#just pretend he's dancing on a stool

[tamanegi-san]

My submission for @luneariann's DTIYS >:]

Thanks for hosting! Love your stuff btw bro, keep it gOINN 🔥🔥

[himbodruid]

Respite

Rafayel is intent on pulling another all-nighter…so Thomas calls in the cavalry.

Rafayel x Reader fluff oneshot drabble

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Rafayel was like a man possessed when inspiration struck him. Thomas called you, warning you that he was in one of his moods where he refused to take a break. While he hadn’t said it, you got the feeling that Thomas was asking you to go supervise him so he would get necessary rest.

And when you’d arrived at the villa, you had to let yourself in. You found him exactly where Thomas said he would be, right in front of a canvas twice his height. He straddled a short ladder to give him the height needed to reach the top.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, trying not to startle him. His head whipped towards you, surprise evident on his face for a split second before he warmly smiled at you.

“Cutie,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“A little birdie warned me you might end up pulling another all-nighter,” you admonish, crossing your arms and twisting up your face in what you hoped was a stern expression. His smile dropped and his brows drew down. He turned to pout at the large cathedral windows that showcased the vast ocean.

“It was the seagulls, wasn’t it? They’re always tattling on me.”

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, walking to the couch and dropping your bag in front of it. He returned to his painting and you lounged back with a book in hand.

“I’ll give you a couple more hours, but then you gotta quit. Remember what your doctor said.”

Famous last words.

When you woke from your unanticipated nap, you were disoriented. The room was dim now, the only light giving you any clue to where you were turned low. When you realized you lay on the sofa that rested along the wall of Rafayel’s studio, you shot upward. The book clattered noisily to the ground, but Rafayel still didn’t turn from the canvas.

He sat on a stool now, the ladder from earlier discarded off to the side. Beautiful purple, blue, and pink hues danced and swirled on the canvas and you were struck by how much it reminded you of his eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself get distracted.

You glared at your target, completely ignored by him as you stood and loudly stretched. Even your shuffled steps approaching him didn’t garner any sort of reaction. He only took pause when you threw your arms around him, hugging him from behind.

“Have a nice nap, cutie?”

“So you knew I was asleep and you kept working the whole time?” The only answer you got was a soft chuckle. Fine, if he wanted to play it like that.

Time to kick up the charm.

You leaned over him, letting your breath fan over his neck and ear. He tried to pretend he was unaffected, but the blush that started at his ears couldn’t lie. You let your lips drift over his neck in feather-light kisses that made him shudder.

“Rafayel,” you murmur to him. Still, his stubbornness didn’t abate.

“Cutie,” he warned, his voice soft as you continued kissing him. He tilted his head away, giving you greater access to him.

“Come to bed, Rafayel,” you said. Your finger crooked under his chin, pulling his face to yours so you could take up his lips with your own. It was enough to make him pause, finally, and he sunk into you.

“Come to bed,” you repeated, guiding his hands so that he would put his painting tools aside, still distracting him with your mouth slanted over his.

And then you took him by those elegant hands, tugging and pulling him until he relented. You walked backwards with him following. An adorable blush spread across his face, and his eyes were locked on you. But you knew him well enough to see the exhaustion that bracketed his eyes and tightened his smile. He was on the verge of collapse, this beautiful idiot.

You climbed into his bed, shoving the covers aside. He crawled over top of you obediently when you beckoned him. A single, affectionate kiss is all he had the energy for before he collapsed on you. He nuzzled his head against your chest, settling his ear just over your heart. You chuckled, settling the blankets over the both of you..

“Thank you,” you hear him mutter quietly, releasing a heavy contented sigh. He relaxed into you the further he drifted into sleep, and you carded your fingers through his soft waves until he was fully under.

It didn’t take long before you drifted off with him. The weight of his large frame, the warmth of him, and the soft sighing breaths of slumber worked to relax you.

You lived for moments like this, affection and companionship in silent ambience.

[general-kenobis]

just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

If there's something Steve hates the most besides hating you, it's the fact that Robin insisted you should come to his birthday party. And he insisted it was his birthday, and you would ruin it if you were there. He wasn't wrong, though. You made his life a living hell simply for the fun of it, but he would always make sure he did the same.

And there you were, holding the same scowl on your face as he does. Whenever he had to walk past you in his big apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze, but deep inside he wanted to show you how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you were drinking your Piña Colada while talking to Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would go back and forth. While you were sitting in the stool of his living room with Robin and Nancy, you would notice he would stand there and huff. Now you try to pretend you're not listening to him as you look straight forward, but your left ear perks up when you listen to what he's saying. He's complaining he has been turned down twice until now. You try to hold back a snort and sip on your drink to avoid that to happen.

Pretty, golden kissed skin, perfect sat hair on his head and muscled Steve Harrington was complaining he was being denied. Twice. You thought your night wasn't going to be good at all, but the sight of him with pouty lips as he talks to his girl friends, it was worth getting out.

You lost count on how many drinks you had, you already smoked weed with Eddie, who drank more beers than he could count as well. Argyle was also in a funny state of drunkenness. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping a few times into each other as the alcohol traveled through your system. You're in a daze as you swing your body to the music, barely keeping your feet steady and Eddie has to hold your waist a few times so you won't fall on your face. You laugh at it all.

You laugh even more when you watch from afar while a girl rips herself from Steve's grip and gives him an apologetic nod, before turning her back to him. He turns his head directly at Robin, who's dancing beside you, and it's enough for him to notice you were watching all of it as well. This time, you snort and cackle. You laugh so hard, there's no reason to hide it. He rolls his eyes and walks towards you, his hands balled into fists as his face holds a scowl again.

"Is it all amusing to you?" His face gets closer to yours, his eyes are kind of blown from the weed he also smoked.

You sipped on your drink, nonchalant, and shrugged. "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin tries scolding you with a warning look on her face.

"It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She comforts him with a gentle look. Her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, mouth closed on a thin line. His chest is kind of puffed because he feels like his body is rigid from his anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He scans you up and down with disdain over his eyes and you just hold your gaze at him.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop looking his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve talked to you, and he laughed it off.

He was being annoying too. He would try at all costs to bump into you whenever he got closer. Steve was trying to get on your nerves just so you could feel what it's like. And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you this taunting sly smirk. When you were leaving his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his sudden shadow made its presence in the hallway. He passed by you, shoving his shoulder against yours when he made his way to the bedroom.

Back to the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. You looked back over your shoulder, just to catch him mouthing a forced "sorry" with another smile. Then something switched inside of you. You weren't getting guys either, but because you didn't want to. So you decided there would be a goal tonight.

You placed both hands over Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, sliding down until you were almost crouched. Your dress rode up a little, showing a little more of your skin. He was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere.

You stood up and kept swinging your hips left and right. Turning on your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how Steve's eyes would divert whenever you caught him looking. You smirked. It was working. You then moved to Robin, dancing on your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, dancing in sync with you. You dropped your head back, leaning against her shoulder, biting your lip.

"Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing. Steve included. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, growing impatient as he saw the way she was holding your ribs, fingers touching the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too hard when you were looking at him that way.

He waved it off, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he didn't invite you even then, you were forced to come because of your friends. But the thought of ripping off the material and sucking on your skin was making him become annoyed.

You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolling as your legs are tangled to Eddie's. He doesn't care if you look hot, you're like a sister to him and it's hard for him to actually sexualize you. They knew what you were doing by now. They were catching sight of Steve holding his glass of whisky tightly. Your eyes drifted to him a few times, and your tongue would slip between your fingers in a cocky way. He knew that.

There was no one in the kitchen. You went looking for a beer as the buzz of all the drinks you had was too much now. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. You were too absorbed into your own thoughts as you ate the food and sipped on your newfound beer. You didn't see when Steve came right behind you.

His frame caged you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His big hand found your hip and he swung you around, your faces barely touching as your eyes widened. He wasn't scowling, but his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"What?" You ask in confrontation, his arms leaning against the furniture behind you. "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn't answer you, rather, he chuckled with sarcasm. You watched as he shook his head, looking down. When he looked up at you, one of his hands flew up to your face, he was gripping your jawline almost forcefully.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to that. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his time to play your game. His free hand reached for your side, fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough on you, but they never hurt you. His expensive cologne is not helping either. And the way his hair falls on his face makes you think you wish you could rake your fingers through them. Your legs almost close in response to the pet name, but he's pushing one of his own legs in between yours. You didn't even notice it.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look.

But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

And you watch him walking away. Your heart is pumping faster and your hands are gripping too tight on the edge of the kitchen island. Your knees are wobbly. For a few seconds, you think it's better this way. Maybe you won't work in bed either. Maybe it would be a disaster doing that. But your body aches for him, your stomach burns craving for his touch. You call him out in almost a whisper, but it's enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. There was a fire growing inside his chest from seeing you this night. Obviously he wished he went to bed with another woman, but there's something about you that pulls him in. He wants to drown in you. His lips finally crashed against yours, for the first seconds it was an intense rush of feelings. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. He tastes your beer and you taste the bourbon he was having. It's an explosion of lust between you two, finally. Steve lifts one hand and plants it on your neck, his rub stroking your chin. You wouldn't know he was soft after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the mocking. Every time you crossed paths, there was a look of aversion at each other.

You were almost always together. There were times you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn't go to someone's house or go out either because you'd be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You started to hate him with a growing avoidance to be near him.

After you started to mistreat him and be ironic most of the time. Until he started to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart, he was the one to stop you from fighting. He said it was okay, because then he became friends with Steve. But you never agreed to that and never forgave him either.

Now you were almost turning into a puddle. He kisses like he can't get enough of you. And you battle for dominance with your tongue. You pull the nape of his hair back and he groans. He tugs at you and pushes his hips forward until you feel the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slips down your neck as he feels your pulse, and then squeezes your throat lightly. You breathe out against his mouth with a soft moan and he loses it.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste anymore time as he holds you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door as he shoves both of you against it. He kisses you again and there's no romance in it. He's impatient and bites your lower lip, pulling it back gently. It's a mix of roughness and softness at the same time. He drops your weight, only to capture your ass with both hands this time. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, digging his nails against it.

There's a jolt on your body when he slaps your asscheek. It stings but it doesn't hurt. "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a smell peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric, a damp patch forming around it. You don't need to waste your time with teasing, so you immediately get rid of both at the same time, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip, leaking precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap a hand around his girth, stroking him a few times. You look back at him behind your lashes, his eyes trained at you with such an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you right now. You see how his chest rises quickly, and you bite your lower lip when you notice how his eyes shut when you stroke him harder. 

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls until the tip and put on a show for him. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot and open your mouth, sucking on it. Steve throws his head back, leaving a loud growl in reaction. You can't help but hum. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're used to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to get past half of it without gagging. 

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest it over his stomach, fingers grazing his hairs, nails scratching his skin. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva dripping down his skin. You pull back with a pant, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

[cherrycranes]

Private Show (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're a burlesque star who caught the eye of the infamous Tommy Shelby, and one night after your show he decides to pay you a little visit backstage. Word count: 3,292 Contents: (Minors DNI) Unprotected sex, hair pulling, semi public sex? pull out, cum shot. Author's notes: Once more, my bestie @fuckiingloser and I collaborated to make this. Give her some love! I've had this in mind for quite a while now so I hope you enjoy it. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. ILY!

The roar of your beloved London audience followed you across the backstage hall. You were a star. A burlesque princess adorned in sequins and rhinestones, enamouring the audience with your unique presence and charm that got you where you stood at this very moment. Adrenaline coursed madly through your veins, mapping out every inner crevice of your risqué scarlet costume. Another job well done. Another night of the glory of bright lights, music and performance.

Every single sound got muffled out right after you entered your small private dressing room. A privilege of being the main attraction. No more snarky comments and unhealthy competition between a stressed out dance troupe. It was just you in your velvety stool, admiring your own self in the vanity mirror. What a beautiful woman. Carefully, you removed your feathered headpiece and let your hair down in relief, finally winding down.

You removed your bracelets and hairpins, carefully placing them in their respective decorated boxes when a soft knock on your door interrupted you. Definitely the stage manager, you thought, already picturing what he would say to you about your next show. To your surprise, however, when you opened the door you met with a completely different man…

Thomas Shelby, in all of his infamous gangster glory standing right in front of you, that signature cheeky smirk upon his devilishly handsome face. 

He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole. 

You knew of this man. The Shelbys had risen to power throughout the years and now, anyone with a working brain knew who they were. The name Tommy Shelby made many shudder, and now, you had him just a step away. 

“Can I help you?” You looked straight into his perfect blue eyes, fearlessly. You owed nothing to anyone and you had no reason to cower in front of him, no matter how dangerous or handsome he was. 

“I don’t know, love, can you?” His smile grew a bit, his voice was husky and rich in a Birmingham accent. He didn’t bother to conceal the way his eyes roamed all over your scantily clad body, so beautifully adorned in red jewels and feathers and so deliciously leaving little to the imagination.

“Backstage is private, you know…” You pretended to chastise him, leaning against the doorframe like you didn’t have a feared criminal shamelessly checking you out. He didn’t even try to hide his intentions. He laughed a bit, your heart raced. No security could ever stop him from doing what he pleased and you both knew it.

 “I've seen your pretty picture on flyers all over town…  Figured I’d come see what all the fuss is about…” He remarked as your eyes locked on each other finally. 

“And?” You asked with a pretty smile. “Was it everything you dreamed and more?” His smirk grew to a big grin. He knew you were a tease, feeding him with playful banter that he absolutely enjoyed.

“You were a sight to behold out there, love… Body like that, face like that and voice like yours… I’ve never seen anything quite like you… You were a goddess up there.” Thomas practically purred to you in that thick accent that made your pussy tingle and sent shivers down your spine. His tongue, quick yet unmissable to your eyes, wet his lips after speaking. So subtle but incredibly sensual. You wanted to drop down to your knees…

But you also wanted to make him work for it a little…

Charmingly, you invited him in for a drink. An irresistible offer. You shut the rest of the world out and closed the door behind him. Just you and him in your little shoebox dressing room. He sat down on the small futon across from you and you sat at your vanity, pouring you two glasses of whiskey from your secret stash. The room was so tiny your knee brushed against his when you spun your stool around to face him and hand him his drink.

“There was buzz amongst the other girls of a Shelby brother in the crowd tonight…” You started, lipstick staining your glass and your legs crossing. “I was hoping it was you…” Thomas smirked like a devil, your admission feeding his ego. 

“And why’s that, love?” He took a large sip of whiskey like it was a sip of you, savoring the burn like he wanted to savor you. It made you nervous, restless… And you were a performer, your nerves were supposed to be of steel. But Tommy had something about him, an aura, a natural disarming confidence that made you want to bow down in submission. You swallowed a bit, just to gain some confidence back, knocking your head out of the trance his accent and icy blue eyes put you under. 

“Well you’re the leader right? The big man in charge…” You charmed through your smirk like he was your audience, looking over at his crisp, expensive navy blue suit. Tommy laughed, pulling a cigarette out and rubbing it against his plump bottom lip before lighting it up.

“That’s right…” He smirked, a puff of smoke adorning his words. He leaned forward a bit, his large calloused hand finding its shameless way to the exposed skin of your knee and rubbing it softly with his thumb. Naughty girl, not even wearing a pantyhose for your performances. A mischievous glint shimmered in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help but bite your lip and clench your legs together at his touch. The sexual tension hung thick and heavy in the air of your tiny dressing room, threatening to burn you both alive. 

“I'm known for getting what I want… When I want it, love…” There it was, expected yet it caused a strong reaction in you. The closer he leaned in, the more he spoke with that deep voice of his, the more you wanted it. He stabbed his cigarette out in the ashtray next to you on your vanity, your faces now inches apart. 

“And I'd love a private show…”  He whispered, his voice raspy. His hand reached out and the tips of his fingers brushed over the red jewels on your breast, nearly feeling the pulse of your racing heart. You could feel yourself soaking through your underwear from just the thought of what he wanted to do with you. To you.

“I'm not a whore, Mr Shelby…” You retorted softly, finding pleasure in resistance despite how turned on you were for him already. Tommy, accustomed to most women giving in easily, smirked, thrilled by the challenge.

“But you could be, couldn’t you? Just for me…?” His voice was attractive, persuasive. One of his hands came up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes bearing into yours deeply. There was always something so captivating about a man with no shame about getting what he wants… And this man just so happened to want you.

Hungry eyes moved from your alluring cleavage towards your gaze again. You had found yourself completely speechless at his proposition, not even a single witty comment popping into your head at that moment. For a second, you got lost in the crystal blue, enthralled by the obvious knowledge of what would come next for you both.

Without another word he sat up and leaned forward, closing the gap between you. His plump lips met yours, the taste of cigarettes and whiskey melding in your mouth. You closed your eyes, letting him sink you to the depths of his desire, your tongue melting slowly against his. You took your time with each other, just soaking in the sensuality of it all, sharing a few gentle moans before his hand came up to grip the back of your head.

You made out slowly, almost teasingly for around a minute, then finally pulled back for air. There was that smirk again, Tommy reveled in as his hand snaked between your thighs and his thumb rubbed gently over the satin of your costume, right over your pussy. He pressed against your clit through the fabric and you bit your lip, stifling back a moan.

He took in every single detail of your reaction and loved each one. You felt a nice shiver running down your spine as his mouth came closer to your ear.

“You little minx… This little pussy’s already wet for me and all I had to do was kiss you…”. His hot breath on your ear mixed with his words had your brain buzzing, expertly knowing how to push your buttons.

Soft kisses peppered the skin of your neck, sending another shiver through your spine and goosebumps all over your body. His rough, greedy hands reached back to undo the fastenings of your costume, then gently pulled it down your chest, your warm tits finally bare for his eyes to rake over.

“Jesus… You are just gorgeous…” He rasped, unable to stop himself from tracing the soft underside of your breast. Not that he would have to stop. But even then, for such a rugged, scary gangster, he was so gentle. So reverent. It truly took your breath and words away, filling the now empty space with butterflies instead. From your chest to every nerve ending of your fluttering pussy, a deep need for him ran rampant. 

“You've got me rock hard…” Tommy whispered, proudly proving it to you. His growing bulge in his trousers looking right at you, mirroring your own desire. He rose slowly, looming over you and your vanity set.

“Stand up for me love… Let’s get this costume off you,  I need to see this beautiful body naked and bent over this vanity for me…” 

Your eyes widened, but you weren’t against his request. Without thinking it twice, you stood up, one of his hands slid off your red satin costume bottoms, the other took your hand and helped you step out of them. The metallic jeweled necklace around you felt heavy with all the loss of clothing items, you reached behind to unclasp it, but Tommy stopped you.

“Keep it…” He whispered, slowly turning you around until you faced the mirror of your vanity. You looked utterly gorgeous. Completely naked besides the beautiful ruby necklace you had on. You watched his smile widen in the reflection and his strong arms wrapping around you.

One hand came up to squeeze the soft flesh of your breast, the other now traced slow tempting patterns over your skin, down your stomach and between your legs. One finger rubbed between your slit tortuously slowly, making you moan and close your eyes. You melted against him, perfectly placing your ear close to his hot breath. 

 “Ah ah ah… Keep those pretty eyes open… I want you to watch yourself fall apart on my cock…” Tommy purred, his voice so deep and sexy you wondered why your arousal wasn’t dripping down the inside of your legs already. Obediently, you nodded and opened your eyes, locking gazes with yourself in the mirror. 

“Yes, sir…” You moaned back, his fingertip rubbing painfully slow, hard circles on your clit. He grinned, proud of just how easily you yielded to his touch, how easily you submitted yourself to him.

Slowly, he grinded his aching hard-on against you back, a reminder of what was to come. Gentle, wet kisses left a fiery wake on your neck that extended to your earlobe, he nibbled it, his finger never once forgetting your clit.

“Bend over…” He commanded, a little whine of protest leaving your lips when he withdrew his finger from you. Hoping to get that much needed stimulation back, you did as he said, bending over your vanity and displaying yourself for him. Tommy responded with the sound of his belt unbuckling and the rustling of his trousers being undone. 

In the reflection of the mirror, you watched him pull down his trousers and briefs in one go, his large thick cock springing free and slapping obscenely against his pelvis. Its head was already red and dripping, aching to be buried deep inside you.

Not wasting a single second, he palmed your ass cheeks, spreading them apart a bit to get a better look at you and your puffy wet folds. He groaned, knowing that in a few minutes his cock would be buried deep between them.

He looked up into the mirror, locking eyes with you and giving you a sexy smirk. It was an unforgettable image, with you laid there, bent over your vanity panting in anticipation. The lighting of the room cast a warm glow over your naked body, making the rubies around your neck glimmer. 

“Looks like it’ll be a tight fit love… But we’ll make it work… Won’t we?” He cooed, voice dripping with need like you were dripping wet for him. 

You nodded, your eyes on the mirror, paying close attention to every movement of his and hoping it would lead him closer to fuck you. The way he licked his lips, how he reached down to line up behind you. It all seemed so slow in your own arousal-clouded mind. When he gripped your hips, you felt relief, and when he finally started to sink into your dripping center, you moaned. It was a breathy, soft moan with a grateful undertone. Such a sweet relief after centuries of teasing and foreplay. 

Tommy groaned loudly, one part for pleasure, one part for being proved right. You were indeed really tight. Your pussy stretched and swallowed his aching cock, already feeling so full and he still hadn't pushed all the way in yet. You whimpered, getting split open further like never before in your life. Any discomfort from adjusting to his length and girth completely outshined by total and complete pleasure.

“Fuck me… This pussy is so perfect… Gripping my cock so fuckin’ good…” Tommy groaned, managing to push even further and finally filling you full. He gave you a merciful second to adjust before moving his hips, slowly pumping in and out of you.

Involuntarily, your eyes shut, moaning repeatedly for him in this newfound sea of pleasure. You felt his hand tug around your hair hard, your neck craning up to look into the mirror. A warning. Remembering, your eyes shot open, you whimpered like an apologetic prey to the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I said… Keep those eyes open…” He growled, stern eyes looking at you through the mirror. As discipline, he pistoned his hips faster, you whined loudly. He drilled into you relentlessly, skin slapping with fury against skin and filling your changing room with obscene noises.

“Y-yes sir…” You managed to moan out, noticing how the pale blue of his eyes never once left the reflection of your deeply fucked form. Your mouth hung open, your eyes were half lidded and struggling to follow his command. In your mind, every single thought disappeared, all of them fucked out of your head until only him remained. 

The thick tip of his cock nudged that special spot inside you, over and over with every perfect, hard thrust of his hips. You babbled incoherently, still watching like he wanted. Your reflection bouncing and jiggling with each hard and fast movement. 

Tommy smirked, but even through his triumph he was lost in the pleasure too. He panted hard, his fingers sunk into the flesh of your hips and made sure there would be evidence of the encounter tomorrow morning. As if you minded. 

The vision of you falling apart on his cock got to him in the best way possible. From the way you were moaning to how you almost drooled as he fucked into you hard. It was obvious you weren’t going to last much longer, and neither would he.

“Jesus Christ-  This pussy’s so good- I think it was made for me… Won’t last much longer…” He groaned to you, a hint of vulnerability escaping in between the words.

At this point, your body and mind had a major disconnect, so well fucked forming a coherent sentence took all your brain power.

“P-please… please come..” You stuttered pathetically, eyes fixed on his reflection. His hand tightened its grip on your hair for leverage as his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier, his strong hips pistoning into you. 

His left hand left its vicious grip on your hip and snaked around to find your clit, beginning to rub hard circles on it. The combination of his long cock poking your g-spot with every thrust and his fingertips rubbing your clit had you seeing God… Your orgasm built in the pits of your stomach, threatening to boil over any second now…

“I want you to come first love…  Want this perfect pussy to cream all over my cock…” He rasped, his voice deep and thick with need, almost like he was begging you to.

And that’s what did it for you.

The pressure in you finally reached its peak and exploded into the best orgasm you had ever experienced. Every nerve of your body relented to the sinful pressure, making you cry out a string of loud whiny moans and mindless curses. Your pussy clenched him tight, like you never wanted to let him go. For a moment you disobeyed his previous command, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and lost track of the private show your reflection in the mirror was giving.

He moaned loudly, feeling you clamp around him. The satisfaction of seeing the reflection of your face contorting and twisting in pleasure was priceless, Tommy truly understood just how much he loved to see you fall apart for him… Because of him…

He fucked you through your orgasm, chasing him. The feeling of your pussy spasming around him had his usually crystal clear mind completely hazy with pleasure. The way you looked, sounded, felt… It was too much for him… So much it sent him over the edge.

His hips slowed their movements a bit and it hit him.

 “Oh fuck love- I’m coming…” He warned with a strangled moan. Quickly, he pulled out, shooting thick hot ropes of his cum onto your ass cheeks, eyes still focused on the mirror. 

You watched too, biting your lip at the feeling. Tommy’s brows furrowed together while he moaned for you, his warm load slowly dripping down your ass and taking over your senses. You both stayed there for a second, catching your breath, basking in the afterglow together.

After a while, Tommy tucked his tired cock back into his trousers, grabbing a shirt off your vanity and wiping you clean. You finally stood up, turning around to face him despite how weak and wobbly your legs felt. Being bent over your vanity felt like forever, although it was the fastest a man had ever made you finish.

“Well, that was certainly something…” Tommy smirked cheekily, eyes still on you and arms wrapping around your naked waist. You couldn’t help but laugh and blush a little, his presence alone making you feel so shy, as if you hadn’t been moaning like a whore for him just a moment ago.

“You really do put on one hell of a show, love. You’re a natural born performer…” He smiled at his own words, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a hot kiss. Then, he pulled back, just enough to whisper his proposition against your lips.

“How about we make this a regular thing? I come to all your shows… Maybe even bring you flowers… In return you be my naughty little showgirl and let me fuck n’ fill that perfect cunt and make you scream?”

You smiled without even having to think of your answer… How could a girl say no to that?

Pinterest board made by @fuckiingloser

Random Tommy playlist made by me cause why not

[i-dared-myself]

Transfer

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: so ihave this request that is like an queendom x kingdom, and y/n is an idol (in other group) i know is short but i really wanted to see what would your imagination feed us. 

Queendom and Kingdom were combined for a spin-off show that you were lucky enough to be a part of. Your group had been one of the few chosen for this highly-anticipated show.

“Practises are today.” The girl next to you puckers her lips, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “Is your group ready yet?”

“Uh, yeah.” You fidget in your seat as your cheeks are swiped over with blush. As soon as your makeup is finished you slip off the stool and go off to your group. 

“Remember,” your leader is saying, gaze firm and arms crossed. “Everything rests on this moment.”

You linger in the back of the group, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You always felt awkward around then for some reason.

It’s probably just your imagination.

“We’ve been struggling lately, and this is a good chance to prove ourselves.” Your leader smiles, sickly-sweet as she looks over at you. No mistakes.”

Your stomach twists with nerves.

At a recent event that was live-streamed, you had tripped. You don’t know what you tripped on, but you had. You had fallen during the performance, causing the rest of the members to stop everything.

Your company wasn’t pleased. Neither were your other members.

You follow the rest of your group into a dance studio. You spend the next hour running through a choreography for your performance, something that will lead to a media recovery.

Your only problem is how little you have to do. You understand that you might not be the best dancer, or the best singer, or might not even be as pretty as the other girls.

But standing at the rear like a backup dancer? They’re not using your abilities like they should, and you know you can do better. You know that the tripping in that other performance was a one time thing.

But you start to doubt it as more time goes by and no progress is made. The others are struggling with the more difficult movements, and your steps are too simple.

But when you add more flair to it, you get told to stop being so flashy. 

“You’re taking the attention from the front,” the choreographer complains. He sighs and waves a hand at you. “While we figure this out, go fill the water bottles.”

You, taken aback by the humiliating request, frown. “What?”

“He told you to do something!” a girl in your group snaps at you. “Just do it!”

You’re handed all of their water bottles and awkwardly juggle them as you go down the hallway. You manage to find the water station and hold each bottle under the tap one by one.

You hear a gasp of your name and ignore it. When people talk shit about you, you push it aside and cry about it when you’re by yourself.

Then someone is tapping your shoulder, and you hesitantly turn around.

“Yes?” you warily ask before realizing who it is. It’s fucking Seungmin. Seungmin, from Stray Kids, is in front of you. “What the shit.”

He blinks at you. “I’m sorry?”

You gasp and cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry! Pretend you didn’t hear me swear! Please!”

Seungmin smiles gently at you, something akin to amusement flashing in his eyes. “It’s okay. I make fun of JYP all the time. I won’t ruin your idol image.”

You grin. “Yeah, I know.” You pause before attempting a recovery. “I mean- Who are- Who’s- I’m JYP.”

Seungmin’s smile widens even further, and it infects you with joy. You’re both just standing, beaming at each other like idiots.

“Can I get a photo with you?” You both blurt it out at the same time before sighing in relief.

“Why do you want one with me?” you question as he pulls out his phone. You smile into the camera and pose with him.

“Because you’re cool,” he replies simply before making hearts with his fingers for your photo. “Obviously.”

You feel heat rise to your face at his words. “Oh. Thank you. That means a lot.”

Seungmin’s head tilts. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

You fiddle with your hands anxiously. You’ve never liked explaining the dynamics between you and the other members of your group. 

“Someone had to refill the water bottles,” is what you finally say. You motion to them, almost forgotten on the ground.

Seungmin nods slowly. “Sure, I guess. Do you have some free time to come meet the rest of us then? We’re kind of fans of yours.”

You can hardly believe it. Stray Kids are fans of you. 

“Sure.” You shrug casually. You should run back to the rest, but you do want to meet them. “I have time.”

Seungmin helps you carry the bottles down the corridor, dodging other idols. You reach a studio with a closed door, and Seungmin knocks on it with his foot in the form of a hard kick

Changbin answers it, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “You have hands, idiot- Oh. Oh!”

“My hands are full,” Seungmin grumbles, holding up the bottles. “Get out of the way, loser.”

Changbin’s wide eyes are still locked on you. He steps away, letting you and Seungmin pass. 

You flash him a warm smile, bowing slightly. Changbin returns it as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Omg,” Jisung says, covering his mouth.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘omg’,” Hyunjin drawls from where he’s on the floor. He has his arms covering his face.

“Hello.” You wave to the rest of the room. Everyone is just watching you and you’re frankly uncomfortable with their gazes all being on you.

“Hi,” Chan coughs out. “What are you- What are you doing here?”

You adjust your stance, looking to Seungmin uncertainly. “He said you guys would want to meet me? And honestly I’m a big fan, so I didn’t mind coming here.”

“You’re a fan of us?” Felix asks in amazement.

“I can’t believe you’re a fan of me.” You laugh lightly. This whole day has taken a bizarre turn.

Hyunjin sits up, jaw dropping. “Stay is going to be so jealous. Can we post photos of us with you?”

You shrug casually. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

So you’re swarmed by them all taking photos in various poses with you. Jeongin is shy when he comes up to you, but quickly warms up to you and even asks you to record a video with him.

“I’m sorry, but I should go back to the others.” You grimace before smoothing out your expression into a pleasant one. “It’s been great meeting you.”

Chan hums softly. “You’re welcome back anytime. We know what we’re doing so we’re just fine-tuning. We have plenty of spare time.”

You smile and nod before putting all of the bottles back in your arms. It’s difficult to carry them all, but you make do.

When you return to the studio your group has been assigned to, they’re wrapping up. You linger in the doorway, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“There you are!” The choreographer puts his hands on his hips. “Come here.”

You set the water bottles down before rushing back to him. “Yes?”

“We’ve decided to remake your part,” he casually tells you. “I’ll show you it, and then you’ll memorize it and have it ready to go by tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

You freeze, watching him demonstrate the new dance. It’s definitely more complicated than the one you had previously been assigned, and you hesitate.

“Are you sure?” you carefully say.

“Oh, and you’re in the front now.” He wipes his hands on his pants. “You have it memorized? I also have a video of it set up on the laptop over there. You know the lines already too.”

“Yeah.” You blink back frustrated tears. “I’ve got this.”

The rest of the group shuffled out the door, wiggling their fingers goodbye at you. You stare numbly at them as you’re left alone in the studio.

You press play on the speakers and focus on singing for now. You’ve never sang this part before, and it’s a bit out of your range.

But you’re confident enough that you can do this, and nail it. You know you sound amazing, so you move on to the dance.

The movements are tricky, especially the hand gestures. They’re complicated enough that you have to just work on them for a minute.

“You look busy.” 

You whip around to find Hyunjin hovering near the entrance. You click the pause button and take a swig from your bottle.

“What are you still doing here?” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and checks the time. “It’s midnight. You’ll be exhausted for rehearsals tomorrow.”

You stretch out your legs. “No, I’ll be fine. I just- I have to do this.”

Hyunjin settles on the ground, leaning against the mirror. “Show me then.”

You falter. “Sorry?”

Hyunjin crosses his legs at the ankles and folds his hands in his lap. “I’ll give you some feedback. Then you can go get some rest sooner.”

You nod. “Sounds good.” You press play on the music and go through the dance, singing along. Your voice echoes weirdly in the room, but you know on stage it will sound good.

When you finish, you pant and slide down against the wall to the floor. “Well?”

Hyunjin tilts his head at you. “It was excellent. And… Weird.”

“Weird? What’s weird?” you anxiously ask. 

Hyunjin runs a hand over his shaved head, hand not catching on any hair. “It just… It matches perfectly with our choreography. I know we’re not supposed to talk about it before the show, but it’s almost identical.”

You frown as he gets to his feet. “Really?”

Hyunjin shows you his, and sure enough it goes alongside yours almost perfectly. He considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

You adjust your stance. “I’m not sure. Doesn’t your group go first, with mine after? It would look like we’re copying you.”

Chan knocks on the doorframe, clearing his throat. “Hyunjin. You should be in bed by now at the dorms. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Take a look at this.” Hyunjin points at you, so you awkwardly show Chan your dance as well.

Chan’s eyes widen. “Hyunjin! Why did you teach her our-“

“That’s hers,” Hyunjin interrupts. He begins to pace. “But you thought it was ours, which means that the audience would think they copied us, which means-“

You cough. “I’m sure there was just a misunderstanding with the choreographer. He probably just studied closely with yours, and it came out the same. Big coincidence.”

“We made ours.” Chan shakes his head. “There’s no way that’s what happened.”

You shuffle, unsure of what to do now.

“Let’s just deal with this in the morning.” Chan sighs and rubs at his face tiredly. “We’ll walk you to your group. Or van I guess.”

“That’s nice, but I’m okay.” You smile warmly. “They left already and took the van with them.”

“So how are you getting to your dorms?” Hyunjin questions, exchanging a look with Chan.

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I usually just walk if I’m not far, or sleep at the studio. It’s not bad. I can sleep in weird places.”

“She sleeps at the studio like you do.” Hyunjin shoots Chan a filthy expression. He rounds back on you. “We’ll give you a ride.”

You yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. “Really? You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Chan tugs at his jacket, pulling it tighter around his body. “Come on.”

You trail after them, holding your water bottle. You make sure to flick the lights off before you leave.

“Felix!” Hyunjin yells. “We’re going!”

Felix darts out from an empty room, eyes locking on you. “What’s she doing here?”

“We’re giving her a ride,” Chan briefly explains. He fishes his keys out from his pocket. 

When you exit the building and go outside, Hyunjin screams, “Shotgun!”

Felix groans and crosses his arms. He glances at you and brightens. “Guess we get to sit together!”

Chan unlocks the vehicle and everyone scampers inside. Hyunjin snickers at Felix, who has to sit in the back.

You tell Chan the address and rest your head against the window as Felix eagerly rambles on. You barely catch what he’s saying, too tired to really focus.

Then you’re asleep, and your head rolls onto Felix’s shoulder. His entire face turns red and he reaches up to poke at Hyunjin.

“What, backseat loser?” Hyunjin grumbles.

“She’s asleep,” Felix whispers. “What do we do?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake the next morning to silence. It’s odd. Usually there’s frantic racing to get ready and people slamming on your door.

But it’s quiet with the sunlight filtering through your curtains.

You slip out of bed and tap the screen of your phone, heart sinking when you realize it’s almost nine. You dash out of your room, urgently tugging your pants on. You knock on people’s doors before skidding to a halt.

Why were you the only one in your room when you woke? Why are there dirty dishes piled up next to the sink?

There’s a note on the fridge, kindly informing you of your removal from the performance. The others are worried that you won’t be able to be ready in time.

So you’ve been ‘transferred to a backup dancer for another group or something.’

Temporarily, they added, but you have a sick feeling that it’s not. That this is your new normal.

You sit on the couch, sighing heavily. You notice ink on your forearm, and since you can’t remember last night-

“I got a tattoo?” you shriek in alarm. You feel dizzy as you look at your arm.

It’s not a tattoo, thankfully. Instead, someone has written a number with a marker. 

Last night comes rushing back, so you type the number into your phone and dial.

It rings once before Chan’s voice meets your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” You greet him maybe too casually, but you’re not a morning person. “Why did you give me your number?”

“So I can add you to our group chat.”

You pause. “What? Why?”

“Because… you’ll be working with us? Did you not know that you’ve been signed over to our group?” 

The dizziness has returned.

“What?” you rasp. “I’ve been what?”

There’s silence before Chan speaks again. “Okay, so I’m assuming you didn’t know.”

You close your eyes, fighting the light-headedness. “This is a lot. Chan, I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t pass-“

Then you’re unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan curses and puts his phone down, causing Minho to glance up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with mild concern as he places own phone in his lap.

Chan’s lips thin into a tight smile. “Get the others. We have to go pick her up.”

Minho shrugs and stands, wandering off. Chan grabs a first aid kit from under the sink and stuffs it into the van. When the others climb inside he starts up the engine and tells them everything.

“So, she’s been transferred to us.” Chan’s grip tightens on the wheel. “She had been taught our choreography so it would be an easier transition for this performance and-“

“So you knew the whole time?” Hyunjin demands. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“No!” Chan looks in the rearview mirror at him. “I got the email this morning that explained everything. I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Can’t believe they just gave her up,” Changbin mutters. 

Seungmin sighs and drums his fingers on his thigh. “Why is there a first aid kit?”

Chan shifts in his seat. “She might’ve passed out.”

Jisung gasps. “Oh no! Is she okay?”

“Well that’s why we’re going over,” Chan says in exasperation. 

Jeongin puts his hand up. “Dibs for CPR.”

Felix frowns at him. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I think you have to be trained to actually do it.”

Hyunjin snorts in amusement. “Right. I do it all the time.”

Chan side-eyes him. “Excuse me? Who are you giving CPR to so often?”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

Chan lets it go, having arrived at your dorms. Hyunjin had watched you put the code in last night, so he presses the buttons and the gate slides aside.

Changbin busts the door down and they all charge inside, holding various tools from the first aid kit.

You blink at them, holding a wet towel to your forehead. “What- How did you get in here?”

“We’re here to give you CPR,” Jisung blurts out.

You scowl. “Ew. Yeah that’s not happening.”

“Hey, you could do a lot worse than him!” Jeongin defensively says. He bats his eyes at you. “Heyyyy.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe I’m in Stray Kids now. This is insane.”

“We’re cool.” Seungmin puts an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder before shuffling to the side awkwardly once Hyunjin shrugs him away.

“Yeah I know. I’m not upset about being here now.” You grin at them. “I’ve been a fan for a while. I’m just… getting used to such a big change.”

“And we’ve been your fan for a while.” Minho rolls out his wrist. “But we have to get to rehearsal. Are you in or out?”

You toss the wet cloth at the sink, leaving it with the dirty dishes. Someone else can deal with it. “Let me grab my things and then I’m ready to go.”

Part two

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic

[tehrevving]

Dante Takes You Home From The Bar

You couldn’t not notice him at the bar. He was older, effortlessly attractive, drinking whisky and acting like he didn’t really want to be here. His form was obscured by a large red coat, but every time he shifted on the bar stool you could tell he was in good shape. Large, veiny forearms rippled from pulled up sleeves and his broad shoulders flexed each time he took a drink. You were bored of the young and sleazy crowd that tended to approach you, and you wanted a bit of a change. He seemed perfect.

You sat down next to him, putting your hand softly on his leg while you pretended to struggle to keep your balance on your own bar stool. It was barely 20 minutes before you were laughing at each other's jokes, until he had an arm carelessly slung around your shoulders pulling you slightly to his chest. He seemed slightly apprehensive to your touch, but also leaned into it, he must be pretty touch starved, and that excited you.

You asked him to dance, this place was just a bar, not really a club, but the music was decent and the small dance floor had tiny crowd of drunk people making out in the middle of it. He refused a few times but eventually you were able to pull him to the dance floor.

He was incredibly receptive and pulled you to his body with his hands on your waist as you wrapped your own around his shoulders. He leant down for you and you eagerly met him for a kiss. Soon you were making out on the dance floor, well, more grinding than dancing.

His hands were underneath your ass, groping and pulling you up and against his chest so he didn’t have to lean down so far to kiss you. His stubble tickled at your jaw and when you pulled on the ends of his long, shaggy hair just to test the waters he practically growled against your lips.

He pulled away from you, almost panting for air and adjusted you against his hips until with a slight moan, and you felt something very hard and hot to the touch pressing against your core.

Suddenly the grinding and making out was much more intense. Your hands wandered on his body, squeezing at his broad chest and scratching nails against his waist. You slipped a hand between your hips and gave a long - actually very long, wow - slow stroke against his crotch.

“Damn,” you shuddered and he smirked down at you, “take me home cowboy.” He grinned and within moments was leading you out the front of the bar.

He brought you to a very custom looking motorcycle, pulled out a helmet from somewhere and put it on your head. He did the chin strap for you, slowly trailing large, gloved fingers across your neck.

He helped you up and onto the bike, making sure your arms were wrapped snug around his waist. “Hold on tight Babe,” he laughed and then pulled out of the parking lot.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you figured it probably wouldn’t be too far. The air rushing against your skin felt amazing as he smoothly sped through the streets. The purr of the engine underneath you was strong, really strong and you slightly adjusted your hips against the seat until the vibrations sent surges of pleasure through your body.

It wasn’t long until you were playing with the bottom of his shirt, the buckle of his belt. It wasn’t long until you were palming at the hard fucking outline of his dick through his pants. You could feel his body tensing with each touch, feel the bike swerve slightly on the road.

Admittedly it took a while but you trailed fingers across the clothed head of his cock and his hips bucked as he ran a red light. You could feel vibrations through his chest of him saying something, but you couldn’t make it out. It was probably a warning but you didn’t care, you took it as encouragement instead and kept doing it.

You followed up with a buck of your own hips, and a short groan at the vibrations of the bike. By the time you finally pulled up in front of a decrepit looking building his chest was vibrating against your palm in practically a purr, the sound almost as loud as the bike engine as his cock throbbed underneath your other palm.

After about ten minutes of him swearing and fumbling with the key while you fondled his ass, the two of you finally made it inside. He pushed you against the closed door, towered over you with a hungry and feral look on his face. He picked you up with one hand and pressed you further back against the door, slotting your hips together until the big bulge at his crotch was pressed against your own hot core, sensitive from the ride home. His tongue is almost down your throat, his kisses desperate and you tug on his hair once more. He moans, his hands dig into your ass and he tells you to do it again. Somehow you end up with his lips on your neck while his teeth press against the heavy beat of your pulse.

It’s not long until you both somehow make up upstairs to his bedroom and you’re both trying to take your own, and each other’s clothes off with a desperation that makes it nearly impossible. His shirt ends up flung across the room, and you���re immediately clawing your nails down the front of his broad chest.

He takes your hands in his much larger ones and stops your movements. “We have to slow down a little bit,” he says to you when you whine.

You take your hands from his grasp and then remove your shirt as quickly as you can. His eyes immediately move to your chest as he’s distracted by the swell of your breasts.

He wolf whistles and then shakes his head. “There’s some stuff I have to tell you, show you, before we keep going.”

You nod.

“One, well I’m really going to struggle to not be rough with you. I’m strong and it’s hard to control and I really want you.”

You smile, “oh I like it rough. I hope you can deliver”

He just shuts his eyes and moans and then starts to speak again, visibly flustered. “Second, well umm. My dick sometimes ….. All the time. Scares people off.”

You pounce on him. Yeah the bulge in his pants was big, but you didn’t think it was ridiculous. You undo his pants as quickly as you can, pulling out a very thick, very long and very swollen cock. It’s big, maybe the size of your forearm, throbbing visibly and coloured dark. Yeah it’s big, but you can handle it, you’ve got a toy that’s just about the same size. He’s looking down at you with embarrassment, longing, lots of things and you don’t say anything, simply stroking it a few times with your fingers before leaning down and taking the tip of it between your lips.

He swears lowly, a sinful, ‘fuck,’ escaping from his lips and then you find yourself flat on your back, suddenly and inexplicably naked with a very hungry and very feral man towering over you.

You pull him down for another rough kiss and the movement presses your hips together until you can feel the throbbing heat of him at your core. He swears and adjusts his weight until his large fingers are toying with your clit and teasing at your entrance.

You rake your nails down his back and call his name as he slowly pushes them inside. You’re dripping wet and sensitive and they slide in easily. He fucks you with his fingers, he’s not gentle but he’s not too rough either. He stretches you open while you claw at his chest and bite at his neck. You’re not sure how many of his big fingers are inside of you, but you’re bucking your hips with each jolt of pleasure, tightening around him as he swears and moans.

He pulls away and you whine at the loss. He shushes and coos at you as the heat of his body leaves you for a moment. He rummages through his bedside drawers and pulls out and puts on a condom with a speed that you’ve never seen before.

Then he’s sliding inside of you, groaning and swearing and praising you while you dig your nails into his shoulders to help with the burn and stretch.

There’s disbelief on his face when he bottoms out inside you, when you take all of him in. He murmurs your name like a prayer and begs for you to let him be rough with you.

You tell him to break you in half.

What follows is the roughest, most incredible sex of your life. His big hands are everywhere while your own spur him on. Your teeth dig into his muscular shoulders, into his throat as his hips slam into your own. His hands are on your ass so he can get more leverage, he’s practically picking you up with one hand so he can use you. The slapping of skin on skin is impossibly loud in the room, your skin sticky with sweat.

He groans as you beg for him to go harder, faster as his bed frame slams against the wall over and over again. The sound of your cries fill the air and he reaches down to press a thumb against your clit because he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

You come around his cock with a scream as he swears and bites down hard on your shoulder. He pushes his cock all the way inside you while he grunts through a release so strong that you can feel each heavy pulse of his cock deep inside you.

He falls on top of you, heavy and sweaty but you’re too exhausted to care. He offers for you to stay the night because and you’re sure it’s only because he feels guilty that you practically limped your way to his bathroom to clean up afterwards.

It’s not awkward as he pulls you against his warm chest underneath the covers. The soft sound of his breathing is comforting and as you find yourself falling asleep you wonder if you’ll be able to convince him to go another round in the morning.

[tacobacoyeet]

where were you in the morning? | art donaldson x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, this is a blurb

It starts with a look.

Not the kind that begs. Not the kind that pleads.

Just one that lingers.

You see him before you mean to.

He’s leaning against the bar, nursing something amber, half-listening to the person beside him, not smiling. His body language says he’s been here before. Not just the club—the dance, the attention, the electricity that pulses between strangers when the music’s just loud enough to hide the noise in your chest.

You weren’t looking for anyone. You tell yourself that, at least.

But then his eyes find yours.

And for a beat too long, neither of you looks away.

You glance down first. But when you lift your gaze again, he’s still watching.

Not predatory. Not desperate.

Just curious.

You shift your weight on your stool. Take another slow sip of a drink that’s mostly melted ice. You feel the heat of him across the room like a palm between your shoulder blades.

It’s stupid. It's a cliché.

And still, your skin buzzes when he starts walking your way.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just leans one arm on the bar beside you, waiting for the bartender to notice him. You pretend not to notice him. You pretend you’re unaffected.

“You don’t seem like you want to be here,” he says, voice like velvet and static.

You glance sideways. “Neither do you.”

He hums. Smiles, but only slightly. “Maybe we can be bored together.”

And you—

You laugh. You shouldn’t. But you do.

There’s something about him. Something half-finished and golden and bruised. Like a crown someone dropped in the dirt and forgot how to polish.

You don’t ask his name. He doesn’t ask yours.

The song changes. The bass slows. The room spins a little softer.

He holds out a hand.

You take it.

And when you move with him onto the dance floor, it doesn’t feel like dancing.

It feels like promise.

It feels like beginning. Not the kind that pleads.

Just one that lingers.

The air in the bar was too warm, the lighting too soft, and you were already halfway through a drink you didn’t want when you met his eyes across the room. He had that glow about him—like someone who knew what it meant to be wanted and hadn’t yet decided whether or not he cared.

And you—you were already halfway to aching.

Art Donaldson looked at you like the night was already his. And maybe it was.

Because when he brushed past you near the exit and said your name like it tasted expensive, you let him. When he asked you something low and soft against your neck—'my place?'—you said yes with your pulse.

---

His apartment was quiet. Modern. Unlived-in, but not unloved. There were trophies on the shelf and vinyl on the table and a single open bottle of wine waiting like it had been poured just for this.

He kissed you before you could take your coat off. Kissed you like the night had been counting down to this moment, like he knew the exact shape of your mouth before he ever touched it. Like speaking was too fragile a thing, and this was how he meant to explain himself.

The couch was too far. The kitchen counter was closer. Your back hit cool marble. His hands were warm, demanding. He kissed down your neck like he wanted to brand you, to trace each pulse point and claim it. Not out of ownership—out of hunger.

You laughed against his mouth when he lifted you like gravity was optional. Your thighs gripped his hips like they’d known the rhythm forever. And still, it felt new. Strange. Sacred.

He pressed his forehead to yours, breath shuddering, hands fumbling at your shirt like the fabric had offended him. Your clothes fell away like offerings. His followed. Skin against skin. No barriers. No names.

And when he looked at you—really looked—you saw something unguarded there. Something wrecked.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse.

You only pulled him closer.

He touched you like a man who somehow knew he wouldn’t get to again. Like every gasp you gave him was something he might replay in a dream. His mouth was everywhere—jaw, collarbone, sternum, stomach—like he couldn’t decide what part of you deserved worship first.

You moaned when he found the spot just under your ribs, the soft curve where heat pooled. He groaned when you said his name, fingers tightening like he could hold onto that sound.

When he finally entered you, it was slow. Deep. Devastating.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough. It was rhythm. Breath. The echo of two people trying not to memorize what they already knew they’d lose.

“You feel—” he whispered, breaking apart mid-sentence.

Your legs wrapped tighter. Your nails scratched down his back. You met each thrust with a roll of your hips that made him shiver. His mouth found yours again, slower now, like he was drinking from it.

When you came, you buried your face in his shoulder. Your whole body trembling, unraveling in waves. He held you through it, whispered things you couldn’t remember.

He followed you a moment later, eyes clenched shut, a low curse falling from his lips. Your name like ash in his mouth. Like prayer.

He collapsed beside you, body still shaking.

You pressed into the heat of him.

You let it be soft.

You let it be real.

You fell asleep.

But you didn’t stay.

---

When Art wakes, it’s with a slow stretch and a smile he doesn’t know he’s wearing.

The room is hazy with morning light, the sheets still warm, his arm reaching for where you should be.

But the space beside him is empty.

Not cold. Not yet.

Just empty.

He blinks once. Twice. Frowns. Sits up.

The air is too still. There’s no scent of coffee, no sound of running water, no soft footsteps from another room. Just silence—clean and bright and unbearable.

He pushes the comforter aside and walks barefoot to the living room. No note. No number. No forgotten earrings on the nightstand.

Just his own reflection in the black screen of the television.

And the memory of your voice—quiet and breathless and right here. Right here.

He leans against the counter where your back was pressed just hours ago. Runs a hand through his hair. Tries not to let it sting.

Tries not to care.

But he does.

He remembers the way your fingers trembled when they unbuttoned his shirt. The way you whispered please like it wasn’t a plea, just a truth.

He remembers thinking—maybe. Just for a second. Maybe this could be something.

But you left before he could ask.

And now the morning smells like nothing.

Like you were never there at all.

And maybe that’s what stings the most—not just that you left, but that you made it feel like you wouldn’t.

You stayed in his arms like you meant it. You laughed into his mouth like you were going to stay long enough to see the sun rise twice. You touched him like you wanted to know him— not just his body, but the quiet parts. The wrecked parts.

He looks up at the ceiling.

White. Blank. Endless.

And he wonders...

Did you have a good visit?

Because he knows you had a good time.

And he’ll keep wondering why it wasn’t enough to make you stay.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron@babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl @blastzachilles @jordiemeow

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY PREVIEW.

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR: FINAL PART.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Previous chapters: Part I / Part II / Part III

Synopsis: When a new fuckboy, Minho, moves into the building, Chan’s sense of security is shaken. Minho’s flirtatious confidence and bold claim to win you over rattles Chan, igniting a rivalry. As Chan struggles to defend his relationship, he’s forced to confront his insecurities while proving his worth to you.

...

The evening air feels warm and easy inside Chan’s apartment. You're perched on a stool next to his DJ setup, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the turntable as Chan stands close, guiding you through the basics. His voice is soft but enthusiastic as he explains how to cue up tracks, mix beats, and create seamless transitions.

“See? Just like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement with fluid precision. His hands brush against yours, and you feel the slight buzz of electricity from his touch.

You bite your lip, pretending to concentrate. “So, what happens when a girl comes into your DJ booth?” you ask teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful smirk.

Chan grins mischievously, his dimples deepening. Without missing a beat, he takes you gently by the waist, pulling you into the open space of his living room.

“This happens,” he replies, starting to sway with you to the beat of the music.

You laugh, a little awkward as you try to follow his lead. “You know I’m terrible at dancing, right?”

“There’s no such thing,” Chan counters, spinning you around playfully before demonstrating a goofy dance move, making you burst into laughter. “See? Now you’re better already.”

Shaking your head, you try to mimic his move, but it’s hopeless. He chuckles and takes your hands, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Alright, let’s make it simple,” he says, lowering his voice. “Just follow me.”

Despite the upbeat track playing in the background, Chan slows his movements, leading you into a slow dance. The contrast feels silly and intimate all at once, and your heart beats faster as he gazes at you with a soft, unguarded look.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and you melt into the kiss. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, anchoring you as the world shrinks to just the two of you and the music in the background.

When you pull back, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes playfully. “Do you do this with every girl who comes into your booth?”

Chan smirks, his dimples making another appearance. “Absolutely not,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’m very selective about who gets into my booth… especially who gets to touch my turntable.” He pauses, his grin turning cheeky. “And let’s be honest, no one handles my knobs like you do.”

Your jaw drops as you laugh at his lewd joke, swatting his arm. “Chris!”

He laughs along with you, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? It’s true,” he says with a wink, pulling you back into his arms for another dance, the music now forgotten as the two of you move to your own rhythm.

The music hums softly in the background as Chan’s lips move with yours, his hands firmly holding your waist as the two of you sink into the plush sofa. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the way he kisses you—urgent yet tender—sends shivers down your spine.

Chan’s fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your sides as the kiss deepens, pulling you closer. His breath hitches as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Then comes the knocking.

Chan stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop, his lips still lingering on yours. When the knocking persists, you reluctantly pull back, breathless. “Chris,” you murmur, your lips still brushing his. “Someone’s at the door.”

He groans audibly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ignore it,” he mutters, his voice heavy with frustration.

The knocking grows more insistent, and you nudge him lightly. “You can’t just ignore it forever.”

With a resigned sigh, Chan pulls himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he trudges to the door. He swings it open, already prepared to send whoever it is away, but freezes when he sees Minho leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Chris,” Minho greets with a smirk, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Nice party you’re having. Could hear it from my place.”

Chan narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What do you want now, Minho?”

Before Minho can reply, you appear behind Chan, peeking over his shoulder. “Minho,” you say with a smile. “What brings you here?”

Minho straightens up and gives you a polite nod before turning back to Chan. “I actually need a favor,” he starts, leaning just a little too casually against the doorframe. “There’s this heavy piece of furniture I need to move from my old apartment, and I figured Chris here could help me out. It’s too much to handle on my own.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, clearly unimpressed by the request. Deep down, he’s looking for an excuse to say no, but when you glance up at him with an encouraging smile, he knows he’s already lost.

“That’s so nice of you to ask Chris,” you say warmly. “He’s always so helpful.”

Chan exhales sharply, knowing he can’t refuse in front of you. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone begrudging. “When do you need help?”

“Tonight,” Minho replies, his grin sly and victorious. “I’ll swing by to pick you up in... 15 minutes?”

“Okay,” Chan replies just so the conversation ends quickly.

“Thanks, man.” Minho gives Chan a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, clearly pleased with himself.

Chan closes the door a little harder than necessary, turning to you with a pout. “You know I didn’t actually want to do that, right?”

You laugh softly and loop your arms around his neck. “I know,” you tease. “But I like having a boyfriend who’s nice and kind. It’s very attractive.”

Chan pouts deeper, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like him.”

You nudge him playfully. “Come on, Chris. We didn’t like each other at first either, remember?”

He crosses his arms, his pout unrelenting. “This is different. I’ll never, ever be in love with Minho.”

Laughing, you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest. “Good,” you murmur with a smirk. “One reformed fuckboy is enough. I don’t think I could handle another one.”

He softens under your touch, his arms coming around you as he mumbles, “I told you, I’m not that anymore.”

You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile on your lips. “Exactly. That’s why I’m keeping you.”

He grins despite himself, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his earlier frustration melting away entirely. He sighs as he pulls away, knowing he has to get ready.

“I'll go get changed.”

You playfully slap his butt as he walks towards his room. “Now, that’s my good boy!”

...

Full fic will be released this Friday, Dec 20!

[skzdarlings]

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

-

Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you. 

Not the fun kind of torture, either.   You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away.  Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked. 

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours.  Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip.  It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong.  And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn.   Your thoughts spiralled. 

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door.  You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind.  It did, but only momentarily.  When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled.  Badly.  You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive.  Something about how last night was the only night.  Something about how you were bad at commitments.  Something about being better off friends. 

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot.  Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed.  It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.    

“Trust me,” he said.  “We will never be friends.” 

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him.  What did you care if he hated you again?  You didn’t.  You shouldn’t.  “Good.”

It was not good.  Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach. 

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed.   You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words. 

You will never look at him the same way again.  You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back.  Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.   

It freaks you out.  You are usually good at shucking attachments.  His cold acceptance should not have hurt.  What did you care?  This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right?   So you let Seungmin shove past you.  He ignored you for the rest of the day.  When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.   

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart. 

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well.  You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface.  It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.   

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar.  You know you will not like what you see. 

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out. 

You are not having any fun, of course.  You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular. 

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be.  You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes. 

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans.  No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed.  Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed.  The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is.  His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze. 

The jeans.  The stupid fucking jeans.  Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does.  And why does he have such a nice ass anyway?  It also has no business looking that way. 

Kim Seungmin.  What a nightmare. 

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall.  You tell yourself not to look at him.  He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink. 

So, no.  You will not give him the satisfaction.  It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never  been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves. 

You will not let him get to you.  You will not look at him.  You will not react. 

Except he is already getting to you.  So you look over.  You react. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool. 

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man.  You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff.  Seungmin doesn’t know that.  He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk.  And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you. 

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you.  Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world.  There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth.  You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that. 

“Move along,” you say to the creep. 

“Excuse me?” 

He is already drunk.  You can smell it as much as see it.  Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose. 

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does.  One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you.  You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone.  He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him.  You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was.  You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you. 

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze.  You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling.  He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed. 

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep.  “Now move along.” 

“Try me.” 

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him. 

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist.  He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip.  You slam him against the back of the booth. 

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand.  You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it.  You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth.  You drag him away. 

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.” 

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again.  “I’m having fun.  I don’t need you to do anything.  It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me.  Bad,” he smirks, “or good.” 

He knows he has you cornered.  You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands.  You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent. 

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.    

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing.  You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other.   When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place.  He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual. 

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back.  His stare is unwavering.  He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows. 

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket.  “We’re leaving.  Now.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks. 

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you. 

“I didn’t ask,” you say.   

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends.  He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either.  He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated. 

He is going to make you say it.  He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it.  He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.   

“Fine,” you say.  You exhale.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit.  I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says.  “You are.” 

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly. 

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit.  “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway.  I just—”  You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away.  You can feel him glaring at you.  “Look, I suck, I get it.  Believe me, I know all the ways I suck.  I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says.  He is still frowning at you.  “I already know how much you suck.  It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”     

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”  

 “I… don’t…”  You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you.  Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one.  Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.” 

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities.  Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes.  Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips.  Seungmin rolls his eyes. 

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you.  “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”   

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face. 

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

You draw a cross over your heart and nod.  He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside. 

“You’re the worst,” he says.  He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face.  He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet.  “You better make this worth my while,” he says. 

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while.  You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on.  You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments. 

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him.  He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood.  It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold.  Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it. 

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind.  It is all the more reason to make sure you are.  You really were such an idiot. 

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder.  This touch invites more than demands. 

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare.  It disappears when you swoop in.  His hood falls as you tug him close.  He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you. 

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs.  You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans. 

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours.  “Not prepared.” 

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing.  You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch.  You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.     

“Trust me,” you say.  “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says.  “I will.  You better not let me down.”  He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does. 

You feel the weight of that trust.  You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss.  You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw. 

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you.  “Are you gonna prove it or not?” 

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot.  Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either.  You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed.  All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch.  You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity.  He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt.  He is inside the cabin before you reach the door. 

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door.  It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside.  You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were. 

But he is waiting inside the cabin.  Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours.  When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with. 

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily.  It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss. 

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot.  He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours. 

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.  

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip.  The coat hits the floor in a damp heap.  You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off.  You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.  

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill.  Just looking at him like this has you throbbing.  You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour. 

You can’t imagine believing it.  Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath. 

He is looking aside, contemplatively.  You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers.  You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him.  He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say.  The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.  

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?”  he asks. 

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound.  He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees.  He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side.  The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in. 

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans.  He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses. 

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp.  His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be. 

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet.   You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise.  There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows.  He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs. 

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance.  Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.    

“Making it worth your while,” you say.  He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof. 

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back.  He blinks innocently.    

“Shoes first,” he says. 

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth.   You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other.  It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on.   You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following. 

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice.  You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively. 

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down.  “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word.  “Jerk.” 

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise.  His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand.  He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand.  You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb. 

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him.  He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them.  His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth. 

“I’m—I’m—”  His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once.  He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting.  It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.   

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again.  When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go. 

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him.  You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck.  You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately. 

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet. 

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants. 

“Hello—”  It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly.  It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down.  “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace.  “Just like that is good.” 

He learns quickly.  It was the same last time.  Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled.  With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges.  He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out.  You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass.  The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.  

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It is,” he says.  “And I’m winning.” 

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs.  He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.   

“Still winning?” you ask. 

“Obviously,” he replies. 

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious.  You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation. 

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him. 

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently.  “Can you?” 

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless.   Your equipment is in your travel bag.  You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless.  You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver.  Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding. 

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket.  You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that. 

He’d naked.  Of course he is.  Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap.  He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong.  Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Oh,” you say.  “That’s fine.”  It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising.  You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly.  A lot of men are new to it.  Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it. 

But then he says, “Any of it.” 

And you say, “Huh?” 

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.” 

“Any.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute.  You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning.  Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered.  Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you. 

“Oh,” you say.  Then, “Oh.  Fucking shit.  I’m such an asshole.” 

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning. 

He does not look upset about it anymore.  In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back.  It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “You are.  We already knew that.” 

“I really, I just—” 

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt. 

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected. 

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability. 

“Thanks,” he says.  “Stating the obvious.  I’m also picky.  And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.  “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says.  His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one.  “Not ever.” 

Agh.  There’s that heart again, pounding away.  Who knew that thing could race so fast. 

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table.  “That is their loss.  Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.” 

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself.  “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting. 

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face.  “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.” 

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that.  That the wrong person could make this terrible for him.  That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream.  These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish. 

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck. 

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless. 

“Wow!” he says.  “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing. 

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him.  “No way,” he says.  “You and your ego.  Gross.” 

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant.  “I’ll be so normal,” you say.  “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly. 

“Yeah, but…”  You wiggle your eyebrows at him.  “You kinda like me anyway, right?” 

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be.  It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Unfortunately,” he says. 

You giggle and he swats your head. 

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms. 

“No, no, of course not,” you say.  You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him. 

“What are we doing then?” he asks.   

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again. 

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you.  Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.  

“First, before anything else, this.”  You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound.  You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing.  It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are.  Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you. 

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.” 

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts.  The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again.  There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation. 

Last time, he needed almost no direction.  He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body.  He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth. 

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen.  It does not matter if you do.  It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm.  This time, it is touch and sensuality.  He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time.  You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry.  You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time. 

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair.  He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again. 

“You’re a fast learner,” you say.  “Bet you could get used to this.” 

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by.  He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him.  Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back.  You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.    

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him. 

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him.  He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry.   You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile. 

“Turn around,” you say.  “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner.  Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly. 

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you.  He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you.  His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him. 

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you.  This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.  

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him.  You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm.  You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick.  You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started.  The sheets are a mess already. 

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh.  “You’re the worst.  I hate you.” 

You laugh.  Oh well.  No time to worry about bedsheets.  You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you. 

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside.  “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says.  “They’ll think it was a skiing accident.  And that you got mauled by a bear.  And eaten by wolves.  And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best.  It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in.  Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels.  You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear.  His groaning turns into a whine. 

“Okay?” you ask. 

“Gonna kill you,” he says. 

“That a yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.”  You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely.  His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest.  You let him catch his breath and adjust.  “Still okay?” 

“It’s weird,” he says. 

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says.  “It’s… it’s good.  It’s just…”  You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens.  He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin.  You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood.  “Ugh,” he says.  “It’s so wet.  I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…” 

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips.  “You’re not.” 

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you.  You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest.  He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return. 

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants.  It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all.  If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down. 

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too. 

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says. 

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck.  “It’s okay.” 

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh.  “Making love, huh,” he says dryly.  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours.  “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand. 

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do about it?  Make love at me?  Sap.” 

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back.  He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness.  His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread.  Good.”  Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed.  He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it. 

You snap your hips together and fuck into him.  This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control.  He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his.  He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth. 

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure.  “Yeah, that’s right.” 

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves.  The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head.  You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all. 

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back. 

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled. 

“Yes,” he murmurs.  “I won. Again.” 

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say. 

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh. 

 “Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy. 

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles. 

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own.  It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases. 

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you. 

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest.  He wakes a little on the journey.  And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.  “I promise.”

“Good,” he says.  “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod. 

“You’re right,” you say. 

“Of course I am.”  He snuggles in close and sighs.  “Now go the fuck to sleep.  Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse.  Good night.”  

“Good night,” you say with a laugh. 

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.   

You can tell him in the morning. 

[booksfansworld]

Remus Lupin x Reader

Set during seventh year at Hogwarts.

The dungeons were cool and dimly lit, the only warmth coming from the softly bubbling cauldrons lining the room. You perched on your stool, chin in your hand, watching Remus Lupin with an amused smile as he glared at his potion as if sheer force of will might fix whatever disaster was brewing.

“Remus,” you sing-songed, nudging his arm with your elbow, “I don’t think intimidation is an approved potion-making method.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not my fault Potions and I have a mutual hatred for each other.”

You giggled, leaning closer to peer into his cauldron. The murky, sludge-like mixture inside made you wince. “Okay, let’s assess the damage. Did you at least stir the asphodel in correctly?”

Remus hesitated. “That depends. What’s the correct way?”

You gasped dramatically. “Remus! Clockwise three times, then counterclockwise!”

His expression was both sheepish and exasperated. “You expect me to remember all these ridiculous little steps?”

“Well, yes, that is the point of following a recipe,” you teased. Without waiting for him to protest, you grabbed his ladle and guided his hand. “Here, like this. See?”

Remus stiffened slightly at the unexpected closeness, but he didn’t pull away. Your hand was warm against his, your fingers delicate but confident as you led him through the motions. He swallowed hard, focusing very intently on the potion rather than the fact that you were practically pressed against his side.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured after a moment.

“Potions?” You grinned up at him, your noses almost touching. “Or guiding hopeless cases?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Both, apparently.”

You laughed too, your fingers still loosely curled around his. “You just need to stop second-guessing yourself. Potions are like dancing! You have to trust your instincts and let it flow.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You think I dance?”

You gasped. “You don’t?”

His lips twitched. “Not exactly a priority of mine.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I’ll teach you—maybe at the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

Remus blinked, caught off guard. “Are you asking me out?”

You bit your lip, pretending to ponder. “Hmm… Well, that depends. Will you say yes?”

Something warm bloomed in his chest, spreading through him like the best kind of potion—slow, steady, and undeniably potent.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now.

You tilted your head, your gaze flickering to his lips for just a second. “Then maybe I’ll be asking.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The dungeon, the bubbling cauldrons, the sound of Slughorn’s voice somewhere in the background—it all faded. There was only the quiet space between you, the warmth of your hand still over his, and the unspoken thing hanging in the air.

And then

“Oi, Moony!” Sirius’s voice rang out from across the room. “You finally brewing love potions over there?”

Remus groaned, reluctantly pulling away as your laughter bubbled up like a perfectly crafted potion. He glared at Sirius, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, while James waggled his eyebrows beside him.

You, however, were completely unbothered. If anything, you leaned in close to whisper, “If I was making a love potion, you wouldn’t need it.”

Remus turned bright red, and you only laughed harder.

Maybe Potions wasn’t so bad after all.

[sturniolohohoho]

FUCK YOU TOO - Part 1

Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

summary: you meet chris, a friend the drifted off awhile ago at a party, but somethings up with his girlfriend...

c/w: violence, punching, kissing

not proofread sorry!

Y/N POV

You make your way through the sticky and humid crowd, trying to get to the bar on the other side of the crowded room. The lights flash in different shades of blue, everyone jumping up and down in that “frat dance” way, one hand extended up. You were a party girl through and through, but tonight was not your night. Maybe it was just too hot out, or maybe you’d just gotten bored of it.

Well– maybe it was for a more embarrassing reason than that. It’s not like you’d been getting any– y’know– action recently, and that was half the reason you went to parties anyways. Messy making out, grinding up on some stranger–that was totally your vibe! Or maybe it was back in highschool… university was harder than you had anticipated, and socialising wasn’t a big priority. Of course, you still did have some friends. You had come to this party with your best friend, Vivian, and you knew a couple people as well.

As you finally make it over to the bar, you collapse onto one of the slightly sticky bar stools. You sligh, and look up to see a bartender. He’s a young, low-key ugly but low-key fine guy, who looked like he was in his mid 20s. He obviously has some kind of interest towards you, based on the way his eyes rake up and down your figure. It makes you shiver a bit, and not in the “gee that's so hot” way.

“Hey there,” he says, voice dripping with… something? “Can I get you something? Maybe a cocktail for a pretty lady like you?” You laugh a bit, taking your elbows off of the counter to lean back a little bit– you weren’t all too into him.

“Oh, no not for me! I’m the driver tonight– maybe a sprite or something though?” He looks almost disappointed, and something inside you told you it was because he wants you drunk– but you knew it was just your paranoia talking. He nods and walks away, quickly returning with a glass of sprite.

“You sure you don’t want a dirty sprite?” he says, putting emphasis on the dirty. He hovered a bottle of liquor above your drink, looking ready to pour. It kind of freaks you out, so you quickly take the drink away, giving a firm “no.” He laughs like it was funny, and leans forwards, a little closer to you.

“I like your hair,” he says, his hand gesturing towards it. You had blue hair down to your shoulders, and honestly you agree– your hair is pretty great, but right now all you want to do is get away from this guy. “You know, it really is a shame you can’t drink tonight– girls really are way more fun when they’re drunk.” He raises his eyebrows with purpose, and you are about done– time to dip.

Letting out an awkward chuckle, you get up from your seat, turning around before you feel a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, where you goin’ pretty girl? I was just gettin’ started,” You widen your eyes, pulling away, but his grip on your arm gets tighter as he brings you close to the bar, face inches from yours. His breath smells like beer and tobacco, with a terrifying grin on his face. “Why don’t you and I– head upstairs to one of the bedrooms– so we can have some fun?” You want to let out a scream, but you feel frozen, so you just struggle to pull away, bringing your hand up to pull his away. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear a voice behind you.

“Hey you. Leave her the fuck alone.” The bartender looks terrified for a second, letting go of your arm in an instant and walking away. Confused, you turn around, and there standing behind you, your saviour is… Chris?

You and Chris had been friends for a while– those kinds of friends that pretended to hate each other and be disgusted by each other, but could still open up. The two of you used to be far closer, until he said something about how his girlfriend didn’t want him to have girl friends, and he didn’t text you as often.

“Chris! Oh god thank you so much, that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” He grimaces, giving you a sort of awkward half hug half pat on the back. 

“Don’t sweat it– I'm glad you’re safe though.”  You almost blush at his words before you remember he’s taken. It’s not like you had a crush on him, but you’d always be moderately attracted to him. Not only that, but you guys weren’t like that– you were even more close to his brothers, Matt and Nick. Your relationship with Chris was always confusing; you sometimes teased him, but Jesus, could he be brutal. Sometimes, you wondered if he even liked you as a person, but then he’d suddenly be nice to you for a day, and you’d forget about all your doubts.

The two of you have a light conversation, and you notice he’s already pretty drunk– drunk enough that he’s being nice to you. You’re laughing at some stupid joke he made while sipping your sprite, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look over and see a girl about your height, dressed in a short skirt and tank top. Literally drop dead gorgeous. Too bad her beauty is ruined by the diabolical stank eye she’s giving you. When she looks at Chris, her gaze melts into admiration and she gives him a hug.

“Hey Chrissy! I was looking for you everywhere!” He smiles so wide and looks down at her lovingly. It’s odd– you’ve never seen him like this– in love, you mean. His aura looks so comfortable, and his pupils look fully dilated as he hugs her and nuzzles his face into her neck, murmuring something.  She looks back at you, her gaze shifting again. 

“And, who's this?” He looks back up. 

“Oh this is y/n, remember? I knew her in high school before–” he clears his throat. “Yeah we’re chill though. Y/n, this is Ness, my girlfriend,” he says in a loving tone, squeezing her shoulder lightly. Some form of jealousy comes alight in her eye as she frowns. 

“Oh yeah, I remember you… had to chase you away from my boyfriend once or twice, didn’t I?” You and Chris look at her, mouth agape. Sure, she had told Chris no girl friends, but not once was there a real conflict. “Just so y’know, he’s mine through and through– so don’t try playin’ shit with him, or else.” She said it in a menacing tone and Chris tossed me a deeply apologetic look. Ness was obviously also intoxicated, so maybe that was some reason for this outburst.

“I– um… have a good night, y/n. Get home safe.” He turns around with her and walks away stiffly. In the noise and music, you can filter out an angry Ness yelling something along the lines of “why the fuck did you tell her to have a safe drive?”

You kind of just stood there, then walked upstairs to find the washroom, or hopefully Vivian

_________

Chris POV

“Chris why the fuck did you ask tell her to get home safe? Were you fucking flirting with her before I got there?” You gaped, shaking your head.

“Babe, I promise you I didn’t– I was just being polite I swear.” She looks angry and unconvinced, but she doesn’t storm off. Ness could be a bit– jealous at times. Or possessive, you could call it. You could never dream in your life of cheating on her, a partner of 2 years, but she could be insecure sometimes. You try to ease her mind, rubbing her shoulders and planting little kisses on her forehead. She looks unresponsive, but walks around with you anyways. With a little buzz noise, Ness’ phone vibrates in her bag. She checks it and her eyes look like they’re containing a smile, but she remains deadpan.

“Chris I’m gonna head upstairs and talk to a friend okay? She just pulled up.” You nod and pull her in for a slow kiss, hand on the back of her head and one on her waist, before letting her go. She looks slightly flustered but tries to hide it, keeping the “i’m mad at you” persona on.

“See you soon baby,” you murmur, giving her a last kiss on the forehead. She looks uninterested, looking down at her phone while she walks in the direction of the stairs. You can’t help but let your eyes trail down her figure– god fucking dammit your girl was stunning.

_________

Y/N POV

You’d been sitting with a group of friends(?) for a while, playing a dry game of truth or dare. It seemed everything was more fun when you were drunk, or that's what it seemed as you sat there unamused while everyone else cackled hysterically. You realize all the pop you’ve been drinking has made you sort of have to pee.

“I’m gonna go pee, I’ll be right back,” you say, but everyone’s a bit too lost in their laughs to notice anyway. 

Whoever is hosting this party must be a damn millionaire, because the hallways never end, and you can’t seem to find a way to the washroom. It’s just hallway, after room, after hallway, after garage. You turn a corner, and suddenly, you bump into something hard. You stumble back a bit, and look up to see Chris, similarly startled.

“Oh god, sorry Chris,” you mutter. He grins widely, shaking his head.

“Nooo problem, y/n,” he looks fucked– like drunk fucked. His hair is messy and he’s kind of weirdly squinting to see. “Hey, have you seen Ness? I’ve been looking for her everywhere, and she said she’d be near the washroom, but I can’t find that either.” You laugh at the coincidence.

“Dude same, I need to piss so fuckin’ bad and theres I can’t find the washroom.” he throws his head back in what can only be described as delirious drunk laughter. 

“Let's find it together, huh?” You shrug, and the two of you set out to find it.

After maybe 15 minutes, you finally get to a hallway with what looks like a short line outside the door. “Jesus, finally!” You cry out, joining the line. Chris shakes his head, pulling out of the line.

“Nah, you’ve got to help me find Ness first,” he says. You roll your eyes and wander around the bathroom area with him, opening random doors. While you peek into what looks like a storage closet, you hear a “WHAT THE FUCK,” behind you, coming from Chris.

Concerned, you spin around and look into the room he was gaping into, and you see it. Ness. Naked. On top of some random guy. Also naked. Fucking. Ness was cheating on Chris. Ness. Cheating on Chris. Ness. Cheating. On. Chris.

_________

Chris POV

Ness. She was sitting on top of a guy you faintly recognized. Naked. He was naked too. It took you a couple seconds for the whole situation to dawn on you, with the forgiveness of your brain from the alcohol. Ness. Your girlfriend of 2 years. Was cheating on you.

Everything around you seemed to slow down. You felt an overwhelming feeling in the back of your head that seemed to encapsulate your body in a husk of rage, sadness, and confusion. Ness. The girl you wanted to marry. Was cheating on you. You felt your heart pounding, and a lump came up in your throat. You wanted to fall to your knees. To cry. To beg Ness what you had done wrong. But the raging anger you felt, oh the pure agony was amplified a million times by the alcohol, surging through your mind, body, veins, and fists.

Ness and the guy got up, frantically put their clothes back in. You could faintly hear y/n saying something in the background, but you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t control your body as it rushed over to the guy who had just finished putting his pants back on. It felt like slow motion as your fist swung around, clocking him in the jaw.

It connected his face with a shark crack as he fell to the ground, bonking his head on the corner of a nightstand on his way down. You heard a horrified shriek of Ness, who was sobbing uncontrollably, simultaneously begging for forgiveness and telling you to stop. You couldn’t hear or think for shit. All there was was a burning rage for all the years, the time, the love you poured into her. Your fist swung down towards the ground, hitting the disoriented guy in the face again. Blood was coming out of his nose and various gashes, your fist covered in it too.

The alcohol kept pumping inside you, blurring your visions and emotions together, as you backed off and turned to leave, to get away, away from whatever the fuck happened tonight. To get away from the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

_________

Y/N POV

You watched as Chris left the room of chaos. People were screaming, helping the guy on the floor, while yelling at him too. Ness was just sobbing uncontrollably, a mess on the ground. Turning around, you went to find him. You knew he wouldn’t get too far in his intoxicated state. Finally, after a couple turns, you found a figure slumped on the ground of the hallway, gasps and cries coming from it.

“Chris?” You call, voice low and quiet. He doesn't respond, head in his hands while he hyperventilates. You kneel down beside him, unsure of what to do. Slowly, you raise one hand out and rest it on his shoulder, hoping it’ll bring him some comfort. “Chris, I can drive you somewhere to sleep okay? I haven’t been drinking, and you’re in no state to go anywhere by yourself.” He doesn’t say anything, staring off into space now. You can hear the drama of a crying Ness and her friends approaching, so you decide it’s time to get out of there.

You get up and pull Chris up. He can barely stand, most of his weight lying on you. You feel a pang of pity for this man– someone who loved his girlfriend so dearly was sent into this uncharacteristic rage. You’d never seen him that worked up, but it wasn't for no reason.

Luckily, there was a back exit to the mansion's parking lot. With some struggle, you managed to get the door open, allowing the cold night air to hit you in the face. Chris groaned, the alcohol clearly getting to him.

“Y/n– I might…” You look at him with a worried expression on your face. “I– might,” and he turns around and vomits into a push, dry heaving over and over again. You pat his back as he throws up, cries, and hyperventilates again. Slowly as he recovers, you guide him to your car where you can buckle him up with some difficulty. Hopping into the driver's seat, you look over at him, where he’s staring forwards, unresponsive again. All you can hope is that he’ll make it back to your house– which is far closer than his before he throws up again.

_________

Y/N’s POV

You lay him down onto your bead, a metal bowl on the night stand along with a cup of water with some Advil next to it. Chris had thrown up a couple more times, taken a shower, and you finally finally got him clean and into a bed. Your house was quiet, a stark contrast to the party. He had stopped dissociating of sorts– mostly just crying. The two of you had gotten vulnerable before, so this wasn’t a new thing, but it was still pretty jarring watching a guy you used to be best friends with just sob. But emotions are better out than in, right?

Chris passed out, his quiet breathing filling the room. Slowly, you extended a hand a brushed the hair out from in front of his eyes. He looked so peaceful when he slept– the only other time he was this relaxed was– well– around Ness. Not anymore it seemed. The exhaustion and drama of the night began to sit in, and you felt your eyelids start to droop. Getting off of the spot next to Chris on your bed, you grabbed a blanket and went over to your room's couch.

Lying down and getting comfortable, all you could think about was Chris. The sound of his sobs, and the utterly broken look on his face. The way he had melted in the presence of Ness, and how he beat the man she cheated with into the ground. All you wanted to do was help him. The two of you were always a bit mean to each other, but right now, all you wanted to do was help him. 

Help him fix whatever she broke.

I apologize for the typos, it was late and i just wanted to get this out lmaoo.

divider creds to @junabuggy

taglist- @sturniolosrtewsexy @sturnbrooke @emely9274 @babytomatoes21 @arianna1342 @gemzyy @chestersturn

[obamas-eyebrow]

Lily of the valley

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WC: 7.9K

Warnings; Female reader, No reader body/race descriptions (if any pls lmk)A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N. English is not my first language. Sn*w is here a little more than I would like. Btw every time I make fun of him I’m targeting his description in the book, not just throwing strays at the actor I promise. Actually, 90% of the characters I picture are from the book. (I haven’t seen the movie.) 

Summary; 3 months in district 12 can change a lot about a man, ask Sejanus. Covey!reader. Fluff but the ending isn’t nice lol mb. 

A/N: EDIT!! 27/04: I changed the ending lol

Idk if this is unpopular but pk!Sejanus>>>>Capitol!Sejanus. Buzzcut included. I SAID WHAT I SAID

The Covey’s performance truly was a must-see sight, bringing life to an otherwise desolate country. He wondered how different the capitol would be if they had something like them, so full of passion and pretend freedom, capable of making even the most prideful of miners get up to swing some. His spot from the back by Coryo gave him a full view of the attendants as well as the stage, the colourful outfits swirling around giving the eye a show to go with the tunes. In Coryo’s deference, Lucy Gray was a fantastic singer, he could see why he’d leave everything behind to listen to her voice, not that either of them really had a choice. At least one of them was benefiting from the next twenty or so years. Though he found the two of them a strange pair; she was his polar opposite, but who is he to judge? 

A boisterous round of applause erupted as the band each took their bows, signaling the end of their set. He gave them a few loud whistles of approval, bringing his hands together with the rest of the crowd. He looked a little sheepish, standing next to his friend who was only applauding softly. 

Even in joy, there’s a code of conduct… he thinks, rolling his eyes inwardly.

Even if this isn’t his district, he felt right at home. There were no rules here, no specific expectations or watchful judgy eyes. It was pure, rowdy, unfiltered feelings for the eyes to witness. They were much more alike than the capitol would wish for them to know, from the very first to the very last district. He observed a few drunk men sway together to an old miner’s tune, arms around one another for support as some other guys drummed on stools. He had a half mind to join them, but he wasn’t an exceptional singer. Not that they were, either, but he was contempt just watching them attempt to dance. 

Lucy Gray made her way through the sweaty bodies that parted for her presence, picking off a few wildflowers from adoring fans as she had her sights sent on the only blond head in the crowd. Hot on her trail, one of the younger members of the team had been desperately clawing at her skirt in an attempt to get her attention, but it came to no fruition, the brunette was determined to reach her fling. An attempt at an introduction was made, but Lucy Gray clearly had her mind set on getting Coryo alone, barely allowing a quick name exchange before she swept him away, leaving Sejanus alone with the younger girl. He crossed his arms awkwardly, leaning on the wall as he exchanged a look with the kid; his of boredom and hers of exasperation. She studied his figure, narrowing her eyes at his buzzed hair, taking a moment to make the connection. 

“Do you know him?” She peeped, sighing a little at the end as she pointed over to where Coryo and Lucy Gray disappeared. 

“We’re…friends.” He shrugged a little. 

“You’re a peacekeeper too?” It was more of a statement than a question, his haircut already outing him. 

“I guess.”

“Like him? From the capitol?”

“Is this an interrogation, ma’am?” He smiled down at her, causing her to giggle a little, breaking her serious demeanor. 

“I’m Maude Ivory,” She stuck her hand up for him to shake. 

“Sejanus Plinth.” He gave her little palm a firm, gentle shake. 

“Can I ask you a favour? I would ask what’s his name, but Lucy Gray is a bit caught up with him right now…” she trailed off, pouting a little. 

“Anything for you,” He tugged at his pants, crouching down to meet her eye to eye.  

A smile bloomed on her face, she brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Our cousin, she’s being held for some petty accusation, she’s been there ever since Lucy Gray got reaped!” Her words all but spilled out, the issue having clearly been weighing on her mind. “I just want to make sure she’s okay! If you can tell her that Lucy Gray is back, and if you could maybe get her anything to eat- or any help- or tell them she’s innocent- or- ”

“Slow down, slow down,” He soothed, arms gesturing in front of him. “Can you give me a name?”

At the end of their exchange, your name hung loosely on his tongue as he strolled back the short distance to his quarters. The town was quiet, busted cobblestone made for an uncomfortable path as he thought of his little exchange with the girl. Petty crime, she said, he wondered what that really was. From his short time here, he’d gathered that most peacekeepers were pretty easy going, often only here for temporary placement and definitely eager to get out of the slums. Whatever it is you did, must’ve been significant enough to warrant an arrest. It was late, but his curiosity was eating away at him, plus the security at this hour would likely be a bit more lenient. 

He asked the sergeant by the cell block about your details, earning a skeptical look from him. Ultimately, he pointed him in the right direction, and Sejanus took a small serving of his ma’s cookies to offer to you. 

The block contained a pathetic grand total of 4 cells and 1 temporary holding cell, each being a small room with a surprisingly sturdy metal door, only a small opening at eye level to allow him to look in, as well as one by the bottom for food. He tiptoed over to cell number 3, knocking on the door which caused a loud sound to echo into the room. He could have just opened the small window, but his ma raised him better. He heard quiet shuffling from inside. It was late, he must’ve woken you up. 

“Can’t help ya if I can’t see ya,” You groaned, voice laced with sleep. “Genius,” you muttered that last part, but he heard you, and opened the barrier between you two just in time to catch your eye roll. He could only see the top half of your face, the rest of the room behind you was pitch black, making it a miracle that you were even able to find the door. 

“Maude Ivory sent me,” He whispered, wasting no time. At that, your eyes softened and he felt more at ease. “Cookie?”

He clumsily pushed one through the narrow hole not meant for such an exchange. You accepted it with grace, narrowing your eyes at him skeptically. You were pretty good with faces, even just half of ones, but his was unfamiliar. You made the connection between that and the fact that you heard some of the older peacekeepers grumbling about new recruit training. 

“You new?”

He smiled, and you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed. “That obvious?”

You chuckled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You doubt that he was there to flirt, like some of the others are, taking advantage of your inability to walk away. After all, he mentioned your cousin. 

“What did she say?”

“What?” He had been lost in thought. “Oh! Lucy Gray is back, she’s alive and well.”

The breath had been knocked out of your lungs and you struggled to keep your thoughts in check. “Are- are you sure? You ain’t messin’ with me?”

“Nope, saw her perform just an hour ago.”

“Oh my-” The relief that washed over you was overwhelming. You spent the last who knows how long in this cell, heart aching at her departure. Every cell in your body believed that she’d be dead, that they’d send her back in a box. You spent your days in this cell mourning her. Your cousin was back. Your head rested on the cool metal of the door as you tried to blink away the tears of relief. 

“She also wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Yes! Yes I’m fine.” You were a bit enthusiastic, feeling oddly out of breath. “Thank you, you have no idea how much all this means to me, thank you.”

Pride bloomed in his chest, really feeling like he was already making a difference. He nodded his head in appreciation, almost walking away before…well he just had to know.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What are you in for?”

You giggled, “Well if I told you, I’d be admitting it, won’t I? Nice try though.”

“That wasn’t my intention I-”

“I know. Don’t sweat it.”

He sighed, stepping away from your door to head back to his bunk, before you called him back.

“You’re supposed to pull the shutter closed.”

“Right.” He scurried back, eyes locked with yours as he hesitated with the task. 

“Thank you again. Have a goodnight.”

You said it so sweetly, it almost made him freeze in place, desperate to hear you speak more. You were covey, of course you sounded like music. 

“You too,” He begrudgingly pulled it closed, losing sight of you.

…

He could clearly see why the covey would spend their time out here, a gentle breeze rustling the grass served as a great soundtrack for such a view. He felt a little sheepish, tagging along Coryo and his girlfriend, but he really had nothing better to do. He had never really been this immersed in wildlife before, the feeling was quite refreshing. The sun out there was a lot more forgiving than in the capitol, being more of a gentle kiss than a scorching slap. He opted not to swim this time around, seeing as the couple was practically eating each others faces off in the water, so he didn't want to intervene. 

He took a spot close enough to the water, but far enough so that he was still hidden in the tall grass. The ground was quite rough on his back, but not unwelcome. He shut his eyes, his hands resting behind his freshly buzzed head. The sounds of splashing water along with dancing leaves were slowly lulling him into a quiet afternoon nap.

Oh, he could get used to this. 

He felt all his worries begin slipping away, all the thoughts of what his life had abruptly come to fading out with the birdsong. Maybe he had been raised a city boy, but he wasn’t doing too bad with nature for the time being. Guilt had attempted to sneak into his mind at the thought of his ma, alone in the capitol, but she’d understand, she always did. Especially if she’d seen this place. 

For the first time in his life, Sejanus felt his shoulders release their tension fully at the thought of being a no-body. He’s not the traitor they said he was in 2, not the district scum they said he was in the capitol, either. Here, he was just Sejanus. No expectations were upon him anymore to act a certain way or bite his tongue from talking back. 

He was just about to fall asleep when a figure blocked the sun’s rays from his face, dripping a few water droplets onto him, one landing directly into his open eyes. 

Maude Ivory. 

He sat up suddenly, squinting his eye from both the bright light and the lakewater that had begun burning his sclera. 

“Didya find her?” She leaned down to him. 

“Yes, ma’am. She said she was fine.”

“Do you know when she’ll be out?”

He shrugged, “They won’t tell me these things. I doubt they knew, anyway. What is she bein’ held for?”

Maude Ivory bit her lip, looking around as if trying to detect if anyone had been listening in. She plopped down by his side. “Someone snuck into the mayor’s house, left a bunch of mice in there. They think it was her.”

He leaned in closer, “Was it?”

Her brows shot up, eyes widening, then narrowing in suspicion. “I don’t know, depends on who’s askin’”

He chuckled, “S’ js’ me, Maude Ivory.”

She turned her head to where Lucy Gray and snow were, once again, doing things that should not be done in front of the general public. She made a face at them, not that they were aware. 

“I don’t like your friend.” She turned back to him, hands playing with some daisies by her foot. “Don’t trust him.” She grumbled as her hands began making a flower crown from muscle memory. 

“You can trust me, though.” He cocked his head at her, only wanting to know out of curiosity. 

She looked up at him with admiration, nodding softly. 

“Okay…I’m tellin on her.” That earned a gasp from her as her eyes widened frantically. “I’ kiddin’, m’ kiddin! Bad joke on my part, sorry.”

She let out a sigh of relief, slapping his thigh with all her might before she got up to place the crown on his head. He couldn’t help the stupid smile that made it’s way onto his face.

“Wanna swim?”

“Was actually hoping I could just-”

“Lucy Gray!” Your voice boomed across the clearing, having spotted her in the water. You ran with all the energy you had in you to where she was as she swam back up to the wooden pathway into the water. You two met in a crushing hug, having previously thought her surely dead. The force of your run knocked you both off balance, landing you an impromptu dip in the lake, despite the fact that you were fully clothed. 

Maude Ivory grabbed his hand with excitement, “Cmon!”

Lucy Gray resurfaced first, being helped back up by Coryo. Without giving it much thought, he crouched down, extending a strong hand out to you. 

“Need a hand?”

You took him up on his offer, your dress making your movements a lot more sluggish. Plus, your muscles ached from sleeping in that dingy cell for about 2 weeks. 

He stood off to the side, Coryo joining him, as they observed your heartwarming reunion. 

“I thought you’d be dead!”

“I told you to have a little faith in me.”

“You talked to Jessup’s family?”

“No-I…couldn’t bring myself to.”

“S’ alright, I’ll go. How was the capitol?” You giggled mockingly, as if you were asking your cousin about some vacation she’d been on.

“Nothin’ fancy-”

“How did you even survive?”

At that question, Lucy Gray moved aside to allow you to look at the blonde, who stood smart- but shirtless, and his much, much finer, taller friend. Their haircuts stood out to you, recognising them as ones that belonged to-

Peacekeepers. 

Lucy Gray had brought two peacekeepers along to the Covey’s spot. 

Now, you were no stranger to buttering soldiers up, but this was a bit out of line. A lot out of line actually. Lucy gray put her arms around the blond’s shoulders, a dopey smile on her lips as they made love eyes at each other. Sejanus bit back his smile as he watched your expression change from confusion to pure disgust, with no attempt at hiding it. 

“This is Coriolanus, he helped me win.” 

Anus stuck his hand out to you for a formal introduction, a futile attempt at winning you over. You looked between his hand, Lucy gray’s face and the rest of him. 

“Lucy gray, may I talk to you- for a minute. Over there?” You pointed to a tree far enough away. 

Sejanus watched from afar as you tore into her, arms flailing around with a shocked face. 

“This will not end well.” Maude Ivory peeped from his side, facepalming, which made him giggle a little. “She really doesn’t get along with peacekeepers.”

“Is she your cousin, Maude Ivory?” Coryo asked, hand fiddling with his dog tag. 

“We’re all cousins, just not by blood, anyway.”

“A peacekeeper? Are you serious? Do you want to hang, Lucy Gray?”

“It ain’t like that- he’s from the capitol-”

“They all are! You ain’t helping your case!”

The argument only dragged on, both sides  holding onto their opinions with force. Eventually, you parted ways, with Lucy Gray returning to Coryo, and you turning to find your way back home. Most of your clothes were still a little damp, and even though it was the middle of summer, you ought to change out of them soon, lest you catch a cold. 

Maude Ivory, once again, pulled Sejanus along, citing that you had not gotten the chance to talk to him yet. 

“Wait up!” She called out, causing you to stop and turn around. When they finally caught up to you, she took a moment to catch her breath before introducing you two. 

“...This is Sejanus.”

You gave him a tight lipped nod, still uneasy and wary of his presence.

“He’s the one that spoke to you yesterday! I told him I wanted to get some news to you and he helped me.”

You straightened up at the reveal, “Oh! It’s you!” You recognised his eyes, “That was an awfully kind thing of you to do. Thank you once more…officer.” 

He mirrored your position of clasped hands behind your back, smiling at the title. 

“Please don’t call me that. Sejanus is fine.”

He had such a dizzying smile, so genuine for someone stationed here for the capitol, his eyes barely showing, that it made you lose your train of thought for a second. 

“Right. Thank you, Sejanus.”

“Any time, consider me at your service.”

You looked down shyly, bottom lip tucked behind your teeth so that you don’t giggle like an idiot, while he took the chance to observe you. Surely there must be something in the water here, because, in all his years of life, he’d never seen-

“Eugh!” Maude Ivory fake gagged at the two of you, causing you to shoot her a pointed look. 

“Right,” You sighed. “I best be goin’ now.” You shot him one final smile before he watched you disappear between the trees. 

He made his way back to his spot, catching a glimpse of the other couple still enjoying the water.

“I think she likes you.” Maude Ivory sing-songed.

“Really? What makes you think that?”

“She did the thing where she-” She mimicked your movements of looking away and biting your lip, before ending her performance with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Plus, you’re just her type, so.”

“Really, and what is that?”

“Tall, dark, handsome. Kind. ‘Sad eyes’, whatever that means.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

….

He used to dance with his ma in the kitchen on nights where both of them were overwhelmed. He’d spent the better part of a year trying to get his brain to put the steps and the beat together, finding it difficult to keep up. Eventually, he was able to nail it down beautifully, keeping the district swing dance tradition alive in him. The one his ma taught him was a little different, but it was close enough to the point where he could always guess the next move as he tapped his foot along to the music from the back of the hob. It was a wedding, or a celebration of some union, so the people were dressed in their best suites, making the night truly one he would remember. 

“Care for a dance, officer?”

He hadn’t noticed your presence that night, much less your approach to where he was  posted. Last he saw you, you were fresh out of detention, now your face seemed a lot brighter, the colour having returned to it. You looked well rested, too, wearing an outfit similar in fashion to what the covey would typically wear. 

“Thought I asked you not to call me that.” He raised a teasing brow, looking down at you. 

“Right. Care for a dance, Sejanus?”

“M’ afraid I’ll step on your toes.” He wasn’t really, he didn’t know why he said that. But what he didn’t expect was, 

“S’alright, don’t need 'em for much anyway!” 

You grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the dancefloor, he used the same hand to pull you flush into him, his other finding its way to your side and you narrowed your eyes at him skeptically, having a funny feeling that he wasn’t being truthful about his skills. 

When the next musical bridge began, you began to move in tandem with steps you were familiar with, surprised to see him not only keeping up, but also leading you through. You moved to the music, stepping apart to clap before joining each other once more. You were so lost in the rush, barely noticing as the crowd cleared the floor, leaving only the two of you. The beats got faster, but so did your steps. There was a permanent smile on your lips as you etched your brows together in concentration, Sejanus just barely breaking a sweat. At the familiar final crescendo, he twisted your arms across your body, pulling you flush against his chest, keeping you there for a beat before letting go of one hand and pushing you away into a twirl. You were just about registering what was happening when he snaked his free arm around you, ending the number with a dip. 

You both stayed in this position for a second, only to be applauded by the audience you hadn’t realised had formed. You stood back up, a little awkwardly smoothing your dress down and fixing your jewellery, letting go of his hand in the process. The clapping didn’t stop, so, in true covey fashion, you grabbed his hand once more, nodding at him to take a bow with you. 

The noise finally dwindled down as the couples got ready to say their vows and end the night, crowds reforming around the two of you. You held his gaze, biting your lip in playful disbelief. He was panting a little, a proud look on his face. He was about to say something, when Coryo pulled on his shoulder jokingly, forcing him to look at him, but Sejanus looked right back to where you were, finding your figure retreating to the Hob’s exit. Coryo was rambling about something he was too dazed to figure out, mind set on following you. So, he wordlessly picked his friend’s hand off him and set off behind you. 

The air outside was refreshing, the amount of sweaty bodies in the place had made it borderline humid, along with the brewing drinks. Sejanus had broken out into a light jog, finding no sign of you in the immediate vicinity of the exit, steps only illuminated by pure moonlight. But due to the lack of light pollution in the district, it made everything clear as day. He furrowed his brows, confused at your absence, before he took a few more steps to find you leaning on the side of the building, tucked away from the exit’s proximity. His face softened, the lovestruck smile finding its way back onto his lips. 

“You alright?” He treaded the short steps towards you carefully. 

“Yeah,” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “M’fine, just needed some air.” 

He nodded reassuringly, taking his spot next to you, leaning back on the wall with his hands behind his back. You looked up at him, tongue in cheek as you scrunched your nose. 

“So much for steppin’ on my toes.” You rolled your eyes. “They teach you that at your academy?” 

“No- uh…Used to dance with my ma, she taught me.”

“Your…ma?”

He nodded and you narrowed your eyes at him again.

“I can’t figure you out, Sejanus.”

He chuckled, “I’m from 2, born and raised.”

“No kiddin?” Your brows shot up, everything suddenly making sense. Namely the sheer differences between him and his friend. 

“Yeah. Moved to the capitol when I was 8, then I spent the rest of the time there with my ma an-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” You stood up straighter, “What do you mean moved to the capitol?”

“We- My father, bought a place there and we finished some paper work and we moved.” He sounded unsure, scared that he’d accidentally reveal who exactly he was, unsure if the Plinth name had ever crossed your path. It would ruin the life he’d pictured for himself here. 

“That…must’ve costed a fortune…”

“It did.”

You whistled, ending the tune with a pop. “Didn’t even know you could do that…”

The air between you felt heavy as you mulled over the weight of his words. “And your friend, mr. forecast, he district born?”

“Forecast-oh I get it, cause Snow.” He snorted, “No, purebred Capitol.”

“Knew it.” You grimaced. “And how’d you two end up here?”

“Well,” he rubbed his chin. “I snuck into the hunger games’ arena.”

“Why?”

“We had to mentor some of the tributes for our final academy project and something happened with my tribute-he was my friend. They…Never mind, long story short is, I wanted to give him a proper district farewell and it got me in trouble. I knew it would, js didn’t care.”

“A rebel.”

He sucked on his teeth, “That’s a naughty word.”

You giggled. 

“So this is your punishment? Peacekeeping?”

“Yup, for the next 20 or so years.”

“Wow,”

“Yeah.”

“You’re properly stuck with us. Don’t worry, we’ll put you to good use. Maybe you can even perform with those quick feet of yours.”

He laughed, looking down to his shoes awkwardly. 

“And how are you liking 12?”

He took a deep breath in, hands finding their way to his hips as he puffed his chest out. 

“S’ nice. Been a while since I’ve listened to music, so that’s a plus. They’ve got lots of pretty girls here, too.”

You looked over to him from the side, “Oh yeah?”

He turned to fully face you, stepping in front of you and cocking his head. “Yeah.” He shot you a quick wink. It caught you off guard, causing you to look away into the distance so that you don’t make a fool out of yourself. He watched you struggle to keep a smile at bay, lips quivering with giddy as you bit and tugged them back into place. You fake coughed in order to compose yourself, looking back into his welcoming eyes.

“Well, we are happy to have you here, Sejanus. S’ nice to see someone who can dance so well, you ought to give folks classes.”

“I’ll need a partner for that.”

You sighed playfully, “I’ll try to find someone willing to sacrifice their nights to dance with you, officer. But it might be difficult.” You shrugged. 

“My apologies, I meant I’ll need one specific partner for that.”

“Oh yeah, who’dya have in mind?”

Sejanus swallowed thickly, feeling the rush course through his veins. He’d been emboldened by the animosity he had in the district, placing a tender hand at you side as he pushed you back into the wall a little, abruptly crashing his lips onto yours. 

It was a welcome surprise, really. Hesitating for a moment before you moved your lips with his. Soft music was still pouring out of the hob, the gentle night’s glow making the scene something straight out of a movie. His hands came up to keep you in place as yours cupped his cheek, stroking your thumb against his skin lightly. 

“Where have you- oh?”

You pulled apart suddenly to find Lucy Gray standing with a very shocked expression on her face, eyebrows practically touching her hairline with how high they were. A sly smirk made it’s way onto her face as she cocked her head at the two of you, caught red handed. You cleared your throat, fixing the sides of your dress that were still warm from where he’d kept his hands.

“Coriolanus was askin if I saw where his friend went. Said they need to be headin back. And I needed to find where you went, cause I needed a hand with the instruments, cause we also need to be headin back.”

“Alright,” It was difficult to find your voice, breath having been knocked clean out of your lungs just moments earlier, so it only came out as a little peep. 

You walked past her awkwardly as Sejanus followed in step, shooting her a sweet smile as she turned to watch you walk back in. Inside, you found that the others had already put most of the stuff away, allowing you to leave the place together almost immediately. Coriolanus was conversing with Sejanus, which meant you couldn’t pull his attention to bid him goodnight without your cousin noticing again, so you bargained with the idea of maybe stopping by their training yard sometime this week.

….

Bang! Bullseye. 

He remembers when he first fully learned how to handle a gun, scurrying off to show all his friends his new talent. It was, of course, very impressive, even back then. For as long as he could remember, he could feel that the gun was an extension of him, only because he was so familiar with it. 

Now, however, he wished that he could just miss. Even when he tried to; it looked way too calculated for it to be his natural aim. He knew it sounded stupid. 

Oh look at me I’m Sejanus and I’m so sad because I’m just way too good at shooting things right oh woe is me. 

He could practically hear Coriolanus’ seething by his side, struggling to land a single shot. But all he really wanted to be was a medic. It was no secret, in fact everyone knew, that Sejanus Plinth was a lover and not a fighter. And he never will be. But on the plus side, it got him in with Commander Hoff pretty quick, which meant he could take most training days off. 

He didn’t want to only see you when he’s trailing behind Coryo, which is why he opted to hang back that day, find you on his own terms. He asked about date spots around the base, but, being 90% men who are seconds away from putting a bullet in their own skulls, turned up with mostly nothing. The only piece of info he got was that there was a girl that works at the bakery, maybe she could help him. So he decided he’d be using that evening to explore the town a bit, stopping first by the candy shop to grab a few bags of gumdrops, the next spot being the cosy little bakery that was cast in a warm yellow light. 

The door jingled open with a short tune, the warmth of the ovens inevitably hitting him in the face. He’s sure that comes as a relief during winter, but during this hot month it only made his clothes feel sticky. The place was old, exposed brick all around with a wooden countertop opposite to the door. There was no display or anything of the sort, you had to use your imagination, but the smell of freshly baked goods helped. It was cozy, and reminded him of his ma’s baking. He waited for a good minute in silence due to the lack of an attending to take his requests. He felt a little stupid, coming here with the ulterior motive of dating advice. Eventually, someone walked out with their head in a small notebook as they scribbled something. 

Of course. The girl in the bakery shop was you. Now he looked even more stupid. 

You hadn’t noticed him yet, muttering a ‘one second..’ with your brows furrowed as you fit some calculations in your mind. When you finally looked up at him, the smile found its way back to you. 

“Sejanus! Hi! What’re you doin’ here?”

“Thought I’d come to try any of the local delicacies,”

You giggled, “so what can I getcha?”

“What would you recommend?”

You bit your lip, looking quickly off to the side to check that no one was there. 

“Well, I’m not supposed to offer it, but I just made a batch of muffins, fresh out the oven. Hold on.”

He was a little confused, watching as you disappeared into the kitchen and came back shortly with a steaming hot chocolate muffin, handing it to him in a brown paper bag. 

“Anythin’ else you recommend?”

“Well…no. We mostly just make bread here, there’s not a high demand for treats.” 

“Alright, what do I owe ya?”

“Hm? Oh! Nothin’, it’s on the house.”

“I can’t accept that,” 

“Well, I’m not supposed to be sellin’ them anyway, so I can’t ask for money on something that wasn’t for sale.”

“How come?”

“They’re for the mayor, he’s hostin’ a dinner or somethin’ tonight. They’re one of the only folk that could afford these things.” 

“So you’re giving me someone else’s property?” 

“No, silly. We always make extra, for tastin’. Baker’s dozen.”

“So this one is yours?”

“Uhh..” you shrugged. “I guess.” 

“Please, I can’t-”

“You’re goin to get me in trouble, Sejanus.” 

He sighed, watching your giddy face. What was he even here for? Oh. Right. Date ideas. 

Well, it seemed counterintuitive to ask you like this, might as well just ask you out properly. 

“What time do you finish work?” 

You checked your empty wrist. “Well, we close in an hour, but I’ve got to leave in 30 minutes to make the delivery. Afterwards I’m done.” 

“I can wait 30 minutes. Then we can split the muffin!” 

You chuckled, dropping your head before straightening up suddenly at the sound of your boss walking in. She was a petite old woman, but had the bite of a wild dog, running the little bake shop like the military. 

“Can we help you?” She raised a brow at him. 

“Oh, he just wanted somethin’ sweet-”

“And you told him we’re fresh out, right?” Her tone was angry, accusatory. 

“Of course. What could I have even offered him.” 

Sejanus held back a smile at your aversion to the woman. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll be on my way.” He grabbed a bill from his pocket, stuffing it into the near empty tip jar. The woman was unamused, a questioning look on her face as he retreated slowly. 

“You’ve got…great employees…”

Your hand came up to cover your face to attempt to stifle your laughter at his actions as you shook your head. 

It was 30 short minutes later that you exited the shop with the boxes in your hands. You didn’t really expect him to have actually waited for you, but there he was, crouched on your steps. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me,”

“I know,”

He got up, immediately grabbing the boxes out of your hands as you led the way to the mayor’s house, promising that you’ll stop by a nice spot to share the muffin later. 

“I thought the covey didn’t work?”

“Not all of us, just those old enough. Singin’ n’ dancin’ doesn’t always pay the bills.”

“Hm.”

“Did you come to the bakery for me?”

“What? Oh. No.” He chuckled. “Was actually askin’ around about where a fella could take his girl out on a date, they pointed me to ask the girl in the bake shop.” 

“His girl? Don’t recall you askin’.” You bumped into him. 

He didn’t reply, keeping his eyes straight ahead to avoid embarrassment. 

“Well, if you’re still lookin for answers, I’d say a great first date would be swing dancin’ at the hob, that’s what most folks do anyway. Though, it’s a rare event, you’d have to wait till it happens again.” 

He laughed. “Well, what if he wanted to do somethin’ sooner?”

“Well then, you two could go swimmin’, or have a picnic in the meadow. Maybe you she could cook you a nice meal. I’d recommend you just ask her, but what do I know?” You crossed your arms over your chest. He dropped his head down, admitting defeat. 

You’d finally reached the mayor’s house, taking the goods from his hands and handing them over. The man gave you two a skeptical look, unhappy that the likes of the Covey were mixing in with the peacekeepers. He was especially disgruntled that you were the one making his delivery, considering he wasn’t especially fond of you, so he gave no tip, citing that he’ll make the transaction with the bakery’s owner. 

Sejanus watched the whole interaction in discomfort, it reminded him of how they’d treat him, well, everywhere. But he tried to push that thought away to allow himself to enjoy the night. He followed after you in silence as you led him past the seam, but only by a little, to a willow tree atop a hill that overlooked a valley. It was peaceful, not that district 12 was loud, but you two were alone here. Secluded in plain sight. You sat side-by-side as he split the Muffin, handing the bigger half over to you. You took a small bite, wanting to savour every crumb of it, all but moaning at your work.

“I’ve really outdone myself, limited resources an’ all. But then again, when do I not.”

“It’s great to see it hasn’t affected your humility,”

“I know. I’m so humble, it should be studied.”

You two chuckled and you watched him eat the rest of his share in silence. He had tried not to be so bashful under your gaze, like you were trying to read him, inside out, but it proved difficult. 

“Tell me about 2,” You cocked your head. 

His brows shot up momentarily, then he let out a sigh. How much could he tell you about his home without slipping in the fact that his family-his father had a hand in the capitol’s victory. 

Would you still look at him the same? If you knew that they handed weapons over more than voluntarily, would it matter?

“It was like here, kind people. Less nature.”

“Oddly vague for a description of your home, dontcha think?” You sensed his unease. “Nevermind, tell me on your own terms.”

“No- It’s just-”

“It’s ok, really. Tell me about your ma?”

He felt his shoulders relax. 

You two stayed there until the sun began to make it’s presence known over the horizon, talking about everything and nothing. He ended up napping with his head in your lap as you sang softly, unwilling to shake him awake for duty. You knew you needed to, otherwise, he’d get scolded, but he just looked so peaceful, all his previous troubles and worries. You could tell he was going to be trouble on your heart, a man far sweeter than the world would let him. 

And you kissed him awake anyway. 

…

Almost 3 months later.

…

Bang!

Your form had improved greatly since you’d started practicing, all thanks to your amazing teacher, or so he called himself. It was just another thing to keep you two busy, a fun activity you enjoyed together. While you were hesitant at first, seeing as he snuck his gun out to show you, but you came around. It was actually more entertaining than you’d like to admit, though you only shot stationary targets, cans and other pieces of trash. Usually, he’d sit back with a proud smile, watching the contrast between your clothes and the weapon. He’d get up after a while, lazily grabbing the firearm from you to show off, earning a kiss for every bullseye. 

Bullseye. 

He hated that.

Today, however, his eyes are glued to the ground, brows etched with sadness as he remained deep in thought. On other occasions, he would’ve been thinking about his future, what he wants for his life here, but today he’s thinking about that letter. 

Back to the Capitol. Coryo is going back to the Capitol. 

And he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, but maybe the comfort of having a familiar face here being taken away made him uneasy. It made him second guess everything, not that he had the option to go back, but he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he’s unlikely to see his ma for a long long time. He had already pictured a life for himself here when he got on that train months ago; a nice girl, a family, a small house by the clinic he worked at- will work at, and it was all coming nicely. Hell, just the image of you was enough to root him in 12 for good, but his friend’s departure was hitting him more than he would like to admit. 

His head shot up at the sound of your tsk, finding you struggling with reloading the gun. He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen you do it a dozen times over without his help, you were only pretending to struggle so that he could get up to help you, snake his arms around you and shoot straight with your back flush against his chest. What a minx. 

But he’d humour you anyway. 

He gently took the gun from your hands, resetting the cartilages before shooting the last three standing targets, one shot after the other. 

Bullseye. 

You grabbed his chin, bringing your lips to his in three short pecks. His eyes shut subconsciously, savouring your final few kisses. 

“What’s goin’ on, pretty boy?”

He blushed, chuckling before turning his attention back to his fingers fiddling with the gun. “Nothin, js’ thinkin’.”

He repositioned himself, trying to find anything to aim at. 

“This about your friend?”

He stiffened, hands dropping from their position with the gun.

“Yeah.”

He looked at you and you tilted your head slightly.

“Wanna go with him?”

“No,” He chuckled. “Not that I can, anyway. I’m stuck here.”

You pouted, “We that bad?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. It’s js that-” He sighed, repositioning himself with the gun. “He was my only friend. I know that we weren’t really friends, but he was the only decent person back in the capitol. Aside from my ma, I didn’t have anyone there. It’s just that, he was present in the life I pictured for myself here, and now he’s leavin’, makes me wonder if stayin’ here is right for me.”

Bang!

Bullseye.

“And don’t get me wrong, I love it here! I love…you.”

Bang!

Bullseye.

“My head’s js not right.” He sighed, dropping the gun back down. You stepped closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you buy your way back?”

“...Probably.”

“Then? What’s keepin’ you here?”

His eyes shot down to your lips momentarily. “Lotsa things.”

You giggled, “Then why the worry?”

You pressed your thumb into his forehead, smoothing the wrinkles there. 

“You’ll figure it out Sejanus, we both will.” You began circling him teasingly. “Maybe folks will take you up on those dance lessons, maybe you’ll make it as a medic. Maybe we find us a nice house by the seam and you put those arms of yours to good work, build us a home. With your pay and my tips, we would be barely gettin’ by, but, who knows? Maybe at some point we’ll add a third, start a garden in our slice of land so we could keep up with the demand.”

He pulled you in, a dopey smile on his face. That life, those promises you were making, they meant the world to him. He’d always wanted to be the family man, especially some place where his kids wouldn’t have to suffer through the same childhood he did. And the way you said it all so sweetly, had he not already been committed to staying here, your words alone would’ve convinced him. 

But then again, 

“And our third? What if the hunger games is still goin’? If they get reaped?”

He could tell you were not taking him seriously by the way you feigned being deep in thought, before an idea seemingly struck you. 

“Simple, we add a fourth!” You bit you siling lip as he shook his head. “You’re worryin’ about somethin’ that seems ages away!”

He took off the dog tag they gave him when he just got here, throwing it over your neck before pulling you in from it for another kiss. He sighed against you, all his troubles melting away at your taste. 

“Okay, fine. Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

You packed your little picnic up, walking back to the house hand in hand.

“I wanted to send my ma a photo of us, is there a camera we could use?”

“I think we’ve got one in a closet somewhere, but it’s rickety and likely broken. You can check with the merchants if someone knows how to fix em’. Or we could get Barb Azure to paint us instead! She’s as good as a camera, hell, she’s even better!”

“Yeah, that sounds nice. ”

A comfortable silence came over you two once more as he replayed your conversation like a fool in love. 

“I only want girls.” He said abruptly. “I don’t want to have a boy, I don’t wanna turn out like my father.”

“I love your enthusiasm, but you’re not getting either until I’ve got a ring to show for it.”

He laughed a little, stopping you by your hands and pulling you in. 

“Yea, ma’am. On it.”

“Sejanus?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” You whispered into his skin, it set his soul on fire.

“I love you more.”

…

A/N2: YAPPING AHEAD!!

Yes ik I said I need to study, yes I wrote this anyway. 

Ok fr fr if I don’t lock in this week I’m going to regret it so I’m deleting tumblr (!) until 24/4, and I will be back immediately after my exam either to gloat or cry, we’ll see how it goes 😌 I love you all smsm take care <33

There’s a scrapped fluff ending for this btw. Wonder who scrapped it….

[kdogreads]

Imagine being Gibbs’ girl

He tries to keep his rough exterior, but he totally melts for you

He’ll definitely dance with you in the basement if you ask sweetly enough, and even if he pretends not to, he loves just swaying with you to some old country loves songs.

(This would definitely play through his radio)

Or kiss every one of you fingers if you come home from work and say they’re sore.

He will put you back in the car if you try to open your own door.

He’ll learn how to put your hair in a pony tail or a bun if you hurt your shoulder and can’t do it yourself. Plus he’ll keep brushing your hair for you, sitting snugly between his thighs and enjoying his warmth, long after you heal.

He sings to you if you wake up in the night reliving your darkest times in your dreams. He’ll wrap you up as tightly as he can in his strong arms, strong enough to remind you you’re safe with him, and whisper the words to any old song that pops into his head.

He loves to leave you little notes by the coffee pot or on your bedside table when he leaves before you do:

Have a good day, my love. See you tonight

- J

You agree not to marry early in the relationship

You’d both been around that block more than once, and it seemed like that fancy piece of paper just complicates things.

Of course, you’re exclusive to one another, but you just can’t bring yourselves to risk changing what you have by changing your last name. It seems so insignificant when you think of it that way.

Most of your neighbors and friends just assume you’re married, anyway. So when a letter arrives in the mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, you aren’t surprised. It makes you smile to see it on paper, but nothing is going to change your minds on this.

His love language is 100% acts of service

He’ll unload the dishwasher, fold the laundry, bring you home fresh flowers for no reason at all, have dinner ready if he somehow makes it home before you do one day. He rarely lets you bring in any groceries or luggage. Even though he knows you are tough enough to literally take him down, he wouldn’t dare letting you carry something too heavy or inconvenient.

Any little thing he can do to brighten your day, he does.

In turn, the small acts you grant him, like taking his suit jackets to the dry cleaners, setting his shoes and thermos out for him before work, picking up a new book about boats, make him fall even more in love with you.

He makes you things

J will make you anything he thinks you might like. A wooden stand for your plants, a step stool when you mention that the bed is just a little bit high off the ground for you, shelves to proudly display your knick knacks, a sled for Christmas after you tell him you never had one as a child.

He’d even try his hand at a ukulele if you mention wanting to learn to play.

Of course he’s made boats named for Kelly and Shannon, but his newest project is adorned proudly with your name, sprawled across the hull in flowing letters.

His hobby turns into more than just that, it’s his way to show you how much he loves you, and you soak in everything he’ll give you.

He’ll use his jacket to shield you from the rain

Jethro is usually prepared for anything, but rain can sneak up on you. In that case, he’ll peel his jacket off and cover you as best as he can. Even if it means he’ll get soaked to the bone, he’ll make sure you’re covered a least a little bit more than he is.

He tones down his crazy driving for you

The first time you got in the car with him, you about passed out from an anxiety attack. You don’t want to be a backseat driver, so you just grin and bear it for a while, but he picks up on your discomfort pretty quickly.

He slows down, starts using his turn signal, and stops cutting people off, but every now and then, when it’s late and the roads are empty, he’ll take you for a high-speed cruise just to get your blood pumping.

He’s much touchier than you ever imagined

A strong hand on the small of your back, fingers ghosting over your exposed thigh, a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder when you’re uneasy, or just brushing against you to pass, even when there is plenty of room to spare.

Anything he can do to have his hands on you, he’ll do. You two are like a safety tether for each other, always there to make sure you don’t drift too far away.

As far as PDA goes, Jethro is pretty limited in what he’s willing to show the world, but he’ll always find a discreet way to connect himself to you. A brief brush of your pinkies, a quick kiss to your forehead, or a full-on embrace if you find a moment alone. Whatever it is, his touch still sets you on fire every time.

He is so gentle and fatherly to children

The two of you decided early on that you would avoid having kids. Given his past, you understand and agree to the arrangement. When you get together with your young nieces and nephews, though, Jethro turns into a total kid right along with them.

He’s quick to join in a game of cops and robbers, always quipping how it’s so much more fun being the bad guy, or plop down in the grass and find pictures in the clouds.

When someone takes a tumble or scrapes up their knee, though, he’s the first to scoop them up in his strong arms and hug the pain away. He’ll make them feel better with a story about when he hurt his knee, too, or how chicks dig scars (you always smack him playfully for that).

He makes a mean cup of coffee

You’d never thought of yourself as much of a coffee snob, but after tasting Jethro’s version, brewed slowly over the fire if time allows and mixed with the perfect amount of cream and sugar, you could never go back to any coffee shop again.

Same goes for his cooking. He doesn’t make much, but when he does, damn it is good.

“The secret ingredient is love,” he’ll joke to you, mocking your own phrase, and you’ll roll your eyes as the flavors envelop your tastebuds.

All in all, our man Jethro is basically the best partner you could ever ask for, and you love showing him how much you appreciate him.

Tagging some of my LJG lovers 💕

@instantnoooodles @daphne-bourne @museofbooks @ilovemark1951 it won’t let me tag you :( @yestwlightfan

[kpop-reactions-povs]

Stray kids- Pregnant wife insists on keeping her independence

⸻

Bang Chan

Chan understands independence — it’s part of what he loves about you. But the first time he finds you on a step stool trying to clean a cabinet at 7 months pregnant, his heart drops.

“Babe,” he says quietly, taking you by the waist. “What are you doing?”

“I just wanted to get it done before you got home—”

“No,” he breathes, voice shaking slightly. “I can’t let you do things that put you or our baby at risk. Please.”

You start to argue, but he cups your face. “I know you’re strong. But part of being strong is letting someone help. And I need you to let me help. It’s all I ever wanna do.”

⸻

Lee Know

Minho gets passive-aggressively soft. Not angry — just… overly helpful.

You reach for a bag. He’s already taking it from your hands.

You start sweeping. He appears with the vacuum.

Finally, you snap, “I can still do things!”

He blinks. “And I’m still going to stop you.”

You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

He leans in, smirking, “You’re carrying my kid. That means you’ve been upgraded to queen status. Queens don’t mop floors.”

He pulls you into his chest. “Let me take care of you. You already do everything else.”

⸻

Changbin

Changbin sees you carrying groceries and immediately rushes over.

“You should’ve called me!”

“It was just a few things,” you say, brushing him off.

“Still too much for my precious girl and my baby,” he pouts, unloading the bags.

Later, he sits you down and gently cups your hands. “I know you want to be independent. I love that about you. But when it comes to your safety? I won’t ever be chill. I just won’t.”

He kisses your knuckles. “Let me spoil you. Please.”

⸻

Hyunjin

Hyunjin is half dramatic, half whipped. He catches you on your knees scrubbing the floor and gasps like it’s the end of the world.

“WHAT are you doing?”

“Cleaning!”

“You’re pregnant, not Cinderella!”

You laugh, but he’s dead serious. He pulls you up and sits you on the couch.

“I admire your fire,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. “But I need you to save your energy for growing our baby, not fighting the dust bunnies.”

From then on, he makes every task a joint effort — chore time becomes cuddle breaks, cleaning turns into dancing, and you never scrub floors alone again.

⸻

Han

Han is a mess. He walks in on you lifting a box and goes full panic mode.

“NOPE. Nope nope nope.”

“Jisung, chill.”

“You’re not a forklift! You’re growing a baby! That’s your only job now!”

He takes over, still muttering under his breath like a cartoon character. Later that night, he apologizes, arms around you.

“I know I overreact. But I just… I love you so much, I can’t take any risks. I need you both safe.”

You kiss his cheek, and he melts.

“I’ll try not to panic next time,” he says, “but you gotta let me help sometimes too, okay?”

⸻

Felix

Felix is the softest. He sees you doing something — anything — and gently pulls you away without a word.

You frown. “I was fine.”

“I know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “But why do things alone when I want to do them with you?”

You start to protest, and he smiles. “You’re the strongest person I know. But strong people still deserve rest. And you, my angel, deserve the world.”

That night, he makes your favorite meal, rubs your feet, and whispers, “You’ve done enough. Let me take care of you now.”

( Felix without makeup 🔛🔝)

Seungmin

Seungmin pretends to be chill. Until he catches you lifting a full laundry basket.

“Oh? So we’re carrying bricks now?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s laundry.”

He takes it from you anyway, giving you the look. “You can glare all you want. You’re banned from lifting anything that’s not a fork or a baby name list.”

Later, when you’re snuggled in bed, he rubs your back and says, “I know you don’t want to feel useless. But to me? You’re doing the most important job in the world. Let me do the rest.”

I.N (Jeongin)

Jeongin doesn’t fight you. He outsmarts you.

“Oh, you’re going to mop? Cool. I already did it.”

“You were going to vacuum? Done.”

“You wanted to walk to the store? Too bad. I already ordered snacks.”

Eventually, you call him out. “Stop babying me!”

He pauses, then cups your cheeks. “I’m not babying you. I’m loving you. And our baby. And this whole little life we’re building.”

He kisses your forehead. “Let me do it all, just for a little while. You’ve done enough.”

[laurenairay]

omg 6 is SO jarvy coded for your blurbs!!! 😭🤍

6 – “You kissed me.” “You kissed me back.” - Seth Jarvis

836 words.

Ahhh yes thank you Emmie, he fit with this one perfectly!

~

The morning after the night before. You were slightly ashamed at how groggy hangovers were becoming part of your routine, but considering that you’d only just graduated from college, you figured you still had a few years leeway. Having a little money from your first big girl job had its perks, okay? And if that meant partying after work on occasion and going to bars every week, then you could deal with that.

At least coffee existed to help, anyway.

Waking up today had been fairly manageable – you were a bit fuzzy on memories, but rolling out of bed to shower didn’t make you hurl and neither did your attempts to eat some dry toast while your coffee brewed. It was one of the first things you’d bought with your first paycheck – a decent coffee machine – and right now it was your saviour. Even just the smell alone made you feel a little more alive, and by the time you’d eaten two slices of toast and gotten through half a mug of latte, you could feel the memories of your previous night slipping back into focus.

Last night hadn’t been a trip to a bar, but a gathering – friends of friends. Nothing massive but still a sizeable crowd that let you feel anonymous enough to dance to your hearts content while still catching up with the social crowd you’d found yourself falling into in Raleigh.

Shots with Svechy. Dancing with the Martinooks and the Slavins. Discussing the best Finnish saunas with Jesperi and Sebastian. A kiss with Seth.

You choked on the last dregs of your coffee with that last memory, hurrying to wipe up the sprayed liquid as you coughed to clear your throat. A kiss. A kiss with Seth. With Seth?

Oh fuck.

Of all the nights for alcohol to give you the courage to act on your crush, it had to be when most of his teammates were around. You could only hope that none of them saw you embarrassing yourself, otherwise you’d never be able to show your face again. Although, if your hazy memory served you correctly, Seth had eagerly kissed you back.

But what if he was too drunk to remember it? What if he did remember, but wanted to pretend it didn’t happen?

The sound of your apartment buzzer broke you out of your spiralling thoughts, and it was all you could do to stumble over to the front door.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Seth. I have coffee?”

Oh fuck.

You couldn’t remember making any plans with him but you had a sinking feeling why he’d turned up at your door. There was no point delaying the inevitable, was there? You buzzed him up without a response, quickly running to the bathroom to freshen up and put on a bra, and before you knew it, Seth was walking through your front door.

“One coffee,” Seth announced, offering you a takeaway cup as he kicked off his shoes.

You just smiled, taking a sip and savouring the caffeine and oat milk.

“Thank you,” you mused, leading him into the kitchen.

Seth just grinned, sitting down on a kitchen stool. “I know what you’re like without caffeine,” he teased.

You just stuck your tongue out, making him laugh. As he picked at the label of his own coffee, you stayed silent, sipping on your drink, not willing to make the first move in conversation. If he’d come over, then he must’ve had a reason to.

“So, uh, last night…”

Seth trailed off, looking uncharacteristically awkward. Here goes nothing.

“You kissed me,” he murmured.

“You kissed me back.”

Seth huffed out a laugh as your cheeks heated, nodding his agreement.

“I did,” he acknowledged.

His eyes caught yours, sparkling with mirth as always, although there was a seriousness you hadn’t seen directed your way before.

“Was it a drunken thing?”

“I’m pretty sure we were both drunk?”

Seth laughed again, shaking his head. “I meant more like, was it a spur of the moment drunken mistake kind of thing?”

Ah. Very different. There were two ways this could go. You could either confirm his statement and the two of you would never talk about it again. Or, you could tell him the truth. What choice did you have?

“No, it wasn’t a mistake for me,” you murmured.

His answering grin settled the bubbling anxiety threatening to fizz through your blood.

“Well, that’s good,” you managed to say.

“It is?” he needled, grin teasing.

There was the Seth you’d grown to love.

“Maybe you should tell me what you’re going to do about it, hm?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Two could play at that game. Seth’s pupils blew out, making your breath hitch in your throat as a clear wave of confidence washed over his face. “I was thinking I could take you out. Coffee, drinks, dinner, whatever you want. Just you and me. What do you think?”

You could admire a man who was direct.

“I think it sounds like a date.”

[sseulforgii]

Oh my my my

Im Nayeon x Reader

a/n: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since October. time to let it out of the vault. 🙂‍↕️

"I'll still look at you like stars that shine in the sky"

When you were seven years old you can't explain what that feeling was in the pit of your stomach and in your chest. All you knew was when your next door neighbor, Im Nayeon, dragged you out of your parents' grasps and into the backyard that summer night where the stars so brightly shinned, your whole world stopped. It's the way her eyes twinkled more dazzlingly than any stars that night and the way her bunny teeth smile light up the whole backyard brighter than any moon. It's the way she giggled as she pushed passed the adults in that party and asked you to dance with her in the middle of her aunt's wedding. It's the way her dad chuckled at your mortified expression and her giddy state when she announced that she too will marry you someday then kissed your cheek before running away giggling. You were seven but that very moment was etched in your brain permanently, albeit you still can't name that feeling yet.

At sixteen you finally knew that there was this certain feeling you have for your next-door neighbor. It wasn't because she was always so sweet and playful towards you. It wasn't because her eyes swam with so much emotions when she looks at you. It wasn't because of the way she calls your name with a giggle every single time. Nope, it was none of these butterflies-in-your-tummy moments but rather such a silly mishap, her literally falling on your arms from standing on a stool as she was installing a wall fan for your mom that made you realize that you were in love with Im Nayeon all along.

You were twenty-three and working in your mom's booth in the fair one night, handing out free samples and selling the jam she made when it all happened. There were a lot of games, some contests, a handful of rides, and good food everywhere. The lights and decorations make everything more magical and romantic even. You spotted Nayeon with her friends from the city. They were playing a shooting game and you can't help but stare at her as she laughed and played with them, a ghost of a smile starting to form in your lips as you see her enjoying herself. You were brought back to your task at hand when your mom playfully hit you with her spatula and you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of getting caught.

Your mom laughed at your expression, you always pretend to be so nonchalant and quiet when it comes to Nayeon although the people around you were quite positive you'll end up together. You rolled your eyes at her as she said, "You know you can always ask her out, right?" Of course you denied it, "I don't like her that way, mom, just drop it," you say as you hand out more samples. You mom gave you a knowing look but didn't say anymore as Nayeon and her friends are approaching your booth. She gave you her adorable smile where her bunny teeth showed as she waved at you. You gave her a very brief smile and pretended you were busy refilling your tray.

On your periphery you see a boy beside Nayeon chatting with her playfully, you tried to swallow something bubbling in your feelings and scowled a little. Your mother, to her credit, tried her best to stifle a laugh as she was observing you while giving out some food to Nayeon and her friends. As they were eating the boy suddenly asked Nayeon to go somewhere with her for a while and you heard her agreeing and telling her friends she'll be right back. You sighed and got strange looks from her friends but kept quietly working while looking at Nayeon walking away with that boy. "Where are they going?" you hear one of her friends ask while the other snickered, "He's taking her to the marriage booth to ask her out." You slammed the jar you were holding on the table and everyone was startled. Your mom looking at you knowingly as she said, "Go get her, you idiot."

You never ran as fast as you could in your entire life. You navigated through the crowd as flashbacks of her promise to marry you someday is the only thing on your mind. You spot them a few feet away talking and you stopped to look at Nayeon, breathing heavily. By some force, as always when you're both in the same room, she looks up and spotted you immediately. She gave you smile although you can see she's a bit confused. This is it. You've made up your mind after trying, and failing, to brush off your feelings for her. You jogged your way to Nayeon with determination as you kept your eyes on her, and you saw her eyes change from confusion to understanding then mischief. She giggled when you reached her and you can't help but tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear as you said a breathy "Hi." You can't move as you saw her staring right back at you and the boy she was with looked at the both of you in confusion and disbelief.

"Sorry, we have somewhere we need to be," she said to the boy even though she's still holding your gaze. And just like when you were kids, Nayeon took your hand and ran to the marriage booth laughing. You ran with her, butterflies erupting in your tummy and heart so full you feel like flying. You looked up, the stars twinkling and the moon shining brightly, just like the that very day and here she is making good on her promise even if it's just a silly game. But in your head, you promised you'd marry her for real on a night like this, when the stars are twinkling and the moon is shining - so pretty and mesmerizing just like the girl smiling at you and holding your hand.