#just a little taste of what you’ll get in my full fics when I get the courage to post them

[yundeob]

dirty dancing | PSH

part 2 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: enemies to lovers!au, 1960s!au

☆ pairing: dancer!seonghwa x reader

☆ warnings: probably some inaccurate sixties references oops, reader is v shy in the beginning, smut, marking, p in v intercourse, use of protection, dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!hwa, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), grinding, slight degradation kink and manhandling, slapping, mirror sex, size kink, sweet aftercare, the “L” word, smoking/tobacco use, drug use, seonghwa is able to lift reader when they dance, profanity, sloww burn, SA, groping, mentions of a*ortion (if you’ve seen the og movie then you’ll know about penny’s situation), accidental pregnancy (not reader) — NOTE: IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE WITH THESE TAGS, DNI! Please read the actual film’s synopsis first if you’re you do not like the last few tags.

☆ synopsis: THAT WAS THE SUMMER you met resident heart-breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

☆ playlist: be my baby by the ronnettes, another saturday night by sam cooke, still feel like your man by john mayer, we belong together by ritchie valens, karma chameleon by culture club

☆ a/n: for everyone that’s been following along with the writing process, thank you so much for your patience and understanding. I really had to force myself a few times to just sit and get this done, but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out! Let me know what you think with your reblog and feedback! cheers to the long awaited second fic of this series🥂

☆ word count: 14.3k

THAT WAS THE SUMMER OF 1963. When everyone called you baby, and it didn’t seem to occur to you to mind. 

Summer was in full swing; families driving up to the vacation resort owned by your aunt in their shiny new corvettes, eagerly awaiting the nights of drinking, golfing, and mambo classes accompanied with luxury hospitality.

That’s a given when you're staying at a place like your aunt's vacation resort. 

Pool days followed by structured entertainment for these folks meant summer job opportunities for young college students like yourself, hoping to save up some money before the fall semester came. 

While other girls vacationing at the resort were spending their time fawning over The Beach Boys, sneaking out to the lakes to go skinny dipping, and enjoying the taste of freedom, you were taking orders and waiting tables at the bar across the golf course every night. Your hair smelled of fryer grease, your pockets filled with ketchup packets, and with every passing shift you worked, the burning desire to just quit and get away grew deeper in your heart.

But you really needed this money. There wasn’t any other reason that could replace why you were still here after closing hours, folding table napkins into the shape of swans.

“It’s for you, baby”

A voice brings you out of your thoughts, turning to see a long outstretched hand holding the receiver of a phone towards you.

Yunho sits slumped against the counter on top of a bar stool, his polo uniform shirt that you were wearing one identical to sticking to his chest with sweat. All the while he fanned himself from the sweltering July heat. 

He wipes a bead of sweat running off the side of his brow. 

“It’s a call for you,” he repeats again, shrugging the receiver to you expectedly. 

You quickly walk over, taking the phone with a quiet thanks before holding it close to your ear. 

Yunho watches the frail and timid little thing you were, barely holding the receiver close enough before a familiar voice cuts through. 

“I hope that those napkins are looking like swans and not chickens, baby”

Your aunt’s soft laughter fills your ear, breaking out into a silent state of panic as you eyed the pieces of cloth spread disappointingly across the table you were just standing at. 

You truly sucked ass at folding. 

“Just trying my best” you told her softly, voice unfamiliar as you just let out the first few words you’ve spoken all night. A sudden feeling washes over you that you’re being watched, and you’re proven right when you crane your neck to see Yunho looking at you out of the corner of your eyes. Warmth spreads throughout your face when you momentarily locked eyes. The tall blonde boy merely smiles, trying to be friendly before you shuffle awkwardly and turn away from his gaze.  

He wasn’t trying to be weird. In Yunho’s defense, it was just kinda interesting for him to see you share a casual conversation with your aunt, known as none other than his own employer and the literal owner of the resort he worked at. 

Plus, he never got to hear your voice. Like ever. 

Tangling the cord of the telephone wire in between your fingers, you questioned your aunt quietly. “Did you need help with something?” 

“I do, actually” she says, the background muffling her words with loud chatter as it seemed the lodge guests were still up and wide awake at this hour. 

“I need you to do me a favor. Grab those watermelons sitting in the fridge and bring them down to the kitchen in the main building for me. I forgot to get the staff here to pick it up, and it would just be so much faster if you brought it down for me, darling.”

You eyed the mentioned goods sitting perched in the back kitchen. 

“The ones on the counter?” You asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t recall leaving any other melons on top of one of my kitchens… so, yes” she remarks sarcastically. 

Hauling those massive things and walking back to the main building was going to be a hassle, especially with your location being all the way on the opposite side across the golf course. 

But what you were dreading even more was confirmed with what she said next. 

“You could just ask that boy Yunho to help you.” She states casually.

Your body tenses at her words, dreading the likely fact that you’ll have to speak more than five words to the golden retriever looking bartender in order to complete your aunt’s request.  

“I’m sure you two will be fine. I’ll be expecting to see you soon, baby”  

“Okay, goodbye” is all you say, hearing her thanks over the phone before you hang up. 

You hand the receiver back to Yunho, who had still been watching you with a small grin on his face. 

“Boss say anything important?” watching as your brows furrow in debated thought, wondering if you should just ask him for his help. 

Your hands get a little clammy, and you make an effort to smooth your khaki work pants, nervousness getting to you. For fucks sake, you were only asking him to help you hold a watermelon. The worst he could do was say no!

You looked up to the tall boy, already feeling a little stupid when you saw him look at you quizzically. 

“Actually, Yunho…” you began, swallowing in nervousness. “Could you help me bring those?” You muttered quietly, shoulders cowering as you pointed to the watermelons sitting on the kitchen counter. He looks back to see what you’re referring to. 

You immediately see his face change in surprise, having caught his attention by speaking more words just now, than you had the entirety of the few weeks you’d worked together. 

Then, the boy can’t help but break into a smile when he hears you clear your voice to speak up again.

“Please?”

“Do you believe watermelons are berries?” Yunho asks you, taking long strides in front of you across the damp grass of the golf course. 

The faint chirping of crickets and summer cicadas resonates across the amphitheater of an empty field, the only sources of light coming from the outdoor flood lights illuminating the path to the main building of the lodges. 

The nighttime air was humid, an unsatisfying breeze blowing past you two as you made your way together.

“Sorry?” You huff, trying to catch your breath. 

You’re staring at the way he’s been able to tuck the two large melons safely in his arms, having to stop in his tracks as you struggled to keep up with his speed while carrying just one.

“Technically, watermelons don’t have any internal divisions, but because they have seeds you could argue that they’re just massively large berries.” he points out, the idea seeming to spill from his mouth like he had been pondering the thought for very long.  

His brows are furrowed in thought when he looks over to you, awaiting your opinion.

“I-I guess so” you agreed meekly. How else were you to respond?

Your arms began to hurt from holding the heavy fruit for so long, and the both of you had only barely made it past the pond near the golf course, changing direction towards a trail with a cleared path. Yunho carries on with his fruit philosophy.

“If you put popular beliefs aside, pumpkins are considered berries too.“ He grins, chuckling to himself as he walks beside you. “Which means you and I are just holding three massive berries in total!”

“Right..” 

Before you could think to say anything else in response, a tall figure identical to the height of Yunho rushes up from behind and smacks the back of head. 

You’re seconds away from dropping the watermelon in your hand from shock, jaw hanging open as you clutched on the melon in surprise while Yunho stops in his tracks to curse out loud. 

“What the fuck-”

“Hey yuyu, finished your shift already?” A boy cheekily grins while wearing a blue, well-loved varsity jacket. His eyes turned into crescent moons while giggling with utter joy at the sight of his friend scowling in pain, dodging the kicks Yunho tries to get back at him while holding the two fruits. 

“Get off my back, Mingi” he spits, though he lets the boy hang near him. 

You do what you’ve grown accustomed to over the past month of working here, making yourself invisible amongst the two friends you slowly trailed behind. 

There’s a good reason you‘ve become this shy and hesitant to ask for help while working at the resort, and that was because no one here actually liked you. 

Being the niece of the lodge owner didn’t exactly have the perks you’d think would come with it. Rumor had already spread like wildfire on your first day of work amongst the young employees, gossiping all sorts of ridiculous stories as to why a girl like you needed to be spending her summers working at her rich Aunt's resort to make money. From rumours that you were cut off by your rich parents, to one being that you got knocked up and sent away here as punishment, the gossip from the part-timers was like a supply of fuel to be added to the fire. 

You had been extremely lucky to get this job thanks to your Aunt. In order to keep your place here, you made up for it by working twice as hard as any other person. Picking up other people’s shifts while tolerating being ignored and trashed about was something you decided you’d stick it out for the whole summer. You desperately needed this money to afford finally moving out of your house back home. It was only after much hesitance that you resorted to reaching out to your distant Aunt on your mothers side you never actually talked to. You were willing to do any work she gave that would be enough to keep the bills paid. The only friend you seemed to somewhat make while working this summer was Yunho, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to care about all the nepo baby crap he heard everyone spew behind your back. 

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be giving tango lessons to the bungalow bunnies back at the gazebo?” Yunho teases to his friend, propping up the watermelons in his hands to make them appear like two large breasts. 

You looked away, blushing as Yunho juts his lips out to mimic the middle aged trophy wives his friend frequently gave dancing lessons to. Mingi must’ve been a part of the entertainment and dance staff, the one clique of part-timers in this place that no one else seemed to be able to go against. 

He teased in a high pitched southern accent, “Oh, Mingi, you really know how to put those hips to use!”

Yunho's laughter resonates throughout the empty field, becoming Mingi’s turn to pummel his ass from embarrassment, ears going red. 

“Shut up, man! Keep talking but at the end of the day, you could only dream what it’s like having those women all over ya!” He states proudly.

Yunho peers over to see you awkwardly trailing behind, shoving his friend’s shoulder and jerking his head to you, motioning to give you some help. Mingi leans down to grasp the sliding melon falling out of your hands, letting you catch up so you three could all walk together. 

You’re about to protest but Mingi is already smirking down at you. 

“So you’re the boss’s niece everyone’s been talking about, huh?” 

Knowing the rumours going around about you, you were mentally preparing for what else was to come out of Yunho’s friend. But the next words that he says surprises you instead. 

“I don’t care about that bullshit, y’know” 

He grins, standing tall with the watermelon easily tucked under one of his arms. 

“If I were you, I’d own it proudly.”

You hadn’t expected that answer to be honest. You glance over to Yunho who chuckles at his friend, gratitude and relief seeping into your heart when you realize Mingi seems to be a decent guy just like him. 

“First thing I’d do if my aunt owned this place would be to raid the liquor cellars under the guests lounge” he states, Yunho rolling his eyes while Mingi looks at you again. “I’d be trying to get away with all the shit I could do.”

The blonde scoffs, sneering at his friend's words. 

“Yeah, as if you can even handle your alcohol well.”

Mingi glares back.

“Kid passed out one time from a sip of beer” Yunho mutters to you, watching the corners of your mouth turn up. He definitely didn’t appear to be a lightweight in your thoughts.

“You don’t really speak much do you?” Mingi interrupts, coming closer as you walk side by side.

You shook your head.

“What did they call you again?” he pauses to think, racking his brain to find the nickname everyone made fun of you for. “Bonnie? Berry?…”

It's ridiculous how a childhood nickname your Aunt kept for you had now stuck with the entire staff at the summer lodge. So admittedly, you can’t help it if some of your frustration seems to slip out when you give him a sarcastic roll of your eyes 

“It's baby,” you answered with a huff. 

Mingi stares at you for a moment which makes you worry you’ve taken your attitude too far, before he’s already chuckling at your response. 

“Well baby’s got spunk, hasn’t she?” 

“Not everyone calls me that” you tried to convince him, frowning when Yunho chips in.

”Yeah right, everyone calls you baby here.” he grins, teasing you.

You looked away, awkwardly staring at some bushes nearby. He was right. 

Mingi already decides that he likes you, and seeing how Yunho likes you as well, the rumours he’s been hearing about you going around don’t matter to him anymore.

“Well then, baby” He beams, the lights near the main building's entrance glowing brighter as you get closer. “Wanna go to a real adult party?” 

You slowed down your steps, eyes widening at his words as Yunho shoved his clueless friend for his comment. 

“Don’t fucking say it like that, creep!”

Mingi realizes what his offer might’ve sounded like, assuring you that he was just inviting you and Yunho to the after party the entertainment staff were holding in the abandoned barn behind the west building. The west building located dorms where all the staff were able to live during the busiest time of vacation season. 

“A party?” You repeated, lips parting softly. 

Mingi nodded eagerly as he joked. 

“C’mon, you’re not gonna tell your aunt on us, are you?” 

The three of you stood near the back entrance of the main kitchen. Your last task of the night would be dropping off the watermelons before you’re free to walk away from the offer standing before you tonight. 

And perhaps it's because you're tired. Not necessarily tired from lack of sleep, but tired of the whole routine. Of the monogamous, soul-draining routine you’ve picked up ever since you got here, which was spending any second you weren’t working, sleeping, or eating, being cooped up in your twin-sized bed reading or laying awake at night to the sounds of cicadas. 

“I wouldn't tell her regardless, Mingi” you said truthfully, which makes the boy change his playful demeanor a bit. 

You thought for a long, hard moment. 

You’ve never had friends. Never broke the rules. Never once dared to sneak off the property to go somewhere, let alone a party with other people your age. And so with in mind the thrill of it all, with the absolute exhaustion of being alone all the damn time, you say yes. 

The two boys grin in excitement, and Mingi thrusts the watermelon in his arms to perch over his right shoulder.

“Great! Me and Yunho will pick you up at your dorm once we drop these off.” He says, the two boys walking off inside to drop off the delivery your aunt requested. It isn’t before Mingi turns to call out your name.

“Oh, and baby! Don’t be afraid to dress casual” he smiles, sending a nod of his head back to you. 

Inside, your stomach turns. 

You’re already started to regret this. 

You mumble quiet curses to yourself, awkwardly adjusting the cardigan and short skirt dress you managed to convince yourself was deemed appropriate for hanging out with other staff outside of work hours. 

You’re walking up those steep wooden steps of the hill leading up to the barn house, and with every thumping sound of the music getting louder, so does the beat of your heart inside your chest.

“Just be cool, baby” Yunho reassures you, having changed out of his uniform as well into a pair of shorts and a yellow Hawaiian button up shirt. 

“We’ll introduce you to more of our friends” Mingi assures, leading the way at the very front. 

You huff worriedly in response, knowing that the other college kids aren’t going to be very happy when they see the outcasted niece of the resort owner. But you still send them both a thankful smile, keeping it plastered on your face for not too long. 

“I just hope that son of bitch Wooyoung doesn’t eat all the pop tarts” Mingi mutters under his breath, shaking his head and clenching his fists inside his varsity jacket. 

“He knows I like strawberry…”

Once you reach the doors to the barn, Mingi and Yunho pause to look down at you before going in. “Ready?” the bartender asks, beaming down at you. You swallowed your nervousness, bundling up your nerves and hiding them away inside you. You give them both a small nod. 

Mingi immediately kicks the barn doors open, hollering to the large crowd of dancing college students. Half of which you know for a fact don’t work at the resort and have driven up from the city. 

And all at once, your breath is taken away. 

Bodies melted against one another in an obscene way you had never before seen back home. A few girls were wearing tight, form-fitting clothing that accentuated their hips and curves, while men sported the trending greaser look that had them thrusting their hips through tight fitting jeans or leather pants.  

You watched from a distance as couples grinded onto one another, dancing so passionately as though the music had overtaken their minds. The barn, though appearing to be rundown and shabby from the outside, was the definition of a banging, fucking party. 

“What are they doing?” You asked cluelessly to Yunho, unable to take your eyes off the sweaty bodies molding themselves together on the dance floor, rocking their hips and shaking their legs. 

This wasn’t even dancing. This was something else. 

He laughed loudly. “They’re just dancing!” looking down at you as he raises his voice over the loud music. “All the kids are doing it back home.” 

“You wanna try it?” He asks, teasing you. You reverently shake your head no and he can’t help but laugh at your continuation to stare in shock. He urges you forward instead. 

“Come on, baby”

You can tell how popular Mingi and Yunho must be, the way that every so often they bump into a friend of theirs and chat with them eagerly. A few of them give you some judging stares, but with the two giants by your side, it doesn’t bother you as much as it usually does. 

Beer, cigarettes, and slips of condom packages are exchanged on the dance floor, folks minding their business and having the time of their lives. 

“Can you imagine dancing like this on the main floor?” Yunho laughs, gesturing to the sea of sweat, lust and rhythm that could never in a million years find its way back to the ‘family friendly’ establishment you worked for. 

“Your aunt would close the place down first!” he chuckles, letting you grab onto his arm to navigate through the party. 

Yunho catches up to Mingi standing a few meters away, thinking you’d follow when you let go. Instead, a hand snakes its way around your waist near the dance floor, grasping you tightly and making you jump from surprise. A body begins to lewdly grind itself against you, worn out jeans coming into view as their legs trapped yours in between them. 

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you?” a voice whispers into your ear, the smell of booze reeking from the man’s hot breath. 

“Haven’t seen you around here” his accent slips through. 

Sweat begins to form on your forehead, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. You were highly uncomfortable right now. 

“Please let go,” you asked politely, struggling to pry the dirty hands off of your body. 

“C’mon,” he protests, pulling you closer. “Just one dance, OW-”

A heeled shoe comes to stomp on the man's big toe, a manicured hand swatting the grip on your hips away, making him yelp in pain and shove you away. You stumble a bit, whipping your head around to see the ugly looking bastard. A woman stands in front of you protectively between him, hands on the hips of her dress.

“You fucking sleaze!” You hear from in front of you.

“Fuck was that for, Minny?” he lashes out, his voice rising in tone over the loud music. A few couples stop to stare at his outburst momentarily, though they quickly go back to dancing, moving around the comotion. 

“The next time I see your nasty hands touching another poor girl's ass, Bobby, and I'm telling Seonghwa and the rest of the dance crew.” the girl snaps, dangly earrings rushing back and forth above her perfect exposed collar bones while she points an accusatory finger in the direction of the pervert. Her chest moves with every fuming breath she takes. 

Bobby, who had just been trying to cop a feel at you, scoffs, staring her down and intimidating you in the process. 

“You ain’t gonna do shit, Minny.” He spits to the floor, making you take one more step behind the girl. 

“I might not do shit. But you sure as hell know Seonghwa isn’t gonna leave you alone.”

“Just like last time” She threatens, watching as his eyes look away pathetically in fear, knowing specifically what she was referring to. 

“You’re fucking disgusting. Get the fuck out of my sight” she brushes him off, watching how he glares at her for a moment before reluctantly sliding to another side of the dance floor. 

The situation de-escalates as quickly as it first began. 

Your heart continues to pound against your chest, a wave of relief washing over yourself when he leaves. Your hero, standing tall in front of you in pretty tango heels and a pink chiffon dress, lays a hand on your shoulder. 

“You alright, hun? Don’t mind that creep, he’s lower than piss on the floor” she states, the lights flashing over her toned, dancer body. She shakes her head in frustration. “These sort of morons are always lurking on the dance floor so you gotta be careful sometimes”

You’re starstruck, words unable to fall out of your mouth as you thank her. 

“Thank you for that” you find the courage to say. She smiles, sending you a small wink.

“Don’t mention it. Girls gotta stick together” she grins. 

Just as she’s about to leave, Yunho rushes over to you, messy blonde strands sweeping over his frantic eyes. 

“I was looking for you, where the hell did you go?” Yunho towers over you, in the process also making eye contact with the girl. 

“Don’t go losing your girl now, Yun” she teases, arms crossing over her chest. 

Yunho immediately recognizes the face and smiles. His ears begin to match the red party cup he was holding in his left hand.

“Minny!” he grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy as usual,” she shrugs. “Booked under mambo classes, kids tango, main floor ballroom, you know how it is.” she sighs. “You?”

“Night and day shifts all fucking mixed together” he replies. 

The two become lost in each other's eyes, clearing your voice as you speak over the loud music. 

“I’m not his girl, by the way”

She looks back at you, shooting a smirk at Yunho who laughs out loud, introducing you to her.

“This is baby, we work the night shifts at the bar down by the golf course together” he explains. 

He sends a smile to the girl in front of him who you can already tell he’s head over heels for. 

“This is Minny, works with Mingi and the rest of entertainment if you didn’t already notice.” 

“B-A-B-Y, baby?” She asks, eyes going wide as a sweet grin settles on her lips.

“That’s your name?”

You nod slowly, face feeling warm. 

“Just a nickname we all call her” Yunho chuckles, looking down at you as he explained. “But she sure does look all clueless like a baby, doesn’t she?” 

Minny nods, smiling at you as the song changes to something fast paced that makes people cheer and holler over their cigarettes and drinks. 

“Let’s go dance then, baby” she smirked, intertwining your hand with hers as she flashes a look towards Yunho.

“Bye, Yunho!” She winks back. 

You’re unable to say anything more as Minny guides you to the dance floor, your feet resisting her pull as you frantically shout over the music. 

“But I can’t dance!” 

She waves you off like it’s no big deal. “It’s okay if you don’t know! I’ll teach you!” She encourages, her body swaying so naturally in a way that makes you envy her. 

“Just feel the music, baby” she tells you. “Forget about everything else.”

You follow her words, a small smile making its way to your face as you become excited with every passing beat of the music. You’re not as good as her, but it’s a start to you coming out of the protective little box you’ve been in for too long. 

Minny’s eyes close as she looks up to the ceiling, shutting her eyes and desperately trying to let the music consume her. 

“Sometimes you just gotta dance ‘til your feet hurt more than what's in your heart”

From afar, a figure leaning against the wall follows your every move, watching you unknowingly throw your head back and giggle with every move you attempt to follow. 

“Someone must’ve had a fun time last night”

Your aunt continues diligently writing away in her cheque book, accounting for the weekly sales and profits behind the counter of the front desk of the resort. With every check mark, she goes back to the large calculator beside her, punching in numbers under her steel rimmed glasses, a few curses of frustration slipping out when the machine doesn’t work. 

“I’m surprised you’re not awake like you usually are, baby” she points out, watching as your slumped back immediately turns straight and you sit up tall in your seat, blinking your tired eyes. 

You should be properly manning the front desk you’re sitting at right now, but with all the guests gone to do the lodge offered activities like canoeing or water polo, the main desk is left empty except for the two of you sitting in your seats. 

“Have you been staying up late?” She asks with sharp curiosity. 

You shook your head, stifling a yawn. “I think I just slept in a weird position. Haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

The truth of the matter was, you’ve been sneaking out for the last few nights, having the most exhilarating experiences dancing and hanging out with Minny and the rest of the party staff in the abandoned barn.

Although your dancing wasn’t as good as Minny’s, no one seemed to care that you were there with them. For all the kids that did seem to talk shit in front of you for joining them, Minny would stick her fist up their asses just to defend you, and you had grown to love her already.

At your carefully picked response she nods, going back to her checkbook for a moment before she asks you carefully. 

“And are the part-timers treating you well? Teaching you the ropes behind everything here?”

You could never bring yourself to explain to your aunt that you were usually a complete and utter outcast amongst the lodge staff. You’d rather keep these details to yourself than to cause more unnecessary trouble to the woman who got you the job in the first place, so you opt for the same reassuring sentence you’ve been telling her since the first day. 

“Yes, they’re good to me.” You lie. 

She nods with a satisfied sigh, closing her checkbook and adjusting her glasses. 

“Just don’t get too close with the entertainment staff” your aunt warns you. 

You turn your head to look at her properly this time. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Some of those dancers are looking for trouble, and I mean especially the boys” she tsks, disapprovingly shaking her head. 

“God knows what I’ve had to do to get them to stop causing trouble and keep them in line for the guests. Those kids can dance, but lord can they be a pain to deal with”

Your quiet stare at her causes your aunt to shake her head, her wrinkles deepening as she waves it off to you. 

“Though that’s nothing you need to know. Just be mindful of who you’re with and why you’re here” she reminds you, firm and strict. 

You nod, thinking to yourself as her words circled your mind. 

Later, when your shift ends that night, you follow the trail of pebbled tracks back to your dorm, the sun already set as the outdoor flood lights turn on. 

The summer breeze blew through your hair as you made your way outside the main building. Just as you’re about to walk away, a hand grabs your arm, yanking you to the bushes nearby making you scream.

You’re met face to face with a frantic looking girl, her close proximity and frazzled looking appearance throwing you off guard as mascara stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes stared back at you.

“Minny?”

“Baby, I need you to help me” she pleads softly, choking up on her sobs as her body shakes violently. She was a complete opposite to the sweet, carefree looking girl you met a few nights ago. 

You immediately place a hand around her arm, trying to calm her down. 

“W-What’s wrong? Is everything alright? Are you-”

She mutters something incoherent to herself, shaking her head as she raises her face to look at you. 

“I need you to find Yunho for me. Now!” she cried, clutching onto your arms in desperation. “Just please find him for me” she whimpers, snapping you from your thoughts.

You knew that if you didn’t help her right now something very bad would happen. 

“O-Okay I’ll find him” you told her reassuringly. 

You left to run through the vast green fields of the resort, knowing that whatever Minny needed to talk to Yunho about, it must’ve been urgent. 

The west building where all the summer part-timers lodged, came into view. You picked up your pace, quickly passing each and every numbered door until you stopped in front of Yunho’s and knocked frantically on the wood while trying to catch your breath.

You gasp for air, hearing approaching steps as the door swings open and you're face to face with a man you’ve never seen before.

“Yunho!” You cry out first thing, though his name dies in your throat as your eyes catch up to your voice and you stare at someone else. 

Standing in front of you is a dark haired man. Tall, lean, but with a body displaying strength. You glanced up at his face. At his sharp nose, perfect lips, and deep piercing eyes that followed you with every heavy breath you took. 

“Can I help you?” He asks intensely, looming over you. You try to rack through your thoughts to make sure you don’t forget what you’re standing here for.

Just behind him do you see Yunho sitting on a worn out leather couch in his tiny room, laughing with a few other guys about something while a cigarette was propped behind his ear, the strong smell of drugs and burnt tobacco wafting in the air.

You forgot about the figure staring down at you, intimidated by his stance but looking  past it. 

“Yunho!” you called out, the worry and urgency prominent in your voice.

The blonde looks over to you, his smile faltering in confusion at your sudden presence, before he notices the fear in your eyes and sits up straight.

“It’s Minny” is all you have to say before he’s grabbing his leather jacket and walking out the door. An arm stops to grab onto him.

“What about Minny?” The man who answered the door asks in concern, his expression turning into one of protectiveness. You saw his grip tightening around Yunho's arm, to which the boy shoved off roughly.

“That’s what I’m going to find out” he grits, turning to face you now with his brows furrowed and an expression laced with worry. 

“Where is she? I’m coming with you.” He states firmly.

You have no time for this, so you leave the tension radiating off the two at the front door, motioning Yunho to follow you as you lead him back to Minny. When you see the figure from the doorway catch up alongside you, you look to Yunho for at least some sort of explanation. 

“This is Seonghwa.” he sighs, his long strides speeding up in a hurry. 

“He’s Minny’s dance partner. We can trust him, " he says, his lips forming a tight line.

You look at Seonghwa, watching as the boy dressed in all black turns his gaze to look back at you, an unreadable expression on his face before you look back to the trail.

You hear him mutter under his breath in concern. 

“Jesus christ, Minny, what did you do now?” 

It's not long before the three of you are approaching the bushes of the main building. Seonghwa dashes in front of all of you at the first sight he gets of Minny crouched in a fetal position, sobs still wracking through her body. Yunho follows suit, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair when he sees her. “Minny, what happened?” he breathes out.

The dancer looks up, tears clouding her vision when a soft sob leaves her throat.

“Yunho-” she begins to say after hearing his voice, then clutching the skirt of her dress when she sees who followed nearby.

“Seonghwa?” 

You didn’t know what to tell her, standing awkwardly off to the side before a beat of silence follows when Seonghwa takes ahold of the girl's hand, holding it gently.

“That’s alright honey, I got you. Seonghwa’s here” he assures her, embracing her in a comforting hug as he pats the back of her hair, letting her tears fall onto his suit.

Minny accepts the embrace, finally letting the words spill. 

“Seonghwa, it’s bad. It’s bad this time” she wailed, mascara staining her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath with every sob that racked her body.

Yunho approaches the girl, crouching down so he could look at her properly, feeling as though the worry and suspense would consume him. “What is Minny? Tell us!” 

The girl holds her body closer to her small frame, letting another tear fall before she looks up at you all. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“So what’s he going to do about it?”

Seonghwa turns his head to glare at Hongjoong who had directed the obvious question to him.

The four of you had relocated to the empty barn house sitting in the forest behind the resort, the once lively and upbeat place replaced with a solemn mood that unveiled a frightening situation. 

Only you, Seonghwa and Yunho first knew about Minny, though that was shortly changed when the rest of the entertainment crew living at the barn found out as well when they saw you arrive with the sobbing girl. 

You out of all people had somehow been roped into it all, watching as the dancers huddled near the poor girl on their worn down couch supported with slates of wood, a cloth blanket covering her shivering shoulders. 

“It’s not Seonghwa,” Minny states clearly, scrunching her face at the assumption. She hangs her head, feeling nauseous from the anxiety. 

“But I thought-”

“Well you thought wrong” Seonghwa spits back, turning away from his friend when he realized he wasn’t helping.

Hongjoong was the leader of the crew. Followed by Seonghwa, Mingi, and another boy named Wooyoung who you had just met tonight for the first time. Yunho appeared close with them, watching as they discussed the seriousness of the situation. 

Minny groans when Mingi asks for the truth. 

“Then who the fuck did this to you? I swear I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard” he threatens, nostrils flaring as he over protectively tells his friend.

Minny tells him dejectedly. “He wants nothing to do with me or it. Didn’t even believe me when I told him…” 

Yunho turns his head, staring at her as he gently asks. 

“Tell us who it is, Minny”

She’s silent before she lets it out.

“It’s Bobby.”

You stared in horror, realizing the pervert who felt you up at the party a few nights ago was the father. You felt like throwing up and shooting him at the same time.

Wooyoung's eyes widened, his fist covering his wide open mouth as he exclaims. 

“Bobby “The Sleaze” Gilmer?”

Seonghwa looks at the girl he would call his own sister in disbelief. 

“That fucking lobby boy who works on the main floor did this to you?!”

She sighs, looking just as disgusted by hearing his name.

“If I could go back and close my fucking legs, believe me, I would!” She retorts back, huffing as her voice raises in frustration. 

“I didn’t mean to get with the guy! It just happened a few weeks ago and I didn’t think much of it until I was feeling nauseous yesterday afternoon during rehearsals.”

She leans back, knowing she’s made up her mind. 

“I’m not keeping it, I-I can’t. I have to get rid of it, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do when Seonghwa and I have upcoming performances at other hotels” Minny realizes with small sniffles, the scary reality crashing down on her again in this situation. 

“I-I mean I can get the girls to fill in for my classes here, but what the fuck am I supposed to do outside of this?” she says, a tear flowing down her cheek. “How are we going to tell them we can’t perform?” She admits defeatedly, thanking Mingi when he hands her a tissue box. 

“We’re gonna get you a doctor first, Minny” Yunho promises, watching as Wooyoung nods in agreement before he points out another problem. 

“Yeah, but where are we even gonna get the money for a doctor Yunho? And if word gets out with the other staff, we’re all fucking screwed.” 

Mingi shoves him in the rib cage for saying that, everyone sitting in a discouraging silence.

Hongjoong briefly glances over to you, rolling his eyes in cynicism.

“Great, and now that baby over here knows, she’s gonna run off to her playpen and tell her Aunt everything!”

You haven’t hated that nickname any more than you did right now.

Before Minny goes to your defense, you stick up for yourself first.

“I would never do that.” You state seriously, looking him in the eyes. Hongjoong still crosses his arms skeptically. “I’m not turning my back against you guys. I’m on your side, and I’m going to do whatever it is I can to help you Minny” you promised her wholeheartedly. 

Yunho, who was grasping onto Minny's hand, gives her a reassuring squeeze while sending you a small thankful smile.

“Don’t blame yourself too much Minny. This could’ve happened to anyone and it just so happened to be you. But now you know we’re all here for you, every last one of us.”

The blonde and the brunette lock eyes for a split second. 

Mingi mutters sarcastically under his breath to what his friend says. “Yeah, can’t say if I know anyone who’d sleep with Bobby Gilmer” 

Minny ignores him, shaking her head as she still needs to face reality. 

“Then who’s gonna dance with him then?” she nodded in the direction of her partner. 

Seonghwa looked overwhelmed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You spoke up. “Couldn’t someone else fill in? There’s other girls who do nightly entertainment that must be free. There can be a way for us to come up with the money and if someone-”

Seonghwa glances over, his reply sharp as he cuts you off. “No, Ms. Fix it, nobody else can fill in. Maria has to work all day, she can’t learn the routines, and Rosie’s gonna have to fill in for Minny’s other classes. All of us could try and pick up a few jobs to pay for the fees but that money isn’t going to be enough! Nothing else is gonna cut it unless we do those performances.”

The man clenches and unclenches his jaw, taking a deep breath to control his frustrations. 

“We all work,” he says, making each word a defined statement.

You stand back in the corner where you belonged, Seonghwas gaze and rude attitude making you clench your fists in anger. 

“Hey, all she’s trying to do is help!” Yunho defends you, brows furrowing as he stares the black haired boy down. Tension arises once again between the two.

“And maybe Hongjoong is right,” Seonghwa spits, taking another jab at you. “Maybe the kid here is gonna jeopardize this whole fucking situation and get us all fired!”

Minny cuts him off on his last word, pointing an accusatory finger as she looks at him with disappointment.

“Stop that Seonghwa. Both of you calm down the fuck down and-”

Just as Seonghwa is about to retort back to Yunho, a question directed towards you leaves everyone to stop arguing for a moment.

“Do you dance, baby?”

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung who stands there with a cigarette lodged in between his lips, playing with the straps of his suspenders as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

“For fucks sake, Wooyoung” Seonghwa mutters under his breath loudly, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“What? I can’t ask the chick if she dances?” He retorts back defensively. 

“I- No I don’t.“ you reply, taken aback.

Mingi looks at you carefully, his eyes gazing up and down your body, able to imagine you as a dancer partner as he catches on to what his friend was suggesting.

“No, he might be onto something…”

Minny lifts her eyes from the wet tissues, pupils dilating as she looks at you too. 

“Baby,” she gasps, sitting straight as the blanket around her shoulders falls. 

“You could fill in!”

“what?!”

“yes!”

“Are you all out of your fucking minds?!” Seonghwa shouts, hands resting on his hips because now the impossible idea Wooyoung shared has now made him furious.

Minny snaps at her childhood best friend, clutching the skirt of her dress as she stands up to face him straight on. 

“You’re the best dancer out of all of us Seonghwa, you could lead any partner!”

“I can’t even do a full dance routine, let alone the Mambo!” You exclaim, cheeks getting hot. 

Seonghwa looks at your expression and decides to speak on your behalf as well. 

“The kid says she can’t even do the Mambo! She cannot dance, she’s got no talent, nothing!”

Jeez, when he says it, it just twists the knife a little deeper in the wound. 

You watch Seonghwa carefully, a glare in your eyes as you stare him down.

The group goes back to defeat as you stood there silently, hearing them discuss other possibilities as to what they could do to make up for the money.

“I could try to pick up weekend shifts at Kellerman’s right across the town” Wooyoung offers, sending a smile of hope to Minny who looks over in gratitude. “We could put that money to use.” 

“I already got another part time job at the gas station a few miles from here,” Mingi smiles, his usual boyish attitude replaced with sincerity. “I can pitch in.”

Yunho reassures the girl sitting beside him on the couch, facing the fearful situation with an optimistic outlook.

“Whatever you need Minny, we’re here for you. We’ll get that money, just leave it to us and—”

“I’ll do it.” 

Heads turn at the sound of your confident voice, your gaze unwavering as you send a promise to Minny as well. 

“What do you mean you’ll do it?” Yunho asks incredulously, not believing his ears. 

Wooyoung silently smiles at your decision, a grin forming on his face. Beside you, you can feel Seonghwa stare you down, closing your eyes as you let out a deep breath. 

“I‘ll fill in as Seonghwa’s dance partner. I’ll do whatever it takes, however many rehearsals or lessons he’s willing to teach me, but one thing is for sure Minny, I’m not leaving you on your own either” you tell her, thinking back to how the girl has stood by you in the short amount of time you’ve gotten to know her. 

Minny stands up abruptly, rushing over to you and knocking your breath out by giving you a tight hug. 

“Thank you” her voice cracks, knowing how much this meant to you while feeling sorry at the same time. “Thank you so much”

You hug her back gently, letting your hands pat her back in response. 

“No more than a few shows.” Seonghwa mutters while crossing his arms, causing you to pull back.

“Three shows and that’s it” he states, not believing what he’s gotten himself into.

He walks off, slamming the barn door closed. Hongjoong sighed, muttering a word of ‘good luck’ to you. 

“This is gonna be very interesting” Mingi whispers to Yunho who looks at you with slight worry. 

“He‘ll teach you everything you need to know, baby” Minny reassures you as she wipes her own tears away. She sniffles, turning your chest so you could face her properly.

“I know you can do this”

Holy fuck you couldn’t do this.

What on earth did these dancers wear? Was everything always this suffocating and tight?

“Come on out” Seonghwa impatiently states for the second time, tapping his foot against the polished wooden floors of the dance studio, arms crossed against the black tank top he wore for today's first practice. 

You felt the tight material of the dance leotard hug your body in places you didn’t know you could even show off, and you felt every fiber of your being regret the decision you made to say yes. 

Awkwardly, you step out from behind the folding screen, clutching your arms self-consciously around your body as the tight outfit felt foreign and made you feel exposed. 

Seonghwa narrows his eyes as he suddenly comes forward to rest his hands on your hips, shifting them forward and making you cry out in surprise. 

“What-” 

“Turn around for me” he states without wasting time, watching as you reluctantly turn slowly. It allows him to get a view of the back, but it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed when his large palms keep their place on your body as you move beneath.

“It’ll do” he decides, leaving you standing timidly when he goes to place the stylus on the Solomon Burke record. The music rings throughout the empty studio offered for private lessons.  

“Follow my steps” he orders, swiftly moving to the front of the room and facing the mirrors. 

The loud music makes you overwhelmed, unsure how to even begin copying the first step when Seonghwa takes swift, graceful shuffles, displaying how to move to the beat. 

“I want your form always straight. That means chin up, shoulders back”

You look back in confusion, your steps hesitant as you copied him. 

“Try and keep up, baby” he huffs, watching you dance like a baby deer learning to walk.

You bite your lip, repeating the moves Seonghwa had just shown you in complete focus, unaware when his presence comes closer and you suddenly feel his breath hit your neck. You lightly gasp when strong arms support your own, his hips moving against yours. 

“Sometimes the steps aren’t enough,” he urges, his deep voice entering your ear. 

“Feel the music” 

You glance up into the full length dance mirror, following the way he was skillfully molding your body to move to his own wishes. Your heart continued to beat against your chest, throwing you off with the rhythm of the vinyl that was currently playing out loud.

When he sees you distracted, Seonghwa bites his lips, grips your hips and spins you around, making you grasp onto his biceps as your ankles stumble in the dance heels you weren’t accustomed to. 

“I want you staring at your own body when you dance and look into the mirror” He warns you, firmly holding you in his grasp. 

“Not on me, baby” 

A moment of silence passed as you looked up at him stunned. 

“Nod if you understand” 

You swallow. Following his orders. 

With one last smirk, he spins you back around and lets go before now going in front to put you in another starting position. 

“Eyes on my feet now, honey”

The next few weeks have you going through pairs of shoes faster than the number of cigarettes you saw Seonghwa burning at every dance practice. You found yourself waltzing through hotdog orders, practicing steps and dance moves Seonghwa practiced with you while filling up pints of beer and serving tables. 

You really wanted to do a good job and you would do whatever it takes in order to prove that to Seonghwa and Minny. 

When you passed by other staff, you could hear the hushed whispers going around.

Why was she hanging with him? What was she doing in that studio?

Thankfully, no one dared to challenge you once they confirmed who you were spending all your late night evenings and early weekends with. It came across as though you and Seonghwa were secretly dating, when in fact, Seonghwa was meticulously putting you through hell every time he saw you. He had to teach you to keep up with the strict choreography he adjusted for you when you came to fill Minny’s shoes. 

But he was growing all the more frustrated with you at every practice, and you were well aware of it. 

“Hold on the fifth count I said, goddamn it baby are you deaf?” 

Seonghwa yells at you from across the sweltering hot studio one rainy afternoon. It was only two days before your first performance. 

With two days left on the clock, the pressure was getting to the experienced dancer, knowing he had to make sure you did flop on your ass the minute you went on that stage. 

But that was unfair to assume you weren’t struggling with your own share of concerns, putting your mind and body through hell just to try and keep up. 

“And what's up with your turns today? You gotta concentrate! Is this your idea of fun?”

He takes the cigarette hanging in his mouth and flings it out the open window, the pouring rain thundering above the barn as you glared at him, teeth gritting with anger. 

You were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached with soreness as sweat trickled down your forehead and covered your eyesight. Your feet ached, your back felt like shit, and your patience with Seonghwa and his excruciatingly annoying nagging was wearing thin. 

Placing your hands on your hips, you turn to face the man in front of you properly, feeling like you’ve had just enough of his bullshit. 

“Oh yes, as a matter of fact this is my idea of fun” you sarcastically barked back, stepping forward to him in your dancing heels that tapped against the shiny, shellac floorboards below you. 

“We’ve got the show coming up in two fucking days, you wont show me lifts, I’m not even sure on how to properly do turns, and yet I’m doing all this just to help that poor girls future, even if you’re being a fucking asshole and all I want to do is drop you”

Seonghwa ticks his jaw, sweat forming above his brow as he looks down at you.

The rain continues to pour, sloshing down the trees and seeping into small puddles over the open window ledge. 

He pushes off the full length dance mirrors, the sounds of rain growing louder outside. Shuffling back as he approached, you still kept your gaze locked on his own. 

You hated that even when you were pissed at him, he still looked that good. 

“What?” You bit back at Seonghwa who peered down at you.

“Do you have a raincoat?”

You look at him in confusion. “No, why?”

He turns to the couch nearby, grabbing his leather jacket and flinging it over to you, seeing you barely catch it in surprise. He doesn’t turn to look at you, simply walking near the window to inspect the rain before he calls back. 

“Cover yourself with that and follow me” 

You trudged through the wet rain, droplets hitting your legs as Seonghwa’s leather jacket protected you from getting wet on your head. He had decided to face the rain head on, quite literally, choosing to get wet while leading you down the hill to a different part of the forest nearby the resort. 

“Where are you taking me, Seonghwa?” You called out, eyes squinting just to see him through the pouring droplets.

He said nothing, giving you no clue as to where you were going before eventually stopping under a grand oak tree that had to have been at least a few hundred years old. Its bark and long strong branches were a testament to time. 

It was only then had the rain decided to stop, the clouds clearing bit by bit as the sun shined through the cracks of leaves. 

Seonghwa’s jacket sat slumped over your shoulders, watching as he brushed his damp locks out of his face and turned so his back was no longer facing you. 

“When you dance, baby, what do you feel?” He blurts out, looking at you as he tries to read your expressions. 

You sighed, lips parting to say something before they closed shut.

“Like I don’t have the slightest clue as to what I’m doing” You confessed, looking towards the boy holding a soft look in his eyes. 

“Dancing is not just about how your body moves, baby. When you dance, your body is the vessel, but your soul is the driver.” Seonghwa described, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders to reveal your white tank top underneath. 

He throws the leather to hang over on a branch nearby, before beginning to unbuckle his pants and catch you off guard. 

“What the hell are you doing, Seonghwa?!” You shrieked, trying to look away as you couldn’t believe the man in front of you was stripping. “Put your clothes back on, Jesus Christ” you exclaimed, trying to tear your eyes away from the strong, tanned thighs that slipped from the hem of his pants. 

Seonghwa stands in front of you in his boxers and black tank top, watching your expression. 

“When you dance with someone, you get a feeling of the pulse in your heart as it lets every note guide your next movement. It's about the connection” he says as he lifts the corners of his top over his head, exposing his chest and sculpted upper body.

You stood there, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. 

“We can connect just fine with our clothes on, don’t you think?” You retorted back nervously. 

Seonghwa ignores your comment, shifting closer to you and grasping your hand in his own to set your palm against the flesh of his right chest, his heartbeat resonating against your fingertips.

You still your movements as you feel the intimacy of it all, hearing what he has to say. 

“It’s a game of give and take, of trust and tension. Every beat I share with you when I dance is a promise. Every spin is a challenge. There’s no holding back, no second-guessing. It’s raw, it’s intimate and it lets two bodies speak the language of the music they’re dancing to.” He tells you passionately. You stand there with just Seonghwa, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. 

“I’m trusting you, baby” He utters softly, gazing at you. “So I need you to trust me too”

He looks down at your body, his gaze following your fingers absentmindedly playing with your dance skirt. You look back up at Seonghwa, tracing the faint wrinkles near his eyes, the curve of his jaw, and the structure of his overall face. If trust was what he was talking about, then trust he would get. 

You shrug your tank top off, exposing the white lacy bra you had on underneath. Thank god you wore something nice today. Seonghwa lets his hand find their usual place around your hips, letting you shrug out of the oversized rain boots you borrowed from before, padding your bare feet over the damp, freshly rained grass. 

The moment is quiet, personal. You’ve never done anything like this with Seonghwa before, or with any other person for that matter.

“You’re real pretty when you listen well” You hear from above you, cheeks flaring up and mouth becoming dry as you shoot a look at Seonghwa focused on your eyes.

“I’m joking,” he smiles. “You’re always pretty”

Was Park Seonghwa flirting with you right now? The guy you swore had it out for you every time you crushed his toe with your heel? You can't even believe the fact that you two were standing here in this vast luscious meadow, half naked under an oak tree and sharing this intimate moment together. 

He lets go of your touch, running a few steps back as he readies himself to lift you. With a clap of his hand, he leans a little forward so the silver chain around his neck hangs back and forth. 

“C’mon baby, I know you’ve got it” he grins.

Here it was. The big lift. The one move you had been dreading during the whole entirety of rehearsing. Every single time you even tried listening to Seonghwa explain it to you made your palms sweaty, the image of you falling to the ground and breaking your skull imprinting your mind.

The grassy ground feels foreign beneath your feet, but you can see why Seonghwa chose to bring you here in this vast meadow to practice lifts. It was far better being cooped up inside a studio. This was away from the resort. Away from people. Just the two of you. 

You see him urge you to run. He’s watching you carefully, ready to support you. And so with his trust, you're sprinting forward, sharing a loud scream as Seonghwa hoists you up into the air. It was just enough so that your upper body lifted up magically, seeing a new level of your natural environment. Your toes are off the ground for a few moments before you're brought back down. 

You’re so close to him that your breath becomes shared, noses on the verge of hitting each other as you glance at his lips for a split second. You’re hyper aware of how he feels right now, his hands on your body keeping you safe and god dammit you realize you kinda do like it. You like Seonghwa, and he looks as though he might like you back.

He clears his throat, finally pulling away. 

“Good, that’s it, I want you to do the exact same thing but hold your core longer this time” He tells you, cautiously taking a few more steps back on the soft, plush grass. “I’m gonna raise you up a bit higher”

You let out a deep breath, shaking your nerves though you confessed to Seonghwa the fear that had been circling your thoughts. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” 

He chuckles but then softly assures you, his heart clenching. 

“You won’t hurt me baby. Now again! Jump!”

Finally the night of the performance comes. You’ve practiced your steps, you’ve tailored your dress, you’ve noted to keep your shoulders up like the hundreds of times Seonghwa told you so, and you’ve prayed even more times for the lift to turn out well. But the pre-performance jitters are still really getting to you.

Peeking out from behind the backstage curtain of the hotel you and Seonghwa were performing for, your eyes look over the crowd of folks present tonight to see you dance. 

God, you felt as though your stomach was going to fall out of your ass. You feel nauseous, looking around to see if there was a mop bucket or something for you to puke your guts in when a warm hand comes to rest on your waist, turning you around so your back hits the stage wall. 

Suddenly you realize you’re trapped underneath Seonghwa’s hold.

“Hey, look at me baby” Seonghwa tells you, voice firm but softening a bit when your nervous eyes reach up to his. He looks dashing in his sleek suit slash tuxedo, his hair gelled back and different from the soft curls that would hand over his forehead when you two practiced. You watch as he begins to assure you. 

“Just like we practiced.” He brushes a loose curl from your hair, the action making butterflies explode in your already nervous stomach. You bite your rouge coloured lips, the sparkly dress and heavy makeup Minny did for you making you feel out of place. You're scared of messing this up.

“Follow my lead and you’ll do great.” 

Seonghwa seems nervous but there wasn’t a possibility it could be as much as you were. Your lips part softly when he touches your arm to remind you one last time. 

“And sweetheart, don’t forget to have fun” he grins. You nodded back, your thoughts clearing a bit thanks to his comfort. 

And now, the Sheldrake Hotel presents Park Seonghwa and partner in Mambo Magic! 

The voice through the microphone pulls you from the wall. Carefully, Seonghwa takes your hand in his own, straightening his posture and flashing you one last look before you take to the stage, the blinding show lights coming into view as the audience claps enthusiastically. The stage looks bigger than it did off stage, your mouth feeling like there were cotton balls shoved inside it. He takes his position behind you, hand on your hip like you’ve practiced a million times when the music finally begins. 

It’s funny how the body acts on its own. One second you're completely still and the next you're following Seonghwa to the rhythm of the music, your steps fast, precise. 

Before you knew, your body already knew. 

He spins you around, grasping your hand as the skirt of your red dress flowed gracefully, hearing the sounds of the impressed audience watching below.

Every move you made fell in line with what you had learned, a reassuring comfort to have Seonghwa’s hands on your body almost the whole time as you let him serenade both you and the audience. 

“Doing so well” He muttered under his breath, his expression never changing as you successfully executed your cross body lead. A little bit of pride grows in his heart. Seonghwa does incredibly like he always did, watching how his expressions changed to correspond with the music, his dancing following with the changes in tempo. Park Seonghwa was born to perform.

Finally it comes time for the grand finale. The lift. Seonghwa steps back, giving you the space you needed before he ushers you into your cue. You don’t know what happens to you after doing well so far, but you stop right at the end of your tracks, come face to face with a bewildered looking Seonghwa who watches you attempt a random dance move to keep the music going. 

God, no!

His arms find his way around you, leading you into his steps expertly before soon the song ends and you're both posing with baited breath, face to face with the final spotlight shining down. 

The audience erupts into applause, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You did it, and it was over, but you still had to swallow the disappointing truth. 

You didn’t make the lift.

Seonghwa takes your hand in his own, both of you taking a deep bow before striding off stage. Only when you're out of the stage lights do you burst in apology, catching your breath from dancing. 

“I’m so sorry, Seonghwa.” shaking your head as you already expected the criticisms to follow. “I chickened out at the last minute and I couldn’t do the lift. I-I thought I could, but then I saw you and I didn’t want to risk it, and I’m pretty sure I was late on that last step and I’m really sorry for stepping on your toe-”

His hands engulf your body into his own. Inhaling his strong cologne and the musky smell of cedar and cigarettes, Seonghwa has his arms wrapped around your body in sheer proudness, patting your hair and whispering softly into your ear. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you hear me?” He says, cutting you off. You didn’t know what to say, your body tensing under his sudden actions. 

“I don’t care about the lift, baby. We can work on that later” he comforts you. He pulls back, watching your stunned face. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but he stops to collect his words.

“You were incredible… you did so well.” The compliments circle towards your beating heart, making your worries disappear with what he says next.

“Minny would be proud of you” he smiles, the corners of his mouth turned upwards. 

You grinned back, tears forming in your eyes with huge relief. You hug him back wholeheartedly this time, the other performers watching you two backstage. 

You shared the embrace for a while longer than before. This time, not as dance partners but perhaps something a little more.  

After the first performance, you continued practicing with each other. You both learned to adjust to each other's dancing, and the lifts and spins eventually came like second nature to you. Soon, sweltering July heat faded into soft August showers. A close partnership blossomed between you and Seonghwa, finding each other's rhythm every time you snuck from the west building to practice in the abandoned barn house, even when the dance studio was closed. You found yourself running off to dance with the boy, even when your performances were over. You already raised enough money by booking shows at every hotel, inn and resort nearby, and you were more than relieved to have found a doctor in town, willing to help Minny.

And what do you know, you and Seonghwa turned out to be too good of a dancing couple to not do a few more extra shows with. Dancing turned into a real, second job for you now, and that meant the chemistry between you two changed. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of him” Minny asks you the night before she’s headed into town. You know she means Seonghwa. Her manicured nails grasped your hands and held them close. She would be gone for a few days for the procedure, but she knew she had to still say her thanks to you before she left. 

Minny stands in front of you looking like a girl scared shitless for her life. You knew how strong she was for going through all this, and you only prayed for her to receive the best outcome that reflects her choice. Not the outcome any other fucking person wanted in order to criticize her for her mistakes. 

Your eyes soften when she mentions Seonghwa. 

“I’ve danced with him since we were kids, baby.” she confesses. “I know what he looks like when he’s out there performing, that, that look he has that makes him feel like he’s got everything he needs in the world.” 

“He looks like that with you. I know he wants you just as much as you do”

You blush, shaking your head in denial before she catches you into a gentle hug. 

“I could never thank you enough, baby” she whispers, making your heart go warm. “You’ve done a favour for me that no other being but a real friend could do”

For the first time since coming here, you felt as though you could confidently say you had found happiness in something, and that was from finding both a passion and a friend. 

“C’mon Minny” Yunho softly calls for her from behind, leaning against his car with the door open. He’s gonna drive her into town and take care of her just like he said he would. 

He looks back at you with a smile, and you reciprocate it back to the blonde boy.

“Drive safe” you told them, watching Minny wave you goodbye. 

You were undeniably scared for Minny. 

But seeing her walk back to intertwine her fingers with Yunho who stands by her side by the door of the car, looking as though he was ready to fight the entire world for her, you knew that she would be okay. 

“C’mon doll, I didn’t teach you to dance with form like that” Seonghwa teases you one afternoon a few days later, the barn house empty as you two fooled around with a new set of LP’s Hongjoong bought. 

He slides his strong arms down your thighs, adjusting the casual position you were dancing in, though the gesture is in fact far from innocent. And it still makes a smile curl onto your face. 

You shake from his hold with a gasp, feigning fake innocence and batting your lashes to a cocky looking Seonghwa who stares down at you with pulsating desire.

“Now don’t go correcting me about form when I can see your hands just can’t keep to themselves” you teased, your hands ghosting over his exposed skin under his shirt, pushing away his grabby arms as you suddenly switched roles. You were becoming the teacher and him, the student. 

Seonghwa groans at your cruel teasing, watching your legs shuffle themselves to the music, your hips brushing against each other every so often that it drives Seonghwa mad to have to keep his composure like this for another second longer. 

“Look at you move, Jesus Christ” he mutters.

“Uh uh, you keep your eyes on the mirror, Hwa” You commented, using his own words he once used against him. “Not on me, baby” you smiled.

Seonghwa doesn’t think he can take it anymore and swipes a hand to hover near your ass, gripping the flesh hungrily so your back was pressed to his chest and he could feel you dance against his body. Nothing would be able to pass in between you. 

You bit your tongue to prevent letting out a moan. Did he always have to pull the rug right under your feet like that? Just when you were finally starting to get the upper hand in the moment, he leaves you feeling like you had no absolute control from the beginning.

“Keep it up and let’s see what happens” he hums into your ear, the movement of your bodies having reached a new level of comfort and compatibility. 

You just fit so well together now. 

He continued to rock you back against his thigh, matching the slow tempo of the music. Even while you couldn’t see him due to your eyes being closed in pure bliss, you could feel his stare on your face. The expression you put on while grinding against his body, his intent stare reflecting through the mirror. 

All that sexual tension that had been manifesting between you two these past weeks was reaching its limit. The time was now, and Seonghwa was afraid it would all end with him doing whatever it was that he wanted to do to your sweet body. 

The last song on the record ends as the vinyl comes to a stop. You opened your eyes to see Seonghwa gazing down at you. 

“Keep moving,” he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. He wanted you to move not because the music was telling you, but because your heart was telling you. 

There's that thumping feeling of your heart that makes your ribs rattle against your chest, pressing on the tips of your toes to look him properly in the eyes. 

“If you want me to move, you’re gonna ask me nicely, Seonghwa” who marvels at the sight of how far you’ve grown out of your shy timid shell.

“Look at my baby making demands” he says in astonishment, a giggle escaping out from you. Then the dancer stoops his neck down, leaning close to fulfill your request.

“Please, baby” he moans, watching as your hands creeped up his chest. He looks at you with an intense gaze, sucking you into a need that’s bordering obsession. 

“Be my good little girl”

Your lips crash into his, your actions becoming the fuel to set ablaze a burning fire of lust that leaves Seonghwa hoisting you up into his arms, hands supporting your thighs as he pushes you against the full length mirror. 

“Fucking finally” he mumbled as front teeth clashed, fighting for dominance with you as you made out passionately. His hands caged you against the wall while your thighs straddled his hips and your legs linked from behind his ass. You could feel Seonghwa’s hard member pressing against you up from through his slacks, letting out beautiful whines and deep gasps as your pussy craved for pleasure.

“Please, Hwa” it turned into now your turn to beg. You allowed access for his lips to trail down your open jaw onto the skin of your neck, his breath tickling you.

He coos at your pathetic state, deciding to sit himself down onto a nearby couch in front of the mirror, bringing your thighs to cradle him on each side, knowing that this position would give him the perfect view of your back. 

He moans, feeling your lips press hickies against his neck, his eyes following the curve of your ass in your jeans. 

“Let me see you move, baby”

Those words mean something different now. They can’t mean what they did before in rehearsals. Not when you’re laying on top of Seonghwa right now, stripping your clothes off, so that his cock finally brushes against your sopping wet folds. 

Seonghwa is big. Even with just his pants on, his belt unbuckled and his leaking tip poking through, you can tell he’s hiding a little more length underneath. He doesn’t dare take his lips off of you, moaning as he hurriedly shuffled through the pockets of his leather jacket hanging nearby, taking out a condom as a few others fell to the floor. Why even bother to pick them up when he knew it would be easy access for him when he fucks you against the floor later. 

“Seonghwa, quickly” you begged softly, watching him slide the latex over his cock. It had been so long since you felt anyone inside you. Your first time had felt so underwhelming and disappointing you thought you’d never want to have sex again. 

But fuck that because Seonghwa here has you begging like a bitch in heat.

He stops his movements to look at you properly, holding your soft cheek in his right palm as he brings you back from a hazy trance.

“Hey, listen to me” he mutters, looking almost like he was in pain to fight back the urge to not just take you right there.

“I want you so bad, baby, I really do” he mumbles, his raven coloured hair falling from its secured style to frame his face. He catches his breath for a moment to look in your desperate eyes. 

“But I also want to make sure I hear it from you” 

You’re about to give him what he wants, but the words get choked up when Seonghwa accidentally shifts his hips in a way that causes him to slip in his seat, rutting his hips up and feeling his bulbous tip slap your awaiting entrance. 

You mewl, clawing at the sofa material. 

“Shit, fuck, I-I need to hear you say it baby. Tell me you need me” he sighs, watching you cry out loud and fall to his chest, his arms cradling you while your bare tits brushed against him. “Can you tell me you need me?” he whispers.

“Seonghwa, I need you right fucking now” you reply instantly, not believing how long its taking for him to make love to you on his lap.

“I need you” you repeat a dozen times, yelping when the anticipating stretch you were dreaming of finally came. 

Seonghwa allows his strong arms to wrap around you and support you, pressing kisses on the side of your forehead. “That’s my good girl” 

“Oh fuck” 

“Doing so good. Look at your form through that mirror” he observed, watching your back arch from behind you, staring as his cock disappeared when you sank down again and again. 

You gripped his shoulder, unsure of his deal with watching him fuck you, but you let him do so, the pleasure consuming you. A sound was building inside of you as your hips snapped to the rhythm that Seonghwa made for you, watching you ride him. He was leading you, just as he always did on the dance floor, 

That sound struggled to be let out. A cry, a sob. . . you weren’t certain what would follow next, just knowing that Seonghwa’s cock felt so good. Too good. 

His hands grip the mounds of your behind, his breath turning uneven with every passing second.

“Look at my little baby, too fucked and drunk on my cock to even speak properly” he smiles, throwing his head back when he feels your walls clench harder. His hands roam your beautifully strong thighs.

The lewd squelching is embarrassing to hear resonate throughout the empty bar house, mumbling incoherent words when all of sudden, Seonghwa slaps one of your ass cheeks, causing a burst of fire to spread through your legs, your already weak knees breaking their position as your breath hitched into a surprised yelp.

“Fuck, Seonghwa!” You moaned loudly, the sounds echoing off the walls.

“You like that baby, don’t you?” He teases. Your knees begin to give out, turning your face away from the mirror so you wouldn’t have to watch as Seonghwa used you mercilessly. His pupils were dilated, a slight obsession forming while watching you.

“Pretty things have to be watched properly, don’t they?” he tuts, pulling your hair  to the side and letting your head turn on his chest so you were now forced to get a glimpse of both your expressions in the mirror reflecting you. He already feels that you’re both close. 

“S-shut the h-ah- hell up” you had the audacity to mumble, tears forming near your eyes that make him laugh sadistically. He wasn’t even gonna spank you for that tone, he‘ll just fuck you harder.

“But you’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” He goes back to his soft voice, palming your ass as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. 

“You’re still gonna take all of my fucking cock, right baby?” 

You nodded compliantly, the last few whines leaving your swollen lips from biting them too much, as it suddenly feels all too much.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it!” 

Your shuddering as your orgasm takes over you and you let out a weak noise, feeling Seonghwa fuck you till he came as well. 

“T-Take me” you mumbled under your breath, giving into the submission. “Make yourself feel good too” you sighed, knowing that he would treat you the same, if not better. 

And at that, his cock twitches, letting out a groan as he finds his release too. Your warm walls clenching and unclenching periodically. 

Heavy breathing resonates throughout the room. The smell of sweat and sex undeniable, falling on top of Seonghwa as he cherished you for a few minutes more, praising you all the while.

”So good to me baby” he pants, holding you as he switches positions to place your back against the couch now. 

“So fucking good to me” he sighs, letting you catch your breath 

You feel his hands coming to either side of your head as he pulls out his cock, whimpering at the empty feeling as you looked down to see the shiny condom filled with his seed reflecting the light. You close your eyes, letting a hand travel down to gently tug on the pulsating tip of his cock that rests on your lower stomach. Seonghwa groans, silently thinking he has to tell you or else he’ll regret it.

Your legs spread a little bit further, feeling his slick coat your stomach. Perhaps he would let you suck —

“I love you”

You opened your eyes to see Seonghwa is looking down at you like he’s never done before, sweat glistening on his skin as his chest heaved out every last breath from him.

You both lay there in silence, feeling stunned as you watched him lean down and press a kiss to your frozen lips.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you baby” 

You blink away small tears, feeling embarrassed that the post-sex endorphins were doing this to you but Seonghwa paid no attention. He was the same.

“I really love you” he says again, almost as if he was saying out loud to realize it again. It makes you wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. You finally whispered back.

“I love you too, Seonghwa”

It feels right. To be here with him and to feel this way. To feel good. 

For so long, a part of you felt as though you could never fully enjoy anything you did. This summer job you took up had you looking at life with a one track mind, thinking everyone here was temporary. Though in that moment as you pulled Seonghwa in closer, you knew he wouldn’t be temporary. 

This boy would be forever. 

“Baby?” Seonghwa calls to you after a moment passes, just as you’re bathing in the sweet feeling of gentle aftercare and calmness. 

You hum, the head resting against your chest moves as he adjusts himself to be face to face, with you looking up at him. He caresses your hair in his hands. 

“Tell me your real name.”

It takes you a second before the name spills from your lips.

Seonghwa smiles, pulling you in closer and tucking his chin in the valley of your neck.

“It’s beautiful. And it suits you. Suits you just fine”

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Seonghwa pats your back softly, calling you by your real name which he silently wishes you told him earlier, just so he could've called you by it more. 

You shake your head insistently, words coming out muffled as you hold him in your arms, desperately trying to remember this feeling for a moment more. 

“Five more minutes” you quickly stated, making Seonghwa break into a soft grin. 

“I gotta go, love”

You didn’t take that for an answer, fighting back the tears and frustrations as you looked up.

“You don’t have to leave” you cried, lashes fluttering as the teardrops fell from your eyes. Seonghwa looks down at you, calmly wiping them away. Yunho was right. Sometimes you really were a baby.

“You could stay. don’t go” you begged naively. 

It was only so long before your Aunt found out about you sneaking around with Seonghwa, and it didn’t take the boy a split second before he knew he wasn’t gonna let you lose the job. So he took the full blame.

His car is packed, his small box of belongings that he came here with sitting in his backseat as the clouds drifting in the blue summer sky above, cast a shadow down over you two. 

This summer will never be forgotten. What you had learned, what you experienced, what you had felt. It would stick with you wherever you’d go. In that sense, Seonghwa would then still be with you forever. Maybe just not side by side with you.  

He looks down at you and asks you softly. 

“Are you gonna keep dancing even when I’m gone?” His thumb places itself underneath your chin, making you look up at him. 

You nod. There was no denying it. 

“Then that’s all I need” 

Seonghwa smashes his lips against yours for one last time, making you stifle your cries as your lips move in sync, savouring each others taste. 

He’s first to let you go, brushing the tears away with his thumb and grabbing his leather jacket that he left perched on the hood of his car. 

Without any more words, Seonghwa gets inside the driver seat and starts the engine, a roar coming to life as he slowly drives off into the distance, leaving you standing alone with a hand over your heart. 

You were right. He would always be your forever. 

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[ponderingmoonlight]

How to accidentally seduce your mission

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: You’re an underqualified, overworked nobody who got blackmailed into seducing the legendary demon hunter Dante Sparda. Problem is—you forgot what he looks like. Now you’re sitting in a bar, tipsy, accidentally spilling your entire top-secret mission to a mysterious (and annoyingly hot) stranger... who may or may not be the guy you’re supposed to trap. Spoiler: He is. And he’s loving every second of it.

Warnings: reader is super clumsy and absent-minded in this lol, lot of fluff + fun, this is a comfort fic for all the trauma I normally dump on y'all hehe, drunk reader ENJOY

This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it.

You, out of all people, responsible for luring none other than Dante Sparda into a flytrap?

You, a random girl from across the street who simply opened the door at the wrong time. You, who can’t even survive a single second in Call of Duty’s easy mode, who always sucked at doing sports. Oh, you’ll be so dead after this.

But you have no other choice.

“It’s following my instruction or losing your friends and family – you decide.”

You groan out loud, your eyes darting around the worn-down bar without a real aim. To be honest, you have to be the worst candidate for an undercover mission in a world you fail to understand. But apparently, that’s what makes you the perfect fit. Maybe this is what they’re searching for – an innocent girl who is sick of working a full-time job and doesn’t want to lose her relatives yet.

Who is Danta Sparda even? A demon hunter, as it seems – not like you already caught on the principle of “demons” living in this world. A pretty strong man.

And obviously, a wanted man as well.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

A grin spreads across your face almost instantly when the nice lady from behind the bar sets down a glass of something promising in front of your eyes. Oh, you haven’t been out drinking for ages. Just a little sip of alcohol would ease your nerve for sure.

“And don’t you dare to touch a single drop of alcohol.”

If it wasn’t for that shitty man who nuked all the fun out of this forced mission.

“I do, but I still need to pass I guess”, you mumble into your hands.

What a shitty way to end the day. Can this Dante guy finally show up so that you can distract him until the others arrive?

Now that you think of it…do you even know how that man looks?

“Shit shit shit”, you hiss to yourself, frantically pulling out your phone.

Maybe they already showed you but you didn’t care enough to listen. Or maybe they forgot as well…Right?

No, there’s no way in hell they did.

“I’ll just leave this here for you, I think you need it girl.”

Did they send it to you? Show it? Print it out? Your stomach twists uncomfortably while you search through each and every cat pic.

“I don’t even know how he looks…”

You don’t even realize that your mouth starts sipping on what appears like your last straw on its own, taking in the sweet but burning sensation of what tastes like pure heaven at the moment.

It’s not a secret to anyone that your head is lost in the clouds. Fuck, you even told that guy when he started threatening you that he’s the one who makes a big mistake with recruiting you to seduce a random guy at a bar. But your family and friends rely on you. What if they get killed because you didn’t care to listen to what that jerk said to you?

“Get yourself together, (y/n).”

Your thumb fumbles across the screen as you scroll past endless folders named things like “catbuttz2024,” “RENT RECEIPTS??,” and “do not open 3am.”

 Nothing. Absolutely nothing about Dante Sparda. No file. No profile. No creepy black-and-white security footage that the jerk promised would be “burned into your memory.” Ha. What memory?

You squint, tapping your gallery open again, eyes barely holding focus as the images begin to blur slightly. Okay. That might be the drink kicking in. Just one sip. One. Maybe two. And a half. But it was sweet, and you earned it by still being alive.

“Excuse me,” you wave lazily to the bartender, “can I get another one of those soul-healing, throat-burning miracle potions?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow, gives you that “really?” look, but still turns and begins mixing. Probably out of pity or morbid curiosity - you’re not sure anymore.

You sigh, dramatically, slouching against the bar with your phone resting on the counter like it betrayed you. Because it did. Because now there’s no way you’ll know who Dante Sparda is unless he conveniently walks in with a neon sign taped to his back that says “HI, I’M THE GUY YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SEDUCE OR STALL OR SACRIFICE, WHO EVEN KNOWS.”

Your drink arrives with a thud, the kind that feels final. You toast it to no one.

“To being criminally underqualified and too sober for this shit,” you mutter, then sip again.

 It burns less this time - or maybe you just care less.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy around the edges, thoughts floating out of reach like balloons slipping into the sky. You remember vaguely that Dante is supposed to be hot. Or dangerous. Or both. Or maybe just grumpy. Or a silver-haired guy with a blindfold. Is that the right franchise? Did your mind stop working when someone mentioned that he’s hot?

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, staring at a badly lit image that might be a shirtless man with a sword… or a cosplay from your cousin’s Facebook.

“This is useless. I might as well just ask every man in here if he’s secretly the spawn of hell.”

“That’s one way to start a conversation.”

You blink.

That wasn’t your thought. That was out loud. That was a voice. A man’s voice. Low. Smooth. Kinda cocky. You freeze mid-sip, your tongue still somewhere in your drink, and shift your eyes without turning your head.

There’s a man sitting next to you. A real man, apparently.

He wasn’t there a minute ago. Or maybe he was and your drink already declared war on your perception of time and space. Either way, he’s here now, and you can feel the heat of him like he carries his own gravitational pull. Red coat. Glove-stripped fingers wrapped lazily around a glass. That hair – silver, tousled, annoyingly perfect. His legs are spread too comfortably, like he owns not just the bar stool but the air around it. Smirking.

You swallow too loudly. The drink goes down like regret.

“Oh,” you mumble, blinking once. Twice.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, with just enough amusement to make your stomach do a flip.

“You look a little lost.”

You give him a wobbly smile, the kind of smile people wear when they’re trying very hard to seem like they’ve got their life together and totally didn’t just toast to their own failure.

“I’m not lost. I’m just… situationally misplaced.”

He chuckles. Of course he does. Of course the man with the confident sprawl, good hair, and unfair cheekbones has a laugh like sin on vacation.

You frown. Did he only come here to make fun of you?

"Are you judging me?" you ask, more suspicious than you probably have the right to be, considering you’ve just referred to yourself as ‘situationally misplaced’ like that means something.

“I’m just sitting here. You’re the one muttering about hellspawn and seduction strategies.”

You blink.

You did say that out loud.

Fuck.

“No, no, no,” you whisper, pressing the cold glass to your cheek in full-body regret.

 “This is so not how undercover operations are supposed to go. I think I skipped the lesson on ‘keeping your damn mouth shut.’”

He lifts a brow.

“Undercover?”

You groan, slumping against the bar dramatically, like gravity itself is just done with your existence.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I literally opened the door to borrow eggs or something and now I'm supposed to trap a demon hunter. Like, what does that even mean?”

You glance at him, wide-eyed, glassy, and very much over it.

“Do you know what it means to trap a demon hunter? Because I sure as hell don’t. They gave me no instructions! Just this vague ‘seduce him, stall him, distract him’ crap. I work in customer service. My skill set involves apologizing to Karens and fake smiling until my soul escapes my body.”

His lips twitch.

“Rough gig.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you reply with a defeated laugh, waving a hand as though physically pushing away your life.

“Apparently the guy I’m supposed to trap is named Dante Sparda or something. He’s hot. Or terrifying. Or hot and terrifying. I don’t know. No one sent me his photo. And now I’m sitting here trying to Google his ass while looking like I’m filming a low-budget espionage porno.”

You jab your thumb at your phone like it personally offended you.

“And I keep getting fan art and cosplay! Look at this. Look! This guy could be Dante. Or Gojo. Or someone's edgy OC from Tumblr.”

The man next to you peers at the screen.

“Hmm. Tough call.”

“Right?”

You nod, a little too fast.

“Like, is that a demon hunter or a K-pop idol with a sword fetish?”

You sigh again. Loudly.

“I swear, if I ever meet this Dante guy, I’m gonna tell him straight to his beautiful demonic face that this mission was BULLSHIT. I’ll be like: ‘Sir, I am unqualified. I get anxiety ordering pizza. Please just fake your death and let me go home.’”

He takes a sip of his drink, watching you with thinly veiled amusement.

“And you’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”

“NOPE,” you declare, far too proudly.

“Could walk straight past him on the street and not even blink. Unless he sparkled. Does he sparkle? Is that a thing with demon hunters? Ugh, what am I saying? Of course he doesn’t sparkle. He probably broods. That’s like, their thing.”

He hums, as if seriously considering this.

“So if, hypothetically, he were already here… what would you do?”

You laugh - bitter, tipsy, tired of it all.

“Cry, probably.”

You turn to look at him now, fully. He’s watching you with that same smile, like he’s in on a joke you’re too drunk to understand. Like he’s humoring you.

And it suddenly hits you like a piano from a cartoon sky.

“…Wait,” you whisper, sitting up straighter.

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Well-“

“I know it”, you interrupt him, pointing your index finger almost through his eye.

“You know that guy, right? You know exactly who I’m talking about.

“Me, knowing Dante Sparda?”

The stranger shrugs oh too smoothly.

“Me, knowing Dante Sparda?” the stranger says with a smirk, and you narrow your eyes because he’s got that smug tone, the one that says I absolutely know and I’m enjoying your idiocy far too much.

“I might be able to show you,” he adds, tilting his head like he’s offering you directions to a taco truck and not your entire mission objective.

You wobble upright on the barstool, heroic in your tipsiness, point a finger at him that drifts a few inches to the left of his actual face.

“You’re shady,” you declare.

“And hot. Shady-hot. Like a morally ambiguous lifeguard.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks, already standing, already knowing your answer, because you’re far too drunk to play hard to get with answers or sobriety.

You nod, nearly falling off the stool in the process, and mumble something about snacks and not wanting to be murdered unless there’s at least a playlist. You make it precisely five steps outside the bar before your knees betray yo, and you half-crumple into him like a fainting goat. Was it a good idea to gulp down two cocktails in like an hour after not drinking for quite some time? Maybe not.

“Okay,” you mutter into his arm, “the sidewalk is aggressively tilting.”

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.”

“You’re observant,” you reply, clinging to him like he’s your emotional support lamppost.

“New plan: We go to my place. You clearly can’t walk, and I’m not carrying your dramatic ass all over town,” the stranger suggests visibly amused while literally dragging you across the sidewalk.

“Rude,” you mumble, but you lean into him anyway, because he’s warm and smells like leather and trouble and something vaguely like cinnamon toast.

You arrive at his place and immediately in what feels like a heartbeat – or maybe it only does because you make yourself heavier on purpose to that he carries you all the way.

 “Wow, I expected more… blood,” you comment before faceplanting into his bed and yelling into the mattress, “I claim this land in the name of poor life choices.”

He kicks off his boots, chuckling, and when he settles into bed next to you - fully clothed, respectful, infuriatingly smug - you let out a contented sigh like this is somehow a spa.

“You’re suspiciously nice,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow.

“What are you, the demon hunter with a heart of gold?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lies there, arm behind his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like he’s waiting for a punchline.

You’re lying on your side now, facing him, and something about the way the light hits his face, or the way his hair falls, silver and wild like it just stepped out of an anime, you start to squint. Not because your vision is blurry (though it is) but because your brain is trying to connect dots it forgot were even dots. Somewhere, you’ve seen this face before not long ago.

“Hey…” you mumble.

“Yeah?”

You squint harder. There’s something nagging at the edge of your mind. Like a memory. Or a pizza topping you forgot to finish.

“Have we… met?”

He laughs softly.

“Not exactly.”

“No, no, not like…I’ve seen you somewhere,” you insist, propping yourself up slightly with all the grace of a sleepy gremlin.

“You look like... like someone I was warned about.”

“Oh yeah?” he repeats, still playing along, smiling like a cat watching a turtle slowly realize it's being stalked.

You blink at him. Hard. And then - click.

One, slow, drunken brain cell trips over a wire and launches a dusty memory from the back of your skull: someone shoving a photo in your face during a chaotic mission briefing, mid-pizza bite, yelling something about “That’s Dante! If you see him, don’t piss him off unless you’ve got a death wish! He’s your target. Your mission is to seduce him and we’ll do the rest, got it?”

Your mouth drops open in slow, dawning horror.

“I have seen you before,” you whisper.

“Someone showed me your picture. I was eating pizza and not paying attention but I saw you.”

“Oh?” he coos, smirking.

“I saw your stupid handsome face!” you moan, smacking your own forehead in sheer drunk disbelief.

 “I literally got briefed on you while covered in cheese grease and now I’ve been sitting here like, ‘Who’s this sexy stranger?’ YOU’RE THE MISSION!”

Dante's full-on laughing now, his shoulders shaking, absolutely no shame.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart. But hey, did you call me sexy?”

You groan and collapse back onto the bed, face-down.

“I hate this. I hate my memory. I hate pizza. And I hate you.”

“You don’t hate pizza.”

You lift one finger into the air without looking at him.

“I hate it temporarily. Out of shame.”

You hear him shift closer, feel the bed dip just slightly, and then he’s pulling the blanket over you, absurdly gentle for someone with literal demon blood, for someone who get hunted.

“Still,” he murmurs, voice low and warm in the hush of the room, “you came a long way. You found me. Sort of.”

You peek up at him from the pillow.

“Accidentally. While drunk.”

“A win’s a win.”

You snort, half-laughing, half-exhausted, your head starting to spin in the good way now - the warm way, the safe way. And even though he’s the guy you were supposed to track down like a trained agent, even though this whole night’s been a blur of chaos and embarrassment, somehow you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to yell at you properly. And that I just want to rest here a lil’ longer,” you mumble.

“Lucky me.”

A pause.

Then you add, voice slurring slightly, “...You’re still shady-hot.”

And as your eyes drift closed, you hear him chuckle one last time.

“Sleep, rookie. You’ve earned it.”

Tags: @umbrasworld @moonlighteevee @elrondswifeyyyy @levisbrat25 @dragon-lord-lysander

@punem699

@sunshine7queen @dreamywisterias-blog @mizzowizzo @kawaistrawberry21 @legoyass

[cbeargyu]

rockstar!beomgyu?…

( maybe make him toxic aswell….)😝😝

REVENGE

summary: you never meant to kiss beomgyu. and you definitely never meant to let it happen again. but when the boy you love breaks your heart and your oldest friend looks at you like he’s been waiting his whole life to ruin you… revenge suddenly feels a lot like salvation.

pairing: rockstar!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst, toxic relationship, cheating, friends to lovers.

warnings: infidelity, rough sex, possessiveness, dirty talk, emotional manipulation, light choking, toxic dynamics, mention of heartbreak and crying, jealousy, one (1) very unhinged rockstar, degradation + praise kink, creampie, bruising, guilt turned into arousal, emotionally destructive behavior.

wc: 4,9k

notes: omg anons have such spicy ideas 🔥 i loved it, i just wanna confess that a certain part of this fic is based on real events 💔 yes, i was someone’s rebound… bye 💀😭

you’re moaning into his neck, breath hot and sticky as your body rocks against beomgyu’s, the faint scent of beer mixing with the sweat clinging to your skin. the air in his apartment is thick—too warm, too heavy with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. his fingers dig into your hips like he’s trying to make you stay. like he’s scared you’ll disappear once it’s over.

you can’t even remember how many times you’ve said this would be the last.

“fuck, y/n,” he groans against your ear, voice rough with need, “you feel so fucking good…”

your eyes flutter shut, and for a second you let yourself drown in the feeling—his body pressed to yours, the heat, the pleasure—but then your mind betrays you, dragging you back.

you are riding him like he’s the only thing that ever made you feel alive. drunk on beer and heartbreak and the taste of revenge.

how did it come to this?

it’s blurry now, but you remember high school. back when beomgyu was just a boy with a cheap guitar and fire in his veins. he was wild even then—raw talent, untamed charm, a little too reckless for his own good. he’d get into fights with other bands after shows, bloodied lip and bruised knuckles like some badge of honor, and you… you’d always be there. cleaning him up, scolding him gently, eyes full of worry he didn’t deserve.

you weren’t like the others. you were soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold. he’d watch you in the crowd like you were the only thing that mattered. he told you once that loving you felt inevitable, like breathing.

but you got scared.

when he confessed, heart in his throat and all, you told him you wanted to stay friends. you were terrified of what loving him could do to you. to both of you. and he just nodded, forced a smile, said “yeah, friends is good.” because even then, he’d rather have a piece of you than none at all.

time passed. you became an interior designer. he became a fucking rockstar. headlines, award shows, rumors, tattoos. but you stayed in touch—occasional texts, quick calls when your schedules allowed it. you never drifted completely.

and then came donghyun.

you met him in college, started dating two years ago. he was kind, at first. safe. steady. you let yourself believe in that fairytale. until the distance crept in. until his kisses felt more like habit than desire. you kept asking yourself, did i do something wrong? did he stop loving me?

the night it broke, he told you the truth.

"when we started dating... i wasn’t sure it was what i wanted. i told you i was over her, but... i wasn’t. i thought i could be, but—i’m sorry, y/n.”

the words split you open.

you cried so much that night, you couldn’t even see the screen when you typed beomgyu’s name.

“are you busy?” “no. where are you?” “can you come over?” “already on my way.”

twenty minutes later, he was at your door.

hair longer now, messy and beautiful, piercings glinting in the hallway light. he was breathing hard like he ran up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. in his hand: a plastic bag with cheap beer.

you couldn’t stop crying. he dropped the beers on the kitchen counter and pulled you into his arms without a word. just held you while you shook in his chest.

“he said he wasn’t even sure,” you whispered later, curled up on the couch. “he said he was still thinking about her. all that time... i was just a fucking rebound.”

his jaw clenched, eyes darkening. “that bastard never deserved you.”

“i feel so stupid, gyu.”

“don’t,” he said, voice low and serious. “don’t you ever say that. you loved him. you gave everything. that’s not stupid. that’s beautiful.”

“why wasn’t i enough?”

he looked at you for a long time, like he was deciding something.

“y/n,” he said softly, leaning in. “that wasn’t your fault. he’s the one who didn’t know what he had. you... fuck, you’ve always been more than enough.”

the kiss happened slowly.

his hand on your cheek. your breath hitching. his lips brushing yours like a question—like a warning. and then, you kissed him back.

soft. desperate. too long coming.

when you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “you need to make him regret it,” he whispered, thumb stroking your skin. “you need to make him feel what it’s like to lose you. you need to feel good again. you deserve that.”

he didn’t ask for anything else that night. didn’t push.

but that was the start of the end.

after that night, you distanced yourself.

you didn’t mean to cut him off completely—hell, you couldn’t. it was beomgyu. but something about that kiss left a shadow in your chest. it was supposed to be just a moment. just comfort. just a stolen breath between sobs. nothing more.

you still texted, still called now and then. his name stayed pinned in your inbox. but you avoided seeing him in person like your life depended on it. like you knew that if you saw his eyes again, if he looked at you the way he did that night, you wouldn’t be able to lie to yourself anymore.

and besides… guilt was eating you alive.

because no matter how “harmless” the kiss was, you were still with donghyun.

donghyun, who promised he loved you. donghyun, who swore you were his future.

donghyun… who you later found texting his ex behind your back. joking with his friends about how maybe he should “catch up with her” again. laughing at the idea of her "missing his mouth." and not in a wholesome way.

when you saw the messages, your chest cracked all over again.

it didn’t matter that you had kissed someone else first. you still felt like your soul was being peeled apart, like you were always the one bleeding more. and maybe you deserved it. maybe not. but either way, you couldn’t breathe when you read those words.

still, you stayed.

and then came his concert.

beomgyu’s new album dropped like thunder—critics raving, fans losing their minds, his name everywhere. and somehow, despite everything, he’d put you on the guest list for the showcase. vip pass. no questions asked.

you told yourself you wouldn’t go.

but you went.

the venue was packed. lights flashing. fans screaming. and when he stepped onto that stage, guitar slung low on his hips, hair damp and wild, voice sliding over the mic like honey and gravel—your throat went dry.

he looked like sin. pure, unfiltered, heartbreak and lust wrapped in leather and ink.

you swallowed hard, trying to force your thoughts back into a box they didn’t want to stay in. because there he was—beomgyu, singing like the world owed him something, like the stage was the only place he could be real.

and god, you hated how much you still felt him.

after the show, the backstage buzzed with people. artists, stylists, industry big shots, security guards keeping the crowd out. your small flower crown sat awkwardly among the giant bouquets and expensive gifts.

when he saw it, he smiled.

“you actually came,” he said, walking toward you. “i didn’t think you would. thought you were still avoiding me.”

you hesitated. “i wasn’t avoiding you.”

he raised an eyebrow. “really?”

your mouth opened, then closed. then opened again.

“…okay. maybe i was.”

he nodded slowly, gaze sharp but unreadable. “why?”

you bit your lip. eyes drifting to the floor. “after that night… i got scared. i’ve never done anything like that before. never kissed someone else while i was still in a relationship. it felt—”

“like revenge?” he said, smirking a little. “because that’s all it was. he hurt you. so you hurt him back.”

you didn’t respond.

because that wasn’t who you were.

or… maybe it was. just for that moment.

you pressed your lips together, looking anywhere but his face.

he stepped closer, voice softer. “how’s that relationship going, anyway?”

you hesitated again. you wanted to lie. to say everything was fine. to keep pretending.

but you didn’t.

you told him what you found. the texts. the jokes. the way it broke you.

he didn’t hold back. “wow,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “i used to at least respect the guy because you picked him. but now? nah. he’s a fucking piece of shit.”

you flinched, but didn’t disagree.

“so why the hell are you still with him?”

“because i love him,” you said quickly. too quickly. too defensively. “i… i love him, gyu. i can’t just let go—”

his face twisted. “he’s making you feel like crap, and you’re still here defending him. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

your brows drew together. “don’t talk to me like that.”

“then stop talking like you're proud of being treated like garbage,” he snapped. “you sound like you’re begging to stay hurt.”

his fingers closed around your wrist—not enough to hurt, but tight enough to ground you. to make your chest seize.

“stop it,” he said through gritted teeth. “i don’t want to hear any more of this shit.”

you blinked, stunned. your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

“if he makes you feel like this,” he said, voice low and furious, “then break the fuck up with him.”

you stared at him, lips parted. heart hammering.

you wanted to scream that he didn’t understand. that it wasn’t so simple. that love was messy, complicated, that you had history—

but then he said it.

“remember that kiss?” his voice dropped, rough like gravel. “how did it feel? did you hate it?”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your face burned. because the truth sat heavy on your tongue.

you didn’t hate it. you hadn’t hated a second of it.

and that scared the hell out of you.

because beomgyu was too much. too intense. too real. and worse—deep down, a part of you still regretted turning him down all those years ago. even now.

but you had a boyfriend.

you weren’t supposed to want another man.

even if that man made your heart ache in ways your boyfriend never could.

beomgyu stepped in closer, his presence swallowing the space between you both until your back met the cold wall. the sharp click of your heels echoed faintly on the floor, and for a split second, his eyes flicked downward, lips twitching.

“you look so fuckin’ good in those,” he muttered, almost to himself, his gaze dragging up the length of your body. the slit in your dress revealed just enough of your leg to make his jaw tense, and the swell of your chest, pressed tight in that low neckline, had his breath stuttering for a moment.

then, slowly, his hand reached up—warm, calloused fingertips trailing up the curve of your neck until they cradled your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheek. your breath hitched the second his body pressed into yours, his heat, his scent, everything suffocating.

“you have no fuckin’ idea how many times i’ve thought about you,” he growled, voice low, raspy, like he was barely holding himself back. “since that night… fuck, y/n.”

his nose skimmed along your neck, lips ghosting just beneath your ear, and then—he inhaled.

deep.

like he needed your scent just to breathe, like your skin was the only thing that could keep him alive.

you shivered.

his breath was hot against your throat, and your skin prickled, hypersensitive, the space between your thighs suddenly aching with heat.

“and you?” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. “have you thought about me?”

you didn’t think. couldn’t.

“yes…” it fell from your lips like a confession. like a sin.

and that was all it took.

his mouth crashed into yours, all fire and fury and desperation. it was nothing like the soft kiss you’d shared before—this was punishment, this was craving, this was everything he’d been dying to take from you. his lips moved against yours with raw hunger, tongue parting your lips, tasting you like he was claiming you.

your hands pushed up against his chest, not to resist—but to feel. and god, he felt good. solid, toned, his body firm under your fingertips. you slid your palms over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him, the tension in his muscles.

his hands gripped your waist tight, sliding up your back, then down again, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch.

he broke the kiss just barely, your foreheads resting together, panting.

“don’t feel guilty,” he said, voice dark, ragged. “he fucked up first. you deserve this. you deserve to feel good, baby.”

your chest rose and fell rapidly, torn between reason and heat, but his mouth was already back on yours—his lips moving, tongue claiming, body pressing harder against yours. you gasped when his knee pushed between your legs, spreading you gently, firmly. his hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it, dragging it up to his hip so your leg wrapped around him.

his mouth moved to your neck, kissing, biting, licking over the spot just below your jaw. “let me give you what he couldn’t. let me make you forget that piece of shit.”

you whimpered. “beomgyu—”

“don’t think,” he murmured against your skin, “just feel.”

he bent slightly, gripping under your thighs, and in one swift motion, lifted you. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the hem of your dress riding up, leaving little to the imagination. he carried you effortlessly to the nearby vanity table, pushing aside cosmetics and water bottles with a sweep of his arm before setting you down on the surface, stepping between your legs.

his fingers found the edge of your dress and slowly pushed it up your thighs, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “look at you,” he whispered, hungry. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful. you don’t even know.”

your head tilted back slightly as his fingers slid under the thin lace of your panties, stroking softly between your folds. you were already wet—aching—and he groaned when he felt it.

“fuck, baby,” he hissed. “he never deserved this.”

your hips jerked forward into his hand, needing more, and he didn’t hesitate. two fingers slid inside you, curling just right, thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. your moan escaped before you could stop it, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

“that’s it,” he muttered against your collarbone. “let me hear you. let me ruin you.”

your head fell back as he pumped his fingers in and out, his mouth trailing hot kisses over your chest, down the valley of your breasts, tongue dipping just beneath your neckline.

“you want me to stop?” he asked suddenly, voice low, teasing.

“no,” you breathed, desperate. “don’t stop. please—”

he grinned, feral. “then say it.”

“what..?” you gasped.

“say you want your revenge.”

you blinked, body trembling under his touch, your climax building fast in your core.

“say it, baby,” he coaxed, fingers thrusting harder. “say you wanna make him pay.”

your mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut. “i… i want it. i want my revenge—”

“fuck yes you do,” he growled, crashing his mouth against yours again as your orgasm tore through you, sharp and hot and overwhelming. your body shook under him, thighs clenching around his waist as he swallowed every sound, every moan, every broken little whimper.

when you finally stilled, breathless and dazed, he pulled back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing your lips.

“we’re just getting started,” he said, voice wicked. “and i’m gonna make sure you never forget what it feels like to be worshipped.”

you barely had time to catch your breath before beomgyu was tugging your panties down your thighs, slow but deliberate, eyes never leaving yours. they dropped to the floor in a silent surrender, and he pocketed them with a smirk like they were a fucking trophy.

“i’m not gonna fuck you here,” he murmured, breath hot against your lips, “not like this. you deserve better than a quick fuck on a vanity. not when i’ve waited this long.”

before you could answer, he scooped you up again like it was nothing, his arms strong under your thighs as he carried you out of the dressing room, ignoring the voices and laughter muffled behind the door.

“w-where are we going?” you asked, barely able to think straight.

“my place,” he said simply. “somewhere i can hear you scream without interruptions.”

you whimpered, burying your face in his neck, and god, he smelled so good—sweat, leather, cologne and stage adrenaline. he smelled like temptation and danger and everything you knew you shouldn’t want… but did.

the ride in the black suv was silent, electric. your dress was bunched up around your hips, your bare pussy pressed against the rough fabric of his jeans as you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you. he kissed your neck lazily, like he had all the time in the world, but his cock was rock hard beneath you. he didn’t even try to hide it.

once at his apartment, he kicked the door shut with his boot, not bothering with lights. the glow of the city poured in through the massive windows, casting shadows across the sleek, dark interior. guitars lined the wall. platinum records caught the dim light. this was his kingdom—and tonight, you were the only thing he wanted in it.

he dropped you on the bed, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“take it off,” he said, voice husky, pointing at your dress.

your fingers trembled as you reached for the zipper, but he stepped forward and caught your wrists.

“no,” he whispered, “let me.”

slowly, reverently, he pulled the dress down your body, baring inch after inch of your skin, his lips brushing each new piece of flesh like a prayer. your tits spilled out of your bra, tight and full, and he groaned under his breath like he was in pain.

“fuck, y/n…” his hands cupped them gently, thumbs rubbing over your nipples until they peaked. “you’re a fucking dream.”

he kissed down your stomach, his rings cold on your thighs as he spread them apart, taking his time to appreciate the view.

“this pussy,” he muttered, running a finger along your slit, “doesn’t deserve to be wasted on a piece of shit who doesn’t know how to treat you.”

you moaned softly, but he didn’t give you time to reply—he leaned in, mouth hot and wet against your core, tongue sliding between your folds like he’d been starving for it. he licked you slow, deep, sucking gently on your clit, fingers spreading you open.

your hands tangled in his hair, tugging, hips grinding up against his mouth.

“beomgyu—fuck—” you gasped.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt through you, and your thighs clamped around his head, body trembling. he didn’t stop—he kept going until you were falling apart again, crying out his name, legs shaking uncontrollably.

when he finally pulled away, his lips were glistening, his eyes dark, his jaw set with hunger.

“on your knees,” he commanded, voice rough. “now.”

you obeyed before you even thought about it, dropping to the floor and looking up at him with flushed cheeks, your mascara smudged and lips swollen from kisses.

he unbuckled his belt slowly, eyes locked on yours, pulling his cock free. it was thick, veiny, and already leaking. you swallowed hard, instinctively.

he chuckled darkly. “open your mouth, pretty girl.”

you wrapped your lips around the tip, letting your tongue swirl over the head, tasting him. he hissed, one hand gripping your hair tight as he fed more of his length into your mouth.

“that’s it,” he growled, fucking your mouth slowly, “just like that. fuck, your mouth feels so good—better than i imagined.”

you gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t stop, hips rocking steadily, praising you in broken moans.

“gonna fuck you now,” he said, pulling out with a wet pop and dragging you back to your feet. “gonna make you forget every time he made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

he turned you around and bent you over the bed, your chest pressing into the sheets, ass up for him.

he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance, and then—he pushed in.

deep.

you both gasped.

“so fucking tight,” he groaned, leaning over your back, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine to your throat. “like you were made for me.”

his phone buzzed on the nightstand. he didn’t even look at it—just reached out lazily, tapped the screen and muttered, “i’ll be late. got something to handle.”

you heard him on the line with his manager, voice casual but firm. “start without me. i’ll join after... yeah, don’t wait.”

he hung up and tossed the phone aside, then grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back just enough so your cheek pressed against the mattress.

his pace started slow, dragging out each thrust, making you feel every inch of him. but it didn’t take long for him to snap his hips harder, faster, your body jolting with each stroke.

“does he fuck you like this?” he snarled in your ear, “does he make you scream?”

you shook your head, eyes rolling back. “n-no—only you—”

“that’s right,” he growled. “only me.”

his hand tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath catch.

“this is your revenge, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “so take it.”

his thrusts turned brutal—sharp, punishing, hitting the deepest part of you over and over. your cries filled the room, ragged and desperate, echoing off the walls with no mercy. his grip on your waist tightened like he wanted to mold your body into the shape of his cock, to ruin you for anyone else. to make sure you'd never forget.

“you feel this?” he grunted against your neck, breath hot and heavy. “no one else is gonna fuck you like this. no one else is gonna own you like i do.”

your fingers clutched the sheets, knuckles white, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity. it was too much—his pace, his size, the weight of his body against yours, the filthy things he whispered in your ear.

“i bet you’re still gonna go crawling back to him,” he spat, jealousy burning under every word. “still gonna lie next to that asshole like you’re his.”

you whimpered, shaking your head weakly, but he didn’t buy it.

“nah,” he growled, pulling out suddenly and flipping you over, grabbing your legs and shoving them open. “look at me.”

you blinked up at him, dazed and fucked-out, mascara running down your cheeks.

“you better break up with him,” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, “or i swear to god, y/n, i’ll fuck you in front of him. i’ll bend you over his couch and make you scream my name while he watches.”

your mouth fell open in shock, chest heaving.

“and i won’t stop,” he added, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen entrance, “until he knows he lost. until he knows this pussy—” he thrust into you hard, making you sob out loud, “—was never really his.”

“beomgyu—” you moaned, overwhelmed, body burning from the inside out.

“you think he deserves you?” his hands pinned your wrists above your head, cock slamming into you mercilessly. “he made you cry, he lied to you, he fucking humiliated you—and you still love him? you’re fucking pathetic.”

you cried out, the words cutting deeper than his thrusts, but somehow… it made you wetter.

“you wanna be ruined?” he hissed. “you want someone to actually break you? then let me do it right. let me be the one to destroy you, y/n.”

his mouth found your breast, biting down hard on the curve, then licking over it with his tongue. one of his hands slid down between your bodies, fingers circling your clit.

“i’m gonna make you cum again,” he said darkly. “and when you do, i want you to say it. say who you belong to.”

you tried to resist, tried to hold it in, but your body betrayed you. the coil snapped, the orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing too hard, too fast, and you screamed—legs shaking, eyes rolling back, tears spilling.

“say it,” he barked, still fucking into you through your climax. “say my fucking name.”

“b-beomgyu—!” you sobbed.

he groaned like he was finally satisfied, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck as he came inside you, cock twitching, filling you up with thick heat.

you lay there under him, destroyed—physically spent, emotionally wrecked, your thoughts tangled in guilt and pleasure and fear.

he didn’t move for a moment. just breathed. heavy. hot. his fingers brushing your jaw as if you were fragile now that he had broken you.

“you’re not going back to him,” he whispered.

not a question.

a fucking order.

you lay beneath him, breathing uneven, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the room. your thighs still trembled from the intensity, from the way he’d made you cum like he hated you and worshipped you at the same time. beomgyu hadn’t said a word in the past minute—his face buried against your neck, body still pressed to yours, cock softening inside you.

for a second, just a second, you wished he’d hold you.

but then his voice broke the silence.

“you’re still thinking about him,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. the accusation hung in the air like smoke. “even after everything i just gave you.”

your heart dropped.

your lips parted, but nothing came out. you didn’t know how to explain it—the ache in your chest that refused to go away. the confusion. the guilt. the goddamn love you still felt for someone who didn’t deserve it.

“gyu…” you whispered.

he pulled back, face twisted into something you couldn’t name. anger? heartbreak? pride?

“don’t,” he cut you off. “don’t make excuses.”

your eyes welled up. “i don’t know what to do.”

“yes, you do,” he said bitterly. “you just don’t want to admit it.”

you turned your face away, ashamed. “i’m scared…”

he leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “i know,” he breathed. “but if you go back to him… if you choose him over me again… i swear, y/n, i won’t be there the next time he breaks you.”

you looked up at him, tears streaming silently, and in his eyes—you saw it.

not just lust.

not just revenge.

something raw. something real. something that had been growing since you were kids and that neither of you dared name.

“why are you doing this to me?” you whispered, voice cracking.

he exhaled shakily, jaw clenched. “because you’re mine. and i’m fucking done pretending i can watch you belong to someone else.”

your heart clenched so painfully it felt like it might stop. you could say no. you could walk out, gather what little pride you had left, go home and cry again.

but you didn’t move.

you reached for him.

he didn’t need another invitation.

his lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper—like he needed to pour every unsaid feeling into your mouth. his hands cradled your face as he kissed you like it might be the last time. but it wouldn’t be. you both knew that now.

he slid between your thighs again, cock hardening quickly against your entrance, and this time, when he entered you, it wasn’t fast or rough—it was claiming.

your nails scratched down his back, your legs wrapped around him, and all that tension, all that heartbreak, turned into moans and gasps and breathless whimpers.

you knew this wouldn’t end well.

you knew you were falling, spiraling.

but if this was the fall—

you wanted to crash with him.

you lay there tangled in beomgyu’s arms, skin sticky with sweat and sin, lips swollen from too many kisses, body marked with the kind of bruises that didn’t hurt—but reminded you exactly who had been there. your breath was still shaky, but your mind had never been clearer. there was no room for regret now.

the guilt that once sat heavy on your chest had melted into something hotter, darker—an intoxicating thrill that buzzed beneath your skin like a drug.

vengeance.

it tasted like his lips, like his cum dripping down your thigh, like your name moaned against your ear by the man you were never supposed to touch. and as you traced lazy circles on beomgyu’s bare chest, your eyes fluttering shut, all you could think about was how sweet it would be to see the look on donghyun’s face when he finds out what you’ve done.

because maybe revenge wasn’t just a dish best served cold— maybe it was better hot, breathless, and soaked in sweat.

and god, you couldn’t wait for seconds.

[bunnynova]

DESPERATELY, HOPELESSLY, IN LOVE.

𐙚⋆.˚ - Pairings: Rindou x Fem!Reader 𐙚⋆.˚ - Warnings: Multiple Orgasms/Several rounds, Pussy eating, Fingering, Pet names, PnV, Aftercare, Breeding mentions, Creampies, Friends with benefits undertones. filthy tbh, rough (?) sex, dirty talk, praise?, degrading? spitting 𐙚⋆.˚ - Words: 2.8k 𐙚⋆.˚ - A/n: This content is 18+ MNDI. First fic kinda nervous. I hope you enjoy it! Requests are open!! I want it to be known as well all of my fics are written with a plus sized reader in mind. However I do not mention hair textures/color same with skin tones. I do try to be as inclusive as possible, however, I have noticed that there is a lacking in content across the board for plus sized readers. Not proofread either. Soo possibly bad writing. 𐙚⋆.˚ - Notice: You can filter your content in the event it is not for you, under blog settings if any of tags used you will not see content relating too this. Twt Links Inspo: 1 2 3 4 5

His breath was hot and heavy against your skin. Each exhale brushing against your inner thigh as his grip tightened possessively. Your legs were slung over his shoulders. Trembling, helpless, just how Rindou wanted you. He wasn't his usual sweet self tonight, no there was not an ounce of sweetness with how he devoured you.

Not with how he commanded your body with his tongue. His mouth teases your clit. Just for him to pull back and murmur something filthy against your soaked skin. Soaked in your sinful act. Words that made your cunt clench and your mind buzz. He knew exactly what he was doing. Each drag of his tongue and drag of his finger, keeping you right on the edge of your high, all because he could. 

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he laps it up, eyes fluttering shut like he’s savoring the finest fucking delicacy. Your taste drives him wild, sweet, sinful, completely addicting. He devours you with unrelenting hunger, tongue gliding through every slick crease, collecting every drop like it belongs to him.

“Look at this greedy little cunt,” he growled, dragging his fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, spreading it deliberately. “So fucking wet, clenching around nothing like it’s desperate to be used.” He pushed two fingers in, slow but deep, curling them just right as your back arched. “Ease up baby, so fucking tight, like it’s begging to be stretched open.” 

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he spoke slowly, almost hearing the gravel in his voice. “I’m gonna stuff you full of cock, baby. Gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days. And when I cum inside you? You’ll be dripping all down your thighs, marked, just how you like it.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips. “You ready for that, princess? Ready to be my filthy little mess?”

His tongue slides between your lips, slow and indulgent, collecting the taste of you, groaning low in his throat like he’s savoring something forbidden and divine.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice thick with need. “You taste unreal.”

He devours you with deliberate hunger, tongue stroking through your slit, teasing and greedy, flicking up to circle your clit before sealing his mouth around it. The suction sends a sharp jolt through your spine, your hips jerking against his face, desperate for more. He moans into you, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive nerves, as his fingers slide between your thighs—two slipping into your soaked entrance with ease.

The stretch is delicious. He curls them inside you with practiced precision, pressing up into that devastating spot that makes you cry out, clenching around him like your body already knows what it’s made for.

“That’s it,” he growls against your cunt, eyes flashing up to watch you writhe. “Get that pussy dripping for me. I want you to be messy and wrecked. Nice and prepped for me, my pretty girl.”

His pace quickens, fingers thrusting deep as his tongue lavishes your clit, relentless, merciless. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he doesn’t stop—he groans, like he loves being smothered by your pleasure, like this is exactly where he belongs.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glossy with you. He kisses his way up your trembling body, over the fluttering rise and fall of your stomach, your chest. His hands trace every curve like he’s starving for the feel of you—memorizing the slope of your waist, the softness of your breasts, the way your body arches into his touch like it was crafted just for him.

"You are exquisite," he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of awe. "A goddess made flesh, a dream came to life. Every moment with you is a gift, a blessing beyond measure." He kisses you back deeply, pouring all his love and devotion into the slide of their mouths and tongues. One hand tangles in your hair, the other slipping down to grip the curve of your ass, pulling you harder against him. He wants you to feel every hard inch of him, wants you to know the effect she has on him, the hunger she ignites.

"I love you," he breathes, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat. "I love you more than words can express, more than any dream could imagine. You are the very air in my lungs, the rhythm of my heart." 

He suckles at the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. He knows he'll have to be careful, to control himself. But he's determined to worship you, to pleasure you, to make you feel cherished and adored.

Grabbing his cock and slapping it against your wet pussy before spitting on his length although it wasn't needed from how soaked you were, and sliding back into your needy hole, inch by inch. Making you feel him completely, in this moment he didnt care what was happening outside those four walls.

You feel that?” he whispers as he grinds against you, his cock hard and hot, sliding between your folds. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He presses forward, the thick head of him nudging at your entrance, spreading you open with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Your breath catches as he sinks into you inch by inch, the stretch intense, filling, overwhelming. Rindou groans above you, his mouth falling open as he bottoms out, buried to the hilt inside your dripping heat.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours, voice ragged. “Gripping me like this. You were made for me.”

He doesn’t move at first, just stays there, grinding his hips into yours as your walls pulse around him. The heat between you is unbearable, maddening. You wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him in even deeper, and he hisses through his teeth, a low, guttural sound of restraint slipping.

Then he starts to move slow at first, deep and dragging, each stroke sending a shockwave of sensation through your body. He fucks you like he’s savoring every second, like he wants to memorize the way your cunt flutters around him, the way your breath stutters every time he hits just right.

“That's my girl, doing so good for me.” he growls, pulling back to watch your face contorted in pleasure. “Taking every inch of me like a good girl. So wet for me. So fucking desperate.”

He snaps his hips harder, rougher now, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. You cry out, clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin, and he just pounds into you deeper, chasing that perfect rhythm that has you unraveling beneath him.

His mouth is everywhere, suckling at your nipples, biting at the tender skin of your neck, licking into your mouth between gasps. He worships your body with every thrust, every kiss, every filthy word that drips from his lips.

“You feel me baby? Feel me deep inside your needy cunt.. Fuck.. feel s’good around me.” He groans rather loud as he shrugs your legs from his shoulders. Removing himself from you as he grips your ankles, pressing them forward against your body. “Keep them just like this or I’ll stop, you hear me, stardust?” Rindou's voice was graveled, lust and need dripping with every word. Gripping your hips as he pulled you down to have a sticky sweet contact, he wanted all of you, he felt like an animal. 

His fingers made indents on your thighs as he gripped your plush skin, throwing his head back in pure bliss. Rindou thrusts were harsh slams but at such a delicious slow pace that made your head fuzzy. You couldn't even think straight. 

“Gunna fuck a baby in you, you want that dont you princess? Gunna fu-fuck all my cum into your tight needy hole” Thrusts matching his word, hips never faltering, though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so. Your body was on fire, moans, cries falling from your lips 

“Ahh!-Ngh! Ri-Rind-Ah fuck feels so good, Mm-ah fuck a baby in me. I wan’ that, ‘Make me yours” you cried out, words slurring from pleasure. His chuckle is deep, cruel, against your neck 

“Awh my poor princess, shes gettin her cunt fucked so good she cant even finish my name. Poor thing, here let me take care of you, pretty my stardust.” His head dipped down to your neck latching onto it, leaving very clear marks on your skin.

 His free hand coming to your chest, ripping your sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me hear you baby, can't tell if I'm doin’ a good enough job or not.'' He teased, he could tell he was, he could feel how slick you were, and the white ring around his cock base. 

Your cheeks became warm at his words, you had never experienced this side of him before, not that you didn't like it, rather you loved it. Harsh, tightroped on degrading and praising. 

Pulling him down, your gaze meeting his. “Come on, Ngh! fuck a baby into me, isnt that want you wanted?” You egged him on as a loud whine leaves his lips in response.

He removes one hand from your thigh, thumb slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit. Popping it from your mouth “Open” Rindou spoke, looking up at him with a hazy expression as you opened your mouth. A glob of spit rolling from his tongue feeling it rush back against your throat.

 “Keep it in there till you cum” He leans forward, feeling his high coming soon, feeling your hands against his back nails digging into his skin making him whine from the painful pleasure. Your climax builds like a storm, pressure winding tighter and tighter as he slams into you, fingers reaching down to rub fast, firm circles on your clit.

His hips began to falter, with his body shuttering from his orgasm, filling up your pussy as promised. Feeling our own high coming, back arching from the mattress, cries of his name falling from your lips. Feeling him fill your body with his cum. Body shaking in bliss.  

A soft laugh left your lips as you card your fingers through his pretty two toned purple and black hair as you shook your head a bit “That was different, what happened?” Rindou chuckles in response before lifting his head to look at you “I'm not sure, must’ve been something in the air” A loud laugh left your lips in response. 

“A warning next time would be nice, it was probably the baby fever or something” He sighed with a groan head dripping onto your chest. “Who said I was done?” He spoke with a soft growl in his voice, his tongue lapping around your sensitive buds. 

You’re gasping, body spent but still burning with need. When Rindou growls low in his throat, cock twitching inside you. He’s hard again already, thick and hot, still pulsing with want.

“Did you think we were finished?” he murmurs darkly, teeth grazing your jaw. “Not even close.”

He starts to move again, slow at first, maddeningly deep. Your body arches, aching, your overstimulated nerves lighting up like fire beneath your skin. You whimper, and he smirks against your throat.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts. “Then you’d better hold on, princess, I wanna watch you crumble, and fall apart under me.”

His hips snap forward, sudden and brutal. You cry out, your voice caught between a moan and a sob, and his eyes darken as he watches your face twist in pleasure.

“Fuck! listen to you,” he grits out, fucking you deeper with every thrust. “So loud for me. So goddamn needy. Say it.”

“Say what?” you manage to gasp, clutching at his shoulders as your body trembles.

“That this pussy’s mine,” he growls, slamming into you so hard the bed frame shudders. “That no one else makes you feel this way. That you need me.”

You’re already unraveling again, the pleasure ripping through you in waves. “It’s yours,” you sob, head thrown back. “Only yours. No one else Ngh..fuck! no one else can touch me like this.”

“That’s right,” he breathes, and his voice is all gravel and fire. “I want you fucking ruined for days. I wanna make sure you feel me for days, mold your cunt to my cock baby.”

You clench around him at the sound of his voice, possessive, raw, filled with that deep hunger only you get to see. He’s completely unhinged like this. And it’s for you.

“You’re taking me so deep,” he pants, fingers bruising your hips as he slams into you. “So goddamn tight. You feel what you do to me?”

You nod, delirious, legs wrapped tight around his waist. His sweat drips onto your skin, his name falling from your lips like a mantra between desperate moans.

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, voice wrecked. “I want to see you come again. While I’m buried inside you.”

Your hand trembles as it moves down, fingers brushing your slick, swollen clit, and he watches you, eyes locked to where your bodies meet. You’re close again already, so close it hurts.

“You going to come for me, baby?” he whispers, leaning in to kiss the tears of pleasure at the corner of your eye. “So fucking pretty when you break.”

“I-I can’t Ri-Rin Please!” You cried out, your voice strained. 

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re mine, and I’m not stopping until you give me everything.”

And you do. Your body locks up around him, legs shaking, that third orgasm crashing over you like a wrecking wave. You scream his name as you come apart, your cunt clenching so hard around him that he curses loudly, spilling into you a second time, raw and deep, every muscle in his body drawn tight as he floods you, again.

He collapses on top of you, both of you soaked, shaking, breathing like you’ve run miles. For a long moment, neither of you speaks.

Then his lips brush your ear, soft and low.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “You’re mine. Every fucking inch of you.”

The room is silent now, save for the distant hum of the city beyond the window and the quiet tangle of your breath against his chest.

His hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading slowly through your hair, the same fingers that gripped you so hard moments ago. Now, they touch like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

He presses a kiss to your temple, warm and lingering, his voice barely audible. “You okay?”

You nod slowly, your voice a whisper. “Yeah. Are you?”

He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it this whole time. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, forehead resting against yours. “I think I lost my fucking mind in you.”

There’s a short laugh between you, tired, tender. Your fingers trace the line of his spine, still damp with sweat, and he shivers under your touch. Not from arousal this time, but from the intimacy of it.

“I’m serious,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are softer now, not dark with lust, but open. Unshielded. “I’ve never felt like that before. It was more than just… fucking. You know that, right?”

You swallow hard. You do know. You felt it in the way he held you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him to earth. The way he fell apart inside you like he trusted you to hold him through it.

“I felt it too,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Every second of it.”

His throat works, jaw clenching like he doesn’t quite know what to do with how deeply that hits him. One of his hands moves to your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and when he kisses you this time, it’s not hungry or demanding—it’s slow. Tender. Reverent.

“You wreck me,” he whispers against your lips. “And not just in bed. You.. gods.., you scare the hell out of me.”

Your brows draw together. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t casual anymore. Not for me.” His voice shakes, just a little. “You’re under my skin. In my chest. All I can fucking think about. When I touch you, it’s like… I’m home.”

The words hit like a heartbeat too hard in your chest. You curl closer, nuzzling into the curve of his neck, inhaling the mix of sweat, sex, and his scent faint cologne.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds you closer at that, both arms wrapping around you like he needs to anchor himself in the moment. You feel his lips against your hair. His breathing slows. Your heartbeats sync.

And in that small, quiet moment. entwined in sweat-slick skin and the afterglow of something more than just pleasure, you both realized something.

This isn’t just physical. This is love, wild and unspoken, finding its way out through trembling bodies and words neither of you had ever dared say aloud until now.

I hope you enjoyed! Requests are open.

Do not plagiarize my content. Do not repost my content, or translate it either. Do not post my content on any social media. Do not steal my content or feed it into AI.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The cafe is not very busy. You’re relieved. It’s been a strange morning. Jada offered to make you coffee. After last night, her kindness is even more suspicious. It’s not like her to do anything without a motive. 

You sit and mull her sudden change in attitude. There’s only one thing’s that changed that makes any sense. This is about Thor! She knows you went berry picking with him and then you went to his house. She recognised him before you did and even now, you don’t really know too much about what makes him so famous. 

Jada always said she hated having you as her hanger-on. That she couldn’t wait to be rid of you. She’s only jealous because you made a friend better than any of hers. That has to be it. Mystery solved! 

You’re not stupid enough to tell her off to her face. If anything, your sister is spiteful. Maybe, just for now, you’ll accept her little favours. After all, for as mean as she’s been, you deserve a bit of peace. And she’ll deserve the tiny taste of vengeance when you don’t let her use you to get close to Thor. 

You stare out the window, one hand on your mug, a cinnamon latte dolloped in cream, and your other under your chin. It’s not a bad day out. Sunny. It takes you back to the gazebo and the birds. You wonder what Queenie’s doing. Should you message her? You don’t want to smother her. 

“Pardon, is this seat taken?” The silky timbre brings you upright in your chair. 

A smile breaks across your face, “Loki! What are you doing here?” 

His cheek ticks, “may I sit?” 

“Oh, of course,” you pull your mug closer. 

He lowers himself into the seat across from you. He has a paper cup in hand, black coffee darkening the interior. He sniffs and looks down his nose at your drink. 

“What is that monstrosity?” 

“Cinnamon bun latte!” You explain. “It’s delicious.” 

“Full of sugar,” he girds. 

“I don’t like bitter coffee,” you grimace. 

“Then you don’t like coffee,” he rebukes. 

“Not really. I’m aware of my caffeine addiction,” you shrug. “I’m so happy to see you. What are the odds?” 

His green eyes flick dulcetly to your face, “it is not by chance. My brother’s... companion requires company.” 

“Queenie?” You brighten up. He nods and hums. “Oh, I was just thinking of her.” 

“How convenient,” he slithers. 

Silence swells between you. You sip your latte to stave of the tension as he watches. His gaze is intense, it makes you want to melt. You know he’s judging you. 

You touch your nose, “do I have cream?” 

One corner of his mouth curves, “no cream.” 

“Mm, okay,” you pout. 

“You don’t happen to be hiding from your sister? Did she cause you more trouble?” He wonders as his eyes narrow. 

“Jada? No, she’s been... weird.” 

“Hm,” he nods. “Would you prefer to stay and finish or shall we be on our way?” 

“Oh, uh, if you’d rather go now, sure,” you stand and knock the table. The latte tips and splashes your shirt and pants. 

You pick it up but too late. Most of it is gone and you’re soaked. Loki moves so quick, you think he’s running away in humiliation. He simply swipes up a handful of napkins from the counter and returns to you. You thank him as you take a few and dab at your clothing. 

“I can be so clumsy,” you mope. “Sorry.” 

“Are you burned?” He leans over you as he watches you sop up the mess. 

“No, I’m okay. There was so much sugary cream that it wasn’t very hot,” you look up at him with a grin. His brows draw together at your joke. 

“Mm, you are clever when you want to be. Would you like a replacement before we’re off?” 

“No, it’s fine. I think maybe the universe agrees with you. I don’t need it.” You take more napkins and press them to the fabric until you’re mostly dry. 

“I could drive you to your home if you require a change.” 

“That’s a lot of back and forth. I’ll survive a bit of damp clothing.” 

“It will stain, won’t it?” 

You look down at the floral fabric and the matching purple pants. It might but you’ll just be with Queenie. She won’t mind. 

“Just clothes,” you shrug. 

He clucks, “very well, I suppose.” 

He brushes by you and wipes off the table top. The smell of cinnamon stirs with your efforts. A barista approaches with a roll of paper towel. 

“Here,” she smiles, “we’re making you a new drink.” 

“What? You don’t have to,” you take the roll. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. You’re here all the time.” She says, “don’t worry too much, we have a mop. We can get the rest.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, again,” you babble. 

She goes back to the counter and you turn back to Loki as he watches her goes. He wears a pensive expression. “You make rather a lot of friends wherever you go.” 

“Friends? She’s just being nice,” you say. “Like me. I try to, anyway.” 

He says nothing and bunches up the wet napkin. He opens his hand to take yours and you give them over. He takes them to the bin and dumps them. You gather up your purse and empty cup and follow. You drop it in as they call your name at the counter. 

You go over and take your new drink, “thank you so so much.” 

“Have a good day,” the barista trills. 

You grin and turn to Loki as he takes his cup from the table and meets you at the door. He opens it for you and you thank him. You bop toward your house and he huffs. 

“Wrong way,” he reproaches. 

You stop and turn back to him, “oops. Habit. Oh, I see your car.” You point past him and scurry over. “Did I tell you how much I love that colour? Green is such a... regal colour, don’t you think?” 

“Regal?” He echoes. 

“Oh sure; jade, forest, emerald, even citrine has a certain vibe.” 

“Vibe...” he drawls. 

“Oop, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I know you prefer silence.” You touch your mouth apologetically. “I’ll zip it.” You pretend to turn a key and put it in your pocket.  

You peek over at his slightly less agitated expression. Jada is sometimes mean for no reason but she is right that you talk a bit too much. You smile and he turns his attention to the path ahead. 

“I don’t mind conversation,” he says. “So long as it isn’t inane.” 

[pastafossa]

"Love Leaves A Mark" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, Pure Fluff)

I've been working on this for a bit to celebrate the release of our older Born Again!Era Matt, and happily I can say this one's now done, which means I can finish up another little oneshot I have and then get back around to The Red Thread's next chapter. This is written with TRT!Reader in mind, but I also tried to write it vaguely so it's easy enough to enjoy even if you haven't read that massive saga. Also if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings for this fic: None that I know of, they're just being cute and in love as they grow old together. There ARE some vague physical changes described that are standard in aging but that feels pretty normal.

Fic Summary: You and Matt are growing older together, and you're both loving every second of it, including the physical changes that come with it.

“Did you get more toothpaste today?” you called sleepily, lifting one leg to idly scratch at your calf with your foot. You worked your toothbrush over to the other side of your mouth, wrinkling your nose at the taste. Nine years you’d been using your husband’s toothpaste and you’d never gotten used to the flavor, or lack thereof. You’d be damned if you didn’t use it regardless, though. “And Mini’s food?”

“Picked up both.” The low rumble of his voice was sleepy and distracted as it drifted out of the bedroom. Outside the little brownstone you both now called home, the snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, muffling the roar of the wind and the few cars still out on the street despite the late hour and travel ban. You were grateful for that storm. In all the time you’d been with him you’d never had a problem with the Devil’s nightly rounds. Loving Matt meant loving Daredevil, too. But you still treasured evenings like these when he was able to stay in with you, your purring, cuddly husband happily playing the role of your favorite blanket. “I may have also stopped at the bookstore and gotten you something on the way home.”

You paused, shifting your gaze meaningfully toward the open bathroom doorway. You probed curiously at the psychic connection between you, a subtle attempt to discern what it was he’d picked up for you. All you got was a playful nudge back. He didn’t even have to try all that hard anymore, smoothly deflecting you with all the ease of swatting away a pillow.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His voice was an amused whisper in your mind. “You’ll have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.” 

You scrubbed faster at your teeth, grinning at his laugh in the other room. 

“I don’t know how you have any gums left considering how often you do that,” he mused as you leaned down to rinse your mouth out. You quickly shoved your toothbrush back into the penguin-shaped toothbrush holder before flipping off the light and padding out of the bathroom. 

“The benefits of genetic tampering,” you said dryly, joining him in the bedroom. He was already settled into bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a well-worn book beneath his hand. Down atop his blanket-covered feet, a large, round black void of fur had arranged itself into a perfect circle, no head or tail to be seen. Matt tipped his head as he tracked your eager circling of the room, the barest little smirk quirking his lips. You scanned around for anything new, hunting along the walls and the bookshelves that had managed to migrate their way into the bedroom once your shared office slash library had gotten too full. Books had a tendency to breed like rabbits between you and Matt. “Where?” “Your nightstand. I figured you’d probably want to dive in.”

You darted over towards your nightstand.

“No way,” you breathed, sitting down on your side of the bed and snatching up the first of the three new hardbacks he’d placed on your nightstand. “This one—I thought it was going to take another week at least before they released it. How did you…?” “I kept checking with Hanna every time I passed by her bookstore.” He cleared his throat as you flipped open your new copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy to a random page, the much-loved scent of new paper and ink filling your nose. “Eventually she took pity on me and finally let me buy this one early with cash. Although she wasn’t sure why you wanted this one when you have so many other translations already.” 

“It’s Palma’s new translation,” you murmured distractedly, dragging your finger down the flowing lines of poetry, your eyes skimming rapidly over the page. You could already spot some of the changes. “I have the first translation he did of the Inferno, but this is the first time he’s done the entirety of the Divine Comedy, and he’s tweaked his previous translation. It’s supposed to mimic the rhyming scheme Dante created more closely. Not easy when you’re shifting it from Italian to English. Dad’s going to have kittens when he hears the Devil got me my copy before he got his.”

Even without looking at him, you could feel Matt’s smug satisfaction. “You should call him so I can hear him swear.” “Call him yourself if you want to rub it in.” You snorted in amusement at Matt’s neverending desire to goad your adoptive father Ciro, who admittedly had a habit of goading back. At the very least their jabs had become less hostile over the years, the two of them now closer to sparring partners than actual enemies. You leaned over to look at the other two books Matt had gotten you, your brows shooting up. “And you got me Emily Wilson’s translations of the Illiad and the Odyssey? You’re spoiling me, husband dearest.” “You said last month you were thinking about picking them both up. I figured I’d check if they were there.” There was a rustle of blankets behind you, and a slightly irritated, ‘mrrp?’, presumably as Matt adjusted his feet beneath the fuzzy black hole curled up atop them. “Consider it an early anniversary gift.” “Not that I’m not grateful, but you and I both know it’s January, dear.” You set Dante back down atop the stack of books before swiveling on the bed to face Matt. You started crawling across the mountain of blankets and silk sheets toward his grinning form. “Our anniversary is months away.” “The anniversary of our first kiss, then.” His smile only grew wider when you reached him and threw your leg over him to sit astride his waist. It was something he welcomed as he always did, his hands setting aside his book immediately in favor of you. He slid his palms warmly up and down the fleece covering your thighs, pausing here and there to knead at the muscle just because he could. It never seemed to matter that he’d touched you a thousand times before. He treated every moment like this as if it were the first. “A few hardbacks are the least you deserve.” “Lines like that make me want to marry you.” You sighed, draping your arms comfortably over his broad shoulders, lifting one hand to idly card your fingers through his dark hair. He hummed beneath your touch, tilting his head openly into the fond drag of your fingers like a big cat. “Buying a woman hardbacks? In this economy? Put a ring on me, Mr. Murdock.”

“Now Mrs. Murdock, how would your husband feel about you saying things like that?” His voice was a playful purr, words thick and glutted thanks to the drag of your nails. You were pretty sure his eyes had rolled back behind his closed eyes. “He’d, mmm, hunt me down until his dying breath if I laid so much as a finger on you. As for me, my wife is… not inclined to let me go gently.” 

“You’re goddamn right I’m not.” You sprawled out against his chest, dipping your head. He met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. You gave him a warm, lazy kiss, faint traces of copper and cinnamon passed from his smiling mouth to yours. The familiar taste of him, the softness of his skin, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth soothed you in a way little else could, and you drew him deep into you on a slow inhale, humming against his lips. His chest rumbled contentedly beneath you in response, his hands sliding up from your thighs to squeeze and rub affectionately your hips. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

“Never,” he murmured against your mouth, chasing after you to steal another kiss when you tried to lift your head. You ran your fingers through his hair again, sighing at the soft, playful brush of his tongue against your lips, giving it a mischievous nip of your own that made him rumble another pleased noise beneath you. His voice dropped further, all lazy warmth and possessive hunger, shades of the Devil coloring the edges like a painter’s brush. “Mm, my wife, all mine.”                                     “Your wife,” you agreed fondly. “One who’s cut people before and will happily do it again if it keeps you safe.”

“Your services are very much appreciated.”

“They should be since I fully intend to sit in a pair of rocking chairs with you one day in our old age.” You brought your hand around to scratch your fingers lightly through the coarseness of his beard, making him groan breathlessly in delight, his back arching just a little beneath you. He’d been letting his beard grow in for the past week or so. You were unsure if it was by choice or if it was simply that he’d felt too busy to take the time to shave. It had been a while since you’d last seen him with a full beard, though, a few years at least. And to your pleasant surprise, there were a few changes. Your fingers petted curiously over the small patches of silver scattered around. “I’ve even kept you alive long enough that you’ve got grey here in your beard now. That’s new.” His brows rose in surprise, his eyes fluttering open where they’d fallen closed. “Really?”

“Yup. It’s very handsome.” You stroked at the prickly grey strands before your hands slid back and up to his temples, tracing the few strands of grey there just as affectionately. His cheeks had even turned the tiniest bit pink at your praise. “Some here, too. Just a little at your temples. You gonna be my silver fox, Matt?” “I guess so. That’s what I get for letting you pet all the color out over nine years.” He heaved a great sigh beneath you as if his care sheet instructions didn’t specify he get at least ten minutes of petting each day, without which he would wilt away. “You made me look old.” “Oh please. You don’t look old. You look human.” Your fingers left his hair so you could poke him pointedly in the chest. He threw you a wounded look, all furrowed brow and big sad eyes that you weren’t falling for even a little. “Also, you gave yourself those grey hairs, thank you very much. You’re the most stressed man I’ve ever met. Half of what you put yourself through would have turned anyone else’s hair white by now.”

“Fine. I’ll admit that I may have done… a few things that were somewhat stress—” “Got a building dropped on you. Fought Nobu in tissue paper. Got shot in the head. Used a neti pot to snort some fucking rusty tap water full of amoebas and tiny shrimp—”

“That last one still really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea. One day I’m going to kiss you and taste brain shrimp, I just know it.”

He snorted. “You say that like I don’t have my own list of all the things you’ve done that have almost given me a heart attack.”

“Alright, so my list is also… a bit long.” You tilted your head, watching his eyes shift absently around. After so many years with you, he was no longer self-conscious about letting you watch his eyes this closely, much to your delight. In the low light of the bedroom, his eyes were a soft, dark brown rather than the green or grey they could shift to during the day. Beautiful as always, especially with the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, lines that now seemed permanent even when he wasn’t smiling. You brushed your thumb over a few of those lines, your playful tone falling away into something more serious. “What if I like it, though? These parts of you that are getting older? Like these laugh lines.”

He furrowed his brow pitifully. “Now you’re telling me I’m wrinkly, too?”

“Oh, fuck you!” you huffed, his body shaking beneath you as he laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop deflecting, I’m serious.”

“I’m know you are, even if you’re telling me I’m a grey, grizzled, wrinkled husk.” He groaned theatrically, rolling his head back. “You should just bury me if I’m that old.”

“Not a chance. Not when I love everything I’m seeing. Like these…” 

You leaned in and planted a kiss on the laugh lines in question, feeling them grow deeper under your lips as he smiled.

“And these…”

Another kiss, this time against one of the grey patches in his beard, making him sigh. 

“...and goddamn do I love all this, too,” you murmured, sitting back so you could drag your hands hungrily down the front of him. There was no part of him you didn’t love, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little obsessed with the dark hair now edging up past his shirt collar—so much of it now that he’d finally given up on shaving his chest and let it all grow back—and the slightly thicker lines of his abdomen and hips, both of them a touch softer than they had been almost a decade ago when you’d first met him. You’d know; you’d been laying on him almost every night for most of that decade, barring a few rough patches and business trips.

“Mrs. Murdock,” he breathed in feigned shock, as if he wasn’t aware of exactly how much you enjoyed both his chest hair and the whole of his body from top to bottom, “are you insinuating something about me?” “You mean like insinuating I’m the reason you now eat regularly and aren’t so dehydrated that I can practically draw a map of your veins by sight?” You squeezed at the meat of his abdomen and hips greedily, your voice growing smug as you kneaded at him. Your touch made him chuckle and squirm beneath you, only drawing more protests from the cat trying to sleep on top of his feet. “Yes. Yes, I am. You’re welcome for the health, by the way. You’re aging like a fine wine, husband dearest. And it makes me happy.” 

His face softened at that, one hand leaving your hips to lay against your sternum. “If your heart wasn’t beating so steadily, I’d say you were just trying to flatter me,” he mused. “But… me getting older really is making you happy, isn’t it?”

“It is. I…” 

You paused for a moment, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. His hand at your hip edged up under your shirt until he could rub his thumb soothingly at your skin, content to wait while you figured out how to say what you wanted to say.

“I think it’s that… there was a time when I wasn’t sure if you’d live long enough for me to see you grow old with me.” You cupped his face in your hands, treasuring the way his eyes fell slowly closed and he leaned into your touch so openly, so easily. It had taken so much work to get him here, where he felt comfortable accepting your love and your affection, but it had been worth every ounce of effort. You traced over his laugh lines again with your thumbs before skipping down to the faint smile lines at the corners of his mouth, a mouth that pursed to kiss your thumb when you swept one over his lips. “But you did. I’m getting to see it. That’s special to me. I want to see that… that you’re still alive, that you’re living long enough for these things to happen. I want to see all these little grey hairs, and wrinkles, and the way your body has gotten a bit softer, because every little piece of you that gets older represents a moment I didn’t know if I’d get with you.”

He drew in a shaky breath before his eyes fluttered slowly open again. And in the dark of his eyes there was such a reverent joy, such a bone-deep love filling their depths that it almost took your breath away. You’d never tire of seeing it, even if you both lived for another fifty, another hundred, another thousand years, joined in this lifetime and in whatever came next. Religion had nothing on being loved fully, wholly by Matt. 

“I could say the same thing about you,” he breathed, his hand at your sternum sliding up to cradle your neck, thumb sweeping gently over the thin skin above your pulse. He pressed just a little, just enough to tug your skin back and forth. A moment later, he tugged you in until he could feather a kiss against your pulse where his thumb had been, lingering there as you nuzzled into his dark hair. “And spots like right here.”

“What’s changed there?” 

“The texture of your skin. How much it moves when I touch it. I like to think,” he whispered against your throat, “that your skin’s a little looser here now, more worn in, because I’ve stroked at it so much that I’ve changed you permanently. It’s a sign of just how much I’ve touched you, how many times you’ve trusted me and let me put my hands here. It’s never mattered to you how scarred those hands were, how covered in blood. You let my love leave a mark.”

He tightened his other hand against your hip next, taking hold of the curves that had changed as you’d journeyed through the years with him. “And you’re softer now, too, just like me.” From there he smoothed his hand affectionately upwards over your ribs and up past your breasts, mapping over all of the places your body had begun to show your age like his: stretchmarks and small wrinkles where once skin had been smooth and tight, scars from old battles now faded and ragged with time. The journey his hand took was made with reverence, tender and heavy with intent, his smile so very soft and almost… wondrous. “I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you growing old with me, too, sweetheart. More curves, a few wrinkles. It’s like I can feel your body sinking deeper and deeper into a life with me.”

“That’s what happens when love winds up being your gravity.” You leaned in to kiss his forehead lines. “A decade of being drawn in by you.”

“Mhm. And up here.” He shifted his hand at your throat to cup your face like you had his, his thumb tracing the corners of your eyes. “Laugh lines. Because our life’s made you laugh so much that it changed you. They weren’t there the first time I put my hands here. But they are now. Signs of how happy you are with me. And there are more every year, because you… love me enough to stay.”

“Hey, my Devil-Man,” you whispered, tilting his head up until your forehead could meet yours. He didn’t bother to hide the vulnerability in his eyes, this old wound of his. It was mostly mended now, when it came to you, but sometimes that furrowed scar inside his heart still made him ache. “Do you need me to remind you again? I’m not going anywhere, husband of mine. There’s nowhere you’ll go that I won’t follow.”

“I know.” His eyes fluttered as you stroked at his skin. His arms left your face until he could wind them tighter around you, pulling you in tight against him until his every breath became yours. That seemed to settle him some, the weight of you against his chest, especially when you dropped your head to his shoulder, nuzzling in against his neck. “That’s… that’s just it. With me, you see… moments you didn’t think you’d have because you didn’t think I’d make it. And I didn’t think I’d have this with you, either. A home, wrinkles, greying hair. Not because I didn’t think you’d live long enough, but… but because I never thought I’d find someone who could love me enough to stay this long. To love me this long. Long enough that I could feel you grow old with me.”

“Loving you has never been a chore, Matt.” You breathed in the scent of his skin, soap and the faint copper of blood, traces of cinnamon and just him. It was a scent you knew better than your own. You  lifted your hand to run your knuckles down his cheek, tracking your way through his greying beard, hoping that your touch would help your words sink in. He slid his hands up under the back of your shirt to drag his palms smoothly down your back, comforting himself with the feel of your skin as he tilted his head, listening to your heartbeat. It wasn’t because he thought you were lying, that much you knew. But he’d told you once he found the truth soothing when hearing something that might make him feel otherwise vulnerable. Something like this, this old wound of his, absolutely qualified. “And it never will be, no matter what comes at us. If you need me to remind you of that every day, I will. I’ll tell you that over and over again, until the day we die and get buried in matching coffins.”

“The same coffin,” he said quietly, tipping his head to nuzzle at your temple. “There’s a reason we took ‘Till death do we part’ out of our vows. No parting, even in death.” 

“Do they even sell double coffins? If so, I’m down.” “Even if they don’t, I’ll tell Foggy to make sure I end up in yours with you.” “I think I should end up in yours.” “Why?” “Because everyone will just assume your coffin’s extra heavy due to your goddamn audacity.” He burst out laughing beneath you, his body shaking and almost throwing you off him entirely. “I’m just saying,” you continued, trying not to grin as he choked out more laughter, “you live your life in a very particular way, man without fear. ‘Christ, why is his coffin so heavy?’ And our friends can just say, ‘well, you know, it’s Matt Murdock’ and it’ll explain everything. No one will notice me shoved in underneath you so you can lay on top of me forever.” 

“It’s a date,” he said, still huffing in amusement. A pointed paw tapped at your back before starting a walk up your spine. “Speaking of which, looks like someone’s eager to get in on the cuddling.” “Behold, offer to cuddle and both Matts will appear,” you snorted as roughly twenty pounds of scarred black cat trod his way stubbornly up and onto your shoulder, rasping out an indignant meow that sounded like he’d been smoking a pack a day for the past seven years, because how dare the two of you do this without inviting him. “I’m about to be sandwiched, I think. Hello, Mini-Matt.”

Sure enough, Matt’s smaller clone enthusiastically rammed his head against your temple, making you grunt, before doing the same to Matt’s chin. He was already purring like an old motorcycle engine in a request to get in on what seemed like a nice, cozy cuddle pile, as if Matt would ever turn the cat down. Sure enough, Matt leaned in, planting a kiss to Mini’s big fuzzy forehead before turning and laying a much gentler kiss on yours as Mini draped himself over your shoulder, stretching one paw out to pat Matt's face. “Something tells me you don’t mind, though.”

“Not even a little.” 

[moody-alcoholic]

Sub Ala Angeli

Part 3 - O My Soul

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic.

Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: It's just fluff with a little religious stuff.

Previous - masterlist - next

Enjoy <3

You wake to an empty bed. Your neck hurts, your back hurts, everything hurts. You swing your legs out pulling yourself up. You still feel unbalanced as you get to your feet. You tuck your wing in though, pulling it against your back. 

You head for the door, the building is cold, there's a chill in the air. You make it down the hall to the kitchen. You see Simon sat with his back to you, Johnny sticks his head out from the kitchen. 

“Mornin!” He chimes, smiling. “Eggs? Bacon?” Simon turns in his chair to look at you. 

“Let’s try tea first.” He says pulling out the chair next to him. You go over to sit down. Simon smiles at you, you look round the house again there’s a fire lit but the place still feels cold. 

“How did you sleep?” Simon asks, putting down his phone and picking up a mug. 

“Good. I think.” 

“Let me guess. No sleep in heaven?” Simon says, taking a sip of his drink. You smile. Johnny comes over with a plate in his hand and places it in front of you. It’s piled high with food. He puts down a mug too you look over at it pulling it towards you. 

It’s hot in your hands and smells sweet, you bring it to your mouth to taste. It tastes good, sweet and warm. You look down at the food your stomach rumbles and you pick up a fork and spoon some eggs into your mouth. 

“Mmh, these are amazing.” You say your mouth is still half full. 

“Try the bacon.” Johnny encourages pointing at your plate. You stab a piece of the meat. It’s salty, it makes your mouth water. The rumbling in your stomach doesn’t go until you’re halfway through your plate. 

You put your fork down when you feel uncomfortable, if you were to eat another bite you would be sick. You look between them both not sure what to say. 

“Why did you get exiled?” Simon asks after a few seconds of silence. You look over at him, you look in his eyes. You were told once that eyes are the windows to a soul. You have no soul, you never will even if you roam the Earth pretending to be human for the next hundred years you’ll never be one of them. 

Simon has kind eyes, there's a troubled soul behind them. But a kind one, there’s trust behind them too trust and safety. You trust them.

“I was a guardian angel.” You look down at your hands. “God has a plan for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you agree with it or not. It’s His plan. Guardian angels are there, to make sure that plan gets executed.” 

“Do we have guardian angels?” Johnny asks. You look round the room. You can’t see theirs, maybe you’ll never be able to see other angels again. 

“Everyone has one.” You reply. 

“What happened?” Simon asks.

“He was a kid, he was supposed to die.” You say. “I intervened.” 

“You saved his life.” Johnny says.

“No. He still died. But I had messed with God’s plan.” You look up at Johnny. “No one messes with God’s plan.” 

No one says anything, there’s silence round the table. You feel sad, you failed your mission, you failed your calling. 

“If God has a plan for us all then why did you end up in our backyard?” Johnny asks, reaching over the table to pick up your hand.

“I don’t know God’s plan for you.” You say looking between them. 

“What about you?” Simon asks, his hand lands on your thigh.

“Angels don’t have fates. We’re made to serve, we have no souls.” You say. It feels like there’s an awkward silence in the room, Simon squeezes your thigh, you look up at him and smile. 

“Where are we?” You ask looking out the window.  

“Scotland.” Johnny says. You stand up going over to the window in the living room. 

“It’s very beautiful.” You say, Johnny comes behind you. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asks. You turn to him and smile nodding a little too enthusiastically. 

It feels like things take longer than they should before you leave, Johnny seems just as excited as you almost bouncing off the walls as Simon tries to find you some shoes that fit.

“I’ll just carry her si.” Johnny says, pulling his coat on. 

“I’ll find something.” Simon calls from the bedroom. Johnny smiles holding out a jacket. It won’t fit round your wing, luckily Johnny seems to know that. 

“Put your arms through, you can just wear it on your front.” He says, you nod, slipping your arms through. It’s not particularly comfy but it’s warm at least. Johnny then turns his back bending his legs and patting his back. 

“Hop up lass.” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure?” You ask. 

“Yeah, you’re as light as a feather.” He says turning slightly to smile at you. You let out a sigh, jumping up wrapping your hands around his neck. His arms hook under your knees. His grip is strong, he holds you tight and firm against him. 

He turns as Simon comes back through the hallway into the living room. He sees you on Johnny’s back and sighs. 

“Couldn’t find anything?” Johnny asks. Simon holds up some fluffy black socks. 

“We won't go far.” Johnny reassures him. Simon nods seemingly relenting and coming over to you both. You watch as Simon pulls the socks over your feet, you wiggle your toes looking down at them. Johnny hitches you up following Simon to the front door. 

“We’ll buy you some clothes.” Simon says, opening the door. 

“You don’t have to.” You say, it’s like an automatic response. You feel like you need to apologise. 

“I don’t think Si wants to be cutting holes in all his shirts.” Johnny chuckles. 

“No, of course not.” You say as Johnny walks through the door. You’re hit with a cool breeze. The attack on your senses is almost too much. New smells, new sounds, new everything. You look up watching the tops of the trees sway. It’s cold but not too cold, with the jacket and Johnny’s body heat you’re nice and warm. 

You hear birdsong, the sway of the trees. Other animals to and water, the lapping of a stream or maybe a river. The air feels charged, damp and stuffy. The sky is gray contrasted by fluffy white clouds.

“Do you live out here?” You ask them as Johnny carries you through the woodland. 

“No, we’re on holiday.” Johnny says. 

“How did you both meet?” You ask. 

“Through work.” Johnny says.

“What do you do for work?” you ask looking over at Simon, his hands are shoved in his pockets. 

“We’re soldiers,” he says.  

“Are you married?” Simon looks over at you. “I saw the rings.” 

“Is that a problem?” He asks. You smile at him and shake your head. He raises an eyebrow anyway. 

“Why would it be a problem?” You ask. He doesn’t say anything, turning away. “Love is love. You’re good people, with beautiful souls.” 

“Beautiful souls?” Johnny asks. 

“I can see your souls.” You say. 

“What does my soul look like?” Johnny asks hitching you on his back again.

“You have a kind soul, a safe and grounded soul.”

“What about Simon?” Johnny asks, you look over at him. 

“Your soul is beautiful but troubled. You’re like a lighthouse in a storm.” You let out a sigh feeling sad all of a sudden. “You have both suffered, but you’re stronger and better people because of it.” 

“You sound like a shrink.” Simon says. 

“What’s a shrink?” You ask confused. 

“Ignore him.” Johnny chuckles. “What other powers do you have?” You sigh, you haven’t really tested it, in Heaven you had a lot of powers, you expect it’s not the same now you’re on Earth. You look around again, you still haven’t seen their guardian angels, but they could just be hiding themselves. 

“I can’t fly anymore.” That's an obvious one. You look over your other shoulder, you’re still not used to seeing no wing there, it feels wrong. You still feel unbalanced when you walk, even when you sit or stand you find yourself leaning to the right against your wing. 

“Some angels can heal people, small wounds and bruises. I was never very good at it, you’re also not supposed to do it.” 

“Why?” Simon asks. 

“Interfering with humans is forbidden. We’re supposed to observe and watch.” You say looking back at him. He still seems skeptical about something, maybe he never believed in a God until he met you. 

“Do you have halos?” Johnny asks. 

“No, only the archangels have halos.” You smile. 

“The rules seem complicated.” Simons says.��

“Have you ever met an archangel?” Johnny asks. 

“Gabriel.” You say. 

“What’s he like?” Johnny asks, you shrug. You don’t really remember much, they weren’t there to see you, they wanted to speak to someone else. They have always come across as such powerful angels, someone to look up to and act like. 

You were never important, all you had to do was make sure God’s plan was working as intended, you couldn’t even do that. 

“Here, what do you think?” Johnny asks stopping. You sit up a little better and look over his shoulder. 

Your breath catches in your throat, you’ve never seen anything like it before. There are massive rolling hills and fields as far as you can see. There’s a river running between them, it looks full, almost bursting over the banks. You can hear the sounds of lapping water, you follow the flow of the water to jagged rocks. You’re almost pulling yourself off Johnny, you want to get closer to it. Closer to the beautiful nature before you. 

Even though you have no shoes Johnny lets you down. You walk over to the cobblestone wall and brace yourself on it. Wind blows past you, you close your eyes breathing it in. You’ve never experienced this before, the feel of wind and the bite of the cold air. 

There are smells you’ve never experience, even the feel of the wet stones and moss under your hands is new. You look down seeing a little bug crawl past your fingers. In the distance you can see sheep with thick wool and black faces. You smile, taking in a long breath. You don’t even know how to describe half the smells, they smell good through, refreshing and relaxing. 

The breeze feels good blowing through your feathers, you stretch your wing out behind you raising it up in the air. You can feel the wind catching in it, if you had another wing you could propel yourself high up in the sky. 

Instead you’re stuck on the ground. 

You should be grateful, you’re alive. On Earth, you could have been sent to the depths of Hell. 

“It’s beautiful.” You say. 

“It’s a field.” Johnny chuckles coming to stand next to you. Your feet are getting wet from the damp grass but you don’t care, it feels nice being in a world you’ve always only observed. 

“It’s beautiful.” you repeat turning to look at him. He has a soft smile on his face, his head is tipped slightly. There’s a glint in his eyes, wide blue eyes. There’s that feeling again, the one that makes your heart rate pick up and you feel heat rush to your face. 

You look away, turning to look over at Simon, he smiles looking down at you. 

“You should see it in the mornings, when the fog is low and the dew is coating the grass.” He says, Johnny’s hand runs up your back. You flex your wing, stretching it up as a stronger breeze blows around you. You let it catch the wind and you feel it pulling you, you let out a sigh pulling your wing back in. 

It doesn’t feel right, it feels like it’s teasing. You’ll never fly again, why even try and enjoy the feeling of air rushing through your feathers. You pull it round so you can see it, running your fingers through the gaps where feathers used to be. You look up at Simon.

“Do you want to feel?” You ask lowering it so you can see him better. His hand lands on the top of your wing, he runs it down almost identically to how Johnny touched it. His touch is gentle, his hands are bigger than Johnny’s. 

“It’s like silk.” He says. You bring your wing down, running your own hand through the same feathers on the other side.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” Simon says, you flick your eyes up at him. 

“I only got what I deserve.” You reply, this time the cold breeze makes you shiver, pulling your wing and arms around you. 

“Let’s get back.” Simon says, you turn to jump back on Johnny, instead Simon pulls your arm turning and bending his knees. You smile and hop up wrapping your arms around his neck, just like you did with Johnny. 

...

When you get back Johnny says he has something to show you. He goes into the bedroom and comes back out with what looks like a wooden box. He places it on the small coffee table, when he opens it you see half used paint tubes, a collection of paint brushes and different drawing tools. There are different types of paper and an old looking leather bound book.

You reach over taking one of the pieces of paper with a very pretty painting of a house, this house but from the outside with a sunset. 

“Beautiful, did you draw these?” You ask him. He nods smiling, you put the painting back down and look over the others as he fishes through the box for something. You see other drawings too, drawings of people, big trucks and what look like weapons. 

“Who’s that?” You ask pointing at a drawing of another young looking person. 

“Gaz. Work colleague.” He’s wearing a green shirt, he has a nice smile. 

“What exactly do you do for work?” You ask as he takes out a small leather bound book. 

“We’re soldiers.” Johnny says, you look back down at the drawings of the weapons and massive trucks. They look scary, it’s a new feeling, they make goosebumps rise on your body.   

“Do you kill people?” You ask. He turns to look at you, You hear Simon stop too, the clank of a pot in the sink. You suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. 

“We kill the bad guys.” Johnny says. 

“Who are the bad guys?” You watch Johnny’s eyes flick up to Simon quickly then back down to you. He shifts on the sofa coming towards you. 

“We go after the people who hurt innocent people.” He sighs, “terrorists.”

“Repay no one evil with evil.” You whisper under your breath. 

“Judge not, that you be not judged.” He replies. You smile. It’s not your job to judge them, it’s not your job to do anything anymore. You let the smile fade. You’re useless now, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. At least they have a purpose. 

“Do you think you could ever describe it?” Johnny asks changing the subject. You look up at him frowning. “Heaven.” 

“I-” You start but the words catch in your throat. Something overcomes you, dread, horror. You swallow trying to get the feeling to go away.  

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You say, you can imagine it in your mind. Bright and white, but it’s more of a feeling. A feeling of happiness, a feeling of being safe and loved. 

“It’s okay, I can just draw you instead.” Johnny says smiling. You feel embarrassed all of a sudden. 

“You don’t have to draw me.” You say, he reaches over, picking up a pencil and leaning back on the sofa. 

“I like to draw pretty things.” He smiles. You smile back getting comfy on the sofa. You sit still for what feels like hours while Johnny sketches you. He doesn’t say anything, only responding to Simon when he asks food questions. 

You enjoy watching him, he’s so focused, his eyes flicking from the page to your face. You can’t help smiling as he presses his lips together furiously rubbing something on the page before spinning the pencil in his hand and going back to sketching. 

“Have you ever drawn Simon?” You ask as the sun seems to be going down. Your body is stiff, you want to stretch but you don’t want to mess up his concentration. 

“He doesn’t stay still long enough.” Johnny says. “Unless he’s sleeping.”

“How did you know?” You ask, Johnny looks up at you tipping your head. 

“Know what?” 

“That Simon was the one.” He smiles at you. 

“He’s great in bed.” Johnny says. 

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice calls from the kitchen with a sigh, you look behind you to see him standing at the sink. He doesn’t seem to notice you looking, you look round the rest of the house down the hallway. There’s only 2 other rooms, the bathroom and the bedroom. 

“Where do you sleep?” You ask frowning and looking at him. 

“The couch pulls out into a bed.” He replies brushing the page of his journal. 

“You should take the room. I’ll sleep out here.” You say, you feel guilt, you don’t think you like that feeling. 

“No, it’s not a problem lass.” Johnny says. 

“No, please take the bed. I really want you to.” You say. He smiles, putting his pencil down. 

“Just for the night.” Johnny says. You smile and nod, you’ll take it for now, you can negotiate in the morning. You yawn, stretching and turning your stiff neck. When you look back up at Johnny he’s sat up straight. He turns the book round to face you. 

Your mouth tips open in awe, you’ve never seen yourself before. Never seen yourself drawn. Everything about the drawing is stunning. It’s like he’s captured a light in your eyes you never knew you had. You must not make any idols. Don't make any statues or pictures of anything up in the sky or of anything on the earth or of anything down in the water. 

“It’s-” You look up at Johnny. “It’s beautiful.” 

Johnny smiles, his hand rests on your thigh.

“Yeah, you’re pretty stunning love.” 

As you’re handing the book back to Johnny Simon calls telling you food is ready. It smells good, something tickles the back of your nose. Whatever it is looks good too. Simon calls it ‘pasta’ as he spoons some into your bowl. They both drink wine while you stick to water. 

The food is good, even better when Johnny adds something called ‘parmesan’ to it. After you’ve eaten Johnny shows you how to use the shower. This time he leaves the room when he’s done. You shower scrubbing your body under the hot water. 

When you’re done Johnny brings you another shirt with a hole in it. He helps you pull your wing through, his hands linger on the ruffled feathers still dripping with moisture. You feel tired already, your body feels heavy. You follow Johnny back into the living room. Simon is pulling the curtains closed round all the windows. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind being out here? We’re more than happy to sleep here.” Johnny says pulling the covers back on the sofa that has now been pulled out into a large bed. The coffee table is pressed up against the other wall. 

“We’ve slept in worse places.” Simon says coming over to you. 

“You two need to be with each other.” You say, you reach out and touch Johnny's arm. “It’s okay, honestly.”

“Okay, well you know where we are if you need us.” Johnny says, you drop your hand from his arm. You go over and get into the bed. You pull the duvet over your chest, relaxing your wing. There is less pain now as you lean back. There are a lot of pillows for you to lean into. 

Simon flicks the lights off and walks over to Johnny slipping his arm around his waist. The only light coming through the house is from their bedroom. 

“Sleep well, yeah,” Johnny says.

“You too.” You nod, smiling at them before they turn heading towards their room. 

The door closes and you’re left in the dark in silence. It’s nice, you can see the moon out one of the windows. You’ve never seen the moon before, so bright in the sky, it’s cut up by the swaying of the trees. You lean down on the pillows watching the light dance around the room. 

…

“Wake up.” A voice calls in your head. You open your eyes, there’s light filling the room forcing you to close your eyes again. You prop yourself up your eyes adjusting to the bright light that's filling the room. You turn looking out to see an angel hovering just off the ground. 

Their glow is warm, almost like there's a fire in the room, you look up at them. The ceiling is white, there is no ceiling at all, you’re staring up at an infinitely high white and yellow sky. You’re overcome with a sense of happiness, nothing matters right now, you feel safe, you are safe. 

“You’re Johnny’s guardian angel.” You reply in your head. You can already hear Simon’s voice ‘what no talking in heaven?’ 

“I am.” They reply. 

“Why can I see you?” You ask. 

“You were once one of us.” They say as a matter of fact. 

“You have a message.” You say swallowing the nerves. 

“I have a warning.” They reply. You nod, crawling over to the end of the bed. They extend their wings propelling themself in the air. 

“John MacTavish will die in a week.” 

“No!” You shout out loud this time, reaching forward. Instead you stumble, falling off the end of the sofa bed onto the floor. You pull yourself up swinging your wing at them, it crashes into the coffee table sending shooting pains through your back.

There’s no point, even if you could hit them, they're an angel, you can’t hurt them. You can feel tears run down your face even with the overwhelming sense of joy rushing through you. 

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask in your head. You feel them bend down by you, you feel their warm hand land on your back. 

“You have to save him.” They say. It sounds like an order, why does it sound like an order? It doesn’t matter if it’s an order or not there’s no way you’re letting Johnny die. 

You hear the bedroom door open and feet hitting the wooden floors. The bright light vanishes leaving you back in darkness and the feeling of joy goes along with it. Hands land on you, you let out a sob as Johnny pulls you into his arms. 

“What is it?” Simon asks, his hand stroking your back. What are you supposed to say to them? 

Johnny’s going to die. 

No, no he’s not, you’re going to save him because he saved you.

next

Banners by plum98

[tiredfox64]

Can we all just take a moment to agree that Tomas is a sub with a massive breeding kink.

Poor, Desperate Tomas

Yip notes: I agree with you so much I made a quick fic. I don’t care if this was a statement or a request I am not paying my taxes. (FBI I joke you know me).

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: NSFW, breeding kink, mating press, creampies (I mean yeah that’s the point)

All Tomas ever wanted was a big happy family. A beautiful wife and a bunch of kids running a muck. A dream that drives his mind crazy and causes him to crave certain things.

After dating Tomas for a good two years you started to notice a change in him. A change that doesn’t just happen out of nowhere, at least you think it doesn’t. It weirdly happened after he spent time at Johnny’s place.

Looks like someone got curious and went on the computer. Things made sense to him after that.

He started asking you about having children and starting a family. He’d say he will help you out the whole way which you never doubted. The idea of having kids was tempting to you but you wanted to wait a little more. You weren’t scared that Tomas would be a bad father or that there would be issue with you. You’re as health as a horse! It’s more of you want to take more time to think things through to make sure your children would have a good future.

Nah, the moment you said you would like to have kids that’s when Tomas went mad. You didn’t know if it was love or lust driving him, it was most likely both. But you started having issue where you couldn’t get him off of you. He was like a dog in heat he was on a mission. That fact that you were on birth control wasn’t even on his mind anymore. It wasn’t even a barrier to him it was like a challenge. There was that small risk of you actually getting pregnant. Isn’t that the fun of sex?

The fun of sex is the risk of you getting pregnant. Your body will get all plump. Your belly will become larger with his children. You’ll have to depend of him to help you get up some days. He‘ll do whatever you want. He’ll even suck the milk out of your breasts once they feel too heavy—

You heard Tomas stir in his sleep, letting out a little whine. You turned over and ran your hand through his silvery hair. He woke up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the sight of you. The moonlight that slipped in illuminated you beautifully. That nightgown you had on was gonna be the end of him. He was whining and breathing heavily which indicated he wanted something. When you looked down you saw his bulge. His poor cock was desperate to get out of his pants.

“Please…” he whispered in desperation.

You knew what he wanted. Hearing him beg a little and seeing how ready he was got you wet immediately. You slid off your panties before throwing them over your shoulder. He was already pushing his pants and boxers off, allowing his cock to come out.

You crawled on top of him and had his tip press against your wet folds before sinking down. He let out sigh of relief the more you went down. Once you were fully down he was already thrusting a little trying to get more friction.

“So impatient.” You whispered.

You started bouncing up and down his length at a steady pace. Your hands rested on his abs to keep your balance. One of the best things about going raw is that you feel so much more. You feel how his thick cock stretch you out. You feel how warm he is. It makes you forget to control yourself and you end up bouncing continuously.

Tomas was trying his hardest to be quiet but how could he help himself. You felt so nice and warm. Occasionally he would thrust up without even thinking. His eyes were following your breast that popped out after your nightgown slipping down. He was already back to thinking about them being full of milk. He wonders what it would taste like. He hope if you would allow him to suck the milk out whenever you weren’t feeding the baby.

You have to make the baby first of course, genius.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, letting you know he was about to cum soon. That’s when he pulled you down, his face buried in your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he fucks into you. His balls slapped against ass while his cock slipped in and out. Your nails dug into his shoulders trying to keep yourself sane from this pleasure. Then finally he came, thrusting deep inside of you to make sure it was all going in. His moans were being muffled by your chest but damn did you love hearing him. His legs were shaking by the end of it and you thought that was it.

No, no, no, he has fantastic stamina. Round two, let’s go!

Suddenly, you were flipped onto your back with your nightgown being pulled off you. You looked up at Tomas, surprised to see that he didn’t look tired at all. In fact his eyes seemed to show this sort of twinkle. You’re not sure what it meant but you would after.

His breathing could be heard while he pushed your legs back. Oh gosh, he’s putting you in a mating press. This is serious business right now.

Before you could ask if he was trying to get you pregnant he started slamming into you. The answer is yes. He is trying to impregnate you with his children.

It’s amazing how this position really gets the g-spot. Damn, it’s hitting every time. Now you’re the one struggling to hold back your moans. So what? He doesn’t care anymore. He’s letting himself moan freely, you should too. The whole temple could hear you two making babies it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Eventually it was all too much for you. Your legs started shaking as you began to cum on his cock. You had to bite down on your hand to prevent getting louder and disturbing everyone’s rest. Tomas didn’t slow down at all. His balls were still slapping against your skin and your wetness was causing sounds to be made every time he slipped back in.

“Fuck…you’re going to look so pretty when you’re pregnant. I’m going to make you such a pretty mama.” He said in a playful tone.

His mind is gone. He is but a feral man with primal desires. Desires to breed and make you his forever. Let others know who got you pregnant and who makes you the happiest. That man is begging for this moment to be the moment that you finally get pregnant. Then he can have this happy family he’s always dreamed out.

“Please, please, please have my babies. I know you’re going to be such a good mama. Please, I want to see you pregnant…” he babbles on as he cums inside of you again.

By the end of it Tomas was panting and sweating while you were left a bit sore. He was unsure about pulling out since he didn’t want the cum to leak out. Eventually he did but made you shut your legs to keep it from coming out. You laid on your side as Tomas went behind you to spoon you. His head rested on your shoulder.

You won’t lie that you enjoy what he does. It is very exciting and each time felt better than the last. And to hear him beg to have his children gets your heart pumping. It’s cute that he’s enthusiastic about being a father.

So even if this isn’t the moment where you get pregnant. Oh well, you’ll try again. And again. And again. And—

Oh for fuck sakes Tomas give it a break for one day!

“No!”

Oh you actually motherfucker-!

Bonus: In the next room over

Harumi could not rest with all the noise you two were making. She heard every word that Tomas was saying to you. She even heard the bed creak which let her know how rough he was going. She didn’t want to be rude but she needed sleep too. She wouldn’t be the one to confront you two so she started tapping on Kuai Liang who was knocked out.

“Kuai,” she poked him a little, “Kuai,” she said a little louder, “Kuai!”

“Huh? What?” He asked in a sleepy and confused tone.

“They’re making a lot of noise. They’re…making babies.” She whispered.

“Oh…good for them. We should try it some time.”

Kuai Liang yawned before turning back on his side and passing out immediately. She was left hearing his light snoring combined the lovemaking. All she could do was cover her ears with the pillows and wait for y’all to stop. Poor Harumi.

Yap notes: Literally was just thinking about this last night. I got a list in my head of who has breeding kinks and lactation kinks. Someone remind me not to eat in the middle of the night. Just wanted to do something quick so I typed this up on my phone. I really should start doing stuff for my class. Adiós!

[chanranghaeys]

🥂 a tale of two lonely souls

pairing: idol!minghao x gn!bar owner!reader word count: 1.4k+ genre: fluff rating: pg tags: christmas fic, open ending, meet cute in a bar, yes it’s yet another slice of life from me, minghao is cocky as always but you’ll love it bc reader will make minghao realize he’s found his match at cockiness warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of multi-race parents, reader owns a bar in this setting

a/n: i’m so honored to be part of @camandemstudios’ A Very Seventeen Christmas Secret Santa event for this year and surprise @ylangelegy, i’m your secret santa! 🥳 bless u kae, here’s a little gift for you for making me feel so many things this year bc of your fics 🫶 merry christmas and happy holidays to y’all!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“All alone on Christmas Day?”

The hooded figure at the bar looked up from their phone. You notice their fingernails painted in shades and lines of black and glitter that glinted under the lights. When the figure pulled down their hood and face mask, you realize that the man looked startlingly familiar. You just couldn’t place from where…

“Maybe,” he replied. A slight smile graced his features, a welcome warmth from his initially cold aura.

“Well, that makes the two of us alone on Christmas.” The place was empty, save for two tables with a few customers—one large group, two duos, and this man on the bar counter.

It was a few hours before the end of Christmas Eve, and this recently opened Asian fusion bar had yet to welcome its throng of guests. In hindsight, maybe setting it up in a more secluded area of Itaewon wasn’t the best decision.

“If that's the case then maybe we’re not alone.” He gestures his finger between the two of you. You roll your eyes at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Being alone.”

“Why not change it then?” He steeples his hands and rests his chin on them, his eyes studying yours as if trying to decipher a puzzle—as if he was used to analyzing people quietly.

It was unsettling…but you liked the challenge.

“Well, why don’t you change?” You counter back at him.

“Change what?”

“You being alone.”

He snickers. “Why don’t you get me something to drink first?”

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” you say with a raised eyebrow and a matching smirk. “What are you having?”

“I heard you have Kweichow Maotai. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Interesting. He’s a man of taste. The way the Chinese syllables easily rolled off his tongue gave you further evidence of his identity—you just needed one more clue.

Without a word, you turn to face the wall of bottles to find the spirit you’re looking for. But before reaching for the iconic white-and-red bottle, you stop yourself.

“You know what, it’s Christmas.” You turn back to him with a smile. “I’ll get you something special.”

You return with another bottle of Maotai—but he instantly recognizes the difference from the one at the bar. His eyes widened the moment you came in holding the gold bottle tied with a red ribbon.

“No way you have that.” He marveled at the sight in front of him, his eyes filled with seeming reverence. “How—”

“That is a story for another time. But now, please enjoy. I’ll just charge you the regular Maotai rate, don’t worry.” You wink and hand him the small tulip glass, full to the brim.

“Just tell me that I’m not drinking a shot of illegally-sourced vintage Maotai.” There it is again—the analyzing look.

“If it were, then I’d be out of business. Can’t have that then, can we?”

“Of course not.” The man raised his glass to meet your own. “I can’t lose my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea now that I’ve found you.” The light brought the ring on his pinky finger to your attention. Suspicion confirmed.

You didn't reply, but opted to down the contents of the small glass—potent but familiar. He followed suit. You hoped that the warmth that bloomed in your mouth and your chest didn’t manifest itself too much on your cheeks. You could blame it on your Asian flush anyway because you had to give it to him—he was surprisingly smooth with his words.

“This is the rare moment I get to be alone,” he said after a beat. “Believe me, I wish I had more of it, but my parents are arriving here tomorrow from China. So no, I will not be as alone as you think.”

It took you a moment to realize he was continuing the conversation from earlier. “That’s nice. Why are you here in Korea then, if you’re from China?”

“Who said I was from there?”

“Well, you have parents coming from there.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t coming home here?”

“The way you said Kweichow Maotai was too smooth.”

He shrugged deliberately. “I know Chinese.”

“I know Chinese, too. You can’t fool me.” You said this in perfectly placed Mandarin. The look on his face was priceless as he was rendered speechless.

“I cannot believe you managed to surprise me twice in one night,” he replied in the same tongue.

You smirked and poured another tulip glass for the both of you. “Glad to know that I managed to surprise a K-pop idol tonight. And in my bar, no less. Xu Minghao, correct?” You push the refilled glass and meet his ever-analytical eyes. It seemed like you knew how to play his game, after all.

The smile he returned was ethereal. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s company?”

And that’s how you spent the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, with conversations as free-flowing as the Maotai and whiskey and bar chow. You learned that his parents’ flight was actually delayed—he was actually on his way to the airport—and he learned that your Chinese is courtesy of your father’s heritage and your Korean address from your mother.

You also ended up telling him the story about the vintage Maotai, which had him in stitches by the end of it. Thankfully, the bar had long been empty and your staff had all gone home.

“Why haven’t you left then?”

“You might’ve forgotten that I own this place.”

“And how does it not have more customers at this time?”

“It’ll pick up soon. I’m sure of it.”

Minghao pursed his lips in thought. “Give me your Maotai bottle. And a marker.”

“The vintage one?”

“No, the regular one over there!” You obliged to his requests, and he returned the liquor bottle with a freshly minted autograph from Seventeen’s The8.

Why didn’t you think of this earlier? It might be because the whole time you were talking, he didn’t even seem like an idol. He was just…a guy. A frustratingly charming and quick-witted guy.

“Merry Christmas to you and this wonderful place.” His examining gaze was long gone, replaced by eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled wide. “Thank you for…making me feel safe.”

“Merry Christmas, Minghao. Everything’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Absolutely not.” He brandished his card and pushed it to you. “I will not rip off a starting business all because of celebrity status.”

“I didn’t say it was for your celebrity status.”

“Still.” He was insistent. He took your hand and placed his card in it. “Charge me as necessary.”

You were just as insistent, though. “No.”

“Fine. Then give me your phone.”

You did. And he input his personal number in it.

“I have to go now, but please message me. I mean it.”

You did. And the back-and-forth banter didn’t stop. Surprise remained an element in your dynamic, apparently, because the conversations seemed as natural as the days transitioning from one to another.

You didn’t catch when Minghao took photos of your place. But the moment he posted it on his Instagram, customers started coming in waves. This secluded corner in Itaewon has never had a lull day since Christmas.

New Year’s was no different. After the festivities and the celebrations, it was finally time to call it an early morning at 3 am. But not before you welcomed your last customer.

“Alone on New Year’s as well?” You hold back a smile when you find him standing at the door. The way your heart was beating was undeniable, and you knew you couldn’t hold that back.

Up until then, you didn’t know if you would ever see Minghao again beyond your messages. They became more occasional as time passed, but you knew enough from his stories that their schedules were not to be underestimated. Seeing him here now was—as expected from your dynamic—a surprise.

“No. I’m with my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea, how can I be alone?” He drew closer to the bar and to you as if you were reeling him in with an invisible string.

“I thought your parents brought you a bottle last Christmas?”

“It isn’t a vintage Maotai, though.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing it out tonight?”

“Because we’re starting the new year together. I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.” And bring it out you did. As if you could resist him.

Before you can open the bottle, he grabs it from your hands to pour out the drinks himself. As you two raise your glasses, he leans in close, and you see nothing but an openness in his eyes. Warmth. Hope. “Happy New Year to you, then.”

“To us. Happy New Year, Minghao.”

Your glasses clink and your Maotais are downed. It would seem that happiness is on the books for the year ahead.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: pleaseeee i felt so pressured to write for u (looks at my inbox with full knowledge your request still lies there unwritten fskf) ((i promise i’ll get to them)) but i hope i did minghao justice. i was very much inspired by your own minghao fics skl hehe and tbh this is almost less of a drabble and more of a potentially longer fic but i held back bc gah. merry christmas again and i hope you liked my pamasko, kae! 🎄🎁✨

post post a/n/n: ALSO thank you to @tusswrites for quick beta-ing this one even tho she wasn't supposed to bc she's also in the same event and apparently you can't do that HAHA thank you still all love mwa

[drewsbuzzcut]

Spoiled Rotten

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: smut!

Takes place Oct 2024

You stroll up to your apartment, your hair thrown into a messy bun and sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. In one hand is the key to your home, and the other holds the handle of your luggage. Your phone is squeezed between your cheek and shoulder as you giggle with your best friend, Beverly.

“Ugh I know! Who knew phone sex could be so exciting and fulfilling?!” You squeal into the phone as you walk through the door. You fight off a blush, but it only grows more furious as you notice what’s waiting inside for you.

On your kitchen counter stands two large bouquets of tulips and roses- your favorites. Next to the vases rests two boxes. One is quite large and pink. The other is smaller in comparison and velvet.

You’re silent for a brief moment, taking everything in. Beverly doesn’t even notice you’re silent as she’s too busy rattling off a story about her boyfriend. You’ll have to ask her to repeat herself once you’re not distracted anymore. The note sticking out of your bouquet keeps you for a moment longer.

“Congrats on your Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show debut. I couldn’t be more proud of my supermodel girlfriend. I love you, baby.” - Mat

Of course your sweet boyfriend provided these gifts. He loves spoiling you, and he takes full advantage of any time he gets to celebrate you. Your body fills with want, but it quickly subsides, knowing that he’s not in New York yet. He will be soon, though.

“Bev, you will never believe what I came home to,” you interrupt her, a giddy smile permanently stretching your lips.

You smirk and struggle to suppress a giggle at her response. Something about a naked Mat waiting on your couch. You wish.

“No. Flowers, like two huge bouquets. There’s also an Agent Provocateur box and a velvet box that probably contains something more expensive than my flight home,” you list off your gifts.

“Oh, your man has good taste. Have you opened the boxes?”

“No. I’m nervous. I feel like I’m about to explode. I’m literally shaking,” you sigh.

“Girl! What are you waiting for? Dig in!” Beverly shrieks. You can hear the grin in her tone.

You eagerly tear into the pink box holding your newest lingerie set. Butterflies fill your stomach, because a boy has never bought you lingerie before. But Mat isn’t a boy, he’s a man. A man that knows the woman he loves and that turns you on like no other.

Once you remove the tissue paper, you’re met with the daintiest, deep navy blue lingerie set. It’s all lace, leaving very little to the imagination. The front of your thong has your jaw on the floor. In orange, cursive embroidery says, “Barzal.”

“Beverly, it says ‘Barzal’ on the thong!” You practically cheer.

“Holy shit. That’s hot. Wait… you do like it, right?”

“Of course! I love it. It’s such a hot number and I cannot wait to wear it for him.”

Gently setting it aside, you move onto the velvet box. You close your eyes, wanting it to be a surprise. A gasp falls from your lips as you lay your eyes on the thin, gold watch. It has diamonds encrusted on the sides and it’s so shiny.

“It’s a gold watch. It’s dainty and has diamonds. I am truly at a loss for words,” you whisper into the phone.

“He loves you bad. I need pictures of everything asap,” Bev demands.

“On it- oops hold on. There’s someone knocking on my door.”

You look through the peephole, a scream bursting through its confinement when you see Mat waiting patiently.

“Bev, I have to go. Mat just got here. Meet for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy your dick appointment.”

“I will,” you laugh and hang up.

Throwing the door open, you pull Mat inside and straight into a kiss.

“Fuck. I love you. When did you get home?” You breathe into him before sucking his tongue into your mouth.

“Early this morning. We were able to catch an earlier flight and I knew it was my opportunity to surprise you,” Mat says with a heaving chest and his forehead resting on yours.

“And surprise me you did,” you gleam, looping your arms around his neck and fully leaning into him.

“Do you like what I bought you, pretty girl?” He hums, face going to your neck. He noses at your pulse point and then sucks on your sweet spot. You let out a moan as he lowers his hands to your ass.

“I love it, baby. I can’t wait to put on my watch. It’s so gorgeous. I can’t wait to see my flowers every time I come home, and for you to fuck me in my new lingerie,” you whisper in his ear.

You subtly look at him to catch his reaction. A smirk fixes your lips when you see the way his eyes melt in desire.

“I can’t wait to see you look like the angel that you are. However, before we get to that, I want to take you out. Maybe to that small jazz restaurant you love,” he suggests, but his hands do most of the talking with the way they roam your body.

He refers to the restaurant as a place you love- which is true. He loves it just as much as you, though. You’ve shared many intimate moments there. His hands have settled on yours thighs when he leans closer to whisper in your ear; his lips have found your bare shoulder many times in chaste kisses as he watches you enjoy the music; his hands find your hips and the curve of your ass when you both occasionally indulge in a slow dance on the small, crowded dance floor. Chills zip down your spine just thinking about it.

“That sounds so perfect. But before I agree to any date, I think you should join me in the shower,” you hum, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling him to your bathroom.

It’s not much later that your bathroom is filled with steam and the sounds of you panting. Your back is pressed into the cold, wet tiles of your shower cabin. Water falls onto Mat’s large body and drips onto your smaller frame. His tongue flicks at yours as you meet in an open-mouth kiss. You both fight for dominance, but you quickly submit when he finally slides into your wet heat. A soft gasp falls from your lips and gets swallowed by his mouth.

His hips move softly, barely moving at all, so he can feel you stretch as you get adjusted. When you grab onto his shoulders and jut your hips up, he pushes into you fully. Mat’s body vibrates with a thrill that can only be caused by the tightness of your pussy as you suck him back in.

“Fuck. I love the way you make me feel,” you whine, eyes locked on his. The soft hazel color turns into something dark, more earthy than they already appear.

“I love the way you feel wrapped around me. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby,” Mat voices in a confident hum. The words get smothered on the hinge of your jaw by his lips.

“Oh yeah, Maty? I was made for you? Prove it, baby,” you tease and squeeze down on his length.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, muscles tensing before he locks in, grabbing onto your thigh and hauling it up and around his hip.

He pumps into you to the rhythm of your moans. His greedy hands grab at your flesh, squeezing you tighter to him. The tip of his cock prods into the deepest parts of you, making goosebumps dot your skin and your limbs rattle in ecstasy.

“I love you,” you chant through a muffled cry against Mat’s lips.

He sucks on your tongue, savoring every drop of you that’s reserved for him only. His hand travels to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. A hiss escapes your throat when his teeth nip at the pulse point in your neck. Your heart beats crazily, fire bubbles in your veins and an earth-shattering orgasm starts to invade your senses.

“I love you,” he mutters, gripping your chin in his hand and bringing your mouth back to his.

Time seems to slip from your grip as your release washes over, drowning you in euphoria. You can barely feel Mat sucking on the flesh of your boobs, not when your vision turns into starbursts and your limbs feel like gelatin.

“Fuck,” Mat groans, hands finding your hips to keep you steady as he thrusts into you faster, chasing his own orgasm.

You shiver and cuddle closer to Mat, wrapping a hand around his upper back and neck. The thick cords of his muscles turn solid before going flaccid as he releases inside of you.

His heart thuds against his chest, almost tempting an escape. Mat so gently holds onto you, but eventually his strong body melts into your embrace. His forehead meets your shoulder, wet strands of hair tickling your jaw.

You suck his earlobe in between your lips. Dull nails dig into the plushness of your skin, making your pussy contract and pulse around him.

“You’re perfect,” Mat mutters in a half moan. He feels his cock spring back to life with the way you softly rock into him, luring him back to his personal heaven.

“No, you are,” you reply, nosing at his cheek while you enjoy the warmth created by the both of you.

“You know you’re spoiled rotten?” Mat breaks the peaceful silence, fingers gathering at your sides to pinch and tickle you.

“Am not,” you state with a sassy roll of your eyes.

“It literally took like less than 2 minutes for you to get me naked,” he claims, chin in the air as if no excuse you give will waiver his statement.

“I think you enjoy being wrapped around my finger. It’s not like I forced you to take off your clothes, so don’t complain, baby,” you hum.

Before he can respond, you place your lips on his, your tongue invading his mouth and all of his words falling silent.

a/n: Enjoy babes!!!

[sanakimohara]

[ YOU ] PT. 2 B. C.

pairing: chan x fem! reader

summary: Stalker AU

playlist:

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + ANGST + SMUT + KIDNAPPING + STALKING + STOCKHOLM SYNDROME + CNC + MENTIONS OF MURDER + TRAUMA + CHOKING + SLIGHT EXHIBITIONISM

type: full fic / angst / smut / horror

a/n: thinking of putting this one on AO3…also did you guys watch their AMAs performance last night?

“Here, baby. It’s your favorite, just like you wanted.”

Chan’s smile stretched wider as he set the items on the table, his eyes full of obsessive warmth as he watched your every move….

Every expression you made.

Every ghost of a shiver that ran up your spine.

Three weeks into being safe and sound with him, you still hadn’t learned to trust him completely:

To completely twist yourself free from the gut-wrenching fear of him.

What would a man like Christopher Chan Bahng do if you made one wrong move, said one nasty word, or refused one of his heartfelt offerings?

You hadn't the courage to get an answer to the question.

Not yet, anyway.

Sitting there in a kitchen you’d only just learned existed down the hall from the room he’d kept you for the first week and a half felt oddly freeing.

It was one of the few places Chan let you roam around in his part-time abode -and only if he was present when you did so.

“There are rules,” he’d told you the first night, having coaxed you to listen to what he had to say if he agreed to unbind you from the bed and against your better judgment and the prying instinct to make a run for the unlocked door behind him…

You sat idly as he eased into a one-sided conversation.

“You have rules…here…with me,” Chan clarified, smiling small, but his voice still holding twinges of directness. “There’s not a lot, and I know you’ll be able to remember them. Responsible as you are…”

He trailed off, eyes softening on you as admiration clouded them.

That singular stare numbed your nerves in the moment. A blatant indication to you of how long and thoroughly he’d been watching you.

He'd been cataloging your life and all its highs and lows.

Chan knew you were responsible because he’d seen it from afar, observing how dedicated you were to keeping the shop in order when your boss wouldn’t. How you made it a point to check your surroundings every time you ventured from your apartment alone.

Now you realize you hadn't been as vigilant or responsible as you thought.

Chan intended to fix that.

Your heartbeat dropped its pace, slowing to a lowered thrum in your ears as you watched him watch you.

Expectations and boundaries spilled from his lips like all those fleeting compliments he’d given you in the record store.

“You have a beautiful smile. Adorable even…”

“Never leave this room without my permission. Everything you’ll ever need is already here, and if you don’t have it, I’ll get it for you. Just ask…”

“I like your taste in music. It’s refreshing to get someone else’s opinions…”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you. Always. So I know you’re listening and understand what I’m telling you.”

“Sorry, this may be a little forward of me, but would you like to hang out sometime?”

“You will take care of yourself. Shower, get ready, get dressed, and eat every meal I give you. No exceptions. No excuses, princess..”

“It was nice to meet you, pretty girl. I’ll give you a call later! Oh, and thanks for the help..”

“I’m doing this for your good, Y/n. All you have to do is listen…don’t think… listen to me.”

Rules.

Sweet nothings.

They mixed when Chan spoke, blending as you swallowed the urge to sob aloud while he eyed you from the edge of the bed. “Tell me you understand what I’ve said, sweetheart.” The blonde tilted his head, voice warm but expression void of lenient compassion for the pain etched across yours.

Your tongue felt drier at the moment, your head spinning, and your blood cold as you refused to speak to him.

Chan’s eyes narrowed an inch; his slight change in expression made you withdraw.

“I said tell me you understand.”

Your lips parted before you could pull your subconsciousness from the grips of instinctual survival. “Y-yes I under…under..stand…” you croaked quietly, curling in on yourself when he let his lips settle into a minuscule smirk.

“Good girl… learning so fast already…”

A knot of pure hatred mixed with an unfamiliar emotion twisted in your chest upon hearing him casually utter such a demeaning phrase.

It still rang in your head every time he was near you. That same unnamed gut feeling rooted itself in your core with each day you remained entangled in his version of contentment.

Trapping you in his sick and twisted version of a happy home.

A happy life with him and only him.

Chan sat next to you at the kitchen island, twisting his barstool to face yours. He pushed the familiar brown bag and plastic cup to you, inching closer.

“…. Just for you, like I promised.”

You didn’t move, frozen in place by practiced stubbornness and conflicted with your thoughts as you stared at the treat you’d been craving for what felt like half a lifetime…

But if you were doing your math right, counted the hours he was away, and constructed them into the time he spent with you, then that meant…

It’d been three Sundays since he’d taken you from that brick alleyway.

Three…long…tense…suffocating, and confusing …weeks.

The air under your nose wafted with the crisp tinge of warm pastry puff and strawberry filling. Your eyes settled on a dollop of whipped cream melting into the drink.

Your mouth watered, having been stripped of anything overly sweet for weeks, all thanks to Chan’s intentional and well-balanced meals for you.

What he ate, you ate.

The same went for almost anything else you’d experienced in his care.

What he laid out for you to wear, you wore.

What he watched, you watched.

What he said, you obeyed.

Weeks of falling into a nearly sunless state of compliance, unsure of how to feel about it, and even more affairs of becoming entirely comfortable with it sent your mind into a leveled frenzy.

You were beginning to feel odd…

Longing to hear Chan’s keys jingle from down the hall, and his footsteps echoing closer to the locked door of your room, rather than fearing the sounds.

You looked forward to seeing him after hours of being kept alone in a room with only a stack of books to read, a pad of paper and pen, and a strange amount of various stuffed animals to keep you company. Once or twice, you caught yourself beginning to smile when you saw him slip into your room after unlocking it. He greeted you every time, inviting you out of the room for two hours until dinner -which promptly occurred at 10 PM every night.

A twisted sense of security wrestled itself into your psyche. Your heart switched between racing in fear and slowing from unconscious infatuation. Your breaths came easier, and your body relaxed a tad more in his presence.

It was…

Alarming.

So much so that the moment Chan stopped mid-step on his way out of your room for the night before to ask you a question, your sensible train of thought nearly reignited.

Unfortunately, that trickle of sense fizzled back into a fog of conscious paralysis, hearing his voice envelop the room.

“Anything in particular you want tomorrow?”

You swallow hard, slipping underneath the heavy duvet before answering him quietly.

“What..? What do you mean?..”

That is a fair question.

Chan didn't blame you for asking it and was unsure whether to proceed with his offer.

But the pure, unguarded curiosity in your eyes and expression made him continue. “Is there anything special you’d like to have?..” he clarified.

You still said nothing.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before showing a tender smile as if he’d become embarrassed of having to explain his sudden thoughtfulness.

“Think of it like a gift from me to you, princess. Something special since you’ve been so …”

He paused, eyes lowering from your face for a moment, momentarily distant as they settled on the cover pulled over your knees and to your chest.

The straps of the cream-colored chiffon night dress he’d picked out for you that night lowered from your shoulder as you shifted, waiting to hear the rest of his reasoning, and Chan reluctantly drew his gaze back up to your face.

“Good for me…” he clarified under a heavy breath, glad the door partially hid the hardening in his crotch from your wandering eyes.

“I can have..anything?” You pried for options, having narrowed the most apparent forms of escape or attempt at communication with the outside world out of the realm of possibilities.

Chan was an intelligent man.

A highly intuitive one at that.

A man who paid attention to the most minor details. Obvious or not.

Getting anything past him felt like running into a cement wall and hoping it’d eventually vanish and let you pass.

It wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

When you caught his slow nod of approval at your question, you decided that asking a small, harmless question would be a safe decision.

“I want something from the cafe….please…the one I used to. “

“Yeah, no. I remember which one it is, sweetheart….” Chan cut into your response, mind wandering to dangerous places, watching you sink further into the corners and set your doe eyes on him as you did.

It’s sickened him to some degree how hot his blood ran seeing you vulnerable and comfortable all at once in his presence.

There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d be able to keep his hands off you for another week if you kept affecting him this way. Chan purposefully attempted to avoid the feeling, but there was only so much he could do before everything you did affected him.

Called to him…

Begged for him…

God, he wanted to hear you beg for him…

Scream for him…

Chan sucked in a quick breath, head leaning on the doorframe as he shut his eyes and mumbled back to you, “I’ll bring you something from there in the morning. Night, princess..”

And then he was gone again.

You slept a little easier last night, hoping his gesture of intentional goodwill was a sign he was starting to regret his actions. Still, now that hope died in your chest, seeing the pure content on his face as he observed you tentatively reaching for the pastry and latte he'd brought back just for you.

Chan was never going to feel guilty.

Not when everything was perfect between you, especially for him.

The pastry melted on your tongue, warm and sweet but barely easing the weight in your chest, sensing Chan’s gaze on you. Every bite you took was less and less soothing, hardly washed down any more accessible with the few sips of cold caffeine you took between each one, but you refused to give him any more signs of your distress.

If you did, it always seemed to go straight to his head.

Chan fed off of it.

You’d learned that much about him in less than a week.

Despite his constant attempts at heartfelt kindness, your fear of him was his fix.

What a sick bastard…

You swallowed the last bite of the pastry as the thought crossed your mind, crumpling up the parchment it was wrapped in before dropping it into the bag but leaving the half-full cup alone.

“Thank you,” you forced a smile, hints of genuine gratitude coaxing the pleasant expression onto your face, but it was short-lived as Chan shook his head. “Finish all of it,” he instructed, nudging the cup closer to you without glancing at it. “Don’t waste what I give you…”

You stiffen in your seat, “I’m fine. I've had enough, really-“

Your lips immediately pressed shut when he stood, closing in on you until your head lulled back to keep him in your sight. Chan stared down at you, right hand raised to brush across your cheek, and the left picking the latte up from the counter. Every nerve you had spanned to life, chills rising on your skin as he invaded your space and fixed you in place with a void glare.

Chan exhaled slowly, reducing the anger he felt when you refused his demand and replacing it with a controlled ease. “I took time out of my day to get you something special, and I expect you to appreciate it. Open up…” his hand falls to cup your chin, grip tight and promising. You swallow hard, eyes dilating with anxiety as he applies more pressure, progressing until you utter a whine of pain and let your mouth fall slack. “Atta girl…” Chan praises under his breath, caging you in the seat and easing the drink to your parted lips.

Your stomach drops, feeling helpless as he forces you to gulp down the remaining half of the cold caffeinated drink. Your legs twitch and shift between his, nails clawing at the sheer stockings covering your thighs underneath the sweater you wore, and your breaths struggle to remain constant as the liquid pours down your throat and from the corner of your lips.

His hold on your jaw is painful but not as tortuous as the thoughts racing through your mind as you peer up at him through teary eyes.

It hurts, but it feels so…

Why won’t he stop…? Do I want him to…stop?…

You choked as the last drops of the latte drizzled onto your tongue, gasping for air quietly as he released your jaw and tapped your cheek gently. A phantom of pain blooms on your skin, disappearing seconds after the tender slap occurs but snapping you back to reality to hear him speak.

“I need you wide awake for me today. Can’t have you looking too tired when Bin comes over for a visit.”

You stare at him, half dizzy and confused, hearing him mention another’s name.

He hadn’t mentioned his friends, family, or acquaintances before…

Though your throat still burned and your eyes had yet to un-blur completely, you asked, “W-who’s Bin?”…”

Chan smiled, gently kissing your nose since you weren’t in any shape to reel away from him like you had before. Your face warmed from the gesture, your heart fluttering a bit as the distinct feeling of his lips brushing your skin was mildly delightful.

“He's a good friend of mine. Someone I work with often, too. I think you’ll like him a lot.”

Your lips twitched into a timid smile, a mix of relief and desire hanging over your head. “I…I can't wait to meet him. " You shifted around, swiping the back of your right hand across your damp lips to wipe away the coffee left on them and swiftly cover the vague happiness that begged to show itself.

Maybe this ‘Bin’ could be your way out of all of this - a saving grace from the hell you were beginning to settle into.

“Good. Now, get cleaned up. He’ll be here soon.” Chan lifts you from the chair, steadying your drowsy weight against him for a moment before you give him a solemn nod and carefully step past him. An array of ideas starts to cloud your head, gathering traction and precedence over any other thought you have, but they're shattered to pieces when Chan calls out to you from the kitchen.

“Y/n..”

You freeze, hand pressed to the corner of the hallway for support as you peer at him over your shoulder.” Yes?...” you breathe out, uneased by the pleasant smile he flashes you before leaning against the center island. " Don't try anything cute when he's here. Asking for his help won't change a thing.”

“I won’t…”

God fucking damn it-

The sound of another’s voice from down the hall catches your attention, melting into laughter and warm words toward your captor a moment later.

‘Bin’ must be here…

You sniffle at the realization, dabbing the damp white cloth over your mouth several times before rinsing and wringing it out into the bathroom sink. Droplets of caramel coffee swirled down the drain, disappearing like your will to escape began to. Chan’s warning to you was a simple threat—a nicely put one but still a promise of consequences to your preemptive attempts for escape.

A lump settled in your throat as you stared in the mirror above the sink, silently trying to convince your reflection that everything was fine.

That you’d find a way out of this soon.

You wanted to believe the determination written across your features would remain, but it consciously vanished when you quietly stepped out of the bathroom and down the dim hallway. You came to a stop at the hall's edge, peeking from behind it to glimpse at the man Chan seemed to be enjoying a conversation with.

He had black hair, and he was around Chan’s height, too, but a bit more muscled than him. And he sounded pleasant, but by now, you’d learned that assuming a stranger's length of kindness by their words was never a good idea.

With pursed lips and a soft gulp, you shifted to hide behind the corner again, unnerved by the prospect of meeting anyone who took to Chan’s company and afraid of having to endure meeting them yourself without the chance to beg for their help to get away from him.

“Shff..*

Your stockings brush along the floor, catching Chan’s attention and bringing his conversation with Changbin to a sudden halt. He glanced at the corner you hid behind, watching Changbin do the same before saying anything. “Baby, come here. Could you introduce yourself to my friend? Don’t be shy..”

You swallow a groan, peeking around the corner again as if he hadn’t caught your presence already, “H-Hi…” you greet the man sitting across from him in the living room.

Chan shakes his head, eyeing you intently. “Don’t be rude, princess. Come out here and meet him.” Changbin laughs, smiling warmly as he shifts in his seat to see your hidden form better. “I swear I don’t bite:” he joked.

Oh…

He seems harmless, but still...

Your heart jumps with a sense of joy you thought had been snuffed out weeks ago. Warmth floods your cheeks, and seeing him stretch out a hand for you to shake is an added sign of goodwill from him.

“Okay…” you mumble, slipping from the hallway to tentatively shake his hand before repeating your greeting upfront. “Hi.”

Changbin chuckled, his brows raising a bit. “I’m Changbin, and you are? " He seemed genuinely intrigued, glancing between you and Chan before the latter cleared his throat.

“Bin, this is Y/n, the girl I told you about…”

“Oh,” Changbin grinned, holding your hand longer than needed as he stared up at you. “She is cute. No wonder you talk about her so much. " He met your lowered eyes, offering a warm smile you barely returned before retracting his hand from yours. “Wait, how long did you say you’ve been together?”

Chan sighed, shrugging at the question despite knowing its exact answer.

Three weeks, sixteen hours, and forty-three minutes is how long you’d been trapped in his sick fantasy.

He’d been counting every second, and now you were, too.

“Six months next week, Bin.”

“And you've already moved in with him? Must be love at first sight…” Changbin looked between you both, ignoring your aversion to looking at Chan directly or oblivious to the tension between you two.

You didn't answer him, lips pressed shut, and your hands nervously twiddling behind your back. Chan answered for you, rising from his spot on the couch to pat Changbin’s stout shoulder as he came to stand by your side. “Must be. Right, sweetheart?” The skin of your lower back gathers goosebumps, feeling his hand firmly plant itself there, thumb tracing the trial of your spine as he eases you closer to him. Your tongue falls flat in your mouth, your body weak and tense all at once from the weight of his touch. Afraid to use your voice without letting out an unseemly sound, you give a gentle no, eyes fluttering between Changbin and Chan, who smile at your silent agreement.

“Are you always this quiet around strangers?” Changbin chuckles, and you embarrassingly shake your head, pressing against Chan’s side as he speaks for you. “Or maybe you're just really loud,” he retorts, inwardly brimming with pride, feeling your body shift towards his for comfort.

Finally.

You were learning to trust him.

To depend on him.

Changbin rolls his eyes, his mouth ticking into an unaffected smirk. “I'm the right amount loud. Otherwise, your tracks would only get so far.” Chan’s body goes rigid at the teasing jab, startling you when his grip on your lower back shifts to your hip to knead the soft skin. You whine quietly as his fingertips bare down on the muscle. The hold grounds him but unnerved you.

He was upset.

That much you could tell, but Chan didn't let anger cloud his features, shrugging off Changbin’s usual innocent jabs at him, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bin. “

Said man huffs, staring at Chan for a few seconds before returning to you. “Want to join us for a little bit? I know Chan says you like to spend your free time alone doing your own thing, but since you're here-”

“I’d love to!” Your mouth moves before your mind computes a careful response, growing into a sheepish smile as Changbin laughs at your impulsive reaction. Conversely, Chan seems stiffer by the second, not angered but vaguely displeased.

You ignored it, forcing your nerves to settle despite feeling the air around him thicken with masked tension. “So, what were two talking about earlier? From what I heard, it sounded like a fun conversation.” You smile at Changbin, hoping he'll see the desperation hidden in your eyes as you slip away from Chan and hurry to sit beside him on the sofa.

You're too close to him.

He's too close to you.

That's your first strike, and you don't even realize it.

Chan makes no move to point out your blatant mistake, either. His expression slips into a hardened glare as the two of you converse without him. His eyes burn into the side of your head, fixated on every fluctuating reaction you have to Changbin.

The spark of yearning that returns to your pretty eyes as they focus on him.

The gentle nods you give while he speaks.

How you are a bit closer to him when an intriguing topic extends itself.

Every little thing begins to irritate Chan.

You'd been huddled close to him only a minute ago like a trapped mouse, scared of a stranger and seeking his protection...

And now, here you are, eating up anything and everything his Changbin did or said.

Ungrateful.

Disrespectful.

A little liar is what you were.

Chan couldn't look past it, even as the hours ticked by. He joined in the pleasant conversations that dwindled into laughter over several shared take-out dishes, but he refused to give you the benefit of the doubt any longer. Barely tempering his envy of the attention and comfort you shared with Changbin when he'd done everything for you to earn such things for himself.

So ungrateful.

So fucking needy for another man's attention…

Chan counted down the seconds until Changbin’s phone rang half past one in the morning, vibrating on the glass coffee table you sat in front of with him.

“Hold on. Let me get this real quick,” Changbin said, snatching his phone from the table. He offered you a kind and apologetic smile to make up for shortening your moving conversation. “It's okay,” you mouthed, hands raised to wave off his unneeded reasoning as you watched him stand up to take the call in the hallway. Changbin ruffled his free hand through your hair, giving a silent ‘thank you’ on his way out of the room, flashing Chan a cheeky grin as he disappeared around the corner.

You stared at the empty spot next to you, still reeling through ideas of how to gain Changhins help or at least convince him to let you use his phone without Chan knowing…

But the blonde hadn't left you alone or taken his eyes off you and Changbin for a second the entire time he was there. If anything, Chan watched you painfully closer, looming like a shadow in every interaction and a little too good at insulating you had a healthy, willing, and established relationship with him.

Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Nonetheless, Changbin hadn't shown any signs of recognizing the reality of your unwanted arrangement. You had no chance to subtly hint at it to him, aware of Chan’s vigilance even when he wasn't directly involved in the friendly exchanges.

You'd more than once caught him staring you down, arms folded over his chest, and his jaw set into a tight angle. A shiver ran up your spine every time you caught the look in his eyes.

How cold those brown irises turned, filling with deepening jealousy.

If you hadn't felt trapped and endangered before…

You felt that way now.

Your gaze refused to shift from the carport you sat on, hands twiddling in your lap as your heart raced a little faster second by second.

“You think I'm stupid, baby girl?”

You immediately shake your head ‘no’ as he speaks under the distant sound of Changbin’s ongoing phone call.

Chan scoffs, his head ticking once, and bites back with a wry smile. “Hm. So, she's a fucking liar too…”

It's a statement—an observation he's made, and you cannot deny it.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, lodged there as you shake your head again and finally set your eyes on his.

“Chan, please...I’m not-“

“Shut up.”

Silence.

The moment his command hits your burning ears, a cold, heavy, and suffocating silence blankets the room. He lets it settle, holding your doe-eyed stare with a sharp glare. “Come here.”

Your hands freeze, tears welling in your eyes, but you blink them away.

Crying never works on Chan.

Never.

Your head lowers as you shift onto your knees and grip the coffee table's edge to stand up, a tremble catching your fingers as the cold glass amplifies the heat of anxiety taking over you.

“No,” Chan seethes out, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, head resting against his left hand as the right beckons you toward him, familiar veins contracting through them from the subtle gestures he makes.“Crawl.”

You swallow like he's shoved a lead pill down your throat by voicing the command, frozen in thinly veiled hesitancy as he waits for you to follow it.

The last remnants of pride and brimming hope melt away from you, drained out of your body as it shifts back from the edge of the table and onto the floor again. Chan watches you lower down to be on your hands and knees, your soft cheeks dampening with a few stray tears as you crawl towards him with timid caution in every move you make. The heat you feel rises to your face, painting it a solemn red when you settle between his legs. Chan plants his feet, making room for you and quickly locking you in his range.

“Turn around,” he whispers, left index finger making a small circle to emphasize the instruction. Slowly, you shift to face away from him, pleading with an invisible force to ease your panic, unable to see what he will do and anticipate when he’ll do so.

Chan hadn’t raised a hand to you. Not once.

He could be rough, drag, and move you with pointed strength when he felt you needed a firmer guide, but hitting you?

Never.

Him showing any sign of brute physicality towards you?

Never.

You’d begun to realize Chan didn’t need to exert force, always expressing it in his words, expressions, and acts of service rather than using violence.

So, your fear -that swirling and dizzying uncertainty you’d felt for weeks- stemmed from a much deeper and deranged concept your mind had conjured up.

You weren’t afraid of Chan.

No…

You were terrified of just how far and how many demented things you’d be willing to let him do to you…

Even if he’d cornered you into them.

Forced you.

You wanted him to do that on a certain level of consciousness. To give up fighting his insistence on loving you his way and bask in it for as long as he’d let you.

You’d begun dreaming about it day and night. Constantly fantasizing about him when you should hate him with every breath you take.

God, you wanted to hate him, claw at him, make him feel the pain you felt sitting alone in the room he kept you locked away in.

But the moment Chan’s breath spanned the nape of your neck, warm and slow as he breathed you in from behind, your head was empty of malicious intent towards him. All you could focus on was him: the smell of his cologne, the heat from his body, and the quiet hum of his satisfaction that seeped straight through your reddened ears down to the space between your legs.

His voice alone made you ache in a way you refused to acknowledge.

You pressed your thighs together, praying the steady pulse in your core would vanish if you tried hard enough to hide it.

You should’ve known better than to hope for any small triumph of self-control being near Chan because the second he saw you tense up and circle your hips, he tugged you back into him.

His left hand grasps the tousled hair at the back of your head, pulling and twisting, while the right grips your throat. A soft gasp of pain and moderate shock left your lips as he reared your head backward with a rough force on your hair, muffling the surprised sighs you let out by pressing the pads of his fingers directly against the nerves of your neck. Chan left you no choice but to inhale sharply through your nose, eyes trained on the twists and turns of your expression while his own remained inches wholly and away stoic.

You clawed at his right hand on intuition, longing for the burning need for air to settle into your lungs. Helpless abs, afraid of your excitement, you struggled against his hold on you, eyes shut tight when he choked you harder and grazed his nose along your cheek until he reached your ear. His lips pressed into a smile, lingering over the sensitive skin as he spoke to you. “I don’t want to hurt you…but,” he exhales, something kin to a groan falling from his mouth before he continues, “…I can’t keep letting you get away with this, baby girl.”

You shudder, stifling a frustrated whimper as Chan places a chaste kiss on the tip of your ear, nuzzling your head with his own as his proper slips under your ankle and forces it apart from your left one—immediate defiance courses through you being put into a new, compromising position.

Held tight against him, barely able to breathe, and legs now spread for him to see what you’d been trying to hide for nearly two weeks.

Clear evidence of how badly you wanted him.

How far you’d fallen into craving him.

Your heart stopped dead in its tracks as cool air enveloped the forming wet patch on your sheer rose pink underwear, barely hidden under the hem of your skirt. Chan whistled lowly at the sight, staring down at the evident mess you were making of yourself.

“Get a look at that, Princess…” he taunted you in a daze, watching your hips twist and buck as you tried to close your legs again and break away from him, but Chan held you steady the more you fought him.

The tears you fought so hard to hold back began to slip past your flutter lashes, dampening your burning cheeks and drizzling down to coat the veiny hand, practically suffocating you. “No…stop…I-it’s not…“ you stumbled to find an excuse, something to say that’d convince him and yourself that your arousal wasn’t natural.

But it was.

And it was thriving by the minute.

Chan bit into his lower lip, glancing over at the corner Changbin had yet to come walking around.

You could faintly hear the other man still speaking to whoever had called him but instantly pushed his princes to the back of your mind, hearing Chan’s voice melt through the air around you. “What am I going to do with you, pretty girl?” He muses, formulating answers to his question while you shiver at its implications. “You’ve been so good, too..” his praise warms your core, numbing your mind as he builds upon it.

“Doing whatever I tell you…” Chan smiles, gaze trained between the hallway entry and your vulnerable position. “Treating yourself better..”

You whine at that, feeling picked apart and full of yourself all at once by him.

“Being the good girl I knew you could be for me,” Chan mutters, his voice warm as new honey and his hand slowly shifting downward in your hair.

Past the nape of your neck, over your shoulder, down to your chest. You tense under his traveling touch, unconsciously arching up against the palm of his heavy hand as it gently kneads your left breast before attending to the right in the same manner.

Your head leers into his shoulder relaxed against the tight muscle he keeps hidden by a black shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips as they parted to attempt to catch a new breath, muffled by the crook of his neck as you inched closer to him the longer he shamelessly groped your chest.

Chan tongued his cheek, feeling your breathy moans fan over his skin, sending rivers of heat down his back, urging him to slip his hand under the hem of the lacey white camisole you wore. “I was so proud of you, baby girl…” he chuckled, eyes cutting towards the hall again before he pushed the half excuse for a shirt up above your perked breasts. You flinched, startled by his intent to fully expose you when his friend was just down the hall, but Chan wasn’t the slightest remorseful or cautious as he palmed your chest. He took his time, thumb rolling over around each of your nipples, slipping to knead your stomach when you arched for more.

“So…so proud,” he mumbles, studying the quick rise and fall of your chest as you try to breathe normally, hands moving to grip your forearm and wrist for a sense of support as he tortures your resolve. “Chan…Chan…please… sorry…I..” you give up speaking, too all over the place mentally to get a coherent sentence out, and ready to accept your fate in any way he gave it to you.

“But I guess even the best of girls need a little reminder, yeah?” Chan peers into your eyes, smiling softly and vaguely playful, but his tone is the furthest thing from it. You shake your head, brows knitting together in desperation. “No!” Chan, please…please, I promise…I’ll be good… I-I promise..”

Your pleading sinks into the room in hushed whispers, scarcely heard by anyone but him, and you watch his expression soften hearing it.

Was that…

Pity…?

Guilt?..

You couldn’t quite place the look on his face as he stared at you, but seconds later, it vanished, replaced with a smile you knew meant nothing good for you.

“I wish I could believe you, baby. I do, but you’ve earned exactly what’s coming to you.”

Chan exhales slowly, letting the hand he has splayed across your stomach inch further down to firmly cup your covered cunt and press his palm against the patch of cum spreading in the thin fabric covering it. You gasped loudly at the contact, hoping Changbin didn’t hear the lewd sound as it dwindled into a low whine.

Chan soaks in your visceral reaction to being touched indirectly, pressing his middle and ring finger into your underwear until he can feel the warmth of your cunt cover then and leak with pent-up arousal. You bit back a strangled scream at the intrusion, reveling in it and greedily rolling your hips forward against his hand for more. The tips of your toes curled through the thigh-high socks you wore because he seemed to like seeing you in them.

Your legs fell further apart, trembling with pleasure as he pumped his thick fingers into your fluttering cunt, soaking them and your ultimately useless panties in cum, and only stopping when the sound of Changbin’s footsteps came from down the hall.

Chan huffed, openly disappointed by the oncoming disruption but content with the state he’d put you in.

“The minute he leaves, you’re mine.” He groans into your ear, releasing you from his hold and readjusting your skirt and shirt before he helps you sit up straight. You blush, rightfully speechless, while he runs a hand through your hair to fix it just as Changbin rounds the corner.

a/n: I have such an intense migraine and it’s killing meeee

other links: n/a yet…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Sluttiest thing this man has ever done is that dammed teaser skit with that obnoxious ass stare and deep voice combo. He looked way too fine with that mask on and he knew it!!! 🖤 credits to creator!

[ponderingmoonlight]

I'd love Obanai + Sanemi saving reader from a demon (like in the first episode??) You are awesome, thanks!

This escalated so quick damn, but hey, there you have a full on fic hehe - hope you enjoy <3

Sanemi saving your ass even if you don't want to

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: You knew what you got yourself into when you let a demon capture you instead of your beloved friend. Little did you know that help already arrived, viewing you as nothing but a damsel in distress until suddenly, you turn into much more...

Warnings: (y/n) fell but I fell harder, just saw the movie and it's so AHHH, honestly Sameni's voice is so mezmerizing omg, however this includes violence and language, might incluce spoilers for the movie but if you haven't seen it already you don't know what's going on anyway lol, like all my demon slayer fanfics this includes ai pics of reader so if this doesn't sit right with you, I'd suggest to not read it

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED MORE SANEMI CONTENT

Your dirty cold feet pound against the muddy floor, haunted eyes darted towards nothing but sheer darkness. You still don’t know how you managed to keep the demon from kidnapping your best friend, how you’re still alive when at this very moment, this frightful creature his hunting you down like its prey.

So many innocent young women, one after another disappeared from your village nearby. Why did you never even think about the possibility that you or even worse, a person you love could be next?

Not until now. Not until you stared into the demon’s stone-cold red orbs when it began to run after you. Not until you were the one threatened to get eaten alive.

“Run! Run and don’t look back!”

“But (y/n), you’ll get killed-“

“I won’t. Leave it to me, tell everyone to lock their doors, just don’t come back!”, you screamed on top of your lungs.

“I’m getting impatient, stupid girl. You know you will get killed, right?”

Blood rushed through your ears, body threatened to fail you.

“If you want to kill me you have to get me first, stupid demon.”

How long have you been running for? Minutes, hours? You lost track of time completely with your body screaming, begging you to stop and take a break. The bitter taste of iron covers your whole mouth, blood sticks to your new Yukata like a second skin. Your mother will completely lose it when she sees the crimson discolouring on the white fabric.

“I’m having enough.”

If you ever see her again.

With a swift motion, the demon swings you over his shoulder, his claws digging into your flesh so roughly that you cry out. No, this can’t be the end. You can’t allow yourself to die like this: in the arms of a demon, without even fighting back. No one ever told you what to do, you were always able to stand up for yourself. Today will be no exception. Even if you get killed, you will fight back with everything you have.

“Shinazugawa…Something’s not right.”

Sanemi can’t help but look around, eyes meeting the countless demons around him. What the hell is this place?

“Yeah, I don’t like this, either. I’ve never seen demons swarming around like this.”

“Let me go!”, you yell, fist banging roughly against the creatures’ back while it drags you into what looks like a haunted mansion.

Your eyes widen when you feel multiple pairs of red orbs laying on your body.

“Demon slayers…”, you hear your kidnapper hiss through gritted teeth, turning his head over his shoulder.

Demon slayers? You’ve heard of them before, how they behead every demon coming their way, how desperately they fight for humanity. But…where were these demon slayers when all the girls from your village got kidnapped? Where are they when you need them the most? How absoluteley useless.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Is it the anger, the grief? With a rapid motion, you dig your nails into the eyes of the demon until he lets you fall to the ground abruptly, groaning out in visible pain.

Everything hurts, a trail of blood follows you as you drag your body against a rotten wall. You feel your body giving in, all the stress, agony and exhaustion rushing over you like a wave. But no, you can’t give up right now. Not when there’s still a slight chance for you to survive.

“You little bitch. Eat her, I will leave and get her little friend.”

Suddenly, the urge to puke becomes almost unbearable. Countless demons come near you, their teeth exposed to the harsh moonlight. No, this is not how you want to end. You can’t die getting eaten alive by these creatures. But what else are you supposed to do? There is no way out of this living hell.

Except for the destroyed window a few steps away. This is your only chance. You drag yourself up, sprint over the rotten wood underneath your naked feet and jump.

Floors into the depths.

Away from the demons, into another certain death.

“Where is the girl?”, Sanemi questions harshly, sword oh so ready to behead that bastard of a demon in front of him while heading down.

Screw this strange place and the countless demons around him, he needs to find you, needs to carry you into safety.

“The girl? She jumped out of a window in order to safe herself. She’s probably dead by now.”

He lets out the breath he didn’t knew he was holding, blank eyes staring at the stone ground his blade has crashed instead of the demon. What was this place?

No, he can’t think about this right now. As fast as his body carries him, he gets out of that cursed mansion, eyes instantly finding your falling body.

Only metres away from crushing into the ground.

Oh, how much you wished it wouldn’t end like this. But maybe this was everything you could do, dying like this is still better than getting eaten up by a demon. Where are those demon slayers? You close your tired lids, enjoy the weightlessness for a brief second. It doesn’t matter now. Hopefully, the demon is long dead before you. At least you're dragging his ass with you…

“Hey, you aren’t dead, are ya?”

That voice…A male voice, without any doubt. So harsh and tempting at the same time that you can’t help but open your eyes in confusion.

Only to be met by purple ones. Male ones, to be exact. Are those...his arms wrapped around your trembling body?

“Let me go!”, you shriek.

It seems like all power that left your body appeared again while you miserably try to fight yourself out of his arms. Who is this man? Another demon, maybe?

“I won’t let you eat me!”

“Eating you? Are you dumb, woman? I’m a demon slayer”, the man in front of you barks, his hands roughly holding onto your arms in order to stop you from hitting him again.

“A demon slayer?” you repeat.

“Yeah, the wind hashira to be exact.”

Your gaze falls from his face to his exposed chest, his toned abs. He breathes heave while still holding onto your arms. Suddenly you feel so…hot.

“You are a demon slayer.”

With a swift motion, you free one of your hands and slap him so hard that he sees stars.

“It sure took you some time to get here! What about all the other women who died here, the countless young girls that were killed by demons you did nothing about? Why did you save me!?”

“I’m wondering that too”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

Did you actually go inane? The way you look at him with your eyes completely furious, face and yukata smeared in your own blood. You can’t be serious about that, right?

“You should be thankful”, he finally hisses.

“Thankful!? YOU should be sorry!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for saving you…you…you ungrateful thing!”

“I could have saved myself”, you argue.

“Oh, is that so?”

No, absolutely not. You would have died if it wasn’t for the wind hashira.

“Everything was under control”, you snap at him.

Nothing was under control. This was your last way out of your misery.

“Is it so hard to just be thankful?”, he argues.

“Who’s your new friend, Shinazugawa?”

“We aren’t friends”, both of you reply at once.

Your heavy breath hangs in the air, hands still clenched into fists. Deep down you know how wrong it is to snap at him, that the demon slayer corps aren’t responsible for the countless lives the demons took in this area. But still…Why does it have to be you they saved? Why not the girl next door who would have married the next day or the girl that was supposed to leave only days after she got killed? It’s not fair, it’s not enough, it’s-

You take a heavy step back when your vision starts to get foggy.

“I won’t catch that brat if she faints now”, the wind hashira grumbles.

“We both know you will.”

The last thing you see are his purple eyes before you fall straight into deep darkness.

-a few days later-

“She’s awake now, Shinazugawa. And she asked for you.”

He hates the way his heart skips a beat by hearing those innocent words from Shinobu. You didn’t leave his head. Despite the state of Oyakata-sama, despite the hashira training, despite the stinging fact that the king of demons himself will come for them, you were always on his mind. You, with your strong but feminine eyes. You, who jumped out of a window into certain death only to keep your body away from the mouths of these demons. You, who straight up slapped him. Was it your attitude that caught him off guard? He never experienced a woman saved by him being this ungrateful. Aren’t you aware of the fact that you would have died that night if it wasn’t for him?

“What do you want, brat?”

His words come out harsher than anticipated while your sight simply takes his breath away. Since he can remember, Sanemi was never interested in any women romantically. No, love is nothing but weakness, women mean nothing but trouble. But even though you glare at him with venomous eyes the second he enters the room, he can’t help but feel drawn towards you.  

“You’re a hashira, right?”

Your words sound just as harsh as his, your gaze meeting his with so much strength that it is him who starts to feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I already told you that-“

“Train me”, you interrupt him.

“I want to become a demon slayer and kick your ass.”

“You, kicking my ass?”

You grab the fabric of his uniform so roughly that he isn’t able to react, suddenly so close to you that he can feel the heat radiating from your body.

“Train me.”

“Fine brat. I’ll train you. But don’t think I’ll go easy on your ass.”

-bonus-

“Try to keep up, (y/n).”

His katana clashes into yours over and over, makes it hard to stand your ground. But still you fight back, your hands holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. You just have to win. There is absolutely no way you’ll lose against your master again.

Especially since he’s your lover.

“Are you tired yet?”, he teases you with a smirk.

“Absolutely not”, you press out while dodging another hit just in time.

This won’t help. If you continue to fight like this, he’ll sweep you off your feet like all these countless times before. But what are you supposed to do? It almost seems as if Sanemi has no weakness.

Except you.

“But you’ll be when I’m done”, you purr.

That sudden change of mood catches him completely off guard, forces him to hesitate for the split of a second.

Enough for you to sweep him off his feet, your body resting on top of his while your blade hangs into his face.

“I won”, you announce triumphally.

“You cheated”, he protests underneath you.

“Demons play dirty as well. You need to be prepared for everything-“

All it takes his one swift motion for him to position himself on top of you, body forcing you onto the ground before you’re able to catch a breath.

“Imma show you how dirty playing really works, then.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @ryva @baku2345 @komelrebi-san

[grlcarcass]

dont make me wait in the car again - axl rose ; PART 2

taglist: @californiaahunny @chxrrie-b4by @brokenglassb1tch @brainzom

content: spitplay, choking, smut (18+) // part 1

a/n: tysm for the love :') i have a shit more free time so expect more fics! AND SEND REQUESTS!

After the food came, something fried, golden, unidentifiable, she perked up. Her legs tucked under her again in the sticky booth, picking at the plate with slow, flirty disinterest. Axl watched her with his chin propped up against his palm, his other hand messing with the lighter he never left home without.

“You’re gonna stay for the whole set, right?” he asked through a smile. “I told ‘em I had a girl. Wanna show you off like a little hula lady on my dashboard.” 

Her eyes fluttered as she tilted her head and chewed. “Well, I was mad at you,” she teased, reaching across the table to cheekily steal a fry off his plate. “But now I’m curious to see how you’ll embarrass me in front of a bunch of men named Donny or something.”

He laughed again, throwing his arm over the booth. “Don’t get too excited, they’re not used to hearing more than a few chords at a time.” She tilted her head. “A few meaning?”

“Three?” he chuckled.

She giggled. “Perfect. That’s your specialty.”

Axl’s leg slid under the table until it bumped hers. She didn’t pull away. She kept chewing and kept letting him make it up to her inch by inch.He took the stage a little after nine.

The southern sun had gone to bed, but the heat remained like it owed something. She sat at the back of the bar, still too dressed up, slowly sipping something he’d bought her from the bar before heading up, vodka and lime, plastic cup, no straw.

Axl was bathed in the dull orange light and cigarette haze, orange locks a tad darker under sweat, grip on the mic stand like it’d buck up and run away. And he played, like he had something to prove. Which he did. He always did. She liked this about him, he truly sweated his talent. 

He sang a cover of something she didn’t recognize, then one of his own songs; rough, sharp, but everything he had in him. As smart as she was, she truly loved him, and adored him as an artist. She wouldn’t say that out loud, not often at least. He’d give her strong eye contact, it made her shift in her seat. She clapped lightly, no louder than the changed men around her. She sipped her drink and watched him watch her. 

The motel wasn’t far. Just down the road, technically within the view of the dive bar if you stood in the right spot in the parking lot. It had a flickering vacancy sign, and a Coke machine that hadn’t been restocked in years.

Their room was at the end, like Axl had asked for. He said he liked corners for some reason, he wouldn’t ever tell why. She was kicking off her shoes before the door fully shut behind them. Her dress was askew from the heat, the ribbon bow tied up in the front now loose and lopsided. Axl had already thrown his jacket over the motel chair and was pulling the blinds closed like they owed him money.

“You did good,” she cooed, sitting primly at the edge of the bed like a girl who hadn’t just spent an hour pouting at a dive bar. “Real good. Got the whole room wet.” 

“Just wanted one person wet, pervert.” he chuckled kicking off his shoes. She blinked up at him. “I was already wet when you got off the stage.” He stopped mid step. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She traced the strap of her dress. “Had me quietly fucked up when you started screaming. Could feel it in my knees.” 

Axl was in front of her in seconds, tugging her legs apart by the thighs and crowding her back onto the creaking mattress. “You say shit like that, and expect what?”

She grinned cheekily. “Whatever it’ll get me.”

He immediately ducked in to kiss her; messy, full of teeth.

She moaned when his tongue pushed into her mouth, sopping it even more wet than it was from salivating. She tasted lime and spit, and rocked her hips against him until he groaned. “Look at you.” Her dress was bunched around her waist now, her panties thin and already dark at the crotch. He shoved them to the side and spat right on her slit, then used his fingers to smear it in.

She gasped. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’d let me spit in your mouth wouldn’t you?” he asked, rubbing her clit with two fingers, while his other hand gripped her throat. She choked a bit from his grip. She let out a strangled mewl.

He shoved two fingers in and started fucking her open with them, hard, fast, until she was squirming and panting and clawing at his shirt. “You’re such a mess. Knew since I met you back at home.” he muttered. 

“You talk too much.” he moaned, hips jerking. “Get your dick out.”

Axl laughed. That kind of hoarse, dirty bastard laugh only he had. He leaned in close to her ear. “Bossy little slut. Bet you’d let me fuck your face if I asked real nice.”

 She bucked up. “Stop talkin’ about it and do it.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he shoved her dress up over her tits, and yanked her panties off somewhere they’d both forget. His cock was already dripping when he pushed into her, pulsating at every vein. She gasped and grabbed the headboard, legs wrapping around his waist. 

“So fucking tight, you like me that much?” he asked, snapping his hips. She was whining now, eyes fluttering, the headboard rattling like hell against the wall. “Louder,” he grunted, fucking her deeper.

“Go on. Let the whole fuckin motel hear what this pretty little cunt sounds like when she gets filled.” Her voice cracked as she gasped for her life. “Gonna cum? Good.” he hissed, grabbing her ass and lifting her hips off the bed for better leverage.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fucking cock. You get this pussy wrecked waiting for me in the car don’t you?”

“Yes! Fuck– yes.”

“That’s what your little tude was? Sitting in my car, all frustrated.” he hissed. “Dirty bitch.”

She cried out, arching, clawing at his arms. “I’m gonna– fuck! Please!” Axl kept pounding into her like she was something to break, biting into her collarbone, his sweat dripping down onto her chest.

“Do it then. Cum all over this fucking cock.” She screamed and clenched around him, thrashing herself through her orgasm, but he didn’t stop.

He just cursed and thrusted harder, chasing his own high while she sobbed under him, limp and trembling and soaked. He finally came with a rough moan and buried himself deep, jerking in pulses until he collapsed on top of her, both of them shaking, wrecked, breathless.

While she stirred, her thighs were sticky and the TV was playing some late night show no one cared about. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket while Axl pressed lazy kisses to her shoulder.

“Still mad at me for making you wait in the car?” he rasped, voice completely worn and shot.She smiled deeply. “No.”“You sure?”

“Mhm, but if you ever try that shit again, I’ll keep you locked out of my panties.”

Axl burst out laughing, he pulled her tight, and kissed her stupid. 

A/N: THIS WILL BE ONGOING! THANK U FOR THE LOVE SERIOUSLY…. can’t say it enough<3

Request Request Request! (Any member, any band, any kink.)

[222col]

p-panty thief roman godfrey?? i honestly can't pick between fairy!reader or bimbo!reader but i wanna pick fairy!reader lol bc there's no fics on her yet. i think roman actually steals a girl's panties in the show?? i love him sm. im rambling. stay hydrated!! tysm!!!

fairy!reader x roman godfrey

summary: roman knows he can get away with anything and everything, including breaking into your house to steal your panties

cw .ᐟ nsfw, pervy roman

꒰ notes ꒱ he does!! my lil creep <3 thank u for the req bb!!!!

should have never told him where you lived, not that he couldn’t have found it without the information direct from your mouth.

roman’s worst trait? knowing he can get away with absolutely anything. his surname alone got him out of anything, and if that didn’t work a wad of cash always would. barely needed to use his ‘creepy eye thing’ these days.

especially not with you. you let roman get away with murder. mainly because you were too fuckin’ stupid to ever pay enough attention to what he was actually doing.

you could have been home when he climbed through the window and not even questioned it.

but he knew you wouldn’t be. he waited until you were out, probably shopping somewhere. ‘cause what else do girls do?

silly girl didn’t even lock her windows. it’s almost like you wanted him to break in. the room smelt like vanilla, probably from the candle you left burning. roman blows it out on his way around the space— see, he’s looking out for you.

he can’t stop himself from lifting up your pillow, bringing the silk fabric up to his nose. and oh, what’s this? what little picture are you hiding underneath? aw. it’s a picture of him. you’re just as much of a creep as he is.

he doesn’t care to put things back where he finds them, roman knows you’d never notice anyway. you’ll be too busy trying on all the clothes you bought when you get home to realise.

roman starts rooting through your drawers, feeling through every frilly top, every tiny skirt. and oh— jackpot.

a drawer full of lace, cotton, little bows, the lot. he’d pay an unlimited amount of money to see you in these with his own eyes. but with that picture under your pillow, looks like he’s not too far off that happening.

now, he could take a pair panties from the drawer. but, that’s not exciting as taking a pair from your laundry. a pair from the drawer he could get anywhere, walk into any department store and walk out with a pair of clean panties.

no— not good enough. roman wants a pair that have you on them.

and as if they were waiting for him, there the perfect pair sits. placed perfectly on the top of your pile of dirty laundry. evil smirk on his face as he grabs them.

he should leave, pocket the panties and appreciate them at home. but his jeans are already tight and you’re still not home, so…

roman perches on the edge of your bed, buttons quickly undone as he frees himself from the confines of the denim.

his hand is quickly wrapping around the length, the lace fabric brought up to his nose. roman breathes in the scent of you, eyes rolling back as he does.

pumping himself quickly, the smell of you overloading his senses. god, he’d fuckin’ kill to taste you.

roman brings the fabric down to his lap, wrapping the soft lace around the base of him. the feeling so foreign, but it’s you— the idea alone has roman leaking, the precum dripping onto the fabric.

he can barely bite back the groans that threaten to escape him, as he watches himself mix in with the remains of you. the fabric is brought back up to his nose, eyes rolling back at your scent.

he can’t control how quickly he finishes, spilling out over your perfect silk sheets. aiming for the pillow he aimlessly threw back down onto your bed, revelling in the idea you’ll be sleeping next to his fluid. silly girl won’t even notice the stain.

the panties on his nose are quickly shoved into his jeans pockets before he zips up the fly. pillow thrown back over to the side you sleep on, standing up as he walks back toward the window.

“what ya doin’ here, romey?”

oh shit.

he spins on his heels, meeting your eyes, and oh— he was right. arms full of shopping bags. his mouth opens to attempt an explanation, but he doesn’t need to.

“you wanna see the clothes i bought?” god, you’re too fucking trusting for your own good.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @donteventry-itdude @lexiiscorect @bluestrd @deadboysradio @muchwita @voidpixies @gublerstylesobrien1238 (to be added)

[ameenvie]

Prada - Roy Kent x gn!reader

masterlist | ao3 | fic recs

Word count: 1k Warnings: drinking, nothing really Tags: flirting, famous reader, first meeting Prompt/Summary: @kissykissymouth asked: Oh thank you! May I request Roy and song #69? My #69 song on my Wrapped was Prada by Raye, it is roughly based on the song as in famous reader meets Roy in Bones And Honey and they flirt. :D A/N: Thank you for playing alooong! It is a bit of a rough start, and I've never written Roy before, but I hope you like it! 🙈❤

The music in Bones and Honey was thumping loud against your eardrums, causing you to lean closer to your friend to hear what they had to say. You were nursing a drink in one hand, resting your other on their back as you leaned in.

A quite large group of people surrounded the two of you – colleagues, partners and friends. You all just came back to London from a job abroad, and you decided to celebrate a little. The taste of alcohol burned your tongue as it traveled down into your stomach, burning all the way. You hissed and looked at your friend.

“What kind of piss drink is this?” You asked laughing, wiping a tear away from your eye caused by the extremely bitter liquor.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be such a baby!” They said, laughing at you. People around you had a great time, chatter and laughter filled the air alongside the loud music. You could feel your heartbeat synching with the heavy bass, and you looked around the bar. Nobody gave a shit that you were there, or if they did, they hid it pretty well. That’s why you liked coming here – no fuss. You were just a regular person in here. Kind of.

“I’m getting us a proper drink,” you stood up promptly, wagging a finger at your friend. „Then you’ll know the difference.” They rewarded you with a dramatic eye roll that made you laugh. You flipped them off teasingly.

You made a beeline towards the bar to get a round of your favourite drinks, although you felt you wouldn’t need too much anymore. A faint buzz took over your body, and your spirit felt lighter, your inhibitions fading to the back of your mind. This place had several bars on every level which you were eternally grateful for, because that meant no waiting in lines for you. You stood next to the bar, resting your hands against the cool countertop while trying to make eye contact with the guy behind the bar. He was pretty dashing; you thought to yourself when you first saw him coming in. You ordered two drinks, then something – someone – caught your eye.

He was standing there turned towards you, wearing a full black suit, up to the tie. His beard and hair matched the colour scheme, as he looked at you. His eyes seemed angry, but his lips were smiling. Trying, at least. A sense of annoyance spread through your body even before he spoke. But he did.

“Good taste,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. You shifted on your legs.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned your body towards him. You were so close, you could smell his perfume, and you had to admit - he smelled amazing.

“The drink,” he raised one of his brows at you before continuing. “It’s a good choice.”

Your brain shifted into gear as your eyes searched his face. The smile was long gone from his lips; you were sure he did the same. He was lucky, you thought. You were in the mood to play.

“I know,” you scoffed, tracing your finger on the rim of your glass. “That’s why I ordered it.” You wondered if he knew who you were. He answered with a scoff and averted his gaze towards the bar. You didn’t take your eyes off him; his scent and the music filled your senses. His eyes were darting between the bottles on the shelf.

“But,” he started and turned towards you. “It could've been a great choice.” A little smirk appeared on his face as he waved to the bartender, ordering two drinks. You weren’t sure if his self-assured demeanour was a facade like yours. He seemed different than you thought he’d be.

“I’m quite content with my choice but thank you.” You raised one of your glasses at him and started to turn, pushing yourself away from the bar when he spoke.

“C’mon, then just let me buy you a drink.” You turned back and his hands were in his pockets, looking at you. You felt your chest tighten as you looked at him. You weren’t sure what or why but something in him captivated you. But you definitely weren’t going to give yourself that easy.

“I can buy myself drinks well enough, thank you,” you quipped, a playful smirk spreading on your face, as you looked over him. Quite slowly.

“And I’m well aware of that.” He smiled back at you. There was that. He definitely knew you. Know of you. If he wanted to really know you, he’d have to try. “I’ve seen you on that thing... Or the other.”

He was very nonchalant about it, and you loved that. You felt emboldened. You smiled and turned back to him, facing him with your full body. An expecting look decorated his features, and you chuckled.

“You a huge fan then?” You stepped towards him, your bodies almost touching. He cocked a brow at you. You saw the gears turn behind his eyes as his gaze darted across your face. The scent of his cologne now mixed with the alcohol on his breath, and you felt light-headed for a second, the thrill sending a shiver down your spine.

“A quiet admirer, more like.” He placed his hand on the countertop next to you, bringing him even closer.

“Do you have lots of quiet admirers yourself, Roy?” you asked and innocently blinked at him from under your eyelashes. Surprise flashed over his features as he looked at you before he smiled and spoke again.

“Maybe I do. Are you one of them?” It felt like the music died around you. All the people went home. It was just the two of you, his body so close to you, you could just move the slightest bit, and you’d touch. You chuckled.

“Footballers?” You asked, looking at your hand and back at his face. “To quote one of the greats – that don’t impress me much,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah?” He laughed. “Then what does?”

“Well, how about we start with that drink you’ll buy me?” You asked, and he smiled down at you, shaking his head a bit before turning to the bar and ordering your drinks. This was going to be fun.

[shawtuzi]

i’m still deciding whether i want to write for ellie or abby in my next tlou fic but until then pls enjoy these construction worker!eren hc’s bc i am sooo thirsty for him

cw include: black fem!reader, lots of fluff, lots of smut, eren being the cutest thing ever

sfw

construction worker!eren whose only dream in this life is to have a pretty wife with a litter of kids and a big ass house to go with it. he’s already slipped a gorgeous fat rock on your finger and talks of getting pregnant with your first child were slowly but surely happening which meant he was getting closer and closer to what he truly wanted most.

construction worker!eren who is a total mommas boy!! his mom is so very dear to him and to know she adores you just as much as him makes him so so happy.

construction worker!eren who looks so cute in his everyday work outfit. whenever he’s got his hard hat on around you you can’t help but knock on it a few times but it’s okay he thinks it’s super cute.

construction worker!eren who starts his day a six-thirty every morning and is always home by five o’clock on the dot. his morning routine consists of giving your forehead and lips a sweet good morning kiss as soon as his eyes open, a quick fifteen minute shower with music softly playing in the back (usually the trapsoul album by bryson tiller), making a big ass pot of coffee bc lord knows he’ll need it with the airheads he works with, quadruple checking to make sure there’s food in the fridge and pantry for you, another sweet kiss to your lips before he heads out, and then spending five minutes trying to pry you off of him while you beg him to take the day off. “m’sorry sugarplum i cant take off today, gotta save up for that big house we want you know how it is,” he’d always say before shushing your whines with a kiss full of tongue n passion.

construction worker!eren who is so tired and sore when he gets off work but is never too sore to accept one of your bone crushing hugs as soon as he walks through the door to your shared apartment. he’s always extra careful to make sure his hands that are usually covered in residue don’t touch your clothes even though you could literally care less.

construction worker!eren who facetimes you everyday around the same time to enjoy your company while he’s on his lunch break. usually the conversations consists of you telling him to make sure he’s applying a lot of sunscreen (bc this heat was nothing to play about), your plans for what you were making for dinner, and if anyone happened to piss him off that day you’ll surely hear about it.

“how’s your lunch?” you asked giving eren a loving smile as you watched him practically devour the leftover lasagna from last nights dinner. he wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking, a content smile on his lips. “food is perfect honey tastes just as good as it did last night,” you smiled at his words but it faltered just the slightest bit when you saw how reddish pink his cheeks were. “baby have you put on any sunscreen yet? weather app says it’s supposed to be almost a hundred out today,” you pouted wishing so desperately that he was there so you could give his little sunburns kisses. eren observed his face in the tiny box on the corner of his phone, letting out a small hum. “don’t worry about me sugar i’ll put some on before we get off the phone,” he gave you a comforting smile which you returned. you folded your freshly manicured hands together before speaking, “so…for dinner i was thinking steak kabobs?” “now we’re fuckin’ talking”

construction worker!eren whose nicknames for you are sugar, sugarplum, honey, angel, and my honeysuckle (which is a type of flower heje)

construction worker!eren whose stomach is almost as big as his heart lol this man loves him a good home cooked meal!!! he doesn’t know what he did to deserve a wife who feeds him as good as you do but you best believe he thanks his lucky stars everyday for it. and yes he’s fs the kind of man to completely devour his food in record time meanwhile you’ve barely made a dent in yours, this usually leads to you splitting the rest of yours with him bc this man always has room to eat more food.

you had decided to make steaks for dinner and like usual eren had devoured his plate in less than ten minutes. “was it good my love?” you giggled taking a bite of the roasted potatoes you made as side. bc he had a full mouth all eren was able to get out was a satisfied sounding ‘mhm!’ eren had washed his dishes and put them away before making his way back to the table to keep you company while you continued to eat your food, love and adoration swarming in those jade irises of his. without a word you swiftly got out of your chair and got comfy on his lap. eren didn’t say a word but by the way he was looking at your plate you could tell he was dying for another bite. you cut off a piece of steak and held the fork up to his lips with a smile, “go ahead take a bite i know you wanna.” without a second thought eren took a bite and for the rest of dinner you took turns feeding him and yourself.

construction worker!eren who becomes even more attentive and loving than he already is once you’re finally pregnant!!! you have morning sickness?? he’s right behind you rubbing your back and even offers to brush your teeth for you after you’ve finished. you need your feet rubbed?? prop them up and he’ll get straight to work. he even takes more days off work than usual bc he misses your touch just as much as you miss his. ever since he found out there was a little him growing in you he frequently started talking to your belly.

construction worker!eren is a girl dad no ifs, ands, or buts!!!!! crazy story but he had the strongest feeling you were having a girl and low and behold on the day of your gender reveal you found out you were having a girl!! yes he cried like a baby himself and yes connie has it on video.

construction worker!eren who treats your daughter like she’s the finest china when she’s finally born :( the first time he did skin to skin contact with her he swore his heart was gonna explode with how much love his had for the tiny human in his arms. and once she was sound asleep in her lil bed he was quick to leave the hospital to buy you whatever foods you were craving—you deserved the best princess treatment for bringing his lil princess into the world.

construction worker!eren who keeps a polaroid pic of you, him, and your newborn daughter in his worn out wallet, showing it to everyone at his job…and a couple strangers….he rlly can’t help it you two are his pride and joy <333

“hey reiner did i ever show you this picture?” eren beamed holding up the polaroid in reiner’s face for the third time that day. reiner chuckled a bit before nodding, “yes eren you showed me, she’s a cute one you and y/n are lucky,” he smiled and eren nodded in agreement, still staring down at the picture. “yeah…m’the luckiest guy in the world aren’t i?”

nsfw

construction worker!eren who is six foot six and pure muscle. it’s a wonder how he eats so good and manages to look even better but hey! you weren’t complaining. he certainly was lacking down there either baby he’s the full package. his dicks eight and a half inches with two prominent veins on the underside that rubbed against your sensitive walls in the most delicious way possible.

construction worker!eren who has a raging breeding kink but is that really a surprise? whenever you two fuck and he’s able to rlly take his time with you i kid you not he has to cum inside you at least three times or he will not be satisfied. sometimes whenever he pulls out he’ll push down on your lower belly and watch his cum spill out with dark, predatory eyes. majority of the time he’ll use that as an excuse to fill you up for the umpteenth time bc he just cannot let any of his precious cum go to waste.

“so pretty,” eren had a lazy smile on his face as he watched three orgasms worth of cum ooze out of your puffy, spent pussy. just when you thought he had his fill and was ready for a much needed good nights rest you felt his one softening dick begin to harden up against your still trembling thighs. “eren…” you whimpered, but he just shushed you with a kiss mumbling a quick ‘jus one more’ before slipping back inside you with ease. he was extremely low on energy so he wasn’t quite able to fuck into you like a madman like he was before so he just settled for grinding into you. “o-oh honey! f-fuck!” you squealed wrapping your legs around his waist. between his swollen tip continuously bumping into your stomach, and the coarse hairs on his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit you were slowly but surely going dumb. “yeah jus’ like that, f-fuck yeah let daddy fuck a baby into you baby c’mon make me cum.”

construction worker!eren who is nawt a fan of quickies at all!! he’s a man that likes to savor the moment when it comes to sex and if he’s able to admire the faces and sounds you make then what’s the point?? when he’s got you all to himself expect to be occupied for the next couple of hours bc like i stated before he’s not satisfied until he’s cum in you at least three times and made you cum twice as much!!

construction worker!eren who is a certified MUNCH!!!! this man loves having his mouth on your pussy and yes if ur wondering he definitely eats it through your panties. he’s so sloppy and loud with it you’d almost be embarrassed if he didn’t completely turn you dumb whenever he tongue fucked your weeping pussy :(

“mm renny,” your brows scrunched together in pleasure as eren sloppily ran his tongue up and down your soaked folds. his hair was still damp from his shower and was slowly soaking the couch from the droplets falling from his locs but neither of you seemed to care. “couldn’t stop thinking about you today…i mean i already think of you all day but i kept thinking about you in that way and fuck it was so hard to focus. reiner almost ripped my head off from how distracted i was,” as he was talking he was pressing sloppy, wet kisses all over your cunt and the inside of your thighs. he inserted two fingers easily into your dripping center and couldn’t help the groan that rumbled in his chest when he saw how tight you were squeezing his fingers. “you got the prettiest pussy honey, you know that right?” he gave you a small smile before spitting directly on your clit making you jolt. you whined in embarrassment ofc and covered your face with a near throw pillow, whimpering out a pathetic ‘stop ren s’embarrasing.’ eren just hummed and attached his mouth back to your pussy, wrapping his slightly swollen lips around your throbbing clit, “m’never gonna fuckin stop my pretty little honeysuckle never ever.”

construction worker!eren who is a biggg fan of the 69 position. sometimes you suck him so good he tends to lose focus but you don’t mind in the slightest. your big strong man never stops working whether he’s on or off the clock so if he gets a little consumed in his own pleasure who are you to snap him out of it?? if you’re putting some serious work in he’ll moan n groan so loud into your pussy you could cum alone just from that!!

construction worker!eren who had the prettiest moans *sighs dreamily* he’s never shy to let you know you’re making him feel good and it’s so fucking hot hearing his breathy whines and moans especially when he accidentally overstimulates himself which he happens to do a lot heh. you’ve definitely had a couple complaints from neighbors bc of the noise but he don’t even give a fuck!! he knows it turns you on more than anything to hear him be so vocal so why on earth would he ever stop??

construction worker!eren who was soo nervous when you suggested having sex while you were pregnant. it was no problem for him at first but once you started showing that’s when the panic started to settle in—he was so afraid he’d accidentally hurt you or the baby that he kinda went on an sex hiatus much to your dismay, but after some convincing be finally gave in.

you were on your side and he was spooning you from behind, giving your shoulder or neck a kiss of encouragement every once in a while. “jus’ let me know if it hurts at all or you’re uncomfortable okay? cant believe you talked me into this…” eren mumbled into your shoulder. you replied with a soft ‘mhm’ your patience wearing thinner by the second. it had been a good couple of weeks since you and eren last had sex and you were almost sure you were beginning to lose your mind. you’d finally had enough when he came home from his morning jog looking like an absolute dream with his chest heaving and brown baby hairs sticking to his forehead. that’s how he ended up here: one hand securely holding onto your small bump while his other was slowly pushing his dick inside your awaiting entrance. “oh wow…” your eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss, toes curling once he bottomed out. “f-fuck that feel okay hun?” it felt more than okay. you brought your hand to your clit and began rubbing quick circles to dull out the stinging stretch. eren peeped this and replaced yours with his own, the rough pads of his fingers on your clit had your lips trembling. “y-you need to stop this—hah! sex strike and fuck me more please i—i miss this,” eren heard your plea and nodded feverishly. god was he a fool for ever depriving yourselves of each other, he will never be doing this again.