bulge in his pants. “You don’t have to be careful with me. I can take it all. I can take you.”

“Doll, I,” Steve almost breaks the armrests when you uncross your legs and slide your skirt up just a little to give him a good look at your exposed sex. “You naughty whore.” He almost growls. His eyes are black with lust when he leans closer to sniff in your direction like some animal.

“Can you smell me, Stevie?” you bluntly ask, eyes holding Steve’s gaze. “Do you want to know how I taste and feel around you? I wonder if you ever fucked someone who you did not forget the moment you slipped out of them.”

“I—I want you,” he jumps out of his seat, knocking the chair over, “to stop or I’ll…”

“What exactly will you do, Captain?” You bite your index finger as Steve steps closer to grip the armrests of your chair. He stares down at you, his pupils blown. “Put your big and rough hands on me to take what you want. I bet you want to bury that big cock into my cunt and make it your home.”

Steve pants heavily. He’s close, so close to creaming his pants as you slowly get up from the chair, your chest brushing his. You cup the back of his neck, smirking as you bring him down for a kiss.

“You are playing with fire,” he pants against your lips, unable to resist the taste of you. “Last warning, Y/N.”

“Well then, Captain,” you say, fisting his shirt. “Burn me…”

Tags in reblog.

[rosierin]

midnight snack run │atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; you all go for a late-night snack run then talk about your love life in the car park

a/n; for more fics including these four, feel free to check out my masterlist!!

The dorm was a disaster zone of notebooks, half-drunk coffee cups, and an open laptop playing a study playlist that no one was actually listening to. The four of them— Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, and (y/n)— were camped out in (y/n)'s tiny dorm room, attempting to cram for an upcoming exam.

Osamu, leaning back in his chair, suddenly sighed dramatically. “I’m hungry.”

Suna, barely looking up from his phone, muttered, “Shocker.”

“No, like starvin’. I need food now.” Osamu groaned, rubbing his stomach. “If I don’t eat in the next ten minutes, I might actually pass out.”

Atsumu, sprawled out on the floor with his notes abandoned beside him, snorted. “Ya just ate a whole bag of chips, fatso.”

“Yeah, and? That was ages ago.”

(Y/n), perched on her bed with a highlighter in hand, glanced at the clock. “The store closes in, like, twenty minutes.”

Silence. Then—

“Get in the car.”

Suna was already grabbing his keys.

The four of them abandoned their so-called study session, scrambling to throw on hoodies and slip into shoes before tumbling out the door. The night air was cool, crisp, buzzing with that particular kind of spontaneous energy.

They piled into Suna’s car, Atsumu calling shotgun before (y/n) could even blink. Osamu slid into the back with her, stretching out comfortably while (y/n) was almost squished between him and the door.

Suna adjusted the mirrors, deadpan. “If I get a ticket for speeding, you’re paying.”

Osamu scoffed. “I literally have no money.”

“Liar,” Atsumu chimed in.

Suna glanced at Osamu in the mirror. “Then I’ll make you do it in community service hours.”

(Y/n) grinned, already feeling lighter than she had all day. “Drive, Rintaro. We have a mission.”

"Yes ma'am."

After that, Suna pulled out of the parking lot, the radio humming low in the background as the streetlights blurred past. The night stretched ahead of them, quiet and endless, filled with nothing but open roads and the kind of laughter that only came with knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be. To anyone else, it was just a snack run. But to them, nights like these were something sacred.

Gazing out the window, (y/n) smiled. I wonder if the store has strawberry shortcake?

The store was quiet, a few last-minute shoppers weaving through the aisles before closing time. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as the four of them scattered in different directions, each with their own mission.

Osamu took approximately fifteen minutes trying to decide what crisp flavour he wanted, standing in front of the shelf like it was a life-altering decision. Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, he shrugged and tossed all of them into the trolley. “Problem solved.”

Atsumu, trailing behind, wrinkled his nose. “Ya gonna eat all that?”

“Not in one night, dumbass.”

“Ya sure? ‘Cause I’d believe it.”

Osamu smirked. “Unlike you, I can actually afford it. Some of us work, y’know.”

(Y/n) glanced over. “Oh yeah, how’s the restaurant job going?”

Osamu shrugged. “Not bad. Pays decent, tips are alright. Plus, I get free food sometimes.”

Atsumu scoffed. “Ya mean ya steal food.”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “No, I just happen to be really good at takin’ home leftovers.”

Meanwhile, Atsumu debated buying an energy drink, picking up a can and inspecting it like it held the answers to his future. “Man, I need somethin’ to keep me awake,” he muttered, turning it in his hands. “But this stuff ain’t good for athletes. Coach would kill me."

Suna, grabbing a bottle of water, deadpanned, “Then don’t drink it.”

Atsumu groaned. “But I need it.”

Suna shrugged. “Then drink it.”

Atsumu scowled. “Yer no help.”

Across the store, (y/n) stood in front of the ready-made cake section, practically drooling over the rows of neatly packaged desserts. There was a small strawberry shortcake in a plastic container that looked perfect— exactly like she had wanted— light, fluffy, and covered in fresh whipped cream. She reached for it, already imagining how good it would taste, but the second she checked her bank balance on her phone, she sighed and put it back down.

Suna, who had seen the whole thing, grabbed the cake without a word and dropped it into the cart.

(Y/n)’s face lit up instantly. She turned to him, beaming, and flung her arms around him in a quick but tight hug. “Rin, you’re the best! Thank you!”

Suna, unbothered, patted her head. “Yeah, yeah. You can do the intro for my dissertation.”

(Y/n) pulled back, narrowing her eyes. “That’s why you did it? Not because you love me?”

Suna pulled a face, considering.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, affectionately swatting his arm.

Suna smirked, amused. “C'mon it's a fair trade.”

"Whatever, Rin. I'll do half— max."

"Deal."

Atsumu, watching from a few feet away, clicked his tongue. “This is favoritism.”

Osamu snorted. “Jealous?”

Atsumu scoffed, crossing his arms. “No.”

(Y/n) turned to him, holding up the cake. “Did you want a piece, ‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu, suddenly unable to look her in the eye, scratched the back of his head. “I mean… I wouldn't say no..."

Beside them, Osamu and Suna exchanged a knowing glance, barely holding back their smirks. Once (y/n) was out of ear-shot, the latter smirked. "She's talking about the cake, right?"

Atsumu shot them a glare.

Can't they just give it a rest?

After finally paying for their haul, the four of them made their way back to the car. Of course, in true Osamu fashion, he had refused to buy a shopping bag, grumbling about how they “weren’t gonna scam him outta another ten yen.” Instead, he opted to carry his absurdly large stack of crisp bags and snacks in his arms, which, unsurprisingly, obscured his entire line of vision.

“Dude, you can’t even see,” Suna pointed out, unlocking the car with a click.

“I got it,” Osamu shot back, voice slightly strained as he tried to maneuver his way around the parking lot.

(Y/n) snorted, reaching out to steady a teetering bag of chips before it could hit the ground. “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

Atsumu, already munching on a chocolate bar, gave him a pointed look. “Ya look like a human vending machine.”

“Least I got actual snacks. All you got is a sugar rush and regret.”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes, taking an exaggeratedly loud bite just to prove a point.

Suna shook his head, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Hurry up before I leave all of you behind.”

Eventually, after much struggle (and Osamu nearly dropping half of his snacks twice), they managed to pile back into the car.

“Alright,” (y/n) sighed contentedly, cracking open a drink. “Snack time.”

Soon, the scent of junk food filled the space and as the vehicle fell into easy silence, Suna took the opportunity to scroll through his phone and open Spotify. He picked a song, letting it hum low through the speakers.

Next to him, Atsumu took one bite of his sandwich and crumbs exploded onto the seat.

“Dude,” Suna groaned. “Can you eat like a normal human?”

“Shuddap,” the blonde replied between mouthfuls.

Meanwhile, (y/n) was practically inhaling her strawberry shortcake, discussing how the tartness of the jam complemented the sweetness of the cream. Osamu nodded along, making muffled sounds of agreement through his own snack.

Atsumu gave them a blank look. “Nerds.”

(Y/n) just frowned at him.

Osamu flipped him the bird.

Then, Suna leaned back. “You guys got anything goin’ on in your love lives, or what?"

Osamu shrugged. “Talkin’ stage with a girl in my class. She's cute but I ain't feelin' it."

Atsumu swallowed his food, scoffing obnoxiously. “’'S'cause ya got no game.”

At this, everyone turned to him— unblinking— one eyebrow raised accusatorily.

Atsumu suddenly felt oddly small.

“You can talk, Mister One-Shot-Wonder,” (y/n) said accusingly. “Least your brother can secure himself a second date.”

Osamu folded his arms, looking awfully smug as she defended him.

Meanwhile, his brother pulled a face, indignant.

"Eh!? Where's this come from??" Atsumu asked, visibly insulted. "Also, I choose not to go on second dates."

A scoff. "Yeah, 'cause you sleep with them on the first date then never speak to them again."

There was somewhat of an awkward tension in the air as (y/n) scolded him. The world knew it was because she always hated how Atsumu handled women. Even after all her long-winded lectures about his dating life, he still carried on with his frivolous ways, advice falling upon deaf ears.

Osamu and Suna, however, knew better. Atsumu hadn't lied— he really did choose not to go on second dates. Not because he couldn't, not because others would lose interest. The simple, and only, reason for his 'one-shot wonders' was, in fact, sitting right in front of him.

Osamu debated easing the tension by making some sort of half-hearted joke, but just as he opened his mouth, his twin cut in.

“Listen, I'll go on a second date when I find someone worth my time."

And there it was— a perfect opportunity to shift the atmosphere.

"And who would that be?" Osamu probed, a knowing lilt to his otherwise measured voice.

Almost on cue, Atsumu tensed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

He leaned into his seat, suddenly unable to look anyone in the eye, his face burning as his twin and Suna watched him flounder in real time.

(Y/n), on the other hand, watched him expectantly, not saying a word.

Suna smirked, tilting his head. “What’s wrong, ‘Tsumu? Can’t think of anyone worth your time?”

Osamu feigned a concerned look. “Real shame. Maybe no one’s interestin' enough for ya, huh?”

(Y/n) watched them bicker, blissfully unaware of the real reason behind Atsumu’s silence. With a teasing smile, she nudged his arm. “Oh, c’mon, ‘Tsumu. There’s gotta be someone you like.”

Atsumu’s throat went dry. He swallowed hard, willing his voice to work. “I mean— I—"

The words got stuck.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, forever waiting.

Osamu and Suna, sensing his absolute distress, exchanged a glance— and then pounced.

“Aww, ya nervous, ‘Tsumu?”

“Wow, he actually can’t talk. That’s a first.”

Osamu nudged (y/n). “Maybe it’s someone real close to home.”

A frown.

Suna smirked. “Yeah, like, really close.”

Atsumu’s brain stalled.

(Y/n) stared at him, her expression shifting from amused to suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She frowned, feeling like an outsider in a conversation she wasn’t privy to. A fleeting thought crossed her mind— were they talking about her? No, that couldn’t be it. They were probably talking about the girl from their shared seminar, the pretty one who always asked Atsumu for his notes. Yeah, that must be it.

“I need some air,” she muttered, opening the car door.

Suna and Osamu exchanged a look— uh oh.

Atsumu shot them a glare— now look what you've done— before quickly slipping out of the car to follow her.

He found her a few steps away, perched on one of the railings where the trolleys were kept, arms crossed as she stared at the deserted parking lot.

“Oi,” he called out, a little softer than usual. "S'cold out here. Want my jacket?"

A hum.

Swiftly pulling his hoodie over his head, he draped it over (y/n).

"Thanks."

Silence.

“So… about earlier," Atsumu began, leaning beside her. He took several glances in her direction, only to find her staring straight ahead— which could mean one of two things:

A. She's pissed off. B. She's thinking.

Both were a reason for concern.

"They were just messin’ around. When are they not?" The latter part of his sentence was delivered with an unintentional scoff.

Finally, (y/n) glanced at him, almost making his heart leap out of his chest.

“Who is she?”

Atsumu hesitated. “Eh?”

“The girl." Her voice carried hints of hesitation, and Atsumu hadn't missed the way her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her— or rather—his hoodie. "Do I know her?”

Atsumu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… ya do.”

Her stomach twisted slightly. Atsumu always told her everything, but now it felt like he was holding back. Love lives were important. Why wouldn’t he just tell her? He usually did.

Atsumu shifted on his feet, gaze flickering toward hers before settling on the pavement. “I’ll tell ya when the time is right.”

A double meaning lingered in his words, but (y/n) didn’t catch it.

Not yet, at least.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. Atsumu watched her closely, then, as if sensing she needed a distraction, his lips curved into a smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted to get me alone, sweetheart, ya coulda just asked,” he teased, nudging her side.

(Y/n) scoffed, shoving him lightly. “Oh, please. If I wanted to be alone with you, it wouldn't be somethin' as boring as the middle of some dodgy car park."

Atsumu chuckled as (y/n) gestured towards the dark, empty stretch of tarmac around them. “You sayin' I ain’t excitin’ enough for ya?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto her lips. “Not even close.”

Atsumu hummed, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something softer. “That so? Guess I gotta work harder then.”

His hand came up suddenly, flicking her nose.

(Y/n) made a small noise, scrunching her face as she swatted at him. “Hey!"

He laughed a little louder this time, dodging her attempts to shove him away. “Has anyone ever told ya how adorable ya are?"

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” She tried to sound annoyed, but the laughter bubbling in her throat betrayed her.

Atsumu grinned. “Nah, ya love me.”

Before she could fire back, a loud honk shattered the moment.

They both turned to see Suna sitting smugly behind the wheel, his hand resting lazily on the horn. Osamu, in the passenger seat, rolled down the window.

"Oi, quit flirtin’, you two. There's a boxed mac and cheese waitin' for me at home,” Osamu called, sounding comically urgent.

(Y/n) groaned, shaking her head at the latter while Atsumu let out an exaggerated sigh. “Can’t get a moment of peace ‘round here.”

Still, neither of them argued as they trudged back to the car, a lingering warmth between them that neither was willing to acknowledge just yet.

As soon as they got in, Suna cranked up the stereo, and (y/n) immediately perked up at the familiar song. Without hesitation, she started singing along, Osamu harmonizing lazily beside her.

Atsumu cleared his throat, eyes ablaze. “Suna, turn this shit up."

Suna wordlessly complied, huffing a laugh through his nose as he watched the trio sing in the rear-view mirror.

And just like that, the tension melted, laughter bubbling up between them as they sped down the empty streets, the city lights stretching endlessly ahead.

[onceuponanotherassumption]

You’re a mess I’m a mess and that’s alright (Jason Todd x Reader)

Masterlist

Note: Jason gets injured during a mission and reader’s there to patch him up.

•

•

•

Of course it had to happen on a night when she wasn’t assigned to patrol. An hour after her shift at the hospital ended, she got a call to head straight to one of Bruce’s safe houses. That only meant one thing, someone was hurt.

“Sorry for making you come all the way here, an ambush was the last thing we expected to happen.” Dick gestures for her to come through.

“Don’t be silly,” (y/n) discreetly eyes his body for any sign of injury. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“Just a few cuts and bruises, no biggie. Jaybird got the worst of it though.” Dick nods over to the hunched figure sat on the couch, looking half-conscious yet still alert of his surroundings. “B and the others are still out there dealing with the aftermath, I’ve already scouted the area. You guys should be safe.”

“Just go, they need you.”

“Thanks (y/n), I won’t be long. Take care of him for me!”

As the door closes to a shut, she makes her way to the small living room where Jason was. His helmet was off, momentarily forgotten and thrown to the side.

“Jason…” (y/n) approaches him with a worried sigh. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Go ‘head, doll.” He managed to answer. His brows furrowed as he grasps the edge of his top, pulling it over his head. Among the old scars and fresh cuts that littered his sculpted torso, (y/n) immediately finds the source of his discomfort.

His shoulder.

The area looked as if it were hastily bandaged, most likely Dick’s doing while they were still out fighting. With his permission, she slowly unravels the messy knot of the bandages. Blood was starting to stain them, so she quickens her pace. She couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the deep gash on his shoulder, rummaging out a bottle of disinfectant from her bag.

“What caused this?”

“Some…kind of dagger—fuck!” Jason hisses as a damp cloth comes in contact with his wound.

“Keep talking.” She gently ushers, her free hand coming up to caress his warm cheek (hoping to distract him from the stinging pain).

“Penguin’s men were all carrying these modified weapons that he smuggled from Bludhaven.” Jason continues, his own hand resting atop of her own, eyes closing as he tries not to think about whatever (y/n) was doing. “One thing we didn’t take into account.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else…?” Jason looks up to find (y/n)’s displeased expression. He’s reminded once more of how she hated seeing him hurt. He wordlessly wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her closer, with the intention to placate her worries.

“Probably broke a rib…’m not sure.” At least he thinks he did. He’ll know for certain once the adrenaline wears off. Until then, he was content to bask in his girlfriend’s presence right in front of him.

“Anything else…? Like a fever, perhaps.” It wasn’t even phrased as a question, (y/n) already knew the answer. From the moment he started acting very clingy with her (not that she disliked it), to the odd warmth radiating off his body that was akin to a fireplace.

“Uh…maybe?”

“I knew something was off last night, the air conditioner was running but you were sweating like you just went out for a run.” And she called herself a doctor, (y/n) internally scolds herself.

“I thought it’d go ‘way on its own. Sorry, doll.” He confesses.

“You really need to stop hiding stuff like that from me, but that’s not important right now…I need to bandage your shoulder again.” She however struggles to reach an arm out to her bag on the floor, having to slightly bend down since Jason had no intention of letting her go. “I can’t get my—ah!”

Out of consideration, Jason (with his fever-addled mind) opts that the best way to assist her was to lift her up onto his lap. He holds her close, grabbing a clean roll of bandages from her bag and discarding it beside him. (y/n) definitely wasn’t expecting that, eyes wide at how close their faces were. She would’ve been embarrassed, had she not been accustomed to their close proximity on a daily basis.

“This isn’t helping your shoulder, Jason.” She attempts to escape his grasp, trying to avoid aggravating his injury further.

“Trust me, doll. It’s helping me plenty.” He tightens his hold around her, forehead pressed against her shoulder.

“Fine. Just hold still…” Never in her entire career as a doctor had she ever attempted to dress someone’s wound in such a compromising position. If her colleagues had seen her like this, she would probably lose her job (a bit of an exaggeration on her part).

Granted, it didn’t really matter. She won’t be a doctor for much longer, not that Jason was aware yet. It wasn’t that difficult for her to part from her job, she had no emotional attachment to it in the first place. It was after all, only done to keep up ‘civilian appearances’ after an incident years ago where her identity as a vigilante almost got leaked out. She preferred to be out fighting with Jason and the others, it offered more of a thrill than having to treat the sick in a room that smelled strongly of disinfectant. And that way, she could keep a closer eye on him.

“I know it’s unfair of me to ask this…” The hesitation in her tone must’ve spoke volumes, Jason doesn’t waste a second to lift his head to meet her gaze.

“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.” He combs his fingers through her slightly unkempt hair.

“Please try not to get hurt again.”

“Try, huh? Only if you do the same.” He didn’t make any word of promise, and she understood why. Their line of ‘work’ was a huge risk in itself, they were bound to get injured whether they liked it or not.

“I’ll try my best, Jay.”

“That’s my girl.”

[girlcrushart]

Madelaine Petsch has always been super duper gorgeous. So very very beautiful—that's undeniable. And honestly she has also always been very hot. The two don't necessarily go hand in hand. There are lots of girls who I find beautiful but not necessarily hot, and vice versa, even. But Madi is both. And, as far as I'm concerned, she seems to be getting hotter tbh. Like, over on kat-eleven I posted a little video clip of her and suggested that her level of hotness has hit "unfair." See for yourself, if you don't believe me. I don't do many native posts over on that blog—it really is mainly for reblogging. But occasionally I'll see something on a different site and feel the need to bring it over to tumblr bc that's where all the good things are. So I notice when things I post there get some attention, and that clip of Madi is getting some attention. Clearly she's on some kind of mission to increase the hotness just for me tho, because this outfit, which is some kind of one-piece held together by what can easily be assumed to be an extra long zipper which has already been pulled down to exactly the correct position but would clearly be mind-blowing to be able to pull down however far it could go, combined with those knee-high boots? Fuck. Fuckity-fuck fuck, even. Yep, unfair. Today's girlcrushart guardian is Madelaine Petsch.

[agentmarvel]

something in the way you lay - preview

oh, look! jj has another wip while she procrastinates finishing another chapter of bury me. part of the prologue.

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

premise: you are selected to serve as a functional free-use assistant to the 141 while they hunt for makarov. actual progress on this post.

♡

Laswell doesn’t do drop-ins.

Traveling from Langley to a safehouse in Middle of Nowhere, Romania isn’t exactly convenient, especially when it has nothing to do with the mission at hand.

Her knocks come in quick succession, a rapid trio with all the force and finesse she’s known for. The boys startle; their captain had neglected to mention her visit when he received word. He settles them with a wave of his hand before palming his Desert Eagle and cracking the door slowly.

“John,” she greets firmly, a large manila envelope tucked beneath her arm.

“Laswell,” he responds in kind, opening the door wider and ushering her in. “Cuppa?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She’s welcomed by the all too familiar scent of gunpowder and sweat as she follows him into the kitchen, acknowledging the rest of his team with a curt nod before taking a seat. Price refills the kettle and kicks the stovetop burner on before settling it. A clean mug awaits on the counter. He drops a fresh bag in unceremoniously, the only item that seems to stay permanently stocked in the stashes.

“How’d this last one go?” she asks, folding her hands together on the table top. John hums affirmatively, but non-committal as he says nothing. It stays silent until the kettle begins to whistle. He wastes no time pouring the steaming water into the cup and pushing it towards Kate, noting a regrettable lack of milk, honey, or sugar.

“And your mom? How’s she?”

“Laswell, as chuffed as I am to see you, I know dear Auntie Kate didn’t just decide to pop in to check on her wayward nephews. Let’s skip the small talk, shall we? Why are you here?”

“Right. Do you recall the pilot program we discussed a few months back?” He nods once. “The test runs were successful. Seven operatives cleared training, and the teams involved saw a marked improvement in performance. While the 141 isn’t exactly underperforming, the next mission is not going to be easy. It’ll be long, grueling, stressful. You’ve done this dance with Makarov before, and you know how hard it is. Having relief options would be ideal. I’m not going to force you, John, but I’m going to strongly recommend that you consider allowing one of my operatives to temporarily step in. We can always pull them out if they become a distraction or if they’re proving not to be beneficial.”

“What’s in the envelope?”

Kate smiles, albeit a little crookedly, as she lays it flat on the table. Her palm settles atop the folder.

“Say yes, and you’ll find out.”

John huffs, scrubbing a hand over his beard. He’s weighing the options, she can tell. This bunch takes the threat of Makarov quite seriously, given their shared history. Can they afford a distraction? No, but that’s why she reserves the right to pull her agent at any time. 

John knows she won’t ever hesitate to pull the trigger, literally or metaphorically. After a few silent moments of flipping through his mental rolodex of risks and reservations, he concedes.

“Alright, Laswell. I’ll bite. But I catch even a whiff of something being off, with them or my team, they’re gone. Understood? I’m not taking any chances on missing that bastard again.”

“Understood.”

Kate slides the envelope across the table. John takes it, finger sliding beneath the loose edge of the seal, awaiting her confirmation. She provides it with a tilt of her head, and he tears through the thin flap. From inside, he produces a septet of photos and lays them across the table. Reaching back in, he retrieves four black portfolios, neat gold spine pins gleaming back in the low light of the kitchen.

“While I’m sure your tastes vary, you’ll need to select an agent cooperatively.”

“What’s all this about?” Garrick inquires, peering over John’s shoulder.

“Ask her.”

Those dark, warm eyes find hers, silently asking again.

“Three years ago, the CIA began work on a program to provide a more efficient form of stress relief to SpecOps groups. Tension and trauma tend to build over time, especially on longer missions, and instead of forcing teams to endure, we were looking for a better way to expel that energy. Intimacy proved to be the best method; sex boosts endorphins, promotes better cognitive function, better sleep, and decreases stress and anxiety.”

“Yer offerin’ us a government issue hooker?” MacTavish chimes in, one eyebrow cocked curiously. Ghost scoffs behind him, arms folded across his chest.

“No.” She has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m offering you a resolution. Statistically, you’re more likely to catch Makarov with one of my operatives assisting.”

Ghost begins to protest, ready to argue his reticence, but Price is quick to silence him, noting it’s worth a shot if it helps put a bullet between that fucker’s eyes. Begrudgingly, he settles back against the wall. Laswell can see the cylinders in his head firing voraciously, smoke practically pouring from his ears as he bites his tongue.

MacTavish and Garrick share a look of agreement and simultaneously lean forward to view the photos. In unnerving synchronicity, they point at the same one. Price chuckles, humming his agreement. He lifts the page, holding it up for Ghost, who grunts out a gruff ‘yeah’ in response. The picture is handed back to Laswell. She pauses.

“Are you sure?”

Price nods.

“Quite like some soft curves ‘round here.”

“Good. You’ll have 48 hours to complete the forms inside the folders once you return to base. STI tests are scheduled in med bay for all four of you tomorrow morning. You will not miss them.” She looks Ghost in the eye, and he nods. “I’ll meet you stateside Saturday morning to introduce you to your new assistant.”

“‘nother safehouse?” Garrick asks with a grimace. Kate nods.

“Unfortunately. At least it’s one of the nice ones. Wouldn’t want her first impression to be soured by meeting at a rundown shack in the middle of the woods.”

[eeerrrrewsd]

The Way You Move

Miles Morales x Reader – Fluff

The first time Miles saw you dance, he forgot how to breathe.

It wasn’t even anything flashy. No big performance, no stage lights or music blasting through speakers—just you, absentmindedly swaying to whatever was playing through your headphones while you flipped through a textbook at the library.

He had only stopped by to attempt studying, but suddenly, his brain had zero room for physics equations because—damn.

You were cute.

And he was smitten.

Fast forward a few weeks, and somehow—somehow—Miles had managed to worm his way into your life. Well, maybe not worm—you kind of just let him in. He didn’t question it.

Now, he was sitting on the rooftop of your apartment, watching as you danced under the city lights, arms loose and movements effortless, completely in your own world.

You twirled, then turned to him with a teasing smile. “You’re staring, Morales.”

Miles felt his face heat up. “What? No—pfft, I was just—uh—observing?”

You snorted, reaching for his hands and tugging him up. “Come on.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

“Oh, nah,” Miles chuckled nervously, taking a step back. “You don’t want that. Trust me, my moves are—uh—strictly limited to head bopping and occasional foot tapping—”

“Okay, first of all,” you said, crossing your arms. “You literally swing across the city. You move better than half the people I know.”

“That’s different,” he protested. “That’s—like—life or death movement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then consider this life or death.”

“…You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re stalling.”

Before he could protest, you grabbed his hands again, lacing your fingers with his. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, starting to step side to side.

Miles swallowed hard, awkwardly mirroring your steps. “This is humiliating.”

“This is adorable,” you corrected.

He groaned, but the sound turned into a laugh when you suddenly spun him around. “Wait—wait, I didn’t agree to twirls—”

“You look cute spinning,” you teased, then tugged him back toward you, nearly making him stumble.

His hands landed on your waist instinctively, steadying himself.

You grinned up at him, close enough that he could count your eyelashes.

“See? Not so bad.”

Miles blinked. Suddenly, his brain stopped functioning again.

Because wow.

You were literally right there, looking at him with that smile, holding his hands like he was something special, like you wanted him there.

And—oh no—was he staring at your lips?

Abort mission.

Abort—

“You good?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Uh-huh,” Miles said quickly, voice an octave too high.

You bit back a laugh. “You’re cute, Morales.”

His heart did a backflip.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, looking away to hide the burning in his cheeks.

You giggled, letting go of one of his hands to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

Miles short-circuited.

“That was for actually dancing with me,” you said, grinning.

Oh.

Oh, he was so done for.

“Y’know what,” Miles said, recovering quickly, “you owe me another dance now. Properly.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Properly?”

He smirked, already starting to move his feet. “Yeah. I think I just figured out how to do this right.”

Before you could question it, he smoothly spun you around, then pulled you flush against him, arms wrapping around your waist.

Your breath hitched. “Miles—”

“See?” he teased, voice lower now, a little more confident. “I can move when it matters.”

You swallowed, heartbeat suddenly way too fast.

“…Okay,” you muttered. “That was smooth.”

“Yeah?” Miles grinned.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile softened as you leaned your forehead against his.

The city glowed around you, but for once, Miles wasn’t looking at Brooklyn.

He was looking at you.

And that—you—was his favorite view.

[infinityandmore]

Doomsday | S.G.

I only feel alive if I'm in pain....so here's some angst :)

I made Satoru into kind of an ass sorry :(

The silent pitter patter of the rain only worsened my mood, almost like Tokyo knew what I was thinking and decided to set the scene like this was the climax in a rom-com, except this one won't have a happy ending.

It was exhausting dating a sorcerer even more when he happened to be Satoru Gojo, constant missions and trips only seeing him briefly in passing, things worsened when Geto betrayed him, and he inevitably had to kill his best friend to save the future of the world, what I didn't expect was the backlash, the endless nights of guilt-ridden tears and misplaced anger, in short I had become the equivalent to an emotional punching bag.

I hoped he would get better, with time and patience and a soft kind of love that even the most bitter person would break under, but it was never enough, Satoru would always take and take whispered sweet nothings in the blanket of night turned into venomous words in the jarring daylight, so that left me sitting in our shared apartment a packed bag containing my clothes and half my self-respect waiting at the door the last fight from a few hours ago replaying in my mind like a broken record.

"You wouldn't understand" His gaze falls on me, impossibly bright blue eyes digging into the deepest parts of me almost like he was looking for more ammunition.

"Then help me understand 'Toru" I look at him my eyes desperate, he came home in one of his moods the kind he only gets in when he's stuck between a bad decision and a worse one.

I walk up to him reaching for his arm, but he steps back almost like my touch was filled with some flesh-eating disease.

"I can't, you're nothing but a bakery worker, you wouldn't understand what it takes to be me." the blow lands exactly where he aims it, my chest deflating, I turn scoffing slightly my eyes welling with tears I refuse to shed.

"I've been with you for six years, and somehow you only have a problem with me being a non-sorcerer when it's convenient for you." I turn to look at him his gaze hard, he had come into my bakery, a new shop I had worked myself down to the bone to open up, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and penchant for something sweet, I found him coming in daily until he asked me on a date.

"Yeah, and maybe, it was a mistake asking you out" I rear back as if he slapped me, blinking eyes looking into blue ones searching for a hint of doubt but only finding resolution.

I turn holding onto the cold marble counter, feeling for something to tell me this is real, that this was the killing blow in a year's long battle, he breezes past me, a muttered 'I'm going out' and the slam on the door nailing the last nail in the coffin that was our dead relationship.

The lock clicks, a soft jingling of keys signaling he's home, I turn watching as he gazes down at the packed bag, it was night now, I was expecting the soft whispers and half-assed apologies as he thrusted into me until dawn.

"You don't mean it" His voice is merely a whisper, and I stand willing myself to take whatever resolve I have left and take the first step out of this toxic cycle.

"I do" I drop my set of keys on the marble counter, his eyes meet mine swimming with hurt like I was the one that pulled the trigger in this fucked up series of events.

"You're just giving up? Just like that?" He steps forward and I step back, his face falling knowing he didn't have me under his thumb anymore, I pick up the bag the weight whispering for me to put it down and take whatever he's willing to give me.

"This ended a long time ago Satoru, don't make it hard" I walk past him, he scoffs grasping at straws to rein me back in like I was an animal that forgot its training.

"I love you, I'm sorry" those five words stop me, the combination something he used before to placate me, I turn to him my eyes tired of putting up a fight.

"Take care of yourself Gojo" I close the door behind me, making my way out of the apartment building that held me captive for six years, stepping out into the rainy night, somehow, I felt both half dead and like I just started living at the same time.

'Doomsday is close at hand, I'll book the marching band to play as you speak, it's only the death of me'