#it’s so late and I needed to be asleep two hours ago

[trippinsorrows]

trials of love + one

authors note: how does that saying go? we listen, and we don't judge? well, let's apply that to ari, please. 😭😭😭

one of two maybe? probably. hopefully.

this is a beauty and the beast retelling hands down.

warnings: a tiny bit of fluff, tiny bit of smut, and a hell of a lot of angst

words: 3.5k

song inspo: evermore by josh groban

gif belongs to the wonderfully talented @dejameflorecer

Solana is anxiously chewing down on her bottom lip the moment she hears the front door open and guards greet the man she’s been waiting on all day. Longer than that, but for this particular thing, it’s been just the past few hours. 

Hours she’s spent slaving over the stove, preparing various dishes, doing her absolute best to make sure they’re up to par for Roman’s standards. Wanting, needing to make sure everything is just right, because there’s a small part of her hoping they can actually sit down and have dinner together. Something that’s yet to happen since they wed. 

And, it’s less about sharing a meal together, and more about just talking. They’ve barely done as such since that night, and she has so many questions, and remains just so confused regarding just what happened that night. What changed so drastically between the moment she fell asleep, his arms around her, her head on his chest, and when she awoke the following morning to an empty bed and a voicemail message from Roman’s chief advisor, Paul Heyman, simply stating: “The Tribal Chief has business out of town to attend to. He shall return in a few days.”

Just thinking back on it has her clearing her throat, needing a distraction to avoid trickling back into that dark space.

Looking over her outfit once more, an outfit she took an hour to settle on, she uses one of the pots to check her reflection. She’s never really been that great with makeup—that was always Isabella's thing—but she tried. 

A common theme for her lately.

Trying.

It’s all she really has at this point. She turns the knob on all the burners, allowing the food to simmer versus continuing to heat up when the footsteps become louder. Louder and closer, and then finally, he’s here.

Solana finds herself momentarily distracted. 

Roman is easily one of the most beautiful men she’s ever come across. Tall, broad shouldered, body sculpted by Zeus himself, piercing brown eyes that feel like they’re peeking into her soul, and beautiful, silky black hair he seems to prefer pulled back and out of the way. A true masterpiece of a man. 

If only that beauty extended beyond appearance.

She clears her throat and holds her hands behind her back. “H–hi.” Roman’s gaze is neutral, borderline uninterested. Somehow, it doesn’t deter her. “I—I made dinner.”

To be fair, she’s made dinner every night since the day they said “I do.” And most nights, the food has gone cold given Roman’s return time varies from day to day. When he does return home, that is.

His expression is unchanging. “Okay.” To say she’s disappointed by his indifferent response is an understatement, even if she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t, because this man has been everything but existed or uninterested from the moment they met only two months ago. Outside of that night. “Not hungry.”

Her shoulders drop at the same moment her throat starts to feel heavy. “But, I—I made all this—” Solana gestures around the kitchen to the various meals she’s prepared and slaved over since early this morning. “I did all this for—”

“Did I ask you to?’ Is his harsh reply, the cruelty of his tone crushing to her prior hope. Hope that maybe, somehow, tonight would be different. That he wouldn’t be so….him.

A foolish thing, clearly.

Roman turns to leave, and she should let him. Should take some satisfaction in watching him walk away, providing a deprivation from the heaviness he seems to always leave her with in their interactions.

Well, not all of them.

For a brief moment, she’s taken back to their wedding night, to the insane and unfamiliar pleasure he brought her. A night she was so nervous about but ended up thoroughly enjoying, only to wake up alone and confused, not seeing or hearing from her husband again for three days. Three days that ended with his return as an almost completely different person than the man who was so kind and patient with her for her first time, for their first time.

“Roman….” Her nails dig into his back, her hips lifting to meet him thrust for thrust, a hunger on both ends that can’t seem to find relief nor release. The depth of him inside her is almost too much yet oh-so addictive. That sinful, partially painful, mostly pleasurable feeling of him driving in and out of her. 

And then he stops, Solana frowning, dislike and confusion abundant.

Pulling out of her, Roman shifts their positions, moving so that he’s on his knees as he pulls her on top of him, effectively entering her again.

“Oh my—” Solana gasps at the sudden re-entry. Her fingers move to his scalp, tugging at his locs, forcing his head back as he guides her on top of him. She forces her mouth shut, trying her best to remain calm, quiet almost. The wrong thing, clearly.

“Naw….” Roman presses his lips against the slick skin of her shoulder. “Let me hear you. I wanna hear how good it feels.”

Good seems like a poor adjective compared to what she’s experiencing. “Mmmm.”

His deep baritone voice chuckles underneath her, those big, strong hands squeezing her ass. “Words, sweetheart. I like words.”

He may like them, but she can’t really speak them. Not right now, at least. “Pl—please.” She whines as he alters his pace, cruelly dragging her across his length, angling his hips so he’s hitting a certain spot inside of her, a critically sensitive spot, that has her eyes watering.

Roman’s lips pepper along her temple, “that’s it….” He continues this awful, wonderful thing, clearly enamored by the sight of her unraveling before him. Roman says something in a language she doesn’t understand. But, his next word is in English unmistakable, affirming, and every bit possessive. “Mine.”

But, that man is gone. Or, maybe he never really existed, and it was all a cruel ruse.

She’s not quite sure which would be worse, at this point.

“What—what did I do?” A soft, vulnerable question. One that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s the perfect opportunity to retreat, to leave it at that and let him leave, but she doesn’t. She can’t. “What—what did I do to make you hate me so much?” Because that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s what she feels. 

Like he hates her.

“I—I—” Her voice catches, Solana helplessly shrugging as he turns around, countenance unchanged despite the emotional crumbling before him. “I—I cook for you, I clean, I—I don’t—I don’t ask you for anything, and yet, it’s—it’s never enough.” And since she’s already on this one way street. “And you brought—you brought that woman here the other night.” For the first time, Roman gives some indication of a reaction as he lifts his chin. “Who—who was she?”

His eyes narrow, his voice even. “You don’t get to question me.”

An unsurprising response, but one she can’t seem to sit with. “I’m your wife.”

Not that that seems to mean anything to him. 

“In name only,” he gruffly replies. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

The sharpness of his words is a deep cut into the sensitivity of her soul. A sensitivity she feels dying out every day that passes living in this house, a kindness about her being swallowed by an unfamiliar feeling.

Hate.

“Roman…..” She shakes her head, eyes closing, a battle between hurt and anger. “I am in this country by myself. I don’t have anyone else but—but you—”

And that’s what does it for him. Makes him, requires him to silence her, to get off this conversation.

“Look,” he cuts into her, both literally and figuratively. “I don’t know what the fuck you think this is, what your expectations are of this, of me, but shit is clearly off base.” He steps forward, and Solana finds herself moving back. “This is an arrangement. I only married you so that I can have an heir. I didn’t want a wife, and I still don’t.” It’s confirmation of what she was already suspecting, but God, does it hurt. “We’ll fuck when we have to and talk when we need to.” It takes a tremendous amount of restraint for her to hold back the tears that are beating at the door of release. “It’s obvious your parents failed to teach you what an arranged marriage means, and that’s on them, so let me teach you now.” Again, he steps forward, his voice dangerously calm as he lays down the unchanging law. “I do what and who I want. You can do the same. I don’t care, so long as you’re safe and don’t embarrass me.” Something flashes too quickly in his eyes for her to process. “Understood?”

She doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything. Not without breaking down before him. Thankfully, by some miracle or maybe some long-awaited mercy from God, she doesn’t have to worry about that. 

Because he turns to walk away, leaving her alone.

Only then does she break down, crying in her hands, uncaring any more of, anything, really.

—----------

Roman hisses when he hits the bag one too many times, feeling a sharp pain in his wrist. He curses quietly, inspecting it, already knowing he doesn’t require any medical attention. Just rest. If only that was something he was capable of. 

If it was something he could have right now, but he can’t. Not with so many thoughts racing throughout his head, not entirely unfamiliar given who he is and what he does.

But, it’s different this time given the content matter.

Solana

His wife. 

The woman whose devastated countenance is something he can’t scrub away from his memory. The gutted look on her face as he so cruelly laid out the reality of their marriage, a reality she was obviously unaware of. A reality that, any woman, would be crushed by.

He tries his best to remind himself that it’s not his fault her family didn’t teach her what an arranged marriage in the crime world constitutes. That it’s nothing but a business arrangement. No feelings or love involved. Just fucking and contracts. Everyone knows that.

Well, not everyone.

Roman sighs, shutting his eyes. He shouldn’t be so surprised. The woman who now shares his last name was a quiet, reserved, passive thing from the day he met her. It annoyed him then, but for some idiotic reason, he figured he could deal with it. Figured she’d be seen and not heard. And she has in many ways, mostly because he continues to go out of his way to avoid her.

Bit, it’s when he can’t that he’s hit with all of it. The kindness. The niceness. All of this unfamiliar shit he doesn’t know what to do with.

The same way he still doesn't know what to do and make of what he felt on their wedding night, a large contributing factor  as to why he continues to avoid her like the plague. Has not allowed himself to touch her, having to settle for the women on his roster, all of them having nothing compared to what filled him as he filled up his wife that night.

There’s something strangely calm and comforting about having her body right next to his, tucked under him, her hand on his stomach and head on his chest.

Roman traces absent patterns against the back of her arm when she asks, almost nervously, “is it….normal to be….so tired after….you know?”

A small smile falls on his handsome face. Her innocence is also unfamiliar but almost intriguing. “With me, yes.”

Her exhaustion after one round, albeit a thorough round, might be something to work on. A natural thing that will improve, her stamina that is, as their sex life grows. And truth be told, given this was her first time, Roman can say he’s slightly impressed by how well she matched him. Her hunger for him. A hunger he most definitely reciprocated.

“Hmmm.” She buries herself further into his chest, and his smile drops. There’s a postcoital warmth about this, about them laying in bed together on their wedding night, him having taken her virginity, and consummated their marriage that feels…..different.

Rarely, if ever, does he engage in pillow talk, so a part of him wonders if that’s it. Not to mention the fact in all of his sexual escapades, never has he fucked anyone raw. Too risky, especially with his extensive list of sexual partners. 

But this, tonight, with her, his now wife, there was no protection. An expected, normal thing given the whole purpose of the marriage.

So maybe it was that.

But, even with that possibility, there’s this small part of him in the foreground, that feels, almost knows, it’s something else.

Something he’s never felt before with a woman. 

Ever. 

“What does your middle name mean?”

It’s the last question he expected her to ask, especially given how exhausted she clearly is, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless.

“Chief,” he answers, partially curious what brought about such a random thing. “Why do you ask?”

She peers up at him, Roman briefly taken back by her beauty. She’s easily the most stunning woman he’s ever come across. “My abuela always says you can say a lot about a person by their name.” The corner of her lips lift into a small, almost playful grin. “I guess yours is fitting.”

He chuckles. “I guess so.” Cursorily dwelling, he asks, “what does yours mean?” And then it hits him, while the priest used his full name during the ceremony, he’s almost certain only her first and last name were used. “What is it anyway?”

Her smile falters, her cheeks tinged with a redness. “I—I don’t really like telling people.” The redness deepens. “It’s….it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Now, he’s even more curious. “How?” She doesn’t say anything, looking down. Roman reminds, more from an informative place than anything. “You know I can find out anything I want, right?” A true statement. He’s not sure if there’s anything in this world he can’t find out if he tries hard enough, and finding out his wife’s middle name is pretty high up there on the list of ease.

It’s an effective reminder, Solana answering in a small voice. “It’s Esmeralda.” The smile on his face is inescapable as she groans quietly, forehead against his chest hiding her pretty face. “I told you.”

“Isn’t that that girl from that kids movie?” He asks, having to dig deep into his limited recollection of movies. “The one with that ugly fucker?"

“Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Sure.”

He’s certain he can feel her smiling against him. She then lifts her head, explaining, “it’s actually a Spanish name. Means Emerald.”

Roman says nothing, watching the twinkle of the moonlight in her light brown eyes. 

He moves his hand to her face, thumb brushing against the apple of her cheek. “Fitting….”

Roman closes his eyes. 

He’s tried to push it away. Fuck it away. But imagining her, pretending it’s her body under him doesn’t do shit to satiate his need. A need that starkly contrasts the equally strong desire to stay away from her.

Roman can’t afford to be in that space.  A space where nothing exists except her. It’s too addictive, too captivating, too dangerous.

She is dangerous for him, which is why, until he figures out how to compartmentalize shit, he’s gotta keep his distance.

No matter the gnawing guilt that chews at him for being so cold with her. 

It’s…..it’s for the best. 

Roman calls it the end of his workout and grabs the towel, moving it around his neck to absorb the sweat he’d built up. Phone in one hand, he walks out his home gym, not bothering to open up the unread texts from Sam, Sasha, Bianca or Jade, his finger navigating to his inbox.

He’s halfway down the hall when he hears it. Hears faint voices. Keenly tuned in, Roman redirects his focus from his phone in hand to following the source of the voices, a journey that leads him outside of the door of one of the random, unused bedrooms in the house.

“Oh, mija, we miss you so much. Maybe we can come visit you soon.” Somehow, Roman instantly recognizes the voice. Alma. Solana’s mother. 

“I’d like that,” is Solana’s soft reply. “I—I miss you guys, too.”

Roman frowns. Solana missing her family seems like an understatement. They all seemed so close, Xavier holding his daughter for a good five minutes at the end of the wedding when it was time for them to leave. It’s obvious how connected they all are.

Someone, a woman, a different voice, says something in Spanish, prompted by Solana speaking again, “mommy, can I talk to Isabella alone?” 

More Spanish from all three women and some distorted noise on the other end and then a firm, “okay, she’s gone. Now tell me right now,  Sola, what’s really going on?”

Roman waits for a response, knowing it’s wrong to eavesdrop but also not caring. 

And then he hears it.

A quiet little sniffle that quickly and easily morphs into something tremendously bigger and heavier.

Crying.

Solana is crying.

“I wanna come home, Isabella,” she whimpers. Roman’s eyes shut, his jaw clenching for reasons unknown. “I—I hate it here.” Something that shouldn’t shock him but still fills him with something unidentifiable. “I hate him.”

To overhear someone say they hate him is a tale as old as time for Roman. He’s like by few and hated by more than many. Par the course. But, there’s something about hearing it come from her that doesn’t settle right with him.

That feels….wrong. 

“Solana….” Isabella, Solana’s sister, is every bit empathetic and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry. I would give anything to come take you from there. Has he….has he hurt you?”

“N—no.” Roman can practically picture the way Solana must be rubbing at her eyes, trying to discard away any evidence of the heaviness that weighs her down. “N–not physically anyway.” He’s far too interested and invested, waiting on the edge of his mental seat for her to finish. To know just what she thinks of him, even if he knows damn well in no universe could it be anything remotely good.

Not when she just said she hates him.

And, he right.

“He’s so mean to me, Isa. He—he won’t talk to me, he barely looks at me, and—he’s sleeping with other women.”

Isabella gasps. “What?”

“He had one of them here the other night,” is her quiet, almost embarrassed response. Roman leans back against the door, unaware of why he doesn’t just walk away and deprive himself of hearing all of this. Of feeling all of this.

“That son of a bitch,” Isabella curses. “Hermana, I’d do anything to come take you from that place. You don’t deserve that.”

Silence

And then the tears.

Hearing Solana cry so heavily, feeling almost the weight of her hurt and pain is a newfound experience for Roman, stirring up an emotion he rarely, if ever, feels.

Guilt.

He feels guilty.

“I’m so lonely,” Solana sniffles. “I have no friends. No one to talk to. No job. I’m so far away from you all. I barely ever leave the house. I just—” She’s stopped, silenced by the sound of a dog barking and then whimpering. “Dulce.” There’s such a heavy sorrow in that single word, one that anchors down his frown even deeper. “I miss you so much, baby.”

The dog cries even harder, Isabella saying on the other end, “we’re gonna figure this out, Sola. Okay? I promise.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, and he’s grateful. Grateful for the brief moment of silence that allows him the almost permission he needs to walk away. To at least grant her some privacy given there’s not much else he’s given her.

Nothing good, at least.

Roman ends up upstairs, in his master bathroom, shower running as he leans against the counter, unable to shove away the sound of Solana crying and the image of her looking so devastated in that kitchen.

Because of him.

All because of him.

And while there’s so much from that one overheard conversation to sit on, Roman, for whatever reason, can’t get over how much harder Solana cried seeing the dog. The way the dog cried with her. It has him wondering something he needs answered.

Pulling out his phone, he hits dial and listens to it ring three times before the other person picks up.

“Hello, My Triba—”

“Does Solana have a pet back home?” Roman doesn’t have time for introductions and shit.

His Wise Man answers almost immediately. “She did, but I made sure to inform her family that the Tribal Chief doesn’t like pets, so—”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Roman snaps. Paul isn’t entirely wrong. Roman has never been big on animals, but to separate Solana from her dog seems….cruel. “You should have fucking asked me.”

Paul stammers on the other end. “I—I apologize, sir. I—”

“I want her dog here by the end of the week.” Roman announces only to think about it, to think about how broken she seems. “By the end of tomorrow.”

“But, sir—”

“Make it fucking happen,” is Roman’s final directive before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the counter. Head thrown back, he closes his eyes.

This marriage shit is about to be a lot harder than he realized.

[outerbankies]

hi bestie. i still often think about your cowboy rafe you mentioned agessss ago 🥲

yeehaw.docx

in your love - rafe cameron

synopsis: an early morning on the ranch in cowboy!rafe’s back house, after you both finally acted on your feelings the night before

The sun hasn’t even crested the mountains when his early morning movements about the back house wake you. A squeaky door hinge into the bathroom, the run of the shower, a few taps on the sink from his toothbrush.

Rafe smells of aftershave and a laundry detergent-fresh shirt when you do finally stir, squinting at the red numbers on the digital clock beside his bed. You push yourself up slightly as he comes to sit at your feet, only one boot on.

“S’everything okay?” you ask.

“Can’t find my damn — ah, there it is,” he says, pulling the other out from under his bed, where it’d been lost under where you were sleeping. “Mornin’.”

You realize a beat late he’s leaning in, embarrassed by your half-asleep state. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, tucking a tendril behind your ear as he pulls away.

You spot a blush on his cheeks as he does, his hand falling from your face with a thumb-brush to your bottom lip. “Sorry for the early wake-up call. Thought you might want a ride back to the main house.”

You’re still bleary from sleep, head spinning slightly from his kiss and how it stirred up last night’s memories, a couple of bourbon gingers and his hand on your thigh. Childers — from a goddamn CD — playing in his truck on the drive from the bunkhouse, his lips everywhere as soon as the front door shut behind you.

“This is your normal wake-up time?” you marvel, still in so many ways ignorant to his life.

Rafe must find it endearing, chuckling. “Truthfully, been up about an hour or so. Coffee’s on in the kitchen if you want it.”

You nod, pushing yourself up straighter, stretching your arms over your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just gimme a sec and I’ll get up. When do you need to head out?”

“Should be soon. But I’m sure Kelce and the rest of them are sleepin’ in a bit this morning,” he says with a wry smile.

You shake your head, picturing the Kelce you saw with an empty 30 rack of Coors on his head last night at the bunkhouse up at this ungodly hour.

You’d only had two drinks at the bar in town, and barely polished off half of your nightcap at the bunkhouse before Rafe had whispered in your ear about leaving the rest of the hands to it.

You’d watched as Rafe barely drink all night, wondering if he’d been intentional about it as you had.

The blue work shirt — clean, pulled fresh from a drawer last night — you wore to bed falls off your shoulder just then, Rafe eyeing it with a smile as he pulls it back up.

“You’re killin’ me,” he practically whispers, pecking your cheek.

You’re emboldened by the effect you must be having on him, by the fact that he had been limiting his drinking last night for one goal in mind, by the way he should’ve left already and he’s still here being sweet to you.

You kiss him again against your better judgement, knowing it’ll make the ride back to the house that much more tense. But you can’t help it.

“You really have to go?” you question, your hand brushing against the shaven-smooth skin of his jaw.

“Cattle won’t push themselves.”

“When’ll I see you?”

“Dinner tonight?”

You shake your head. “Going into town with daddy.”

“Where?”

You just shrug. “Some hotel restaurant I think? It’s a business dinner. Lucky me.”

He nods. “I’ll bet it’s The Smythe. Nice place. They can make you that fancy drink you tried to order at the bar last night.”

Rafe presses a kiss to your cheek, no doubt feeling the heat on them. “A dirty martini is hardly a fancy drink.”

But his laugh reverberates in your chest when he tucks his face there, so you don’t necessarily mind the teasing, your hand moving to the back of his head, fingers threading through the still-damp strands at the back of his neck.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you realize you want him to stay there forever.

“If you say so,” he says.

You stay like that, stroking the back of his head for a moment. Pressing a kiss to the side of his head, you say, “I should really get up. So you can go.”

“Stay,” he says suddenly. “Have your coffee, or go back to bed. Just stay, and I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, and any inquiry you had into whether he meant it dies on your lips.

“A few hours?”

“Before you’re even up again,” he promises, pressing a kiss that feels final to your lips before he stands.

You sink down into his covers before you can decide if it’s a good idea, watching as he pulls his jacket off the coat rack in the corner, your own from last night hanging right beside it.

Had you not been still half-asleep, the smile he throws you after putting his hat on before passing through his bedroom door would’ve been grounds to beg him back into bed.

“Back soon!” Rafe calls, the front door slamming shut.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Rescue" Leon Kennedy x Reader

(A/N: And so I finally write down an idea that’s been cinematically in my mind then made it a soulmate au. Leon Scott Kennedy is back in action! What happens when he realizes he’s closer to his soulmate while on assignment?

Warnings: angst, strong language, canon violence and imagery descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and use of (Y/N) for your name.

Word Count: 4,145 words)

~~~

~~~

Mornings set the tone for the rest of the day. On most days. The hours ahead were hopefully to be positive ones. Your day started incredibly early. On purpose and with intention. Around you, wall were white and decorated with monochromatic modern art. Metal chairs were arranged in a rectangular fashion with an empty coffee table in the center as you sat. No magazines or pamphlets to entertain. Each step taken by others on the tile floor echoed in the lobby. There were no conversations or passing comments to fill the space. The sound of your breathing was louder than whatever the receptionist was busying herself with behind the tall desk. Just about ten minutes, you thought as you checked your watch. Talk steady. If they don’t mention a start date, ask. They definitely need more people for data entry. You got this. On your lap, you nervously spun a metal ring around your left index finger. The circular crystal embedded into the metal was currently light blue. Pretty normal. A sign you were not too far nor too close enough to your soulmate. If it was a mood ring the color would had signaled you were possibly calm. Despite your nerves, you felt good about the day ahead. It was an opportunity for something new.

. . .

Rumbling and the occasional bounce of the vehicle were unfortunately the only normal occurrences in Leon Kennedy’s day. Passing into the edge of a town, the team of agents were in route to a facility. A science center in appearance, there was nothing in advancement happening that late morning. The Umbrella Corporation made sure of that. An alert of bioweapons sightings came in two hours ago. To make matter complicated, not all civilians had evacuated the building. So saving any civilians was added to the to-do list. If Leon could save someone, he’d at least smile. “ETA: Two minutes.” The driver called out, another agent. Leon glanced out the small window. All geared up, his vest held nearly every weapon and tool he would need. Beside his watch on his left wrist sat a personal item, a metal bracelet. Both sturdy and a comfort on dark days. Its small crystal within darkened into a deep blue, almost purple. A little too close, Leon thought and hoped it would lighten by the time they moved in. The man could only hope.

. . .

“Shit.” Leon grimaced as he reloaded his gun. The lobby was trashed and blood-stained. Broken chairs and other bare furniture was scattered across the floor. Added a freshly eliminated infected. “Hate to see the break room.” Based on the intact entrance doors and windows, the bioweapons’ forced entry was not through the front of the building. Chris peered around and stated, “I’ll take the right side and sweep the first floor. You take the left.” “Got it.” Leon headed down a hallway. Its usually closed door was splintered across the tile. He avoided stepping on any debris that would crunch under his boots. There was no telling how many infected were in the building. Not until the other agents checked in. After taking a quick look at his watch, Leon registered the drastic change in color on the crystal bracelet. “Oh, fuck.” Leon sighed and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Not here. Why do they have to be here?” Steadily checking the hall, all his senses were alert for danger. His mind, however, was tumbling with the worst questions. What if you worked for Umbrella making bioweapons? What if you were a bioweapon, infected and doomed? Just make it quick, Leon thought somberly.

. . .

Adjusting yourself quietly off of your half-asleep leg, you leaned against the tile wall. Hunched in the back corner of the largest restroom stall was turning into a new, unwanted activity. I should’ve left as soon as the interview was over, you thought for perhaps the twelfth time in the past two and a half hours.

Over your time hiding, screeches could still be heard every so often. Piercing and making your blood run cold. Always when hope of it being gone rose in you, your heard it. Frightening and disheartening. You counted yourself lucky. For your quick thinking and for having your phone on silent, you were still alive. Too bad the cell signal sucked on the third floor. If only your heartbeat was the loudest sound that morning. How is this evening happening? You wondered as you counted the tile again. Feeling distressed would sure to wreck havoc on your system later. Raising your head, you swore you heard a sound. Please be nothing. The sound grew faintly louder. Soles of shoes out in the hallway. You remained silent. Not knowing who or what rampaged through the building after your interview left you at a disadvantage. One you were well aware of. At first, you had suspected an armed attack to the company, however blood-chilling roars proved otherwise. I wanna go home. You thought, still as stone on the floor. You were not about to meet any creature face to face. Bipedal or not. Small thumps shook the main door of the restroom. Is someone trying to come in? How well could that lock above the main door hold for?

THUMP ping WHAM

You covered your mouth as you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Hello?” A deep voice called out. “Is anyone in here?” Heart beating rapidly, you did not dare to move. Could you trust the stranger? This random man? How long were you intending on hiding in a stall? Bending lower, you observed dark boots slowly making their way into the restroom. A room with five stalls. “Listen, I’m here to help.” Likely, you thought suspiciously. “It’s too dangerous to be in here,” he said three steps closer. “We’re on orders to rescue civilians.” And he totally knows I’m in here. Government or something? “My name’s Leon. I can get you out of here.” Fine. Fine. Okay! “Are those things still out there?” You asked in a broken whisper. Fear and hours of silence effecting you. “Yeah.” “Crap.” “Tell me about it.” Your eyebrows pinched together. Didn’t expect him to say that. Easing yourself up to stand, your body was more than a little relieved to be off of the cold, hard tile. You took a steady breath. As quietly as you could, you unlocked the stall door and peered out. Icy blue eyes regarded you immediately.

“I’m Leon.” Said the man with dirty blond hair. A bulletproof vest covered his torso and overall distracting from his casual clothes. “Are you all right . . . ?” “(Y/N).” You answered, trying really hard not to glance a the gun he held. With all the other ‘tools’ on his person, he seemed pretty legit to you. “Is . . . everyone else hiding too?” Lips pressing together, Leon glanced away for a moment. Oh, no. “We still haven’t done a complete sweep of the building yet, but the team has found others.” He stated. “I’m sure they locked themselves in their offices if they didn’t run out.” “Do you know who’d be in an office now?” “I have no idea.” You said honestly, “I was just here for a job interview.” His eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh yeah?” His tone was steady. “Guess I’ll keep looking.” You shrugged. “I hope you have better luck next time,” Leon turned back to the open door. “Let’s get going. Stay close.” “Okay.” What choice did you have otherwise but to follow him? You were ill prepared to observe the aftermath of whatever happened. The eerie emptiness and scattered belongings throughout the hall. Maybe this guy was your ticket out, your guarantee of going home. Anything was better than your earlier options.

Leon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said ‘sweep’. With his weapon ready, he checked every open room. Thankfully nothing scary showed itself. “Any chance they gave you a tour?” Leon asked as he glanced up and down a hallway. “No. But they have some pictures on their website.” “Helpful.” “Not really,” you whispered. Glancing over his shoulder, Leon gave you an amused look. Oh. Good sarcasm. You tore your gaze away. An open door down the hall became occupied uncannily fast. So quietly. Someone leaned against the doorframe. Stepping out, their professional attire looked wrong, hanging where it shouldn’t. A gravely, strangled breath carried towards the pair of you. Leon turned with aimed precision. Remaining still, you felt coldness creep up your arms. Something was very wrong. The person hobbled into the hall with unblinking eyes and a strangled screech. Their pace increased as they angled in your direction.

BANG

You covered your ears a second too late. What used to be an employee laid in an unmoving heap on the tile floor. Discolored and inhuman. “What happened to them?” You asked with a shaky voice. “They’re infected,” answered Leon as he turned down the other half of the hall. You kept up without missing a beat. “So a zombie?”

GRRAAAH!

Two more infected raced out from the open room behind you. Jaws slacked and fingers clenched forward like claws, they targeted the pair of you. “Crap,” you exclaimed. Before you could move anywhere, Leon had opened fire on the infected. Aim perfect and practiced. The threats were down before your heart rate raised too high. Grumbling under his breath, Leon went forward to inspect the room. “Stay right there.” He advised as you remained by the hall’s intersection. “Sure.” Freaking zombies, you thought. Out of everything -- anything. Zombies. Briefly, you peered around and thankfully nothing moved. Leon’s handling this well. Maybe zombies aren’t new? And real. You cringed at the thought. Witnessing and knowing what had rampaged through the building earlier wasn’t a comfort. A bit of scary closure maybe. “All clear in there,” Leon announced as he joined you. “We’ll see the rest of the floor and meet back up with the team downstairs.” “Cool.” You breathed out a short reply. “Don’t worry,” Leon assured you, “I’ll get you outta here.” “I appreciate it. Really.” He sent you a small smile. It warmed the hope in your heart.

The rest of the hall held knocked over seating areas and ignored art. Beyond it was a closed set of doors. Unlocked and probably designed with fire safety in mind. Leon paused as he reached one of the doors. Does he hear something? You dared not stand too close. Not that standing near your new acquaintance was disagreeable. Simply, you did not want to be in his way.

WHAM

“Leon!” You jumped back against the wall. On the floor with growling and grunting was a struggle of alarming visuals. Both Leon and an terribly disfigured infected fought for purchase, for an upper-hand. For survival. Frantically watching over Leon with increased anxiety, you didn’t move. You didn’t even scream. Should I kick it? With a frown, Leon hit the infected back to get out one shot. It was enough. Leon scooted back before rising to his feet. “You all right?” He turned to you. “Me? Sure. You?” “I could use some pizza later.” Leon said as he cautiously entered the section of the hallway. “Sounds good,” you added as you followed him and dearly hoped your stomach wouldn’t start vocalizing its agreement. Especially after witnessing that frightful fight.

Glancing around, the plain walls gave a stark contrast to what could be lurking behind every door. Every unexplored corner. “We almost made a full circle,” you announced as you spotted a familiar elevator at the very end of the hall. “Then we’re out of here and --” “What?” Leon’s arm came up to block you from moving forward. A well defined, muscular arm. You didn’t notice anything abnormal. Yet that didn’t make you feel any less hesitant of what lay ahead. So you elected to stand behind Leon. “Show yourself.” Leon called out with his gun raised to a doorway. “If they’re still human.” You whispered.

Steadily with raised hands, two people in business casual attire walked out of an office. They appeared healthy. Definitely unnerved in their situation. But human nonetheless. “We just want safe passage out,” said the taller of the two men. No duh, you thought as you brought yourself to stand beside Leon. “Then stay close.” “Who are you?” Asked the second man wearing glasses. “I’m Leon Kennedy. I’m on orders to --” “Rescue us?” Interrupted the first man. “Let’s not waste time.” “Right.” Leon subtly turned to check on you. Blue eyes giving you a quick once over. You gave a brief, if not tiny, smile of encouragement.

The faster we’re out of here the better. At least those two had each other. You thought as you followed Leon across the echoing tile. “Which department are you from?” You glanced over your shoulder to notice the shorter man directing his question to you. “Oh, I don’t work here,” you answered. Both man shared concerned frowns between themselves. Therefore, you followed up quickly with, “I was here for a job interview. For data entry.” “And you didn’t do it from home?” Asked the taller man. “I . . . didn’t see that option.”

Being as the men asked no more questions, you set your sights straight ahead. Thankfully, stepping around a trashed bulletin board. You kept closer to Leon than your new group members. Definitely not going to work at any place associated with this one, you thought as all of you reached the end of the hall. Stealthily, Leon crept into a stairway and quietly beckoned the three of you onward. “We’re three floors up,” whined the taller man behind you. “I’ve never not taken the elevator.” “Good time to try them out,” commented Leon as he headed down stairs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Better than ten flights of stairs, you thought to yourself. Even better with Leon leading the way. He probably did the ground floor too. Hope of safety and freedom, you lively took each step. Easily done even with two grumbling men following after you. You’d think they’d be more thankful. They work here! You frowned. Did they call for help? “Uh, Leon?” You inquired. “Yeah?” He paused to look up to you. Patience in his eyes. “Are there any more of those . . . things in the lobby?” “There shouldn’t be.” “That’s not very confident,” sneered the shorter and obnoxious man. You rolled your eyes. “Let’s keep going,” Leon announced and took two steps at a time.

With the door to the lobby in sight, you were anxious to see if the rest of Leon’s team found other survivors. Surely, there were people who weren’t infected. What do we do when we’re out? You wondered. Were other buildings attacked too? You swallowed dryly. Where does Leon go?

SLAM

Yelping, you peered above as a broad shouldered infected burst through the second floor’s door. “RUN!” At Leon’s order, you rushed passed him to the door. In seconds, you were back in the same lobby and surrounded by broken furniture as your heart pounded in your chest. Electing to head towards the reception desk was your first thought. The front entrance was further off and a little too good to be true. “Hey,” you stumbled as the two men pushed passed you. The men did not utter a word to you nor did they let up their speed. They knew where they were going. They knew where to hide. Both heading towards a far door. But what if they run right to a zombie? Fear rushing through you again, you made your way to the tall desk. After checking inside the space, you entered through the unlocked door. You were safe for the time being. Just wait for Leon. That’s all. You thought as you tried calming your breathing. He’ll be fine. We can go home. I can, you corrected yourself. Everything will be fine. Quietly, you sat on the cushioned chair. You’re safe. Just breathe. Besides your breathing and heartbeat, you did not hear anything else. A relief for sure until you immediately considered your new friend. The brave man you left in a stairwell alone with some monster. Your stomach dropped as you remembered him being tackled earlier.

“(Y/N)?” Called out a familiar voice. “Leon,” you exclaimed happily and jumped out of your seat. In another breath and a few echoing footsteps, Leon was in front of the receptionist desk. A smirk soon curving his lips. “Rethinking a job position?” Leon asked with raised eyebrows. “No.” You hastily exited the tiny room. He didn’t appear injured. “Where are the others?” “I think they took the stairs.” Pointing off in the direction they had gone, you asked. “Are they going back up?” A frown creased Leon’s concerned expression. Their actions troubled him. “They could’ve left, right?” You glanced towards the entrance. “Yeah . . . So why go down to the basement?” “There’s a basement?” Icy blue eyes regarded you. “Not that I’m scared of basements,” you said quickly. “We can check it out. Maybe they’re stealing or something.” “We have to get you out of here.” “Them too. Who knows what they’re doing? They might need help. Not with stealing hopefully.” Expression softening, Leon nodded. “Come on. Stay close.” “Will do.” You whispered with a determined nod of your own. “Not too close to step on your heels though.” “Heh. That’s the least of my worries.” “But everything should be good now, right?” “Let’s hope.”

Together, Leon and yourself made a beeline for the basement door. An easy task even with knocked over display cases of assorted business accomplishments and dead infected in your path.

Despite everything, you thought, at least Leon is easy to get along with. The lady who interviewed me was . . . seemed bothered to talk. Oh well. Coming up to the door, Leon raised his left hand to the handle. It was then that you finally noticed his bracelet as you stood mostly behind him. A crystal so dark a shade, you nearly mistook it as onyx. You took a quick glance at your ring. “Oh.” Heat rose to your neck. “Yeah,” murmured Leon over his shoulder. “Some first meeting, huh?” “Yah think?” Of all other things to happen today. My soulmate is rescuing me from zombies? What the heck is going on? You blinked and asked without another thought, “You knew this whole time?” “There was no one else in the restroom.” “Touché.” Stepping back, you observed Leon peek beyond the door. You weren’t quite sure what to make of the indistinctive sounds coming up. Leon did. Grabbing his walkie talkie, he communicated the news to his team. Something about an umbrella and biological weaponry. The others advised a warning regarding the two employees. What is his job exactly? Efficiently and quickly, Leon checked over his gun and remaining supplies. Set for another round of sweeping. “Stay here,” he ordered firmly as he pushed open the door. “But--” “Here.” You sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine, but come back in one piece. This place has made me nervous all morning.” “Then we’ll have lunch somewhere else.” In a blink of an eye, Leon was out of your sight. Every minuscule sound afterwards made you jump or hurriedly check your surroundings. Being alone again activated the rest of your fear. It was a wonder how being in good company, very capable company, eased your worries. He’s my freaking soulmate, you thought as you attempted keeping your breathing even. And he’s down there with two strangers or fighting off infected like a regular Thursday for him. You sighed again. Tuesdays suck.

. . .

“Damn it,” Leon leapt out of the way. A basement of a science center should had been much quieter and clear than how Leon found it. Somewhere behind a generator, the two men -- scientists -- were terrified and hardly conscious. In the open area beyond, storage containers stood a large infected. Slender with thick legs, the infected had a new target. It lowered to the floor with a deep growl. Just my luck, thought Leon. Thankfully, the experienced agent was more motivated than usual. With Chris and the rest of the team on the way down, they’d be finished in no time, which left good news in regards to his soulmate. You were alive and well. Leon was determined to keep you safe no matter the danger. “Who’s hunting who, pal?”

BANG BANG BANG

. . .

Anxious and heart rate moderately high, you remained close to the basement door. Nothing came in or out of the lobby. All around you had remained silent as chaos erupted beyond the closed door. Half an hour of not knowing what occurred in the basement felt like two hours worth of unnerved twitching. Is the whole basement full of infected? You thought as you fiddled with your ring. What if one comes out? What if Leon doesn’t --? “Ah.” You nearly jumped a foot back as the door opened and a team walked out wearing protective vests. Not one could you recognize. Each armored and live human eyed you before heading to the exit. Even the two men from earlier were dragged out. Weird. You thought, expecting someone to at least converse with you for security reasons. “Uh…” Despite the clear lack of danger, the situation appeared all the more odd. Confusing too. Less odd, thankfully, when a familiar dirty blond haired man stepped out into the lobby. “Leon.” You rushed up to him without a second thought. A little beat-up with red marks, Leon turned in your direction. “How are you not one bruise?” You exclaimed. “Give it time.” Leon smiled. “Are you okay?” You asked. “A little hungry, but fine.” You shook your head. “You’re something else, you know that?” “In a bad way?” “No… Different in a very…unexpectedly impressive way. If that makes sense?” “Heh.” Leon rubbed the back of his neck. He is pretty handsome, you thought off-handedly. “So, if all’s well, what now?” “We get out of here.” He answered simply before adding, “medical checks, debriefs, reports.” “I’ll take that over infected.” “Me too.” Icy blue eyes studied you softly. All seriousness and survival focus faded away. He was Leon Kennedy. A man who probably did not expect to find his soulmate amongst entering chaos. “Leon!” A muscular man called from the entrance. “Let’s go!” Without a word, Leon and yourself headed out of the building. Armored and unmarked vehicles were pulling into the parking lot. An organized sign of clean-up. It was going to be okay. You survived and your soulmate found you when all was terrifying. The rest of the day lay ahead. “So…about lunch?” Leon murmured.

. . .

Music smoothly filled your living room as a movie played with interruption. Something calm and a little nostalgic. Just what you needed. Days had gone by after all the checkups and documenting of the events that had taken place at the science center. You hadn’t even looked at your résumé after that. On a brighter note, the ordeal had placed your soulmate in your life. When each document had been signed and you were free to go, you were able to start getting to know each other in a domestic setting. No infected sightings. No upcoming job interviews. Both of you were completely safe and quite comfortable. Relaxing on the couch, you found solace in being all snuggled into Leon’s side. Cozy and cared for. He had an arm wrapped around you as his other hand played with the soulmate ring on your finger. Together and alive. You counted yourselves lucky. Situations could had been extremely different. Over the past week or so, nightmares plagued your sleep and made days uneasy. So having Leon, your soulmate, who completely understood helped. Life didn’t have to be all scary. Neither of you needed to run from one day to the next. You were able to take things slow or any pace you desired. All would be okay. Leon had promised safety. You had no doubt he meant it.

Nudging your head against Leon, you caught a glimpse of his smile. Like a sunrise. “Leon.” “Hmm?” “We could pretend we met in a grocery store or something.” “Oh, yeah?” He pulled you closer. “Like during a holiday rush. It gets wild…I’ve heard.” “Which aisle?” You snickered, “Toilet paper aisle.” “Nothing says ‘want a date’ like two ply.” “Homemade pizza does.” You kissed his chin and was rewarded another smile from Leon. “You had me at ‘not really’. After I asked if they gave you a tour.” “That’s so random.” “You were just being you. How could I not like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a soulmate thing?” “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what it’s called.” Gently, Leon leaned in to kiss your forehead. His smile curved against your skin. “I’m just glad I found you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @bumblebeesfromvenus @c4rl40n4 @d333athw1sh

** Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[ricky-mortis]

It’s the perfect place for a picnic!

[thepandalion]

ok hot take that's been sitting in brain for a while now but like... why are we as a society normalizing and even glorifying not getting enough sleep?

like, maybe it's just because I medically require 10 hours of sleep so as to not straight up go unconscious at random points during the day, but I see people talk about how staying up until 2am is "amature shit" and you can do with less

guys. sleep is great. its so important and not getting enough sleep can fuck you up so bad on so many fronts. stop bragging about getting no sleep all week. the fanfics will wait. I have previously tried staying up to 11pm once to finish a fic, didn't even finish it, then fell asleep at work for 4 hours. over a half our of missing sleep

for that matter we should also yell at workplaces that make it harder to get necessary sleep

like. people on call 24 hours. doctors and stuff pulling all nighters and 24 hour shifts and stuff. that's not bragworthy. thats fucked up

[ylangelegy]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[reidswhre]

on your shoulder; spencer reid x fem!reader

sumamary: based on the episode of "the office" where pam falls asleep on jim's shoulder!

warnings: pure fluff!! early seasons spencer!

a/n: just a lil reminder that my request are open! you can go and send me some 🫶🏼 also english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

You loved Aaron Hotchner, no doubt he was an amazing boss, and you had no complaints about him. The problem started when he organized those... little meetings, which, well, could be kind of boring.

And honestly, you hadn’t been sleeping well these last few days either. There was a lot of paperwork left from the cases that had to be dealt with immediately, which didn’t really help your sleep schedule.

Right now, Hotch was giving a talk about... hmm, you weren’t sure. Maybe about victimology or something like that, but you were way too tired to pay attention.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice came from your left, it was Spencer sitting beside you.

“What? Yeah, yeah, of course,” you yawned. “I just haven’t slept well.”

“I figured. You should try to get some rest, not sleeping decreases your attention, concentration, and memory. Plus, it lowers your work performance. It can even cause anxiety or depression,” Reid explained.

Your eyes opened wide. “What?! Depression?! Spencer, no way. I’ve just stayed up late a few nights, I’m fine.” You chuckled and leaned back in your chair, almost looking like you were going to fall out of it.

“It’s okay,” he said, watching you.

He used to take his time watching you, not in a creepy way, at least he hoped not. It was more like you sparked his curiosity, he thought you were really pretty.

He saw you fighting to keep your eyes open, which you were definitely losing. Your eyes were closing, your lashes falling down, and your cheeks had a lovely blush to them that you probably added this morning. You looked beautiful.

Spencer felt your head drop onto his shoulder, and he immediately tensed up. The scent of your shampoo hit his nose, it smelled fresh and sweet, just like you.

He relaxed a little, letting you rest for the remaining part of Hotch’s magnificent meeting.

You opened your eyes after a while, feeling a bit lost. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” You lifted your head when you realized it had been resting on Spencer.

“Don’t worry about it, it didn’t bother me.” He gave you a small smile, the kind where he kept his lips closed.

You looked around and realized no one else was in the room except for the two of you. “Where is everyone?” you asked Spencer, confused.

“They, uh... well, they left,” he said, looking away. “The meeting ended.”

You gasped in surprise. “What? How long ago?”

“Not long... maybe half an hour,” he said, finally looking at you.

“Half an hour?! Spencer, why didn’t you wake me up?” You could feel the embarrassment filling every inch of your body. You had been asleep on him for more than half an hour?!

“I... well, you—” He stumbled over his words. “You looked comfortable and... you needed the rest, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? I was bothering you! I’m so sorry, seriously.” You were too embarrassed to think straight.

“What? No, no, really, it wasn’t a bother at all, never would be.” He gave you a sincere look.

You smiled at this; he was always pretty sweet with you. “Thanks, really.”

He gave you a small smile in response.

“So...” You glanced around the empty room. “What did I miss?”

“You should’ve paid attention,” Spencer teased.

“Very funny, huh?” You rolled your eyes.

Spencer looked at you, and honestly, he loved the idea of having you this close all the time.

[satellitespinner]

merry christmas, please dont call. (e.w) ❆

⁺₊❆⋆ ୨⎯ merry christmas, im not yours at all. merry christmas, please dont call. ⎯୧ ⁺₊❆⋆

pairings: ex!ellie x ex!oc/reader

synopsis: an involuntary trip back to your hometown brings back unwanted memories of the girl who broke your heart years before. when youre met with her unexpectedly, you have to decide wether or not to pursue her, or give her a taste of her own medicine. or maybe both.

wc: 6.7k (SMUT; ellie eats pussy then yall ✂️✂️.. angst, cheating, crying, slight comfort but no happy ending, reader is an offputting bitch who cries alot. joel and DINA mention!!!!!! the words and and you are used alot.. oc is shorter than ellie & has hair.)

MERRY CHRISTMAS DYKES IN MY PHONEEE !!! ilysm! im so excited to post this holy fucking shit shyt. interact i beg u. reblogs and comments are encouraged i loveee talking to you guys sm!!! 🫵🏼 come ttm and ill talk back! heavily inspired by my twin @coeurify !! i suggest you go read ttds 1 before reading this!

Christmas of freshman year Ellie bought you a bouquet of red and yellow flowers, you cried.

Christmas of sophomore year she burned you a cd with your shared playlist on it. She titled it ‘our songs” and you cried.

The next year she wrote you a song, it was truly beautiful. it made you cry.

Christmas of senior year was different. That year, your parents decided to use the break to visit universities and then stay at a nearby family member's house for the holiday. Before you left Ellie managed to gift you a shiny heart pendant with her initial carved onto the front and a picture of you two glued to the inside. you cried, hugged her, and told her you loved her.

The Christmas before you left for university Ellie broke up with you. This was the hardest you cried in five years.

So much for a Merry Christmas.

That was two years ago. you haven’t been back to your hometown since then, simply because you knew you couldn’t bear to face her. Going back to Jackson meant running into Ellie, and you weren’t ready for that.

until now, apparently.

your dearest mother had called you and told you that if you didn’t come back this year all your shit was going to the goodwill. Maybe Ellie wasn’t the only reason you avoided your hometown.

So here you were, driving the sickly long drive to the closest place to hell on earth. you had to stop four times because your tears were blurring your vision. when you were finally met with the “Welcome to Jackson” sign, you threw up in your mouth. your driveway mocked you as you sat in your car attempting to collect yourself. you contemplated turning around, driving back to campus and telling your mom to burn your stuff for all you care. But, you didn’t. it was late and you needed sleep. so you pulled your keys out of the ignition, grabbed your belongings and made your way to the front door. your parents greeted you with tights hugs and uncomfortable small talk.

“How’s school, sweetheart?” your mom asked, your dad sneaking off to bring your bags to your old bedroom. “its school.” you kept you answers curt. not trying to engage in useless conversation at this hour. your mom picked up on your exhaustion and excused you with a tight lipped smile. the second you entered your room you regretted the entire trip. she was everywhere. pictures of you kissing on your dresser, her hoodies in your closet and of course, her initial still around your neck, above your heart.

you walked around the room, your cheeks already wet with tears. you picked up a photo that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out when it ended. it was you and ellie snuggled up on dina’s couch, taken by her of course. you both looked so peaceful. the photo began to blur as the tears really started to fall. your legs gave out underneath you, causing you to fall against the wall. it was like a scene from a movie, a pathetic one at that.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but it was late. you woke up in a fetal position on the floor, with an old picture of you and Ellie held tightly to your chest. your poor back..

the morning was still, your parents were still sleeping when you woke up, something you were very much grateful for considering the amount of questions you knew were to come your way when they did finally wake up. you set the picture back in its place hesitantly.

the lower level of your house was cold, the cold floors hitting your feet woke you up as you made your way to the kitchen. almost immediately upon arrival you decided that your mothers coffee brand wouldn’t do. she always bought the gross nutmeg flavoured creamer.

coffee shop in town it is!

you always hated ben’s, the coffee was mediocre at best and priced at a whopping seven dollars, but it would suffice for today. at least until you could get to the grocery store. the walk was short, thank god. you grabbed your jacket and scarf from the hook and made your way out the door. you were surprised, but relieved that you hadn’t had the misfortune of running into anyone you used to know.

The cafe had a welcoming atmosphere that you knew all too well, yet grew to despise. you ended up hating most parts of this town, the tight knit community, the overpriced coffee, everything. then you left. in your final days of staying in jackson, it was like you were gasping for air. then finally after you had gone to university, you could breathe again.

“Is that who I think it is?!” the cashier beamed from their place behind the counter. you could recognize that voice anywhere. the voice of riley abel, a girl you had gone to school with. she was voted most likely to move far away after grad, how ironic.

‘Hey, riley. how are you?” you asked as you walked up to the counter, trying your absolute best to sound interested. you zoned out as she rambled on about her life.

you picked at your fingernails while she spoke, her voice a distant muffle. you didn’t want to be rude and tell her to shut up, but damn this girl couldn’t talk.

“Anyways, how are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!” she smiled and you couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m doing fine.” she took your awkward answer as a hint and switched the subject. small talk should be banned.

“So what can i get for you?” she asks, typing away at the ipad on the counter. you contemplated for a moment before answering. you skimmed the menu for the cheapest option that didn’t taste like shit.

“I’ll get a medium french vanilla, please.” you grab your phone from your pocket, opting for apple pay instead of cash. she gives you a small, forced smile. “your total is eight dollars and twenty-five cents. cash or card?” your eyes widen at the price. “card, please.” she nods and passes you the pin pad. you gently tap your phone on the top of it as she begins to make your coffee.

A few minutes pass before riley calls you back up to the counter. she handed you a small cup with your name written on the side, along with a small smiley face. you thanked her and smiled at her small act of kindness.

your walk home is longer, many of the places you used to frequent, bustling with people that you could recognize by face. you almost stopped a few times, pausing and staring into oblivion. you never had the guts to actually enter though.

when you arrived back home you parents were sitting around the dining table, your dad, fairly engaged in the newspaper greets you with a smile. your mother doesnt look up from her phone until you speak. “Saw riley at bennys.” she hums and looks you up and down, it was like no matter where you went there was some weird tension in the air.

“You couldn’t have made coffee at home?” she snarks, tipping her glasses off her nose. “Just wanted some fresh air.” you reply nervously, not wanting to be fighting with her already. clearly your attempts worked because she stopped there. you swallowed the lump in your throat and retreated to your room.

you weren't sure what you were going to occupy yourself for these two weeks, packing up all the shit you wanted wouldn't take more than a few hours. you contemplated just taking your belongings and going back but you knew your mom would disapprove with that idea.

you decided that the most worthwhile decision for now would be to resume your place in a current book you were reading, a silly romcom you were gifted by your roommate before you came home. at least until your mother asked you to help her bake some cookies, or run to target for some last minute christmas gifts.

six chapters in and you were finally starting to get into it when you get a text. a text from Dina, a close highschool friend. you tried to stay in contact after you left, but the relationship fizzled out into short happy birthdays, and merry christmases.

D-Dawg💘

Hey! i heard from riley that you're back for break, we all miss you.

You laugh at the corny name you assigned to her contact in high school, the name had blossomed after a drunk comment from jesse, comparing her to a dog simply because of her big brown eyes.

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome.

you decided to ignore the message for now, you weren't really up for the whole forced small talk that came with seeing all your old friends again. as far as you knew they were all still hanging out, everyday, without you. instead you decided to resume your place in your book, hoping to find some sort of entertainment in it.

you’re in the middle of chapter twelve of your book, Wes and Liz had just gotten into an accident in the rain when your mom calls you down stairs. you trot down the stairs, phone in hand. when you arrive, you stick on the last step, the wooden floors still cold. you're greeted with your mother in her signature bird print apron.

“Did you wanna help me with the baking, or were you just gonna sulk in your room all break?” she asks. you clear your throat and step down the last step. you shove your phone into your hoodie pocket, “Yeah ill help, i’d love to.”

“Babe, get your damn fingers outa the cookie dough!” ellie laughs as she grabs your wrist, pulling you out of the batter. you had forced her into baking with you after you saw a stupid couples tiktok. “Relax, its just us eating them anyway.” you defend, you even noticed your precious girlfriend sneaking chocolate chips from the bowl once in a while.

“Yeah, well i don't play about my christmas cookies.” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at you jokingly. you giggle at her actions. “We can tell, fatty.” you joke, her eyes widen and her jaw drops. “What did you just say!?” her slack jaw turning into a toothy smile quickly.

“Nothin’ i didn't say nothin’” you laugh and turn back to shaping the cookies. she steps closer to you and places her hands on either sides of your hips. “Well, thats weird. cause’ I definitely heard something.” she starts moving her fingers in slow circles over your pj pants, her lips meeting your neck slowly.

“hell, ellie. why are you the horniest woman on the planet.” you drop your final cookie onto the tray and turn around to face her, her hands now moving to the sides of your face. “Not my fault I have the prettiest girlfriend ever.” she states, matter of factly. her lips now kissing your own, causing you to smile against her. you move your hands to the back of her neck, slowly twirling with the back of her hair. you both giggle against each others lips, “I love you” you whispered against her. “i love you too, baby.”

the soft moment was interrupted by the oven beeping, signaling it was time to finally bake the cookies. she pulls her hands off of your hips and reaches for the pan, nodding at you to open the oven. “Careful, don't burn yourself.” you open the oven door enough for her to slip the tray in without accidentally knocking her hand against the wall and giving herself third degree burns (again)

you both high five once the cookies were in the oven baking. “i think we make a pretty good team!” you say as you turn the tap on to wash the dough off your hands. “Hell yeah we do, baby!” ellie shouts, smacking your ass. you laugh loudly at her antics. “Ouch ellie!” you cry, pulling a towel off the counter to dry off your hands. she rolls her eyes at your exaggeration.

“Sorry, babe. want me to kiss it better?”

“Will you shut up?”

Baking cookies with your mother was a stressful, if not brutal experience. she was a bossy, nitpicky perfectionist. it was like you could never do anything right with her, everything had to be 100% perfect. she would argue that you weren't trying or you didn't care, but you did. if anything you cared too much.

“I told you to do it like this! not whatever you're doing.” she scolded and nearly ripped the bowl from your hands, demonstrating how she really wanted it done. you throw your hands in the air, “I am, fuck!” you whisper yelled in frustration. your mother abruptly dropped the bowl onto the counter. “Don't you swear at me!” she pointed her pointer finger in your face.

“Oh my god.” you mumbled under your breath. you brought two of your fingers to your temples and squeezed tightly, trying to calm yourself down. “What is your problem?!” your mother crossed her arms as she yelled. “I cant fucking- I cant do this! this is exhausting!” you quickly untied your apron and tossed it on the counter. throwing yourself up the stairs. your mother followed behind you.

“If I'm so exhausting then why don't you pack your shit and get out of my house, huh?!” she shouted, grabbing onto your arm, you pulled it away from her. “Because! you asked me to come! i thought we could've had a normal christmas for once!” by now you had salty tear drops racing down your cheeks, it wasn't pretty.

“well i shouldn't have. so that was my mistake.” she stops on the stairs when she says this. your heart stops for a moment when she says this. the tears come harder when you slam your door shut and lock it.

right now you felt like you were a teenager again, petty arguments with your mom is when you needed ellie the most, you would hop out your window and run to her house. she welcomed you with open arms and told you how much she loved you. she would hold you for hours and whisper praises into your ears while you cried.

But right now, at this moment you couldn't do that, because there was no more ellie.

After scream sobbing into your pillow like an angry child, you fell asleep.

you woke up with a throbbing headache and the need for water. you also woke up to a few unread messages from a few of your friends from highschool.

Jesseee

Hey, r u coming tn? dina said she invited u but u didn’t answer. We miss U

smartass (derogatory)

hi its abby! heard ur in town

smartass (derogatory)

we should hangout before you leave!

you sighed and glanced up at the time. 8:04pm. you had two options, go pack to sleep, or stay up and wallow in self pity. or-

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome

hii dina, i’d love to see you! what time does it start? :)

D-Dawg💘

8! didnt think u were gonna reply! but def come by!

her reply came fairly quick. you glanced up at the time on your phone, 6;00. you could work with that. two hours to make sure you look good, just in case you see.. she who shall not be named. you pulled your suitcase out from under your bed. you rummaged for a few minutes until you were met with the one dress you brought with you because you knew your parents had some stupid family dinner planned for christmas day. the dress was modest, classy but not too fancy. next was your makeup makeup bag. you decided to keep your makeup simple too, so you looked good, but not like you were trying to look good.

you brought your makeup bag to the bathroom and started the shower. you usually tried to be quick with your showers considering you were using the only bathroom in the house. you let the warm water hit the back of your neck. for a while, you just sat. sat and stared at the wall. the longer you did this though, the higher your anxieties got. finally, after your neck started to burn from the water, you got on with your business, scrubbing your skin raw and washing your hair as quick as you could. you might be a little late..

after an hour and four almost-breakdowns you had gotten your hair to cooperate. you knew your makeup wouldn’t take long to get done so you before you started you checked your phone. no new notifications from anyone except dina, a simple follow up text of “it will be fun, i promise.” you debated asking her to confirm your fears of ellie’s attendance. maybe knowing would calm you just a bit.

Is she gonna be there?

please be honest.

D-Dawg 💘

she was invited, im not sure if she’ll show up though.

D-Dawg💘

Please don’t stress over this though. its been so long.

im aware, but its still scary

plus you’re all still friends. im not really part of

that anymore.

D-Dawg💘

maybe you guys could talk about it?

i can’t do that. you know i can’t

i will literally die.

likr

my life will end.

D-Dawg💘

sighs loudly…..

fine. but if she comes you

aren’t irish goodbying out my back door.

…

MAYBE.

see u soon -_-

you turned up your music and then shut off your phone, leaving it face down on the counter as you began your makeup. you gently hummed along with the lyrics as the soft brushes worked over your skin. the delicate touches reminding you of ellie’s gentle fingers tracing soft shapes into your cheeks as you slept in her arms. she was never scared to hold you, to tightly pull you into her body and keep you warm.

by the time you had finished your makeup and wiggled into your dress, it was 7:45. the drive to dinas wasn’t long and you didn't want to get there early and be left to awkwardly wait around for everyone else to arrive. so you decided to scroll on your phone to pass the time.

at 8:12 you pulled into dina’s driveway and immediately noticed the differences in her home. the christmas decorations were no longer over the top, and the driveway was shoveled neatly. dina had told you to just let yourself in when you arrived. your hand shook with anxiety as you reached the doorknob. you took one last deep breath and entered the house.

“Bitch, you’re unseasoned chicken.” are the first words you hear as you shut dinas door. you easily recognize jesses voice, throwing insults at abby over a heated card game.

“yikes.” you say, heads turn in your direction. you awkwardly laugh at the group reaction. “I told you she was coming, you dummies.” Dina shouted, her voice booming from the kitchen as she walked over to you, pulling you into a firm embrace.

you scanned the room for any sign of ellie. well, there were many things that could be considered signs of ellie around the house. like the homemade ornaments on dina’s tree. you had all had a sleepover one night in sophomore year and decided to create little hand painted ornaments for fun. ellie’s was a painting of the four of you as stick figures, yours and ellie’s had a big red heart painted over the top of their heads.

the memories flooded in as you stared down the tree, to anyone else this probably would’ve looked really weird, but your friends new. jesses voice interrupts your thoughts, you tore your eyes from the tree to look at him.

“she hasn’t shown up yet.”

and she never did.

Ellies absence didn't make the night any better, however. you hoped it would but it didn't. you were still bombarded with questions that you weren’t quite sure how to answer. dina had probably asked you about a thousand times to just talk to her! but you refused. you were not about to start up a conversation with your ex like nothing had happened between you two. especially when it was her shitty actions, not yours.

you didn't regret going but by the time it was time for you to leave you were happy to do so, your friends bargained with you to stay the night like the rest of them but you politely declined. you did promise to see then all properly before you headed back to campus, though. stating that a proper hangout was long overdue.

after you had said your goodbyes dina had offered to walk you out to your car, you told her you would be fine but she persisted.

“So, ellie texted me.” she slowed to a stop with her arms crossed. you sighed and turned around to face her, leaning your body against your car. “Do i even wanna know?” you roll your eyes. dina steps closer to you, joining you against the hood of your car. dina chuckles, trying to recall ellie’s exact words. “said she wanted to talk, she sounded apologetic” she looks up at you. scanning your face for any emotions.

“Dina-“

“Please, just listen.” she interrupts, “i miss my best friends, everyone misses you guys. nothings been the same since.” her voice going from firm and loud, to a shaky whisper. you sighed.

“I know, D. this is hard for me too. you’d think it would've gotten easier to be here, in this town but its not. i feel like i can’t breathe.” dina nods in understanding. you softly sniffle, the cold air makes your face tighten. the both of you stay silent for a while. dina knew there was more to be said, but she didn’t want to push you.

“I’m sorry.” dina looks back up at your face, her voice now held a panicked tone. you close your eyes, throwing up your hand in a worn out manner, “It’s fine-

“But its not! you’re my best fucking friend. and even though it felt like shit when you just- up and ghosted us, i understand why.” she she paused for a moment, moving her body from beside you to standing in front of you, mirroring you. “And i understand if you never wanna see ellie again, but i missed you so bad, so fucking bad.” at this point shes crying, fat tears run down her cheeks. you coo and bring her into your arms.

”oh dina, if anything i should be the one apologizing.” the shorter woman sobs into your shoulder. you both cried into each other like a cheesy soap opera. this was the one thing you missed about being in jackson. “i missed you so much”

The sound of your doorbell reverberated across your house, “ill get it!” you ran so fast to the door that you had tripped over your own feet a few times. you opened the door to reveal ellie and joel behind it. a small smile growing on her face when it was in fact you who opened the door and not your mother.

“You look pretty” she says as she walks in,you thank her with a small kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas!” you greet joel quickly before he retreats to the kitchen, probably to drink wine and gossip with your parents. “I like your sweater.” you look her up and down, gesturing to the wool sweater that adorned her figure.

“Oh thanks, My girlfriend got it for me!” she says sarcastically, you roll your eyes at her stupid joke. “Yeah, I know.” you grab her by the wrist and tug her up the stairs to your bedroom. you shuffled her into your room and quickly shut the door behind you.

“Would you care to see your gift?” you asked, in a pretend seductive voice. she nodded persistently and shot you a toothy grin. “Perfect!” you clap your hands together and open up your closet, retrieving a small red box with a big green ribbon wrapped around the top.

you couldn’t contain your excitement when you handed her the gift, your body was seen to be vibrating in its place. “C’mon, ellie! openitopenitopeni-“ you ramble, basically throwing the box at her. “Okay! Okay! Slow down, babe.” you both sit down on the bed, you place your arms on her shoulders. at this point you were seething in excitement.

“Holy fuck.. you didnt.” her eyes practically shoot out of her head, staring at the object in the box, a white envelope sticking out from underneath. she turns to you shocked.

“How did you even-” she grabs the walkman and few tapes out of the box. you shrug, “Antique stores are great places.” she puts the cassette into the device, the one that you were able to get your dad to burn your playlist into. the others being the smashing pumpkins and nirvana.

“Do you love it?” she doesnt answer, instead throwing herself onto you, holding you tightly. holding fistfuls of your sweater, your wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. “I knew you would!”

after fiddling with the foreign object for a few minutes ellie figures out how to turn it on and off, she passes you one of the wired headphones and slips the other into her own ear. The polices ‘Every breath you take’ begins playing into your singular headphone. ellie added it to your joined playlist because she swears its the song that plays every time she looks at you. How corny.

You two sit for a few moments, just listening to the lyrics.

I’ll be watching you

(every breath you take)

(every move you make)

you suddenly feel her looking at you, you turn your head to meet her gaze. her eyes were practically hearts, she looked so smitten. you smile at her and lay your head completely onto the bed and ellie sits up, careful to not disconnect the headphones from your ears. “what’re you doing?” you asked in a hushed tone. she shakes her head, “Just looking at you.” her face shifts from soft admiration to something different. then suddenly, her lips are slotted in between your own.

(every single day)

(every word you say)

she gently rubs her hand up and down your side as she moves her lips against yours, your hand making its way to the side of her face. you sighed into her mouth and gently moved your arm around to the back of her neck. your legs tangled together effortlessly when she pulls away from you. “I love you.” she whispers, you look up at her, your faces almost touching. “I love you too.” you almost moan when she dips her head back down to continue kissing you.

I’ll be watching you

That Christmas ended up being the night that you took each others virginity and tried to hide it from your nosy parents, who of course, noticed right away but didn't say anything.

Your mother and father left early in the morning to go see some of your extended family, you planned to go meet them later in the day so for now you were left by yourself to wait. you anxiety was high, but the hard part was almost over. after your dinner with your family you could shove all your things into your trunk and leave. you'd be back in the comfort of your apartment before December 26th.

For most of the afternoon you found yourself lazing around, watching movies that you've seen a thousand times before. you sigh to yourself, glancing over at the clock which reads 5:00. you decide to start getting ready.

you had just finished your makeup, your hair still tied up and your body clad in pajama when the doorbell rings. How strange you thought to yourself. who could possibly be showing up for your parents at 5pm on christmas day.

“I’m coming!” you shouted from the stairs, feet quickly moving down the steps. you probably should’ve looked through the peephole before ripping the door open because to your unpleasant surprise you were met with-

“Ellie?” your eyes widen at the sight before you. your ex girlfriend was outside your door with a bouquet of flowers and tears in her eyes.

“Hi- Hey.” she looks just as surprised as you. her green eyes wider than ever. she looked different, her usually half up, half down was now cut into a thinner mullet like haircut. you had tried avoiding any news of ellie since you moved, so her look was entirely new to you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” you asked, your voice harsh but quiet. she looks at you in disbelief, “I- Dina told me to come see you.” she whispers. Of course she did.

“Why, Ellie.” you pause, crossing your arms. “I haven't spoken to you in almost three years, and now you're outside my door. Why?” she now looks disappointed with your reaction. she had partially hoped that you would throw yourself into her arms and tell her you missed her. but she knew that would never be.

“I messed up,” she looks down at her shoes, you clearly weren't having her half asses words. you sigh loudly. before you could shoo her away dhe interrupts you.

“I did you so dirty, and- i cant forgive myself for it. but youre the only person i've ever loved, truly.” she pleads with you unbeknownst to you, as your eyes stayed glued to the ground. “Would you please look at me-”

“I don't owe you anything ellie.” you snap, you did fulfill her request however, your eyes meeting her frantic ones. “i dont have to accept your stupid apology, why the fuck would i, ellie? what you did- what you did was so wrong. and i should hate you for it.” you slowly step out of the house, your angry pointer finger meeting her chest. tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“and im sorry, im so fucking sorry, baby. i couldn't even live with myself after what happened.” her final words making the tears finally start to stream down your face. you hadn't expected her to admit that, especially not with you practically beating your fist into her chest. but she did.

she notices your tears and grabs you by your face, she holds you as your legs buckle beneath you, something she didn't do years prior on this exact day. something she shouldn't have had to do. “Im sorry.” she whispered into your hair. her flowers now long discarded, and you crying into her arms on your parents front porch.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ellie?” you cried, your body tensing up after her heartbreaking confession, you peered at her through wet eyelashes. and she couldn't even look at you.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, fingers fiddling with the rings adorning her hands, the hands that held you whenever you cried, the hands that had made you see heaven just nights prior.

“You're breaking up with me cause why? ellie. im still confused as to what the fuck is happening right now.” your expression is one of incredulity.

“baby, don't do this.” your eyes widen, you couldnt fucking believe her. “Do not baby me, ellie. you’re fucking breaking up with me right now because what? did you fuck her?” her head shoots up from her lap, her bottom lip wabbling between her teeth.

“No! i- we didn't, i would never-” you scoff, rolling your eyes at her actions. trying desperately to hide the fact that she had just broke your heart into a million pieces. “Do you love her?” you ask quietly, the question you had been avoiding since the beginning in fear of its answer.

“I dunno. i just-”

“youre breaking up with me to be with her ellie so you better know if you fuckin’ love her or not.” you spit, your words harsh, but in reality you were about to have a full blown panic attack.

“I do.” she admits. and suddenly your whole world comes crashing down, four years you had wasted just for her to leave you for a girl she met two weeks ago.

your tears became heavy and all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. your vision quickly blurred, your hands shook as you lifted your glass to your lips. and your headache was hard to deny, you needed to lay down.

Your ears rung, ellie still trying to justify her unlawful acts. all you could really hear were clusters of “im sorry, Not your fault-” you sobbed uncontrollably.

Fuck you, Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou-

“are you two ready for your menus yet?” the waitress had came out of nowhere, a sweet girl who clearly had accidentally walked in to something she couldn't just ignore.

ellie kept her head down and you made eye contact with the waitress Ruth her name tag read, “No, actually. we’re done here. Well- I am. she might be waiting for someone else.” you point at ellie, and her head raises. you quickly stand up and begin to quickly shuffle your belongings into your purse.

you wished she at least had the decency to do this in the comfort of your own home, where you could kick her out if need be, but now the entire restaurant was watching as you ran out the door with snot dripping down your nose and mascara running from your eyes to your chest. You tuned out her inescapable voice and walked all the way home.

After a long, exhausting five minutes, ellie convinced you to let her take you inside and clean you up. she wiped the mascara off of your under eyes and kissed your forehead.

“Thanks.” you muttered. “Don't mention it.” she smiled, she placed the flowers on the counter beside where you sat. you examined them, a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow flowers, like the ones she had gotten you your first christmas together. you smile at the thought. remembering your innocent love.

“what are you smiling about? hm?” she asks, you look up at her, “just thinking, about us.” she inhales a sharp breath at that. “what could've been.” you finish, reaching for the flowers, holding them in your lap.

she walks over to you, your knees now touching the front of her jean thighs thighs. “or.. what can be?” she looks down at you, an overly hopeful look on her face.

“Ellie,” you sigh, you seemed to be doing that a lot today. “I cant just let you back in like that. i mean- when did you and Cat even break up?”

“last year, october.” you nod, swallowing whatever was in your throat. “i see.” the room filling with a heavy tension. your intense eye contact has you shifting on the counter.

“Will you kiss me?” you whisper, what the fuck were you doing? she opens her mouth slightly, before grabbing you by your waist. kissing you softly, before she realized what you wanted. you moaned at the contact, and she kissed you harder.

“fuck, okay, okayokay.” she stops for a moment, you look at her confused. “are you sure you wanna do this right now?.” you nod, profusely.

she moves her hands under your shirt, quickly lifting it off your body. “No bra?” she smirks, you roll your eyes. and reach for her own T-Shirt. you slipped it off with ease, unknowingly biting your lip at the sight before you.

she grabs you again, slotting her lips between your own, you wrap your legs around her waist.

“your room?” she whispers against you, “couch.” you confirm. Ellie drops you onto the cushions, you grab at your sweats, quickly lifting your hips to get them off. ellie, preoccupied with taking her own pants off.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” she positions her body against yours, her lips trailing from behind your esr, all the way down to your lower stomach. small praises leaving your lips at her wet kisses.

she begins to move her lips towards your clit, sticking her tongue out and licking a dtrip over your underwear. “Ellie, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up into her face. she looks up at you and begins to slip your underwear off your body.

“Fuck, youre so wet.” she observed, moving her finger to play in between your folds. you eagerly bite your lip, her face admiring you from her position between your legs. you moan softly as she begins to eat you out, swirling small circles on your soft button. “Oh, ellie!” you whimpered, your body twitching against her mouth.

“ohmygod, baby.” she moans into you, slowly slipping s single finger in and out of your sopping hole, your moans growing increasingly loud, your eyes meet her own when you entangle your hand into her hair, pulling fightly at the back if her neck.

your back arches as she adds another finger, your release so close you can feel the sweat dripping down your back. “Im cuming! ellie, ellieellie!” you scream as she fucks you through your orgasm, her fingers slightly slowing down before she pulls them out.

you beckon her between your legs again when she lift your head from between your legs, she slots her legs between yours, slowly starting ti grind into you. “missed this pussy s’bad baby.” she groans as she continues to move her hips, speeding up as she pleases. “mhm,” you moan, greedily grinding back up into her, small whimpers starting to leave her throat at the feeling of your pussy on hers.

“Tell me you love me, ellie” you ask, your voice breathy. her head snaps down, looking down at you. her movements speed up as she looos at you.

“W-What?”

“Tell me you love me.” you bump your clit against her sweet spot and she moans. “I love you, fuck! so much, i love you soso much.” she could feel her orgasm creeping up on her, she speeds up her movements between your legs. your grab at her brests, pinching her nipples between your pointer and thumb. “you gonna come?” she bites her lip, nodding at your question.

“cum all over my pussy, please ellie.” you moan loudly, her fluid slowly leaking out of her and onto you. you quicken your hips, ellies lip finding home between her teeth until she suddenly falls into you, both of you moan when she untangled your legs.

“fuck.” she whispers, looking down at the mess that spread between the two of you, connecting you. you slowly lift yourself into a now sitting position. gingerly adjusting yourself so that you don't irritate your already sensitive nerves.

“so.” ellie starts, looking over at you, her eyes again filled with hope. you sigh quietly. “So, im gonna pee and you're gonna be gone by the time im done.” you state matter-of-factly as you stand up, slipping you oversized shirt back over your body. she shakes her head in confusion. “What?! But i thought-”

“you thought what, ellie? that i was just going to let you come back? you broke my fucking heart.” you can see her starting to tear up but you ignore the fact. instead slipping your underwear back on but discarding your pants.

“i told you it was a mistake! baby, i love you!” you scoff, your lips curling up into a smile, how fucking ridiculous.

“Listen to me ellie. Im going to go pee and you're going to go home. and then, tomorrow, im going to leave this fucking town forever and i swear to god you will never fucking see me again.” you argued, ellie still sitting there, with no clothes on. you didn't think she deserved your forgiveness. You felt guilty for denying her in such a vulnerable state but you convinced yourself that she deserved it.

you begin to walk up the stairs, you can hear her stand up from the couch and slip into her clothes once again. without turning around to face her you bid your final goodbyes,

“Tell your fiancée i said hi.”

unbeknownst to ellie, you had noticed the wedding band that shined around her left ring finger. that was when you decided not to let her back in.

[spxllcxstxr]

While You Were Sleeping • J&V

(Gif not mine)

Request: recently discovering your arcane works has seriously made my week, your writing is amazing! if you're still taking reqs, can I pls request a jayvik x they/them reader fic? while viktor and jayce are sleeping soundly at night for once, reader surprises them by coming home unexpectedly. they're also a scientist but travels a lot for work, which leads them to be deeply missed by the two. reader gently nuzzles and kisses them until they realize that they're back! just a very sleepy and loving reunion with these three. I need some healing after the jayvik finale in S2 ;_; thank youu :) — anon

Summary: Coming back late at night from your trip, you didn’t expect to find Jayce and Viktor asleep in your shared bed

Warnings: gn!reader, implied scientist reader, it's just fluff guys lol, no dialogue until the last like third lmao

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: title is a laufey song 🥴, I hope you enjoy!!!

•

You sigh, heaving your heavy travel bags behind you as you climb up the stairs in front of you. Muttering to yourself, you curse at the amount of things you packed for your trip outside of Piltover. You hadn't gone too far for your research this time, and yet past you decided to pack your entire wardrobe and then some.

The keys to the apartment you shared with your lovers dangle precariously from your pants pocket. At first you thought about heading straight to the lab, considering that was where you would no doubt find Jayce and Viktor, but after days of travel, all you wanted was to be home. The two of them would eventually get home anyway, whether it be just passed midnight or just after dawn, so you determined that there was no harm in settling back in your apartment first.

The lights are off when you enter your apartment, the tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock the only sound echoing in the room as the pendulum swings back and forth. Papers filled with equations and scientific illustrations are strewn across every surface. You huff, rolling your eyes. Your apartment looked exactly as you left it weeks ago. Eyes finally adjusting to the familiar darkness, you also spot a few empty coffee mugs scattered all over and jackets draped across every chair. This was certainly home.

With your bags still in your hands, you continue through your decently sized apartment. You had this place memorized at this point, so walking through it in the dark was simple. You knew exactly where the couch Jayce picked out before even moving in was and where Viktor's oddly shaped bookcase was. The comforting familiarity of your home makes warmth spread through your chest; this was something you, Jayce, and Viktor created together from scratch--it meant more to you than any other place in Runeterra, even the ones vital to your research.

You head straight to your bedroom, the desire to fall into your own bed and drift off to sleep overwhelming at this point.

The room is dark when you enter except for the few white rays of moonlight filtering in through the window. Viktor's cane rests against the nightstand on his side of the bed, metal gleaming in the light.

You furrow your brows in confusion, Viktor being home shocking to you. The lab was practically a second home to Jayce and Viktor. Before dating them, they would spend almost every hour of every day there, tinkering with their inventions. Since starting the relationship, Jayce and Viktor tried really hard to break their habit of spending so much time in their lab, which they were largely successful at. With you away for weeks, however, you knew that they tended to take advantage of it and revert back into their previous mindset.

With the cat away, the mice will play, after all, as they say.

Still at the threshold with you bags at your sides, your eyes land on your two lovers laying in bed.

Viktor is curled up beside Jayce, who softly snores against your partner's hairline. You stop at the end of the bed, the tension in your shoulders easing up at the scene before you. Though two blankets cover them, the tips of Viktor's long fingers peek out from the top, showing that his hand is splayed lightly against Jayce's chest, right over his heart.

In the pale moonlight, your lovers look ethereal. The light drapes them in a silvery hue, the luminosity a stark contrast from the rest of the dark room. Jayce and Viktor, with their skin bathed in radiance, are oblivious to your tender gaze.

Smiling softly you feel your heart melt in your chest. This was what you especially missed on your travels. The beds you always wound up in were empty and cold. No amount of blankets piled atop your figure could mimic the warmth Jayce radiated, nor could any pillow replace the comfort of his chest against your cheek. Viktor wasn’t there to hold your hand in his sleep either. There were no golden or amber eyes brightened by the early sunlight gazing at you when you woke up either. You had grown accustomed to the comforting presence of your lovers over the years that you always forget how lonesome travelling could be.

It was a privilege to be able to travel across Runeterra for your research, you knew that; but the absence of your lovers late at night always made you dreadfully homesick.

Quietly, you move around the room in order to change into something better suited for bed. As you change, bags still abandoned near the door, waiting to be unpacked, your partners continue to sleep.

Changed into more comfortable clothes, you ease into bed, slipping underneath the blankets. Viktor continues to mumble incoherently while Jayce shifts, his snoring easing up like he senses your presence. You drape an arm across his chest, fingertips brushing against Viktor's. With your body pressed close to Jayce's, you place kisses along his jawline, the smell of his aftershave lingering on his skin.

Again, he shifts against you, head turning slowly to face you.

"Wha's goin' on?" Jayce sleepily mumbles, eyes slowly opening. The moonlight must be harsh on his bleary eyes because it takes a moment or two for him to fully grasp his surroundings.

His gaze locks onto your own, eyes widening as a grin slowly appears across his face. That small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth has you mirroring his smile tenfold. His brown hair is messy from moving around in his sleep, loose strands dangle in front of his face as he raises his head from the pillow.

"You're home early!" You can tell that he's just barely containing his excitement--he's hardly whispering and already shifting under Viktor's grasp in order to get closer to you.

Before you’re able to respond, Jayce’s lips are on yours, kissing you like his life depends on it. An arm wraps around your midsection, hand resting against the small of your back, and pushes you impossibly closer to himself. You can feel his heart beat beneath his white shirt.

“Gods, I missed you…” He says after pulling away. His eyes shine as he scans over your face as if he’s forgotten what you looked like in only a few weeks.

“I missed you too, Jay…” A hand rises to gently stroke his cheek, something he leans into.

A disgruntled noise erupts from behind your partner and you both turn to check up on Viktor.

Disrupted from his sleep, Viktor playfully glares at the two of you. To anyone else it would appear as though Viktor was absolutely livid with the rude awakening, but you and Jayce knew him better than anyone else; he was happy you were home safe, happy that he could feel complete once again.

"You two truly are incapable of whispering, hm?" His voice is deeper, accent thick with each syllable.

Viktor just looks tired, his pale skin is accompanied by dark bruises under each eye. It certainly looks as if he's spent every hour at the lab recently.

"Hello to you too, Vik. I missed you very much." You tease, leaning over Jayce to capture Viktor's lips.

"I missed you very much, sweetling..." He huffs, moving closer to Jayce in order to meet your lips half way.

Jayce settles on the bed between you, back pressed against the mattress and opens both of his arms for you and Viktor to cuddle into.

"You'll have to tell us all about your adventures---" Jayce starts, fingertips dancing lazily against your back.

"It wasn't like it was a vacation, Jay, I still had work to do." You cuddle closer to Jayce, the warmth radiating from his body making you yawn tiredly. Viktor, though dressed in a comfortable long sleeved shirt with two blankets on top of him, does the same, hoping to take all his partner's body heat for himself.

"Sure, but you were not stuck in the Academy's dungeon staring at the hex gem for hours upon hours upon hours..." Viktor sleepily trails off, his face already buried in the crook of Jayce's neck.

You pull the blankets up to your neck and place a hand on top of Viktor's, which rests on Jayce's chest. His fingertips are cold as ice, as they usually were. You feel your eyelids start to droop, each blink getting longer.

"Why don't we go to sleep, darling? You can tell us all about it in the morning. Maybe me and Vik could spend the day outside of the lab and get some fresh air." Jayce whispers, sensing your exhaustion.

You hum as he kisses the top of your head. He murmurs something along the lines of "goodnight" and "I love you," but it all becomes a blur as you drift off to sleep; finally in your own bed in your own home surrounded by your partners.

•

[kurokawaia]

SOMNOPHILIA 彡 Sasuke Uchiha

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, the last!Sasuke, fem reader, afab reader, fem terms/genitalia, somnophilia, sex while you are asleep, piv, cervix fucking?, breeding, consent is given before hand, no protection

| WC :: 1.1k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

Sasuke is back home late, well, you didn't know when he was going to be back. Your husband has been gone for weeks, protecting Konoha from the outside, gathering information on anything about the Otsutsuki he can find. 

When Sasuke came back home, it was usually late, during the night, just before nine o'clock, but this time it was hours past that, past midnight in fact. He loves coming home and watching your eyes light up when they make eye contact with his own. 

However, right now, you are guaranteed to be asleep. 

As Sasuke goes into your shared room, he refuses to look at you. He wants to give himself the benefit of the doubt that you were awake. Sasuke goes into the bathroom connected to your shared room, hoping that you are awake (he knows you are not, let him be delusional).

He lets the warm water fall over his body, a hum of content leaving his lips, hand reaching for his bottle of shampoo before hesitating. Sasuke lets a soft smile coat his lips as he realises that his body wash, shampoo and conditioner, which smelled like mint, have been used. 

The three bottles are much less in capacity than two weeks ago. You had been using his own shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Sasuke came to the conclusion that you must have missed him very much. 

What can he say, though, he missed you more.

Stepping out of the shower, Sasuke wraps his hips in a towel before grabbing another to dry his hair to the best of his abilities and drying any stray water beads. He then slips into the black sweatpants he quickly brought with him, avoiding his eyes from trailing to you on the bed. 

Walking out, he forces himself to look at you, and he sees your sleeping figure in the soft plushy bed. He should've just waited another day so he could come home earlier to see your eyes lighting up, but her couldn't wait any longer, he needed to be near you. 

Sasuke supposes that he'd be able to see your reaction when you wake up in his arms the next day. Slipping in under the cover, his throat almost closes up at the gorgeous sight of you on your side. 

Sasuke had been away from you for too long, way too long. 

His eyes trail down your pretty face, down to your breasts which push together, on the verge of slipping out your spaghetti strap tank top. Sasuke's eyes trail down further and his mouth dries, at least you were wearing underwear because you for sure not wearing any shorts or pants. As long as Sasuke has been together with you, he has never witnessed you simply sleeping in just underwear. 

"You don't need to worry about me, baby," you say agasint his chest, snuggling further into his body. "I don't mind if you wanna have sex with me while I sleep."

Sasuke frowns momentarily before his eyes widen. "Love... what?"

"Hmmm?" you hum. "I know you get back really late sometimes and I'm a deep sleeper, and honestly, I think I enjoy that thought of you fucking me while I sleep."

"If... you really are okay with that," he replies, a lump in his throat. 

"Of course I am! I trust you with anything and everything."

Just rethinking that conversation had him hard and he didn't mistake that sound that had just slipped out of your mouth, a whimper had fallen past your lips. Experimentally, he brings his fingers to your panties, pressing his middle digits agasint your entrance through the fabric, you are soaked, soaked through your underwear. 

"Fuck," he murmurs, you are making it so hard for him to restrain himself, and with his cock growing now hard, straining against his sweats, it's even worse. 

Sasuke holds your top leg up and hoists it over his hip, getting clear access to your cunt. He pulls your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked pussy, dripping with arousal which is so easy to see in the moonlight shining through the window. 

Pulling down the fabric slightly, he pulls his sweats down, along with slipping his rock-hard length out of his briefs. His pink tip was leaking with pre-cum just from seeing you like this. Gods, he missed you so much. 

He moves himself closer to you, angling his cock up and down your slicked folds, in response, you moan in your sleep. Sasuke groans at the contact, he can almost bust right there and then because he hasn't felt you in so long, you and only you, he wants only you. 

Sasuke slips just the tip in and you stir in your sleep, whimpers streaming out your mouth. You are having one heap of a dirty dream. Your cunt is clenching desperately around his mushroom tip so mush so he could almost thrust deep up into your pussy, rearranging your guts.

Pushing his cock in all the way, he groans as he feels his tip press right up against your cervix and the way your silky walls flutter around his length. Sasuke feels in heaven, the way you clench so tightly around him and you're asleep, he wonders why he hasn't done this soon, you feel so good. 

You clamped down on his dick, squeezing him down tightly as you came. You came so quickly in his sleep, just by him resting his hard length inside. Sasuke rolls his hips into yours, thrusting into your cunt. Sasuke's fringe was stuck to his forehead as he breathed heavily.

A few minutes go by and your still in a deep sleep while he thrusts in and out with a deep, longing need. You feel so good clamped around him, you feel so so good, he just wants to fill you up. So that's exactly what he does, his own cum spills inside your pussy, a white ring forming around the base of his cock, his and your own cum mixed in.

A moan falls past his lips at the sensation. He feels you stir beneath him as he slips his cock out, watching his cum spill out in fat globs from your cunt. 

"S-Sasuke," you say slowly, your eyes widening in happiness, not even registering what happened.

"Hey, love," Sasuke replies, kissing you deeply and you whimper into the kiss. 

"Missed you," you say breathlessly before pulling away.

As you rub your thighs together, you feel wet, overly slick, looking down, you watch cum slide down and soak the bed and your cheeks burn bright red. 

"Sasuke!" you exclaim embarrassed.

"What?" he says before his eyes widen. "I'm sorry if you didn't want me to do-"

"Not that! I still feel good even now, you just didn't clean me up!"

"Well, I was until you woke up," he says and your face falls in realisation. 

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[livinghalfway]

Younger Years

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1541

No one was prepared for the event that occurred a mere hours ago. Nightwing and Robin had been investigating an unknown target that had recently been causing trouble near the docks. There wasn't supposed to be an altercation, but when the person of interest showed up they weren't going to just let him walk away. 

This target had a trick up his sleeve though; literally. The moment he was cornered by the two vigilantes he had thrown a magical blast at Robin that managed to hit him square in the chest. By the time Nightwing had reached his side it was already too late and the magician had used that as his way to sneak away. 

“Robin?” Nightwing's voice is hesitant and soft as he peers down at the very small passed out child that lays in a pile of clothes. “Oh no.” 

As soon as the now tiny Damian is into his arms he’s rushing back to the cave. “Oracle, Robin and I ran into some trouble during our investigation. Alert Batman that he needs to get back to the cave as soon as he can.” 

“What’s happening? Do I need to get Dr. Leslie to the cave as well?” 

“No, not yet at least; neither of us is injured. We’ll need to contact Zatanna or Constantine though. It seems Robin got hit with some kind of de-aging spell.” 

The line on the other end was silent for a few moments before a soft snickering sound filled the comm line. “... I’m contacting everyone. How young would you say he is?”

“If I had to take a guess I’d say he’s 6 maybe 7.” Nightwing says as he glances down at the sleeping boy in his arms. He is taking so many photos as soon as he’s back in the cave Dick promises to himself. 

"So we have a baby assassin who's still deep in the LoA mindset. Is he awake right now? I can't imagine you'd be talking this calmly if you were trying to settle a Damian who  doesn't know you and seemingly woke up in a new location."

"He's asleep right now." He couldn't help but let out an exhausted sigh knowing that it wasn't going to be a fun time when Damian eventually wakes up, "As long as Robin doesn’t kill or hurt anyone by the end of this I'll count it as a personal win." 

"That'll count as a win for all of us." She hums, "Everyone available tonight has responded and should be waiting for your arrival. Good luck."

With that sign off the comm link went silent. He looks down at Damian's sleeping face once more and can't help but can't help to mourn the fact that this is the youngest he's ever seen his baby brother. He loves Damian at his normal age of 14 years old, but he also knows that he's going to enjoy having him this young as much as he can. 

It only took a few minutes after that to finally reach the cave. Dick took note of Bruce, Alfred, Tim, Jason, and Duke who were also in the cave, but ignored them for the moment in favor of rushing Damian to a med bay bed to lie him down. 

Before Dick can even fully settle Damian down he feels the familiar looming presence of Bruce standing behind him. "I hope you have a camera with you; I want to fill a photo album before this whole thing is done."

"We need to confirm that this is actually Damian first." Bruce reaches out, running a hand through the child's hair before gently plucking a couple hairs and turning away back to the computer. 

With Bruce occupied on the other side of the cave Jason, Tim, and Duke all shuffle in around the bed. Predictably, Tim does have a camera at the ready and immediately snaps a picture of Damian as soon as he's in the room. "I'm never letting him forget about this." 

"Just make sure you send me all your photos of this before trying to blackmail him to do anything with them." Dick is quick to say; he's getting his photo album one way or another. Knowing Damian he's going to try and destroy all evidence of this occurring. 

It is then that Alfred walks into the room as well, "Before we continue with the photos I insist we dress Master Damian in clothes that will more properly fit than the ones currently wrapped around him." 

After that was said Alfred gestured for all the boys out of the med bay room while he got Damian dressed in what must be some of Damian's smallest clothes that the older man was able to find. While waiting to be allowed back in the room a ping sounds out from behind them. It seems the DNA test is complete. 

"Well B, is it a boy, or are you still paranoid that the demon brat in there isn't actually Damian?" Jason questions as he walks forward and snatches the report. "Let's see! Yup, the boy is Damian alright; Bruce was being paranoid for no reason as usual." 

"How funny would it be though if the spell did just replace Damian with a 6 year old look alike though?" Duke grins as he takes a look at the report as well.

"… You think there's a spell that does that?" Jason looks far too interested in knowing that answer if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

"We could ask-"

"You will not be asking anyone that question." Bruce quickly interrupts that conversation from continuing. If Dick had to guess though he'd say that it wasn't over based on the look Jason and Duke share with one another.  "I've already contacted Zatanna, and she's on the way now to assess the situation; nothing more." 

Tim scoffs and gives an exaggerated eye roll, "Oh, might as well let them ask otherwise-."

It was just then the zeta tube pinged and Zatanna was then standing in the Batcave with them. At the same time Alfred also exits the med bay room. "Well Batman, I'm sure you don't want me to be here more than necessary so let's go ahead and take a look at the little Robin." 

"Hm." 

With nothing else said Bruce turns and walks to where Damian is sleeping; Zatanna follows silently behind him. Dick and the others follow as well, not wanting to not hear what she has to say about Damian's situation. 

Everyone watches silently as she examines Damian, saying a few magic words before addressing Bruce.  "Well the good news is that this isn't permanent. The binding magic surrounding him is pretty weak."

"And the bad news?" Dick is immediately asking.

"The bad news is that this isn't something I can just undo right here right now. De-aging magic is always complicated, and the less risks we take the better." Zatanna tells him, "Which means you're just going to have to wait this out. It looks like it'll only last a couple of days." 

Perfect! Dick can't help, but think that is a perfect amount of time. He can definitely get a photo album of the amount of pictures in that time, and they all get to spend time with Damian as the youngest they've ever seen him! The only thing they need to do is make sure the baby assassin doesn't hurt anyone. 

The group after that naturally filters back into the main area of the cave. Zatanna and Bruce share a couple quiet words before she enters the zeta tube and it is only them in the cave once more. 

"Guess the only thing to do now is to wait for the demon brat to wake up." Jason gleefully exclaims, "I for one am excited to see how B handles the little terror." 

"Should one of us be there when he does wake up?" Duke asks; clearly thinking about the kid possibly waking up and trying to attack them.

Tim immediately shouts out, "Not it!"

"I'll do it," Dick assures Tim, "I still need to write my report anyway. I'll let you all know when he wakes up." 

With no complaints Dick gathers his things, and goes to take a seat next to Damian while he writes up an official report of the events that occurred tonight. As he does he makes sure to look up every few minutes; he's not sure when Damian might wake up, and he wants to be ready when he does. 

After half an hour Dick was just finishing up, and he could still hear his brothers loudly talking about something. It warms his heart to think about the three of them getting along; with that in mind he takes another glance at his littlest brother. Damian is of course glaring at him with the cutest little pout.

Wait.

Damian's awake!

"Hey Damian," he makes sure to speak as gently as he can, "do you feel okay? What's the last thing you remember?" 

Now, Dick expected Damian to attack one of them at some point during this; what he didn't expect was for him to do it immediately to the first person he saw. He probably should have though.

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 16.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content (somno, intense fingering, edging, overstimulation), soft!dom Dean, also some fluff sprinkled on top of it ♡ (Also! English is not my native language)

Summary: Dean loves to pleasure you when you’re still in your half-sleep, still dozy and all his to play with and to take care of… and this time he coaxes you into taking a little more than usual.

Words: 2,520

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: I skipped the 15th Dec. prompt, since I felt like writing this one first. I'll post the 15th later some time! On another note; I've got a new theme! Made my own lil' banner and such. Hope you like it 😳 ANYWAY

♡ ENJOY THE torturous EDGING MY LITTLE VIXENS ♡

16th Dec. - Roll Over Rule

The sound of Dean’s serene breaths make you tiptoe your way around the bed, careful not to wake him from his deep sleep. It was late, 3AM by now. You’d done some late night research in the War room with Sam, losing track of time as you often did. And you’d basically forced Dean to go to bed a few hours ago since he had stayed up the past nights.

You slowly slip under the covers and still in your movement for a moment – listening for the slow rhythm of his breath. Good, he is still asleep. And he has occupied 3/4rd of the bed as always. Your face softens as your eyes take in his peaceful state; his face pressed into the pillow, his ruffled dark blond hair still a bit damp from the midnight shower. He’s on his stomach, his body twisted in a way that almost makes you wince inwardly. And his left arm stretched out to your bedside. Waiting for you to latch onto it, as it had become a silent habit of yours.

You gently grab his arm and snuggle up to him. Your arms wrap tightly around his muscled upper arm and his forearm gets tucked nicely between your thighs. Dean stirs briefly, mumbling something before he angles his head to rest it against the top of yours. You let out a soft, content sigh, relieved that you didn’t wake him from his dreamless sleep. Soon enough you fall asleep with your limbs entangled with his arm, feeling his comforting warmth and listening to his calming breaths of a slow steady rhythm.

You don’t know how much time has passed, maybe an hour or so, when you feel Dean’s arm slightly twist in your grip. Suddenly his hand slips between your legs to cradle you there with palms up. Your mind’s still too sleepy to fully register what’s going on when a little shiver goes straight to your core. A small, almost imperceptible one. But your body acts on instinct and doesn’t need your mind for what it subconsciously craves. You suddenly let go of his arm and roll over onto your stomach – a sleeping position you usually never take. Unless, it’s meant as a green light for Dean to go on.

Yeah, you had been pretty needy lately. ‘Damn, you’re like a bitch in heat, babe.’ As Dean had commented on it shamelessly. Which not only made you sputter, but had Sam choke on his beer and Cas raise his eyebrows in confusion, secretly wondering why Dean would compare you with a female dog.

Your mind quickly slips back into that cozy sleep – whereas Dean seems to have woken up beside you. He places soft kisses along your neck, his hand gently running up and down your body, occasionally slipping beneath your pyjamas.

Next moment you remember, you feel hot and aroused. Your inner thighs are wet, your clit swollen and you’re panting slightly. And then you feel his two fingers slip inside you, effortlessly parting your slick folds. A meek moan escapes your lips, your mind still somewhere caught between sleep and excited arousal.

“You good, sweetheart..?” you hear his gravel voice next to your ear. You nod, not wanting the pleasure to stop but too sleepy to form any words.

He picks up a tantalizing pace. His small and middle finger pumping inside your dripping wet cunt while his index and middle finger slide along your folds, pinching your clit between them with every thrust. Your moans grow louder and soon turn into needy whimpers, begging him for release.

“Mh? Tell me baby…” your answer once again is a weak, short whimper. A thick haze clouding your sleep-addled mind and ridding you of any capability to form a thought, let alone words. It’s like you’ve been turned into a whimpering, mewling mess – powerless in every form. At this moment you were his entirely. Completely at his mercy. And knowing Dean, you are left with no other option but to take the overwhelming pleasure and to teeter on that torturous edge. Over. And over. And over.

Dean is truly a master in the art of edging. His calloused fingers playing you like it’s child’s play, hitting every spot at the right moment and – to your frustration – changing rhythm and withdrawing them every single time right before you get to fall over the edge. Leaving you mewling desperately, close to tears from the overwhelming built up tension in your core. You cry and pant into the pillow breathless while he starts over with the procedure, denying you the final relief with a cheeky grin of his.

Soon a third finger is jammed into your throbbing cunt. Dean and you groan in harmony when your walls clamp his fingers, pulling them in like they were made for you. He bites back another deep moan before grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. "Damn... sweetheart, you're killin' me here..."

Once he rode you through another round of edging by switching between the numbers of fingers every now and then, you quickly adjust to the new size.

When Dean notices how his fingers slide in and out so effortlessly, an idea forms in his head. He suddenly presses his lips against the shell of your ear. His voice a husky whisper, gentle and yet demanding, “Show me how deep you want it.”

You don’t even think, your body acting on its own. It’s like he’s got you under some magic spell, the relentless working of his fingers keeping you spellbound. His hand stills while you buck your hips against his hand. Further and further up, angling it while you press your chest into the mattress – the increasing tightness making you whimper and bite down on the pillow.

But to Dean’s amazement, you keep pushing against him, taking it all the way. Even when he slowly slips a fourth finger inside. He bites back another guttural groan. The feeling of you clamping his fingers and now even slowly, tentatively rocking your hips against him is almost too much for him.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, despite your mindless state. You roll your hips up against him and a loud groan erupts from your throat at the intense sensation of him splitting you apart.

Dean leans a bit back to relish the view with parted lips: He’s knuckles-deep inside you. His four thick fingers stretching you to the point you feel like you might explode. He’s completely filling you, his fingertips hitting your most sensitive spot at the very end.

He lets you set the pace, only occasionally curling his fingers as he draws sounds from you which can only be describe as borderline pornographic. Every whine and mewl are rewarded with a stronger flick of his thumb over your swollen clit. Your legs are shaking and you buckle from the increased friction, the pleasure doubled with a simple continues rub against your bud.

It doesn’t take long until your legs not only tremble but start to give in and fight the mattress for some form of control. Short erratic puffs of breath burst out of your mouth and a little dribble of saliva escapes the corner of your lips. The sight alone would’ve almost sent Dean, but the sounds you made – my God your sounds of pleasure were like heaven to him.

Desperate and overwhelmed, your body starts to act on its own again; your legs kick and squirm and writhe. Your hips suddenly jerk away and your fingers dig into the sheets enough to strangle a grown man.

Dean’s eyes widen briefly, leaning down with his weight to keep you still. “Shhh-Shhh,” he coos reassuringly, but with an almost mock-innocent undertone. As if that sly bastard didn’t know that you are on the brink of breaking.

He slings his leg around one of your kicking legs, effectively holding it in a deadlock as he presses it back into the mattress. “Ah-ah-ah,” he playfully warns you with a cocky smirk, “Stay here, sweetheart… ain’t done with ya yet…” He moves his free hand up to the back of your head where he carefully threads his fingers through your hair, taking a fist full to gently tug your head back and hold you in place.

A pleading whimper leaves your lips. Begging for relief, for him to finally allow you to fall over that damn edge. You try to voice your plea for mercy but any word that’s meant to leave your lips is smushed into another pathetic, strangled noise on its way out.

“Damn… can’t even talk any more can ya, gorgeous…” Dean chuckles deeply, his rumbling chest vibrating against your back as he keeps you pinned down under his weight. You can feel the muscles of his hard calf, tense and unyielding against your trapped leg. Your thigh straining against him in vain, twitching and trembling. Your toes claw at the sheets in a desperate attempt to break free from his grip, whimpering something which he recognises as a scrambled, frustrated “please”. But he doesn’t budge, his strength effortlessly keeping you at his mercy and leaving you no chance of escaping his onslaught.

He leans down to your ear, his voice dropping an octave when he asks teasingly, “You wanna cum? That it, baby? You want me to make ya cum?”

Yes, yes, yes yes yes – you keep repeating the word in your head until you realize that you’re only whining more. Dean chuckles, “That a yes? Hm? What was that?”

Oh Jesus Christ he’s enjoying this way too much. This time you nod – frantically. Not taking the risk of your answer getting lost again. Your sounds are hoarse by now, your body contorting from his four fingers slowly moving inside your cunt and his thumb working your clit every now and then – not enough to let the knot in your stomach burst, but enough to keep you on the brink of it. He falls into a tantalizing pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes so deep that it makes your half-lidded eyes roll back with a pained groan.

Dean meanwhile drinks in the sight of you squirming from the pleasure he can give you, all at his mercy, making sure to not give you a single moment of catching your breath.

“Oh yeah..?” Dean lets out a low hum. He pulls your ear lobe between his teeth and gives you a little tug at your hair. You’re shaking, even your whimpering sounds are clipped, breathless and trembling, your mind numb by now. Your body overstimulated and exhausted from chasing that sweet relief for what feels like hours.

“Jesus, you’re so vocal babe… you know how hard this gets me?” He groans against the side of your face and he grinds his rock hard erection against your hip to prove his statement. After a moment, he releases the grip on your hair and moves his hand down your neck, angling his shoulders to push his arm down between your shoulder blades to keep you from wiggling away. “You’re such a good girl for me…” he says while shifting his position on top of you, “And good girls get a reward…”

Fucking finally. A long shaky exhale escapes you when his weight presses down on you, his body covering you like a heavy blanket. He supports himself by leaning up on his right elbow, always making sure not to put too much pressure on you, but enough to let you feel his strength and the power over you.

His hot, ragged breath hits your ear once more. Whispering in that gravelly and authoritative tone of his, every word punctured by a deep thrust of his fingers, “’M gonna count down from ten… and when I hit zero... I want you to cum for me baby, understand?”

Lord have mercy. You nod again, although most of his words went past you and at this point you would have probably agreed to anything for that relief. With your brain melted into a useless puddle, you feel like you’re only driven by need and primal instincts by now.

And then, the next ten seconds feel like the most intense you have ever experienced. With every number you feel your knot tighten more, your core burning up as if it was to explode any second – but not yet, not yet —

“…seven…”

He moves his arm along your back to grab your left hand, holding it down. “…six...” His fingers intertwine with yours, while his other hand picks up its pace. “…five…” You’re suddenly arching your back, involuntarily trying to squirm away from him. But his firm chest keeps you safe beneath him, while his lips form the next number against your ear, “…four…”

Almost there. Your free knee slides along the mattress aimlessly and your other hand rips at the pillow, feeling like your body is about to snap into two. “…three…”

Determined to get you there, his calloused thumb flicks your overstimulated bud without mercy, earning himself another guttural whimper of yours, “-that’s it, let me hear ya …two…”

The sound of his low rumbling voice cuts right through your haze and a shudder shoots through your body. The anticipation’s almost killing you at this point, feeling coiled up like a spring.

“…one…” You can feel it, the wave building up and ready to crash down on you. Dean can sense you’re on the very edge too and he intends to send you over it this time. He gently bites down on your neck, muttering his final order against your skin, “…zero… cum for me, sunshine.” You go tense like a bowstring and your head snaps forward to bury your face in his elbow. When, at last, the wave hits your body and the knot in your stomach finally explodes with a strangled scream of relief. Several shudders of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you twist and turn, sandwiched between the mattress and Dean’s heavy body. He lets you ride out your high, his strong muscles working to hold you close to his chest.

You pant heavily, shakily. Your mind finally clearing. Your bleary eyes fully opening for the first time, like this was all just a dream too good to be true. His voice draws your attention to his face, when he gasps. “Jesus sweetheart… it’s like a swimmin’ pool down here.”

That comment takes you so much off guard, that you break out into a surprised laughter. He grins at you before he joins with his own hearty bark of amusement, a cocky grin on his face. “I ain’t kiddin’ – I’m growin’ fins!” He holds up his drenched hand, wrinkled skin, wiggling his cum-covered fingers in front of your eyes, “Look!”

He chuckles and his widened eyes take in the mess with something like fascination and an eager lick of his lips. The corners of his smile pull up into a lazy grin when his emerald eyes meet your satisfied and dozy, half-lidded ones again. “Y’know… I think ’m gonna need to clean up that mess down there.”

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation ... (check the masterlist for more!)

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[fastandcarlos]

Late Cravings : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: what baby wants, baby gets, even if she does want it at 3am, much to george's dissatisfaction

You barely managed to walk through the door before George appeared in front of you, his eyes were wide as his hands held onto your arms, studying you closely before closing the door. 

“George, at least let me get in,” you told him, being directed by his hold. “What’s going on? Why do you look so scared?” You questioned, sliding your shoes off and kicking them to one side. 

It was only once George stood still that you could see how nervous he looked. His heart was racing as he finally let you go, brushing his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, taking a moment to pace and compose himself a little bit once again. 

The fear of stirring in the night and not feeling you there brought a terror that George had never experienced before. He had no idea where you were, terrified that one of his worst fears during your pregnancy had come true. 

“Where were you?” George frantically asked you, “what sort of person just gets up and leaves the house at three in the morning without telling anyone where you’re going first.” 

You felt guilty as you heard the panic that was still in George’s voice, encouraging him to take a seat beside you. Your hand rested against his leg, assuring him that you were there and that you were safe. 

Your free hand reached into your bag and pulled out what you had bought on your late-night adventure, with George’s eyes watching carefully to see many of the things you’d been craving in front of you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about these and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep without getting my hands on them,” you told him, ripping open the packet of crisps you’d bought. 

“But I could have gone to get them for you, all you had to do was ask,” George groaned, staring across at you as you placed a crisp into your mouth, throwing your head back in satisfaction. 

The thought of waking George did cross your mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, he was peacefully sleeping beside you and you didn’t have the heart to disturb him. 

“You were asleep and with how busy you are you need to rest as much as possible,” you told him,  I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t feel like I was up to it George.” 

George’s head nodded, he understood where you were coming from, knowing that you wanted to remain as independent as possible, but even by his standards this was a stretch too far. 

“I could’ve sat in the passenger seat and slept,” he suggested with a smile on his face, “at least then I would have known exactly where you were.” 

“But you know where I am now, that’s the main thing, right?” 

George’s eyes narrowed on you, as safe as you were now, half an hour ago he was worried that it was going to be a whole different story. 

“I wish you’d tell me when you’re planning on giving me a heart attack,” George joked. 

“It’s all part of the fun,” you argued, resting your head down against George’s shoulder as you continued to eat. “You know I am just pregnant though George, I’m not incapable.” 

Whilst George was overprotective, you were a little carefree making the two of you a little conflicted. George wanted to know every last detail while you tended to not tell him much about what you were up to, confident you could still take on the world, even if George was a little more doubtful. 

“Maybe going out so early in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea,” you reasoned, much to George’s delight, “I suppose I could have sorted out my cravings in a little bit of a better way.” 

“I know how you get when you’re craving though,” George mused, “if there’s one thing that I know about you it’s that you definitely get whatever you want when you’re craving.” 

You nodded in agreement with him, you were determined with everything that you did, but now you were more determined than ever to do as much as you could for as long as you possibly could too. 

“I don’t mean to constantly be on your case,” George told you, kissing against the top of your head. “I need to remind myself to trust you more, to know that you know how far you can push your body.” 

“I wouldn’t do something if I couldn’t,” you assured, “and as much as you might not believe me, if I need help then I will ask you for it George.” 

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “I know you will, and I’ll always be there whenever you need me to step in and help you out.” 

“That’s why you’re such a fantastic husband.” 

You weren’t oblivious to how lucky you were to have George by your side doing absolutely anything that you needed. He was beyond excited to have a baby, wanting to do as much as he could to help both you and the baby out, maybe sometimes a little too much, although you knew George always meant well. 

“I draw the line at three in the morning,” George then spoke up, sending you a knowing glance. “It’s dark outside and you can’t see where you’re going. No craving can be as important as keeping you safe in conditions like that.” 

“I was driving and my lights were on.” 

“Still,” George sniggered, dismissing your protests. “From now on if you need anything in the night then you can shake and kick me awake, regardless of how sleepy I might look beside you.” 

Your eyebrows raised as George spoke, “I can kick you?” 

“That’s the bit you focus on,” George grumbled, rolling his eyes at you as you threw your crisp packet into the bin. “You got anything else in there, I’m hungry now after all the energy I’ve just exerted panicking for you.” 

“Are you pregnant and craving?” You asked him as his head shook. “In that case then you get nothing, these are mine and mine only.” 

You reached forwards and opened up the packet of sweets that you’d bought, taking one out. Luckily for George you reached across and popped one of the sweets into his mouth, much to his delight. You leant back against his chest as you started tucking in, his arm wrapping around you. 

Despite the way his heart had raced just a few minutes earlier, it was a lot calmer as George noticed the content smile now on your face. He knew that pregnancy was far from easy for you, trying his best to understand your mood and emotions as much as he could. 

“Maybe we should stock up on some of the things you crave,” George suggested, watching your eyes light up. “You know like how people how emergency rations; we could have emergency cravings.” 

“That might not be the worst idea,” you agreed, “but only if you agree that they’re for my cravings and not for you to keep tucking into.” 

“You know what my appetite is like, when there’s food in front of me then I’m probably going to eat it.” 

“Think of it like this, would you deny your child food if you ate the food that is kept in the cupboard for them?” 

“Oh wow, now that is the ultimate guilt trip.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

boss!yunho who's so horrible to you that you think he hates you.

you started at your new job two months ago. you're first corporate job. and your supervisor, jeong yunho, just won't let you breathe.

on your first day he called you into his office. he stared you down, eyes grazing every inch of your body and told you, "go home and change." and when you'd looked at him wide-eyed and asked "why?" he'd pointed at your skirt and said, "it's way to short. you look incredibly unprofessional." your face had burned in embarrassment as you walked out of his office, completely missing the way that his eyes lit up when your little skirt bounced as you walked out of his office.

and he works you to the bone, giving you assignment after assignment until your forced to stay overtime. and you do it without complaint because you finally want to get on his good side. and he watches from his office as you try so desperately not to fall asleep. he loves what a good girl you are. and if you do happen to fall asleep, he'll wake you up by calling you to his office once again and scolding you for taking so long.

when you finally get to your breaking point he gets so excited. you have your first performance review, but everyone else's took so long that he has to give it to you after hours. so you come back to his office for what feels like the 100th time. and he berates you for nearly an hour about how little you've been contributing to the team and how your work has declined in quality significantly since you were hired. and he tells you that they might need to let you go.

and he about comes in his pants when you break into tears. sobbing into your hands. apologizing profusely. "i'm sorry, mr. jeong. i'm trying so hard. i just feel so lost, and i don't know what i'm doing wrong. i want to do better. i can't lose this job. it's all i have. i'll do anything."

he rises from his chair and comes around his desk to your side, and you look up at him with teary eyes. he cups your cheek and wipes a tear, making sure to smudge some of your mascara, "anything? are you willing to do anything ms. l/n?"

yunho's thoughts are full of ways he could absolutely ruin you. thoughts of you forced to stay under his desk all day warming his cock in your mouth. you spending these late nights bend over his desk until you've squirted all over the floor, and he makes you clean it up with your tongue. making you turning in topless photos of yourself on top of your usual paperwork.

you nod and he smiles down at you, "good girl."

"what did you have in mind?" you whispered. desperately trying to avoid looking at his crotch where his obviously hard cock was straining in his pants.

"on your knees, pretty girl."

you move without hesitation, "yes, sir."

he groans at your compliance. "god, i'm not even gonna have to break you, am i?" your wide eyes look up at him from your spot on the floor, "oh but i am gonna ruin you, baby. ruin you for anybody else."

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[metyouinthehallway]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Matt knew he loved you. He loved the dimples on your cheeks when you really smiled. He loved your tender touches. The sweet nothings you’d mutter when the two of you held each other in the darkness of his bedroom.

He knew he was in love.

Late night drives with you, aimlessly driving around the streets of Boston. He’d stare in awe as you sang your heart out to the songs you loved most. He’d make an effort to yield at the yellow lights with you. Usually, he’d run through them in a hurry to get to his destination, but with you? He cherished every moment. He’d wait at stop signs a few seconds longer than intended just to have you in his presence for a little while longer.

Cooking in the kitchen with you would consist of him having no clue what he was doing, giggles and sweet kisses being traded as you two would turn the simplest meal into something much more complex than it needed to be. You’d reassure Matt that he would get better at cooking as time went on, knowing he would never willingly cook for himself unless you were next to him.

Sex with you, being skin to skin, him taking his time with you, making sure you were enjoying it just as much as he was. He’d praise you, tell you that you were made for him, that you fit around him so perfectly. He would never skip out on the aftercare either. Always grabbing a warm rag or running a shower for you. Giving you plenty of cuddles afterwards.

Every longing stare, every breath between kisses, every single smile on his face that you caused? That was love, but Matt was terrified to admit it.

There’s one specific memory, Matt pinpoints it as the moment he knew he’d fallen in love with you. Three months into the two of you dating, it was nearly four in the morning but you’d convinced him to take you to a park down the street from your house. Walking hand in hand to the park, you wasted no time scaling the rock wall and laying at the top of it. Matt followed behind you, panting out of exhaustion once he reached the top.

The two of you lay at the top of the rock wall, staring up at the night sky. Silence engulfing you both as you admire the faint stars that twinkle in the cloudy sky.

Matt’s hand snuck down to grab ahold of yours, intertwining you fingers with his, Matt turns his head, admiring the moonlight that perfectly illuminated your features. He didn’t lift his eyes from your side profile, you being the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

“I can feel you staring, Matt!” You giggle, turning your head to meet his gaze. Matt squeezed your hand in response, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” He hums, his hair falling over top of his forehead. The entire population of Boston, Massachusetts had fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, you and Matt were wide awake, completely enamored by each other.

He could see the faint blush rise to your cheeks at his compliment, you attempting to hide your face with your hands. Shifting so he was propped up on his elbows, he looks down at you. Truly studying your features. How could anyone talk down about you? To Matt, you were the closest thing to heaven on earth.

“Stop it…” you whine, still unsure of how to take a compliment. You wanted to say it so bad, you wanted to speak that three word sentence into existence. But, you didn’t.

“It’s true,” Matt chuckles, moving your hands from your face, he leans down and places a sweet kiss to your lips. “I think you’re perfect.” That was his way of telling you he loved you.

That moment, on top of the rock wall? That’s when Matt had realized he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone else. It’d take him two more months to verbalize it, but he felt it that night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[theemporium]

[1.7k] an early morning birthday treat for your boyfriend hours before the rest of the world needs either of you. (smut)

we are gonna ignore the fact i accidentally hit the post limit yesterday and pretend i actually posted this on his birthday

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“Good morning, birthday boy.” 

Oscar let out a small hum of acknowledgement, a small smile working its way onto his face but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he wound his arm around your waist and tugged you down until you were collapsing down on his chest. He sighed happily, nuzzling himself further against you whilst you wiggled in his embrace. 

“You’re ruining your birthday,” you commented, trying to nudge his arm away so you could sit back up. But Oscar didn’t budge a bit.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled, his voice still laced with sleep and his accent coating his slurred words a little thicker than normal. “I get to choose what we do and I choose sleeping.”

“That’s boring,” you retorted, twisting in his hold until you were facing him. You reached a hand out, pushing his hair back until you got an unrestricted view of his face squished against the pillow. 

“I happen to like boring birthdays.” 

You snorted, smiling fondly as you leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of his slightly scrunched nose. “You’re not even going to ask what I planned?” 

“If it includes leaving this bed before I have to head to the track, then I’m not interested,” Oscar mumbled, letting out a sigh as your nails began to scratch along his scalp. “I’m quite happy here. Very content. Very happy birthday boy.”

“And if I said your birthday plans start in bed?” 

Oscar paused for a moment. “I’m listening.”

You grinned, lightly poking his cheek until his eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey.”

He flashed you a lazy smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Happy birthday,” you murmured before you leaned down, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on his lips. 

“Definitely happy,” he hummed in response, huffing a little when you pushed his shoulder so he was lying on his back. “You’re awfully bossy this morning.”

“You like it,” you teased, throwing one leg over his body until you were settled on his lap. In seconds, his hands were on your waist like the reaction was instinctive. 

“Maybe,” he replied, though the light pink painting his cheeks gave him away. His thumbs lightly swiped along your hip bones, slowly pushing the material of your (his) shirt up until he was met with bare skin. “I have to be at the track by ten.”

“It’s only seven,” you retorted.

“That means we could have had a solid two more hours of sleep,” he pointed out, his eyes still a bit bleary from sleep. He was just grateful enough that one of you remembered to pull the curtains shut last night. “You know, cuddling is good for dopamine and stuff.”

Your lips twitched. “Dopamine and stuff?”

“You woke me up five minutes ago, give me a break,” Oscar grumbled, squeezing your hips to emphasise his point. 

“I know something else that would be good for your dopamine and stuff,” you said, grinning a little as you leaned down to peck his lips. “Something for the birthday boy.”

“You keep saying that but—oh shit.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, his grip on you tightening as you rolled your hips against his. You ducked your head down, lips pressing chaste, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck as you felt his skin flush under your touch. You felt his thumping pulse pounding, could feel the way his body was reacting to you. 

It was fucking intoxicating. 

“Do you still wanna go back to sleep?” You questioned, your voice teasing and a little patronising as you nipped the skin just below his ear.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed out, shaking his head in response. “This is good. This is better.”

You grinned against his skin.

And maybe it was still-half-asleep brain or maybe Oscar just didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t really expecting more. It was still painfully early for either of you to be awake right now, especially considering how late you had managed to get to the hotel. And he was honestly more than happy to have this, to have his girl on top of him. To have your hands and your lips and your pretty words. To just have you. 

He wasn’t thinking about where it was leading, he was just stuck in the present moment of you, you, you.

His brain hadn’t even fully caught up until your kisses started moving lower, until a few chaste kisses along his collarbone started to move further down his chest. 

“Babe,” he rasped, his head still a little fuzzy with sleep as your breath fanned over the muscles of his stomach.

“Shhh, relax f’me, Osc,” you murmured between soft kisses, fingers tugging the edge of his boxers down as the urge to mark along his v-line overwhelmed you. 

“I—” But the words were lost in the back of his throat as the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his boxers, your lips mouthing at the sensitive skin along his hips. 

His eyes fell shut, his head digging back into the pillow as he let himself enjoy every single inch of his body that was being touched by you. The way his hips bucked against your hand, the front of the fabric already wet and stained with precome as you marked pretty bruises on his pale skin. The way your body settled between his thick thighs, nails grazing along his skin until he was squirming and whining underneath you. The way every cell in his body was just so, so responsive to you. 

A guttural moan escaped the back of his throat as you mouthed along his clothed cock, licking a thick strip over the fabric of his boxers as he helplessly buckled beneath your touch. He didn’t think a single thought in his head was about anything but you. He didn’t think he wanted to think about anything else but you. 

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and throwing them somewhere off the edge of the bed, neither one of you all too bothered where it landed. Instead, you took his hard cock in your hand, not wasting a second before you sucked the tip in your mouth, lapping at the small beads of precome that were already leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed out, his hips bucking further into your mouth but your other hand kept his body planted on the mattress. 

He was fucking helpess. 

He was fucking helpess and he didn’t give two shits about anything other than you. 

There was a vague voice in the back of his head reminding him that it was early, that they had neighbours, that those neighbours were colleagues of his. But it was a passing thought at best for Oscar as he squirmed and wiggled and writhed beneath your touch. It was a problem for future Oscar to deal with. 

And it wasn’t often Oscar was vocal, not like this. But he was sleepy and caught off-guard and, fuck, your mouth just felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t help himself with the whimpers and moans he let out, your name like a mantra as it left his lips on a broken loop. 

Because Oscar Piastri was a weak man when it came to you. 

And when he lifted his head off the pillow to finally look down at you, he about lost whatever semblance of control he had left.

Your hands were placed on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but the pain was biting and welcomed. Your cheeks were hallowed around his dick, a mix of come and drool leaking from the edges but it just made his stomach twist with a deep desire that he knew would haunt his fantasies for months to come. Your lips were red and swollen, your eyes were glossy and hooded and, fucking hell, the second he met your gaze, it was over for him. 

His hands were gripping the sheets of the duvet beneath him as he came, the pleasure white and hot and overwhelming in every sense of the word. He felt it all over like a hot flush, dancing along his nerve endings and racing down his spine as his body bucked upwards to be closer to you, your mouth, your everything. He was distantly aware of the little whiny noises he made as he came, the ones that were half muffled as he buried his face into his pillow as his orgasm washed over him whilst you lapped at his sensitive cock. 

He couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed when he finally turned back to look at you, seeing you slowly lick your fingers clean from the cum that had leaked out your mouth with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a menace,” was all he managed to breathe out, throwing his arm over his face to try and recover from mind blowing orgasm and the sight of you shamelessly tasting him. 

“Happy birthday,” you replied cheerfully, crawling back up the bed until you could press a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling yourself against him. “Good start to twenty-three?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you might’ve killed me.”

“At least you died young, pretty and satisfied,” you joked, feeling his chest rumble beneath you and it made your stomach twist with something quite like delight. 

“And in love,” he added, his words a little slurred and his cheeks burning a little at his own cheesiness. But it still made you grin.

“I love you too, Osc,” you murmured back.

“I was talking about those sushi rolls we had last night, but yeah I love you too,” he murmured, letting out a short pained noise when you pinched his side. “Ow! What happened to birthday boy privileges?”

“Those ended with the blowjob,” you retorted. “You’re back to normal Oscar now.”

“Hm, that seems a little unfair,” Oscar commented as he wound his arms around your body, hugging you close to his chest like the two of you could melt into one person. 

“Tragic life of being twenty-three,” you teased.

Oscar smiled. “Thank you, seriously.” 

You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. “Did you just thank me for a blowjob?”

The sleepy smile returned. “Yeah, pretty sure I just did.”

“Never beating the polite cat allegations,” you said, lighthearted and sweet and joking as you leaned down to kiss him. “Never change, birthday boy.”

“Never in a million years, baby.” 

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