#like if you had a drinking game w your friends “take a shot for every Italian you see/hear”

[steelthroat]

"Hey mom look I talked about this one when I graduated :D!"

Btw there are only two genders:

propaganda posters from WW1/2

Art nouveau/theater posters

See???

[hongthoven]

「✦Mist ✦」 ʰᵒⁿᵍʲᵒᵒⁿᵍ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ˢᵐᵘᵗ⁾

one-shot 𖹭 4.5k w

pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

tags 𖹭 smut; established relationship; rough sex; car sex; jealousy; possessiveness; bit of dirty talk if you squint

✏️ Hongjoong is the jealous kind - you know it, everyone around you knows it, but what was supposed to be a chill night out with your friends takes an unexpected turn when your boyfriend accidentally hears about a past fling including one of the boys sitting at the table next to you.

pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭

© hongthoven

“He’s gonna blow this off. You just watch”

An uneventful, typical Friday night at your local bar with your usual gang, dusting off the reminiscence of a neverending busy week of work and pretending to enjoy the company of people you wish you didn’t even have to interact with daily. With his elbows pressed against the table as he lifts himself to get a perfect view over the bar where one of your friends disappeared merely a minute ago, Seonghwa can’t contain the hysterical laughter shaking him to the bones as you all sit there watching another chaotic cry for attention from the man who’s about to use another infamous cringy pick-up line to get into the bartender’s pants. 

While you’re not always proud to introduce him as such, Wooyoung has been granted with the best-friend status ever since you were still crawling in your nappies and struggling with the concept of syllables; and even though there was a time he used to be cute enough to get out of an awkward situation, watching him make an absolute fool of himself sits inevitably at the top three things you like to do on a Friday night– having Hongjoong there by your side only sprinkles an ounce of perfection to this moment, your boyfriend primarily acting like the cherry on top of every mundane situation. And right now, with his palm tucked between your closed thighs and his forehead occasionally resting against your shoulder every time he starts to laugh a little bit too loud at your friend’s misery, Hongjoong definitely looks like the tastiest dessert to the three-courses-meal you could have used upon heading to the bar. 

Red at the cheeks, you can already feel the sheer mix of alcohol and excitement as everyone starts to chant some improvised loser anthem to welcome back Wooyoung at your table, his cocky smirk untouchable as he finds his spot right next to you with the confidence of a sore loser facing the tragic ‘game over’ screen of a video game. Looking for the support he can’t find in any of you, Wooyoung immediately reaches for the first glass in front of him — yours —  and chugs it down his throat in what you count as two painfully slow gulps. Within a second, the glass hits the table back with a loud thump.

“Can’t even get your own drink?”

“Hhhhh— chill, babe, what’s yours is mine, remember? and yes, that includes YOU, Joong!” Wooyoung smirks a little bit too proudly, your cheek pinched between two of his fingers as he manages to equally piss you and your boyfriend off with his typical provocative tone. 

Lucky for you, Hongjoong is quick to let him know he wouldn’t go near his dick even if he was about to die and the only remedy was laying in his cum– and as the topic eventually dies with Wooyoung quietly chuckling to himself, the back of his head hitting the leather of the booth you had claimed as yours over an hour ago, Seonghwa calls for another round, ready to keep the night going. 

It’s nothing close to unusual, having a bunch of friends in their twenties naturally leading the conversation towards their favorite topic: sex. More specifically, a heated debate over who’s getting some and who gets to take the “no bitches” status home for the week. Seonghwa usually gets the party started– as a photographer, the man never fails to share the crudest anecdotes about a photoshoot turned into some sort of orgy, sparing no details even though being asked to ‘get to the point’ about a thousand times throughout his stories. Then, Wooyoung would usually make his contribution by sharing some of his latest Tinder encounters, using this moment to be his favorite version – the center of attention – and turning a random story about a date in a coffee shop into a Shakespearian drama, tone and everything, to entertain the crowd. 

By the time the two single pieces of your gang are done, they typically enjoy teasing you – the happy couple – asking if sex hasn’t turned too boring yet, as you’re soon to be entering your third year as an item. But tonight, for some reason, shit unexpectedly hits the fan when a silly comment makes your boyfriend flinch into his seat, eyebrows knitted together as Wooyoung’s voice – always too loud and high-pitched – comes out with a secret you thought would be kept forever, merely a piece of information, a glitch from the past, nothing to even discuss— unless Hongjoong decides to make it an issue. 

“You two slept together?” you only realize he’s been quiet for a while when his voice surprisingly cracks under the utter shock of picturing his girlfriend hooking up with the womanizer sitting by her side. Until then, never considered a threat but now standing awfully close to the woman Hongjoong liked to claim as his, brand new information instantly breaking the perfect balance between a long-time friend and an ex-lover he didn’t see coming. 

“I wouldn’t technically call it ‘sleeping’ — I mean, there was no bed involv—”

“Shut up, Wooyoung” you cut him off immediately, rolling your eyes at the way he simply NEEDS to add useless details to his statement.

“That was ages ago” While you feel the urge to add context, the way Hongjoong’s hand immediately stills between your thighs, matching the one holding his glass close to his lips as he tilts his head with a quick, unimpressed chuckle, says it all. He is pissed.

The rest of the evening is quite a blur as you fail to focus on any of the ongoing conversations, your attention entirely drawn to Hongjoong who's gone quiet ever since he heard about a whole section of your life you had managed to keep undercover to this day. And though you try to make eye contact every now and then, you’re a bit concerned to face his clenched jaw and a stone-cold silence, his body only reacting from primal instinct whenever Wooyoung wraps an arm around your shoulders to joke around, your boyfriend’s eyes following his every move like a predator ready to jump if he dares coming closer.

The silence between you two occurs for the rest of the night and follows you through the streets as you struggle to match your boyfriend’s pace, alcohol and stilettos as the worst combination with wet concrete from a drizzly evening. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?” You eventually dare to ask, your hand reaching for his arm to stop him in his tracks – quite honestly you’ve grown tired of staring at his back and strolling behind like a puppy who’s just wet the new carpet. 

“Take a wild guess” Hongjoong almost hisses as he finally turns to face you, one of his hands collecting a fistful of his black hair to push it back and in this moment, you hate the fact he looks so divine, droplets sparkling all over his face like skin made of a billion diamonds, thick lashes battling against a storm as he locks your gaze, trying desperately to read through your puzzled expression.

“For Christ’s sake Hongjoong, that was YEARS ago— a whole different life!”

“It’s not about ‘when’ it happened, Y/N, I’m just wondering why it never came up before. God knows he likes to talk about the places his dick has been before, we had a complete walk through a world tour— Wish I knew you were one of the stops.” 

“It never came up because it means nothing– doesn’t it prove anything at all? We were just horny college students! It was over before it was even a thing!”

“Seems like you left quite the impression” Hongjoong snaps back, his fingers fiddling with his pocket, looking for a lighter and what seems to be the only cigarette left in the packet he immediately crushes and tosses into the nearest bin – baffled. You try and recall Wooyoung’s words and the way he carelessly exposed one of your flings, letting the entire table know about how you had dragged him into the corner of a busy street following a night out in a club, begging to be fucked. Like you said, a whole different life— a life when you didn’t care much about settling with anyone, sick of the dating scene and more importantly, a life when you could still perceive Wooyoung’s sex appeal. Back then, it was easy to be charmed whenever he smiled at you, tongue poking into his gummy cheek like he was a second away from bending you over the sketchy couch of his pocket-sized student bedroom. Back then, mindless sex with your best friend seemed like a perfect compromise, especially when you two ended up too horny yet too lazy to go out and seek for a Player 2. 

Now, though? Wooyoung remained your best friend, a comfort place always willing to make you laugh through darker times— but when it came to sex? You couldn’t even recall the last time you had felt attracted to the man. How could you, when the one staring at you right now, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched together and quite obviously dismantled by the whole situation was still, inevitably, profoundly, everything you wanted and needed from a partner?

“You know he can’t compete…” you feel the urge to insist although you can’t recall a time when you haven’t praised your boyfriend’s skills in the bedroom— or wherever he feels like having you. Truth be told, no one could ever make you drift away from Hongjoong. Even after years of dating, the man still managed to take your breath away. But you would also lie if you said you didn’t like his jealous side just a little. The way his lips turn into a natural pout as he sucks onto his cigarette, his eyes obviously avoiding yours as he frowns towards a random scene happening on the other side of the road between another couple whose fight seems way ahead of yours. You can’t help but notice the irony. Maybe something in the air?

“It’s not a competition, Y/N” Hongjoong rarely uses your name— typically prefers to give you his favorite pet names instead of some boring formality, and tonight is one of those rare exceptions when he is too mad to act like your usual caring boyfriend. You know he is probably rummaging through the most haunting thoughts— thoughts of you pinned up against the wall, clinging onto Wooyoung, both of you still half clothed as he rockets himself into you, making you call his name in the middle of the streets and for everyone to see. 

Rain has gotten you drenched by now, the fabric of your dress sticking to your shivering skin as you curse yourself for ditching a coat just because none of your warmest jackets would fit your vibe that night. Your impeccable fashion taste was actually one of the many things that had caught Hongjoong’s eye when you had first met and to this day, your boyfriend never missed a chance to praise your looks— every morning he would stare at you with a loving smile, a second before pressing his lips to your neck as you both stood in front of your bedroom’s mirror, his sweet voice whispering the most devastating compliments only to conclude with a daily “I love you”. 

“Let’s get you home, you’re gonna catch a fucking cold” Hongjoong adds, taking off his own coat to let it rest like a cape upon your shoulders. Though the fabric is just as drenched as you are, it feels comforting to smell the familiar scent of his signature fragrance, the one that never fails to get you hot and bothered, only because it is particularly crafted for your boyfriend. Rich, fancy with just enough masculinity in the undertone to make you feel like he owns you entirely. 

Although you hear him curse for parking the car so far from the bar, his hand still finds yours as you lock your fingers together, his pace now matching yours — and while you know he isn’t ready to calm down just yet, there’s a sense of comfort in the way he still manages to make you feel loved and cared about. 

The warmth of the car hits you like lava as Hongjoong immediately sets the heat above normal in hope it’ll dry your clothes faster. Though he has started the ignition, he seems to be frozen still, his eyes staring upfront, hands on the wheel as you notice just how tensed he actually is, from the sharpness of his jaw to the way his skin turns white around his knuckles from holding the wheel a little too hard. 

“I don’t want to picture you two together everytime we hang out, Y/N… Actually, I never want to picture anyone else with you, but me — do you understand? or do I sound crazy to you right now?” 

Hongjoong’s possessiveness is no news to you. Not after years of dating the man and witnessing his sudden change of mood whenever he sees a man standing a little too close, let alone having a conversation with you. It’s not a fight you never had before and you know, deep down, it won’t be the last. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you” he adds, almost apologetic as his eyes finally find yours “but now all I can see is his hands all over you… It’s fucking killing me” you watch as he closes his eyes, growling at his own tormented thoughts while the back of his head hits the leather of his seat. By now the windows are covered with a thick, steamy layer, making it impossible for you to see the road ahead. Or to be seen. 

Taking on the opportunity of having your boyfriend still processing his own demons, you decide to let your intrusive thoughts win this round as you peel yourself off Hongjoong’s coat, letting it pool on the seat 

“How about I give you something else to think about?” you smile, wasting no time in straddling your boyfriend whose eyes suddenly open wide at the unexpected intrusion. There’s a little space for you to maneuver between the wheel and his chest but you somehow manage to make it work, your thighs pressed on each side of his while your arms lock around his neck like two pieces of a magnet smacking together at last. 

“Babe— I don’t think you should play this game right now” Hongjoong’s voice is full of warning, his tone a little deeper than it usually is, but you’re not typically the one to give up on a plan, especially when it involves fucking the anger out of your boyfriend. 

“Give me one good reason to stop” brushing your lips against his, your hips naturally start to grind over his lap, putting on an obvious show while his hands travel up your thighs, creasing the wet fabric of your dress until it crumples at the wake of your hips. 

“I could hurt you” the words vanish against your tongue as you deepen the kiss, dying for a taste of him while the sour mix of whisky and cigarette invades the back of your mouth like a drug you can’t ever get enough of.  Caged into his arms, you feel a little boneless, your own body going limp against the stiffness of his muscles as his fingers dig into your flesh, lacing your skins with thin little red ribbons as he carries your pace by pushing your pelvis back and forth against his growing bulge. 

“When did I ever ask you to go soft on me?” you tease, the tip of your tongue tracing the outline of his lips as you chuckle at the sight of him crumpling in front of your eyes. One of his hands eventually detaches from your thigh, traveling up your stomach, between your breast, palming your chest until it rests against your throat in the shape of a fist ready to choke the air out of you. 

“Want me to go rough on you, love?” Hongjoong smirks, his white pearls as a permanent threat while his grip tightens around your neck, a slight change of shade showing a bruise from a couple nights before, now a little too faded for his liking. 

“Fuck I like to see my prints all over your body— show the world you’re fucking mine.” The daunting mix of his filthy words with the growing stiffness between your thighs is enough to have you mewling like a kitten as you tilt your head back, arching perfectly against the wheel while giving your man the most breathtaking view over your breast as it escapes the thin fabric of your dress — and though it’s been a while since you gave up on wearing a bra, the sight never fails to make Hongjoong go completely feral, his lips attacking your tits like a starved animal. 

“Joongie— fuck” you almost squeal as soon as his teeth graze the sensitiveness of your erected nub, pulling at it just enough to have you lost in limbo. Halfway between excruciating pain and absolute bliss. By now, your hips are jolting at the most crazy pace, your entire body craving for his touch as you no longer fear for him to witness your utter desperation for his cock. With his mouth still tightly wrapped around your tit, Hongjoong reaches for your chin with one hand, his fingers pressed to your jaw, his thumb finding your mouth already agape as it lands flat against your tongue like a priest feeding you a wafer on Sunday Mass. 

While his finger never comes close to the absolute treat of having his junk at the very back of your throat, you still make sure to put on a show as you suck the flesh out of his thumb, taking off his silver ring only to spit it out over his lap with a content smile. Eyes filled with a darkness you know too well, Hongjoong wastes no time fumbling between your thighs, pushing your lacy panties roughly to the side and almost tearing the fabric open from lacking patience as his thumb finally finds your slit, your own saliva melting with the abundant wetness of your cunt. 

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this” he almost growls, his mouth attacking your neck, chest and every piece of skin coming close enough to his starving lips, devouring your flesh entirely as you instantly clench around two more of his fingers while yet not full enough. 

“Joongie please” you don’t care how begging you sound right now with your hand smashed against the window, leaving its print behind while bouncing against his palm like you’ve been cock deprived for months. There’s just something about this man that simply leaves you putty into his hands, desperate for more and constantly craving his touch. Whether you’re standing in a crowded room or alone at home, you can’t recall a moment when you don't feel the instant urge to jump his bones. 

You’re lucky the steam is covering up for the mess happening inside your car right now as if anything, everything looks absolutely obscene right now. From the way your dress isn’t doing its job at covering your dignity, all tits out and dripping inside your boyfriend’s palm as he hooks his fingers into you, hitting your special spot just right with every snap of his knuckles, to the increasing sound of your voice as you moan his name like a broken record, brain fuzzy from the upcoming orgasm taking over — yet the thought of being caught isn’t that terrible. You’ve had this conversation with Hongjoong before. When mentioning your kinks and wildest fantasies, you can perfectly recall the time you had told him about how you wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere people could see— while not entirely into the exhibitionism scene, you didn’t hate the idea of having an audience. 

Hongjoong’s hand — the one clenching around your throat until now — finds its way between your bodies, fiddling with his belt as you lift yourself up slightly to give him just enough room to unpack your favorite treat in all its veiny glory. Any other day, you would take your sweet time to give him head and have him fuck your throat until you’re sore but there’s some sort of emergency in the air as you grab his wrist, breaking contact as his fingers slip out of your gaping hole so his hand finds a new nest over your chest, covering your skin with a messy coat of arousal as you finally slide down his pole until it empales you entirely. 

Nothing ever comes close to that first stretch. No matter how many times you have fucked, Hongjoong still feels like a first everytime he pushes himself into you, tearing you apart with the girth of a cock who has definitely made you cry before. Both from pain and pleasure. But today there’s no time for adjustment as you use the car door and headboard as a lever to bounce over Hongjoong’s lap restlessly. The whole scene is messy, almost crude as you pour over his slacks, the buckle of his belt bruising your skin with every hard thrust of his hips as soon as he starts to pound himself back into you, wrecking the pace and your insides all at the same time. 

“Should have invited your little friend to watch” Hongjoong growls, eyes half shut with the veins of his neck growing twice its size from using all of his strength to pistol his hips into your groin from under. “Show him how it’s done” he adds, using both his hands as a belt around your hips to keep you still as he keeps pounding harder with each thrust. By now your brain has turned into mush as you bite into the back of your hand not to scream, completely unable to think about anything else but the insane amount of pleasure piling up into your guts as you feel yourself reaching your high at a rocket speed. 

“What happened to you, baby? Lost your tongue?” he smirks, slowing down for a bit only to go harder a second after, forcing your back against the wheel so hard the car starts to honk with each thrust, making you nervous while Hongjoong doesn’t seem to bother about the sudden attention. 

“H—hongjoong— backseat— please” you barely manage to moan, almost gasping for air with each word as your boyfriend eventually slows down until he comes to a stop, blessing you with the delightful sight of his dismantled face, sweaty and red with his black hair plastered all over his forehead, thick veins pulsating on each side of his throat, chest glowing with dampness. He couldn’t look hotter if he tried. Peeking at his underarm as he pulls you into a kiss, you refrain a moan at the sight of his tattoo as your tongue instantly melts with it, saltiness of sweat melting with your saliva as you come down from your high slightly while enjoying the complete bliss of cockwarming him for a while. 

Breaking the kiss, Hongjoong simply tilts his head to the side, motioning for the backseat, commanding as ever without actually saying the words. Obedient and climax deprived, you lift yourself up and off his lap, trying your best to crawl in the backseat with as much grace as possible while Hongjoong wiggles out of his pants just enough to give himself more room as he follows you there, visibly unpleased to find you with your back against the seat, facing him. Again, without a word, Hongjoong gives you a little twirl of his finger, ordering for you to turn around and get on all fours for him, smacking your ass as soon as it rises upfront in all its glory. 

Pushing a knee between your legs to spread them apart, Hongjoong spits into his palm, coating it with saliva as you squirms with impatience, picturing his fist around his cock as soon as the familiar sound of your boyfriend jerking himself off hits you, making you clench over nothing — luckily not for long as the comforting stretch of his cock tearing you apart steals the air out of your lungs merely a few seconds later. 

“Fuck I’ve been dying to have you like this since you put on that dress, tonight” Hongjoong grunts, one of his hands wrapping your hair into a tight ponytail while the other rests firmly at the small of your back. Although his thrusts are definitely slower this time, you can’t help but cry out everytime he bottoms out, filling you up to the brim with each snap of his vicious hips.

“What took you so long?” you moan, hands clenched around the head-rest as Hongjoong tugs at your hair a little harder, probably as a punishment for provoking him again. 

“Couldn’t wait to get you alone— although maybe I should’ve fucked you right accross the table for everyone to see? I know you’re desperate for an audience…” The filth of his words match the brutality of his hips as Hongjoong pulls out entirely, smacking his throbbing head against your clit until you whine with desperation. By now, that dress is completely ruined, crumbled around your hips like a vulgar rag and definitely covered with sweat and cum but you can definitely recall the way Hongjoong’s eyes had twinkled when giving him a little spin earlier in the privacy of your bedroom. You knew he was a goner every time you wore a dress so thin he could catch a glimpse of your tits hardening under the fabric and today wasn’t any different. If it wasn’t for the unexpected Wooyoung-gate, you knew Hongjoong would have fucked you braindead in the sketchy bathroom of the bar. Not that it would be a first. 

“H— joongie— i’m— close” you almost sob, already overstimulated as your guts suddenly tighten into a knot, your body almost collapsing under Hongjoong’s last efforts to get you exactly where he needs you. Lifting you up with one arm snaked around your chest, fist locking your throat, Hongjoong quickens the pace, the abundance of skin-on-skin mixed with the brutality of his thrusts making the car shake under your knees as you suddenly stiffens under his touch, your screams muffled into his palm as your boyfriend is quick to follow, thick white ropes filling you up to the brim as you both collapse against the seat, exhausted.

It takes you a while to come down from your high as Hongjoong helps you settle back into the seat, cradling you. Your hands filled with strands of his wet hair, pushing it back to unveil his blissful face, you cannot help but sigh with the most sincere happiness when his lips find your neck, pecking it slightly, his tongue darting against a bruise left from his fingers tightly wrapped around your throat earlier. In this moment, nothing much matters except for the two of you and the unconditional love you two share.

No more jealousy. No more fighting. 

[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ ALL MINE ˙🌷͙֒ ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: it's been months since you cut ties with your bff-turned-fwb. now, you’re stuck with a new guy who’s a total fucking letdown in the bedroom. but there’s no way you’re telling your bestie baekhyun that embarrassing detail, right? WRONG. you guys share everything. and of course, baekhyun won't stop teasing you about it—especially after another disastrous date. just when you've hit your limit, you come home to find him rummaging through the pantry, snacking like he runs the place. but don't worry, he's here to make it up to you!!!!! and by "make it up to you," i mean help release all of your pent-up sexual frustration, because that's what besties do, right? …right?!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: 18+/MDNI. 8.5k+ words. baekhyun x f!reader. no specified age, but i'd say they're somewhere in their early-to-mid 20’s cus i can only imagine people w/o fully developed frontal lobes behaving this way, respectfully 😭🙂‍↕️ bff's to fwb's to bff's again to strangers to lovers. fluff, angst, and it ain’t a baekhyunsbestie fic if it don’t got some good ol’ nasty smuuuttttt. pet names, praise kink, cheating, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie after creampie after creampie (baekhyun deffo has breeder balls, don’t @ me), overstimulation (both f + m). you both are just two big meanie idiots who are in love with each other.

your phone lights up with a ping, the glow illuminating your face as baekhyun’s text pops up on the screen: 

✶bestie baekhyun!!!✶

aaawwww, is that your little boyfriend who can’t make you cum??? you guys are so cute together!

attached is a screenshot of your recent instagram story— you and your latest fling cozied up at a movie date earlier this evening. a date that ended with you unsatisfied, yet again. 

your gaze drifts across the room. baekhyun, lounging on the couch, meets your eyes with that signature, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. the one that makes your eye twitch in instant irritation. he’s enjoying this way too much and you want to pummel him into the ground. 

it’s been a week since you let your embarrassing little secret slip—your boyfriend can’t make you cum. and now, for seven agonizing days, your infuriating best friend has been toying with that knowledge like it’s his new favorite game. poking at your frustration with every sly comment, every teasing smirk.

you’re seething, and sexually frustrated, wound tight and ready to fucking snap. baekhyun knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing your buttons like only he can, and you’re not sure if you want to punch him or let him finish what your boyfriend never could.

it’s your bi-weekly hangout with your friend group—same old routine: catching up over movies, playing drinking games, maybe getting high, with mindless banter and a sea of snacks. the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the air as you wait for takeout to arrive. you're surrounded by your closest friends, laughing, relaxed. but beneath the surface, you’re a storm waiting to break. every fiber of your being wants to blow up at him, but you can’t. no one knows about the “friends-with-benefits” situation that crashed and burned a few months ago, and you'd be damned if they found out. it would wreck the entire dynamic, fill the room with awkward tension, and you're not about to let that happen.

it lasted as long as it could before you realized you were starting to catch feelings— which definitely wasn’t part of the deal. you couldn’t admit that to him, though. no way, it’d be too embarrassing. you’d wreck the years of friendship that you have between you. so instead, you lied. you told him you were interested in seeing someone and wanted to give it a real shot.

one of your coworkers had been persistent about taking you out, and eventually, you gave in. he was great—amazing, even. a real charmer, with looks that could stop traffic, a sharp sense of humor, and a surprising attentiveness that made him seem like the total package. except for one small detail: he couldn’t take you to that edge, couldn’t push you past the brink where pleasure turns into toe-curling bliss. you tried to tell yourself that, with time and patience, he could learn. maybe, with a few more pointers, he’d figure out how to unravel you, bit by bit. 

but the truth is, you don’t want to have to teach someone all over again. not when there’s someone who already knows every inch of your body, someone whose touch leaves you trembling without needing a single word. baekhyun. he’s the one who knows exactly where to touch, where to linger, how to make you drip with nothing but a glance or the graze of his fingers.

but, of course, it’s never that simple. because baekhyun is your best friend, and as much as you wish he could see you in the same way, he doesn’t—or at least, not in the way you need him to. and even though your boyfriend has been nothing but sweet and patient these past few months, the connection just isn’t there. the attraction feels muted, like a faded echo of what it should be.

it leaves you simmering with a frustration you can’t admit out loud, the kind that gnaws at you from the inside, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest crack to spill over and consume you. you’ve been holding it together for so long, but every time you’re near baekhyun, every casual brush of his skin against yours, it pushes you closer to the edge. and you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending. how much longer you can keep this act going, knowing that the one person you truly want is right there, just out of reach.

suddenly overwhelmed and no longer in the mood for the night’s festivities, thanks to baekhyun, you decided to slip away quietly. feigning a tired smile, you excused yourself, blaming it on the onset of a cold you claimed was creeping up on you.

as you got up and gathered your things, slipping on your sweater to shield yourself from the chilly october evening, baekhyun let out an exaggerated yawn and announced he was heading out as well, drawing boos and groans from your friends that both of you were leaving. 

feeling the walls close in, you rush to the door, needing to escape and breathe. your hands fumble to slip on your shoes, heart racing, fingers already gripping the cool metal of the doorknob. just as you’re about to turn it, baekhyun’s voice stops you, smooth but firm. "hey, let me take you home." his presence lingers behind you, his words almost a plea, warm and insistent.

without meeting his gaze, you replied coldly, “no, i’m fine. i’d rather walk,” waving him off dismissively. “goodnight, baekhyun.”

“w-wait!” he called out, but you were already closing the door in his face. you pulled your bag over your shoulder and tugged your sweater tighter around your neck, bracing against the crisp fall air.

your apartment was only a few blocks away, an easy ten-minute walk on most nights, but tonight, you lingered. every step was slower, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you wandered the quiet streets. you needed the extra time, the space to think about the growing weight of your situation. 

your thoughts drifted to your boyfriend—should you break up with him? the idea gnawed at you. you even reached for your phone, fingers hovering over his name, but the words refused to come. how could you explain that nothing he did ever truly satisfied you? that every time, you had to guide him, instruct him, tell him how to touch you, how to kiss you. his attempts never stirred anything deep inside, and when he fucked you, it was mechanical—passionless, almost empty.

he wasn’t like baekhyun.

with baekhyun, you never had to say a word. he knew your body instinctively, knew how to make you unravel without asking. he never needed guidance to make you cum; it was as natural as breathing for him.

you approached your apartment complex, the weight of your unresolved dilemma still pressing heavily on your mind—caught between trying to make things work with your boyfriend and the tangled, confusing feelings you had for baekhyun. your shoulders slumped as your head hung low, chin brushing against your chest, your eyes tracing the cracks in the pavement. the world around you felt muted, distant, like you were moving through a fog, everything blurred and out of focus.

with a swift punch of the door code, the lock beeped softly, and the door groaned open. but before you could step inside, your breath caught in your throat. there, by the entrance, sat a pair of men’s shoes—worn but familiar, ones you couldn’t possibly mistake. they rested neatly by the door, as if they had been waiting for you, like he had been waiting for you.

a tired sigh slipped from your lips, recognition sinking into your chest. you didn’t need to look any further to know who was already inside.

you were hoping for a moment of solitude to finish gathering your thoughts, but there he was—baekhyun, rummaging through your pantry, helping himself to your snacks.

“baekhyun, what are you doing here?” you ask, voice laced with surprise and slight irritation. 

it’s not like his presence is unusual—he’s your best friend after all. he used to drop by unannounced all the time, making himself at home as if your space was his own. he’d lounge on your couch, rummage through your fridge, and sometimes, without a word, he'd settle next to you for hours. but since you both called off your little "arrangement," those random visits had stopped completely. maybe it was because there was no longer that unspoken pull drawing him to your bed, or maybe—for once—he was trying to give you some space.

but let’s be real—baekhyun doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, especially when it comes to you. and little did you know, it’s not respect for your privacy that keeps him away. no, it’s because he can’t bear the thought of walking in and potentially finding you with someone else. the idea of seeing you with your new boyfriend—his hands where baekhyun’s used to be—would kill him. he’s already imagined it a hundred times, and each time, the image is enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out.

he peeks out from behind the pantry door, a bag of chips in his grip, he grinned. “oh, hey! you’re finally here.” he stuffed a few chips into his mouth, his voice muffled. “y’seemed a bit out of it, so i wanted to make sure you were okay.” with a playful poke to your cheek, causing you to grimace. “shoulda just let me drive ya home, cupcake. i’ve been here for like ten minutes already.”

"cupcake." the nickname pulls you into a warm memory from childhood. you and baekhyun, determined to bake cupcakes for a school event, laughed as flour flew everywhere, turning the kitchen into a playful disaster. your moms watched in horror as you two struggled with the instructions, but when the cupcakes came out, you both beamed with pride—baekhyun mostly for the fun. at the event, you eagerly awaited your friends' reactions to your creations, excitement bubbling inside you. but when they announced their preference for another girl’s cupcakes—sparkling with glittery frosting—your heart sank. yours and baekhyun’s looked so plain in comparison. heartbroken, you ran off, only for him to find you, comforting you with a gentle pat on the head, "you’re my favorite, cupcake." he gently wiped away your tears as you choked out a trembling, "promise?" between your sobs. “mhm! promise,” and in that moment, he wrapped his pinky with yours, and with a playful press of your thumbs, you stamped it with sincerity. fifteen years later, the nickname still clings to you like the sweetest frosting.

"'m fine, really," you lied, your voice barely steady as your eyes darted away from his. you leaned against the kitchen island, elbows digging into the cool surface, pressing your forehead into your palms. no matter how you tried to mask it, the stiffness in your frame exposed the truth, even as you tried to keep your tone light. "’m just... not feeling well, that's all."

you’re stuck in the middle, torn between what feels safe and what feels right. you keep telling yourself that making it work with your boyfriend is the better option—after all, you’re terrified of losing baekhyun as your best friend. but a part of you knows, deep down, that things between you and baekhyun aren’t the same anymore. ever since you became friends with benefits, something shifted, something fragile that you’re afraid to acknowledge. 

you can’t let yourself believe baekhyun could feel something deeper for you. it’s easier to stay in denial than face the possibility that the guy you’ve been so close to, the one who knows you inside out, might actually want more. maybe it’s because you’re scared—scared of ruining the friendship that’s been your constant, the one thing you can always rely on. so, you push down the thoughts, shove aside the feelings, and try to make things work with your boyfriend. but you know you’re unsatisfied. emotionally, physically—it’s not enough. yet, you cling to it, because you think it’s better to have a relationship that’s functional rather than risk something that might fall apart. 

but baekhyun… with him, it’s different. you never have to try. things just fall into place with him, naturally, effortlessly. it feels so right—too right—and maybe that’s what terrifies you. being with him feels easy, like slipping into something that was always meant to be, and that scares you more than anything. what if you let yourself fall for him and everything changes? what if you lose him completely, not just as a lover but as your best friend? 

you don’t know what you want. you can’t figure out if you should stay with your boyfriend just to avoid the risk of losing baekhyun, or if you should give in to the way you feel toward him. deep down, you know what you want, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. it’s the fear that stops you—the fear of losing control, of opening up to something real, of being vulnerable with someone who’s already seen all your cracks.

but how long can you pretend? how long can you stay in a relationship that leaves you empty, just because it’s safer than taking a chance? maybe what you’re really scared of isn’t losing baekhyun. maybe it’s the idea that being with him feels too perfect, too right, and that kind of happiness is something you don’t know how to handle. but sooner or later, you’ll have to make a choice—stay in a relationship that drains you, or risk everything for something that makes you feel alive.

but you’d deal with that headache another day.

his fingers curl around your arm, firm but not forceful, spinning you to face him. the movement is swift, catching you off guard, and you stumble slightly before his gaze locks with yours. “is this about my text earlier?” his voice is playful, but there’s an edge beneath the tease. “i’m sooooo sorry for teasing about your loser boyfriend, the one ya clearly don’t have any romantic feelings for,” he says, each word dripping with mockery.

“you’re such an ass, y’know that?” you want to yell at him, to snap back with something cutting, to defend your relationship like it actually means something. you want to push him out the door and slam it behind him, pretend that this tension between you doesn’t exist.

but you can’t. because baekhyun’s right. and even now, with him standing just inches away, you feel more electricity between you than you ever have with your boyfriend. the way he looks at you, the way the air between you thickens—it’s undeniable. infuriatingly so.

the atmosphere shifts, charged with something far more dangerous. his voice softens, but the playful glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. “finefinefine. ’m sorry, f’real, cupcake. hate seeing ya upset cus of me. how ‘bout i make it up to you, hmm?” his words are smooth, each one laced with a promise. “i can help ya forget all about your little boyfriend.”

the word lingers between you, thick with implication. you shift on your feet, heart racing. “well…i—i don’t know,” you stammer, your gaze falling to the floor. you can’t look at him. if you do, he’ll see it—the flicker of hope, the unspoken longing. you’ve tried so hard to bury it, to keep it hidden, but in moments like this, it threatens to spill out.

his fingers loosen slightly on your arm, but he doesn’t let go. instead, his thumb is rubbing circles, the gentle caress making it harder for you to keep it together. “i don’t know what i want,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. you’re not even sure if you’re convincing yourself or him. all you know is that if you meet his eyes, he’ll likely see everything you’ve been trying to deny: the truth that maybe you don’t want your boyfriend at all. maybe you’ve wanted baekhyun all along.

your eyes are glued to the floor and your trying your hardest to suppress the rising heat in your chest. his fingers slide from your arm up to your chin, gently tilting your face toward him. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, a gesture that sends a rush of heat through your body, making it impossible to think straight.

“look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. slowly, your gaze lifts to meet his. “i don’t believe you,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. his eyes drop briefly to your mouth before returning to yours, darker now. “i think you do know what you want.”

suddenly his body is pressing into yours, the warmth radiating from him almost overwhelming. his hand slides up, cradling your neck, fingers gentle yet possessive, his thumb brushing along your jawline. your breath hitches as he leans in, lips hovering so close to yours you can feel his breath.

“baekhyun….w-we really shouldn’t…” you stammer, the words tumbling out in a weak attempt to stop what you know is inevitable. but your body doesn’t qute get the memo with the way you’re leaning into him, craving his touch.

“tell me to stop, then,” he whispers, lips brushing yours, his voice coarse with challenge. his eyes are locked onto yours, daring you to say it. to push him away.

but you can’t. every nerve in your body is screaming for more—for him. all the frustration from your boyfriend, the disappointment in every failed touch, every unsatisfying kiss—it all crashes over you at once. and baekhyun… baekhyun is standing right here, so close, so familiar. you miss him. you miss the way his lips felt on yours, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch you, the way he could unravel you in seconds.

you can’t tell him to stop. not when you want him this badly.

your lips part in a breath, and that’s all the invitation he needs. his mouth crashes onto yours, the kiss full of urgency and raw, unrestrained need. his lips move against yours in perfect sync, fierce yet deliberate, like he’s pouring everything into this one moment. his tongue brushes against yours, coaxing a soft whimper from your throat, and his hand tightens slightly around your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

he groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and it’s like all the pent-up frustration you’ve been harboring melts away in an instant. all you can feel is baekhyun, his lips claiming yours, his body pressing you back against the wall with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“i’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses, his lips barely leaving yours. “missed you.”

your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him like never before. it’s not just the kiss—it’s everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve denied yourself. and now, here he is, reminding you of exactly what you’ve been craving.

when he finally pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours, you’re both panting, chests heaving. “see, cupcake?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “you know exactly what you want.”

before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, fiercer this time, as if the mere thought of stopping is unthinkable. the kiss deepens, every inch of him pressing closer, until he’s got you in your room and on your bed, pinned beneath him. his body moves instinctively, shifting behind you, and within seconds, you feel him slide into you from behind, achingly slow at first. but the second he bottoms out, something shifts. a low groan rumbles from deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. he doesn’t even wait for you to adjust, he loses all control, thrusting with raw, feral intensity. his chest is flush against your back, the heat of his body overwhelming as your face presses into the pillow, muffling the broken moans spilling from your lips as you bite into the fabric, trying to hold on for dear life.

each relentless thrust from baekhyun feels like it’s stealing the very breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air. his movements are unyielding, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to reclaim every second of the time you’ve spent apart, making up for the last few months he couldn’t have you like this. 

the sheets twist tightly in your fists, but no matter how hard you cling to them, it’s impossible to ground yourself—he’s pulling you deeper into the intoxicating blur of sensation. his pace is feral, his hips slamming into yours with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. 

baekhyun moans, the sound rough and guttural, fueling the fire building inside you. his hands grip your thighs, possessive and firm, as he drives into you with a force that makes your entire body quake. the heady mix of sensation has you floating, completely consumed by him, by the way he moves, as if he’s trying to burn this moment into your skin, into your memory. each thrust pushes you closer to that edge, where all you can feel, all you can think about, is him.

his voice cuts through the haze—deep, raspy. "look at my pretty little angel... i’ve missed watching you fall apart for me." his words, tainted with hunger, ignite something in you. but you can’t find it in you to respond, not with the way he’s driving you to the edge. 

his fingers sink into your hips, firm and punishing, and you know for certain that bruises will manifest if he keeps this up. each grip imprints on your skin, marking you as if he’s claiming you as his own. and you revel in it—every deliciously painful second. there’s something intoxicating about witnessing him completely lost, consumed by his need for you, making you feel more desired than ever before. 

his breath is hot against your ear as he growls, "you're all mine, aren’t ya, cupcake?"

you can barely find your voice, breathless and overwhelmed, but somehow you manage to gasp out, "y-yes... all yours." how could you ever belong to anyone else when he's driving into you with such raw intensity, each thrust relentless, pushing you deeper into the mattress?

"yours," you repeat, the truth sinking in. you always have been. you never stopped. 

baekhyun’s grip tightens at your affirmation, his pace quickening in response—he liked your answer. it’s clear in the way he devours you, body and soul. he’s using you like his personal plaything, his touch both possessive and unrelenting. but it’s the sounds spilling from his lips that keep you tethered to reality—reminding you that it’s still him. baekhyun. your baekhyun.

"baek," you whimper, voice shaky, barely audible over the sounds of your bodies moving in sync. he doesn’t respond right away, too lost in the pleasure rippling through him, but you see it—the way his eyes flicker open, wild and dark, his gaze locking onto yours. a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s not his usual playful grin. this one is predatory, dangerous.

“what’s wrong, cupcake?” he rasps, his voice dripping with amusement, though there's something almost menacing in the way he says it. "can’t—nnngghhh—handle it?"

your breath hitches, and the words you want to say cling to your tongue, refusing to come free. all you can manage is a faint nod, a fragile acknowledgment of the moment. he leans in closer, his lips grazing the delicate curve of your ear. his voice, a low whisper, dancing across your skin.

"good," he purrs, his voice now a deep, velvety growl. "cus i don’t think i can stop fucking this pretty pussy. fuck—i think she missed me." 

what feels like hours later, after countless orgasms brought forth by his mouth and the myriad of ways he’s taken you, the sight before you is nothing short of devastating. baekhyun has already came inside you twice, and now, poised on the brink of losing himself again in a mean mating press, he looks utterly wrecked. strands of damp hair cling to his forehead, dark and slick with sweat, framing a face flushed with feverish desire. a deep crimson blooms across his cheeks, spilling down the bridge of his nose like a painting. his bottom lip is pinched between his teeth, the skin pale from the pressure, while his gaze—dark, ravenous, and locked on the intimate connection of your bodies.

the way his eyes feast on you sends a shiver racing down your spine, igniting a deep ache that only he can soothe. he trembles with barely contained desire, his body quaking with the need to claim you all over again, while you teeter on the edge, overwhelmed and craving more. before you know it, he’s flipping you back onto your stomach, pulling your hips up to meet his as your face and the upper half of your body sink into the mattress, the sheets slick with your sweat and juices.

his tip glides teasingly over your entrance, and you instinctively flinch away from the sensitivity, heart racing. 

"nonono, cupcake, don’t do that," baekhyun’s voice rumbles, low and commanding, sending another jolt through you. his hands are firm as they guide your hips back against his waist, grip tightening, muscles flexing as he holds you in place. "run away from me again, and i’ll make it so ya can’t walk." 

"p-please, baekhyun," you whine.

a deep chuckle vibrates through his chest, sending a shiver rippling down your spine. goosebumps rise, and baekhyun notices—he always notices—his hands roaming, possessive, over every inch of your trembling body. "uh-uh," his voice rough with lust, "you’re gonna take every last drop.”

his hips surge forward, harder, deeper, and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. there's a flicker of something wild in them, raw. 

“fuck, you’re s-so perfect. so perfect for me,” he growls, voice low and ragged, and it shoots straight through you, making your insides coil in response. “y’feel that, cupcake? how close i am?” his tone is a little desperate now, his restraint slipping as he fights to keep control. but you can see it—the need, the hunger that threatens to consume him.

another thrust, brutal, claiming, sends you spiraling, and you feel him everywhere. your breath hitches, and you know he can feel it too, how tightly you’re holding him inside, the way your body swallows him tells him just how much you want him—more than words ever could.

a hiss escapes him, sharp and guttural, his teeth gritting as he barely holds on. “you’re so tight—fuck—i’m gonna–ngh–fill you up again. you’re gonna take it all, aren’t ya? isn’t that right, my girl?” his voice is almost pleading now, the desperation to spill into you driving him mad. and when his thrusts grow erratic, each one landing deeper than the last, you know he’s close to breaking, just as you are. 

it’s intoxicating, watching him unravel before you, the way his chest rises and falls erratically, every ragged breath he takes feeding into your own desire. at the sound of his name slipping from your lips—soft, and pleading—he finally tears his gaze from the mess he's made of you.

his eyes, dark and glazed over, meet yours, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, but it’s strained, barely there. he doesn’t slow. if anything, he pushes harder, deeper, the rhythm relentless. sweat drips from his temple, tracing down his cheek, but he doesn’t even notice. his focus is singular, entirely consumed by you—by the way your body trembles, how your fingers grip onto the sheets, like a lifeline.

"say it again," he breathes, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, but you hear the urgency in it. "say my name."

you bite your lip, trying to hold back, but the intensity of his gaze—it undoes you. your eyes meet his, tear-filled and hazy, and you see the way his own eyes flicker, like he’s losing whatever control he had left.

and it’s the way your soft, pouty lips quiver as they whisper his name that gets him there, how your brows are knit together in an innocent plea while your eyes gaze up at him, brimming with love and vulnerability.

his jaw clenches, and he lets out a deep, guttural sound, so raw it sends shivers through you. he lowers his forehead to your back, his breath hot against your skin.

"holy–fuck—," he hisses through gritted teeth, his hand tightening on your waist, like he’s afraid to let go. his hips stutter before slamming forward, burying himself deep inside you one final time. his orgasm crashes over him like a violent wave, dragging him under. the guttural moan that escapes his lips is raw, primal, and he knows he’ll be embarrassed about it later, but in this moment, it’s beyond his control.

you feel the tremor in his body as he shudders against you, his skin flushed, slick with sweat, while his cock pulses inside you. his balls tighten and twitch, spilling hot and thick, the sensation drawing a gasping whimper from your own throat. his breath is erratic, each inhale a desperate gulp.

baekhyun lowers himself until his chest is pressed against your back, the weight of his body sinking into you, his lips brushing your ear as he pants, "you... you feel too fucking good. how do you... how do ya do this to me?" his voice is shaky, barely a whisper as his hands continue to clutch you, desperate, possessive.

you murmur something incoherent in response, your own mind foggy with aftershocks, but all you can focus on is the way he trembles against you. his forehead presses against back, and you feel him trying to steady his breath, his heart racing like he’s just run a marathon.

“goddamn,” he breathes, the words more for himself than for you, voice thick with awe. "i’m never… getting enough of this. never gonna get enough of you."

his body lingers against yours, the air still heavy with the remnants of pleasure. even as the sharp edge of your climax begins to dull, you can feel the way his hands stay locked on your skin, like he’s afraid to let go, fingers tracing invisible patterns over your waist as if committing every inch of you to memory. there's a yearning in his touch, a silent desperation that clings to the moment, stretching it out.

you pretend not to notice. you can’t let yourself notice. feeding into that fantasy, that he could want more than this—more than just the heat between your bodies—would be a mistake. he’s your best friend, and that’s all this is. two best friends tangled in each other, using one another to satisfy a need. nothing more, nothing deeper.

it couldn’t be.

the air in the room feels heavy, thick with something unspoken. at least that’s what it feels like to baekhyun, like a weight pressing down on his chest. as he’s silently pulling his clothes back on, he’s stuck in his head, running over the same thought again and again: how badly he wants to ask you to leave your boyfriend. he wants to beg you to give him a real chance. because you and him? you just fit. 

it makes so much sense in his mind—you should know it too, right? i mean, the synergy between you two is undeniable—the way you connect, how effortlessly you bounce off each other, both physically and emotionally. no one gets his humor the way you do, no one reads him so instinctively, and no one fits him quite like you. you’re each other’s perfect match, and he feels it in every fiber of his being. what could be better than being in a committed relationship with your best friend, someone who already knows you inside and out?

he hesitates, throwing his shirt on as you rummage through your closet, probably looking for something more comfortable now that you’re home. his voice breaks the silence, casual but laced with a tinge of hope. “soooo... are you gonna break up with, uh, what’s-his-name?”

you pause, turning around with a look of genuine confusion on your face. “huh? oh—hmm, no. at least, not just yet... maybe i should give it another shot? he actually texted me not too long ago if i could meet him for drinks in a bit.”

the way his expression drops is almost comical, if it weren’t for the fact that you see it—the disbelief, the frustration flickering across his face before he can mask it. baekhyun has never been skilled at concealing his emotions, despite his insistence that he can. right now, it feels like he isn’t even attempting to hide the disappointment that hangs between you like a heavy fog.

if you could hear his thoughts, it’d be something like, ‘you’re going out with him? i literally just emptied my entire fucking ballsack into you, and you’re going out with him?’

his frown deepens, brows knitting together as if he’s trying to hold back a storm. before you can fully process what’s happening, he scoffs, shaking his head as if he could simply dismiss it all. “hah. right. okay, well, thanks for the nut, i guess. i’ll be seeing you around.”

each word drips with sarcasm, but beneath it, you can sense the hurt—an ache that tugs at the edges of your heart.

and with that, he turns on his heel and storms out of your bedroom, heading straight for your front door.

“baekhyun, wait!” you call after him, scrambling to catch up, grabbing his arm just before he can leave. he stops, but he doesn’t turn around, his body rigid with frustration. “what’s going on?”

he finally looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes catches you off guard. “what’s going on?” he repeats, voice low, almost a growl. “i’m sitting here, watching you play house with some guy who doesn’t get you—not like i do—and i’m supposed to just... what? be okay with it?”

you’re taken aback by the intensity in his tone, the way his words come out in a rush, like he’s been holding them in for way too long. “baekhyun, what the hell are you talking about?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “you really don’t get it, do you? we,” his hand gesturing between the two of you, “make sense, you and me. we’ve always made sense. and yet, here you are, wasting your time with someone who doesn’t even appreciate you like i do—who you don’t even like!”

you blink, a wave of dizziness washing over you as a flood of questions races through your mind, each one slipping away before you can grasp it. the weight of his words hangs between you, thick and suffocating.

“s-since when?” you stammer, doubt trembling in your voice. the ground beneath you feels unsteady, as if it might shift and swallow you whole. 

“are you kidding me?” he scoffs, disbelief etching deeper lines into his face. “i was a fucking wreck when you called it off.” the intensity of his emotions surges, filling the quiet of your apartment with an echo that seems to reverberate off the walls. “when you told me you wanted to ‘try dating some other guy’—do you even realize how that felt? why do you think i haven’t been around much since then??? it’s because i literally cannot stand the thought of you with someone else. just the idea makes me sick to my fucking stomach. i can’t breathe knowing he’s with you when it should be me.”

oh.

ohhhh.

his confession hits you like a tidal wave, the unbearable guilt gnawing at your insides. but it’s the way his voice trembles, softening as it cracks beneath the weight of vulnerability, that makes your eyes sting with unshed tears. “but i wanted you to be happy,” he admits, each word wrapped in a bittersweet sincerity that tugs at your heart. “even if it meant not being with me… i knew what this was. i understood our arrangement. and i tried so hard, so fucking hard, to push these feelings down. deep down, i always felt it was something more. call it delusion, but it just felt so good pretending you were mine... even if you didn’t feel the same.”

every word is laced with desperation, like a raw, exposed nerve. the truth hangs heavy in the air, and you can see the storm brewing in his eyes—agitation just beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. 

you can barely meet his gaze, heart racing as the reality of his feelings sinks in, pulling you under. “how come you’ve never said anything before?”

he takes a moment to steady himself, visibly wrestling with the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. his gaze drops to the floor, fingers still tangled in his hair as he collects his thoughts. when he finally looks back up, his expression is a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

“because i thought you’d be happier without me,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped or guilty. i thought if you wanted to explore something new, then i should just... step back. but every day these last few months have felt fucking suffocating. i can’t shake the feeling that we belong together, even if it’s terrifying to say out loud.”

he takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, eyes searching yours for understanding. “i’ve been a coward, honestly. i know that. i kept telling myself i should let you go, but every time i see you smile or hear your laugh, it just reminds me of what i’m missing. i wanted to tell you so many times, but i was afraid of ruining whatever friendship we had left.” 

his voice thickens, eyes glistening with unshed emotion. “but i can’t keep pretending anymore. i want to be the one who makes you happy. i need to be that person, even if it means risking everything. even if it means putting everything on the line.” 

he stands there, eyes searching yours, you can see the desperation in his gaze, but the weight of his words feels too heavy to bear, and you take a step back, creating space between you.

“baekhyun, i just—i don’t know if i can—” you start, but he interrupts, the hurt flashing across his face.

“don’t know if you can what? feel the same way? i’m here, laying it all out for you!” his voice rises again, tinged with anguish. “you’re with someone else, and i get that! but you’re standing here like it doesn’t even matter, like you’re just going to pretend whatever we have between us doesn’t exist!”

the sharpness in his words cuts deep, and your heart aches. “it’s not that simple. you know it’s not,” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of your own emotions. “you think i haven’t thought about what this means? about how complicated it is? i can’t just flip a switch and make everything okay!”

he runs a hand over his face, frustration boiling just below the surface. “you don’t have to make it okay! just... just acknowledge it! acknowledge us. you can’t deny that there’s something more here.” 

the heat of the moment grows unbearable, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. “i-i can’t! i can’t do this right now! i don’t even know what i want!” 

“then maybe it’s better if you stay with him,” he snaps, hurt flooding his voice. “at least then you can pretend you’re happy. you won’t have to deal with the mess we’ve created. you can have your perfect little life, while i’m over here trying to pick up the fucking pieces.” 

his words cut deep, each syllable laced with disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. “baek… c’mon, that’s not fair—” you reach out to him, but this time, for the first time ever, he pushes you away, the sudden force of it leaving you reeling.

“just please…let me go, okay?” his voice is low, but it trembles with emotion. “there’s nothing here for me anymore. you’ve made it clear that there never was.” 

you swallow hard, the weight of unshed tears threatening to spill over as you gaze into his eyes for what feels like the last time. the raw pain reflected back at you cuts deep, shattering something fragile inside you. he turns on his heel, his silhouette fading into the distance, the door clicking shut behind him like a final punctuation mark.

now, in the suffocating stillness, the tears flow freely, your chest tightening under the weight of your own heartbreak. each beat of your heart an ugly reminder of how deeply fucked this entire situation is.

this is it. 

you’ve hit rock bottom.

the days that follow blur into a haze of heartache and regret. each moment apart stretches into an eternity, every thought of baekhyun sending sharp pangs of longing twisting painfully through your chest. you try to distract yourself, immersing yourself in the whirlwind of work while surrounding yourself with friends—friends who have always sensed the unspoken tension between you and baekhyun. apparently, you two were never as subtle as you thought you were. the longing glances, the lingering touches, constantly matching each other’s energy, him effortlessly meeting you on every wavelength—everybody saw it, each tiny detail. 

‘you’d have to be deaf and blind to not pick up on the chemistry,’ one of them commented. ‘yeah, we were all calling you and baekhyun the next hellen kellers,’ another added.  ‘more like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,’ someone else chuckled. you couldn’t help but wince at the truth of it all.

you come to find out that they all secretly rooted for your “not-so-secret” connection to flourish, yet holding back from intervening, respecting the boundaries of your privacy. you feel nothing but gratitude for that unspoken understanding; after all, the very reason you both kept your fwb arrangement hidden was because of the fear of anyone else complicating the already complicated.

oh, and your boyfriend—the poor guy. he really didn’t deserve the turmoil you put him through. the conversation with him still echoes in your mind, haunting you like a ghost. you told him the truth, your voice trembling as you confessed to your betrayal. “i cheated,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “i’m so sorry. it was wrong, and i take full responsibility for everything.” you could see the disappointment wash over his face, the trust he had for you shattering before your eyes. he deserved more than what you gave him, yet you’d been stringing him along, all because you felt like you didn’t have a chance with baekhyun—the one who made your heart race in a way your boyfriend never could.

now, you’re left with nothing but the empty echoes of those moments, each heartbeat a reminder of the love you lost and the love you crave. baekhyun's laughter still dances in your memory, his touch lingers on your skin, and the connection you shared feels like an ache that refuses to fade. despite the distractions, you can’t escape the truth that looms over you: he’s the one you truly want. it was always baekhyun who held your heart, and the thought of losing him makes your heart ache all over again.

then, one evening, after an especially difficult day, you find yourself in a familiar spot—a coffee shop you and baekhyun used to frequent together. you sit there, cradling your drink, as a wave of sweet memories washes over you, each one tied to your past visits here with him.

just as you’re gathering your things to leave, the bell above the door jingles, and your heart races when you see who's walking in, a hesitant expression etched across his face.

“hey,” he says softly, eyes locking onto yours with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“baekhyun…” his name falls from your lips in a quiet whisper, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy between you as you step closer. “can we talk?”

he nods, motioning toward a nearby table. your legs feel leaden as you walk over, your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else. each beat is a reminder of how much this moment means, of how much you stand to lose. you can’t mess this up. not again. you have to make this work—you can’t lose him.

“i know things have been… difficult since everything happened,” you begin, your voice trembling as you lower yourself into the chair. his eyes are on you, but they seem distant, almost guarded. “but i can’t keep pretending i don’t care. i can’t just walk away from us.”

baekhyun looks down, his fingers brushing the edge of the table, searching for the right words. his heart feels like it’s about to burst. “i didn’t think you felt the same,” he murmurs, his voice soft and vulnerable.

“i was scared,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “scared of losing you for good. but i realized that it’s worse to lose you without even trying to fight for what we had.” 

you feel the tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they’re not from sadness; they’re from the overwhelming relief of seeing him here, in front of you. 

“i don’t want to lose you either,” he confesses, his voice laced with quiet desperation. his hand reaches across the table, the warmth of his touch wrapping around yours as he gently grasps it. “i can’t stand the thought of seeing you with someone else. i never did. i want to be with you, and i’m willing to do anything to make it work.”

your chest tightens as you take a deep breath, nodding slowly while a shaky exhale slips from your lips. “i want to be with you, too. for real this time.”

his eyes widen, hope flickering like sparks catching flame. “do you mean it?” he asks, his voice filled with cautious anticipation.

you nod again, a soft hum of agreement escaping you, and in that moment, his smile breaks free, one of pure, unguarded relief. without a word, his hand reaches out, and your pinkies intertwine, just as they did all those years ago. a silent promise passes between you, and with a soft press of your thumbs, the vow is sealed—an echo of the past and a delicate mark of something entirely new.

“so… can i be your boyfriend?” he asks, his nervous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, his voice dipping into a shy but hopeful tone.

“yes,” you reply, unable to suppress the giggle that bubbles up, “i would love it if you were.”

his grin widens, turning his brown eyes into soft crescent moons, as if the tension in the room has melted away. you hadn’t realized how tense he was until you see him relax into his chair. “ugh, thank goddddd. i’m so glad we agreed not to be stupid anymore,” he jokes with a smile, and your heart swells at the familiar spark in his voice. and it hits you again—just how much you’ve missed him. that toothy smile, his voice, his laugh and the way he can always bring light into even the darkest moments. just him.

your best friend.

your boyfriend.

“i missed you, y’know?” you confess, the words tumbling out with sincerity.

“i missed you, too, cupcake.” he replies, his expression softening, thumb tracing little planets on the back of your hand.

he lets out a relieved sigh before continuing, “so what does my GIRLFRIEND want to do now?” excitement bubbles in his tone. “should we take a walk on the beach? the sun is about to set, and it would be nice. or does my GIRLFRIEND want to watch a movie? maybe my GIRLFRIEND wants to grab some dessert?”

you can’t help but blush, a giggle escaping your lips at the way he emphasizes your new title, drawing curious glances from the cafe patrons. embarrassment flares in your cheeks as you swiftly rise, tugging him by the arm to guide him out of the bustling cafe.

as soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he whirls you around, his hands tenderly cradling your face. twarmth of his palms feels like home as he leans in, kissing you with such devotion and tenderness that sends you soaring straight to cloud nine. everything outside melts away, and in that electric moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped snug in each other’s arms.

he pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours, and you catch a glimpse of that playful spark in his eyes. he sends a thrill racing through you as he ghosts his lips over yours, the soft brush igniting a flutter deep in your stomach. “or how about i take my girlfriend back to my place,” his voice low and sultry, “and we consummate our new relationship?” 

you laugh, your heart racing at the implication. “i think my boyfriend read my mind,” you tease, interlocking your fingers with his as you both giggle, making your way to his car. ‘finally,’ baekhyun thinks to himself as he swings open the passenger door, a grin spreading across his face. before you hop in, he leans in for one last kiss, savoring the sweetness of the moment. and as he shuts the door, a wave of relief washes over him. ‘finally, you’re all mine.’

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: the song linked in the title (and a text post on here that i cannot find for the life of me) inspired me to write a fwb!baekhyun fic 🙂‍↕️ i was going to end it with angst but then i realized......i literally can't do that!!!! lmfao i need my disney ending or else i'm gonna combust!!!!!!! sigh but anyways, i hope u enjoyed it!!!! as always, lmk your thots unless you hate it then pls keep it to yourself omg cus i am sensitive and will cry <3 (not joking)

⤷ prequel <3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[corroded-hellfire]

AYW!Eddie and Steve debauchery--I cannot get enough of those idiots. What was their friendship like before they each got married and had kids?

You are all in for a wild ride with this one. All humor is courtesy of @munson-blurbs as usual. Please enjoy the chaos that has sprung from our minds!

Warnings: alcohol consumption, stripping, dumb boys

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had originally never thought he’d have more than one bachelor party in his life because he hadn’t planned on ever getting married more than once. But when the first wife was Brittany, it’s no surprise that marriage didn’t last.

This second bachelor party he’s having is already way more fun and is with people he loves—not that he doesn’t love his high school friends with all his heart. But nothing could beat palling around with his sons. 

Wayne sits next to Eddie in the passenger’s seat of the car, while Steve is in the back, squished between Ryan and Luke. The steakhouse they’re going to isn’t far from the apartment and then they’ll be headed to the bowling alley for some friendly competition amongst them. 

“This is nice,” Luke says, folding his hands and relaxing them behind his head, “just us guys.”

Eddie chuckles to himself as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. As insane as his first bachelor party had been, it didn’t have the humor that Luke would undoubtedly inject into this evening. 

“I would like to order the chicken fingers. Not the ones on the kid’s menu, the ones on the adult menu,” Eddie’s youngest son informs the waitress when she comes to take their orders. Eddie half expects the precocious child to wink at the waitress or call her “doll.”

Eddie can’t stop smiling. Being out with his kids, uncle, and best friend for a nice evening to celebrate his upcoming marriage. To you. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life. How could he not be ecstatic? 

Even his bowling game gets off to a good start until Wayne begins to wipe the floor with him. For an old man with arthritis, he’s impressively skilled at bowling. 

After Luke’s third gutterball in a row, he huffs a sigh of annoyance and eyes the arcade in the back corner of the bowling alley with interest. Lights flash and whistles blow from the small room, calling like a siren to any child within its grasp. After his big brother has his turn and only manages to knock down two pins, Luke recruits him in asking their dad if they can go into the arcade. 

“Sure,” Eddie says. He pulls a twenty out of his wallet and raises his eyebrows at the boys. “This is for you two to share. Evenly. I don’t want any arguing. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” the brothers agree in unison. Ryan takes the twenty from his father and the two kids make their way towards a basketball arcade game, their bowling shoes squeaking on the polished floor beneath them. 

Steve eyes the bowling alley around them, his hands on his hips as Eddie bowls a frame behind him. It’s fairly empty, save for a bowling team at the other end of the lanes. Some old 80’s pop is playing dully over the speakers and the scent of beer and French fries stains the air. 

“This sure looks a whole lot different than your first bachelor party,” Steve remarks. 

Wayne raises an eyebrow at Eddie as he comes back over towards the ball return, keeping an eye out for the twelve-pound blue marbled ball he’s been using. 

“Was that the time this knucklehead—” the older man starts to ask, mirth lighting his face.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says with a bark of laughter. “It sure was.”

November 1988

The Hideout is the same as it always is: dimly lit, every surface sticky with spilled beer, music crackling through ancient speakers. Tonight, however, there’s a liveliness that isn’t usually present. 

“Another shot, Harrington?” Jeff calls out, raising two tiny glasses filled with tequila. “Or are you pussing out on us?”

Steve grins and accepts the drink, though he’s already a bit wobbly on his feet. “You wish.” He jabs a playful finger towards the guitarist. “Shot for shot? Winner gets to be the best man.”

“You’re on, man!”

Dustin rolls his eyes, the beer in his hand giving him a false sense of maturity. That, and the wispy mustache he’d been trying to grow out to avoid being carded at the bar. No one had the heart to tell him that The Hideout would probably serve bourbon to a baby.

He leans over and whispers to Eddie. “They don’t know that you already asked me to be the best man?”

“Nah, but don’t say anything. This is entertaining.” Eddie watches as the two men throw back shot after shot, taking a sip of his own rum and Coke. 

Steve is ultimately the winner, throwing a fist up in victory. “Looks like I’m the best man,” he gloats, cackling as he practically falls into the booth. 

Jeff just shakes his head, balancing on the bartop and silently chastising himself for the loss. 

None of the men pay attention when the door swings open. It’s only when the person speaks that their ears perk up. 

“Is there an Eddie Munson here?”

Eddie swivels around to see a police officer standing there with her arms crossed. She looks serious, determined, and he combs through any recent activities that would land him in the slammer. 

He tries to keep his composure, clearing his throat before saying, “I’m Eddie Munson.”

The officer smiles, sauntering over to him with a stride that Eddie had never seen from a cop before. It isn’t until she’s standing in front of him that he notices the way her cleavage spills out of her low-cut top and the high heels that would render her unable to chase after a real criminal. 

Oh, hell yeah. 

“I’m afraid you’ve been a bad boy, Eddie,” she coos, tilting his chin up with the pad of her forefinger. “And bad boys get arrested.” She whips out a pair of black fuzzy handcuffs and gestures for him to drag his chair to the center of the room, to which he immediately obliges. 

“Okay, which one of you bastards did this?” He says with a giant smirk, only to be met with a disapproving tut from the dancer. 

“Eyes on Vanilla, big boy.” She presses a button on her portable CD player and a sensual beat fills the room. 

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on her, just as she ordered. He watches as she slowly unbuttons her tiny uniform, her bare breasts spilling out once the final button is opened. 

“I think I’m in love,” Steve says from his seat, but Eddie barely registers it. Not when he has a pair of tits in front of him. The Russians could drop an A-bomb and he wouldn’t even notice. 

Dustin’s eyes widen as Vanilla reveals her lacy black thong. “Eddie should marry her instead of Brittany,” he muses. 

“Not if I marry her first,” Steve quips back. 

Vanilla’s bare ass grinds over Eddie’s lap, and he smiles through the arousal kicking up in his pants. He never wants it to end—the dance and the attention. It vaguely occurs to him that his own fiancée doesn’t care this much about his pleasure. 

This woman is paid to care, he reminds himself. That’s why. 

With one final roll of her hips, the song ends, and Vanilla stands up. She’s flushed from all of the movement, her lipstick slightly smudged from where she’d kissed Eddie’s collarbone. 

Steve glides over to her as best as he can in his inebriated state, holding out his hand. “Hi. Steve Harrington. Former Hawkins High swim team co-captain and Keg Stand King.” He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. “Can I interest you in a shot?”

Enamored by his attempted chivalry, Vanilla blushes and accepts, buttoning herself back into her costume. 

“Leave it to Harrington to charm the goddamn stripper,” Eddie mumbles, but he grins as he rejoins the party. 

It only takes a few moments before Steve and Vanilla are making out in the corner, just a blur of limbs and tongues. He’s grabbing her ass so tightly that it’ll probably leave bruises, but she certainly isn’t complaining. 

“Hey, you guys!” Gareth says, flinging one arm around Eddie and the other around Jeff. “What if we do a little trial run before the big day?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Jeff asks. 

Gareth rolls his eyes as though the answer is obvious. “I’m talking about using my new ordination skills on those two lovebirds.” He gestures towards Steve and Vanilla. “That way I’m not as nervous for Eddie’s wedding.”

Too drunk to argue, Eddie shrugs. “S’okay with me if it’s okay with them.”

“Harrington! Vanilla!” Gareth yells far too loudly. “Do you two wanna get hitched?”

Steve pulls away for a second. “Hell yeah!” He calls back, and Vanilla nods emphatically. 

“Looks like we’re having a wedding!” Will chimes in. “Okay, let’s make this legit. Everyone needs a role. I’m the wedding planner, of course.” He assigns Eddie the role of Best Man and makes Mike the Maid of Honor. Frank is the ring bearer, and Lucas volunteers to be the flower girl. 

“Erica got to do it when we were kids. Now it’s my turn,” he explains. 

Dustin starts walking Vanilla down the aisle, as Jeff plays Here Comes the Bride using the painfully out-of-tune guitar he’d snagged from the bar’s tiny green room. Steve and Gareth wait for Vanilla to join them on the Hideout stage. 

“Dearly Beloved,” Gareth begins, “we gather here to wed this man and this bombshell exotic dancer in holy matrimony…shit, we don’t have rings!”

Steve leans back to Eddie. “Is he allowed to say ‘shit?’” He mumbles. 

“Guess so. He’s not a priest.”

Gareth shakes off the snafu and continues. “It’s fine; we’ll skip that part.” He turns to Steve. “Do you, King Steve Harrington, take Vanilla to be your wife? In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part—Jesus, that’s dark.”

“I so fuckin’ do.”

“And Vanilla,” Gareth continues, “do you take Steve to be your husband? In sickness and health and all that other bullshit I said before?”

Vanilla smiles drunkenly. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Gareth announces. “You may continue dry humping in the corner. Oh, but first,” he digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out an official looking piece of paper, “I picked up this bad boy today. Let me make sure I get this right. Just need a pen…”

Dustin procures one from the bartender, and Gareth shows the newlyweds where to sign. “Oh, and we need a witness, too. Eddie, c’mere.”

Eddie shuffles over, grinning as he writes his name in sloppy cursive. He’ll have to remind Gareth to get a new license before the actual wedding, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie giggles, “your wife gave me a lap dance.”

“Shut up, Munson. I’m gonna get one later.”

“Thank God for annulments,” Steve says with a sigh. 

Eddie grabs his Styrofoam cup of Pepsi resting on the chair next to him. He holds it in the air as he says, “To ending marriages and finding actual love.”

“Hear, hear,” Steve agrees, knocking his own Styrofoam cup against his buddy’s.

Wayne takes a sip from his can of beer, shaking his head in amusement at the pair of them. 

“You weren’t with Nancy at the time, were ya?” Wayne asks.

“God, no,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “Was pretty damn funny when she first found out about it though and learned that her brother was the maid of honor.”

“How the hell you got Nancy to marry you is still a mystery to me,” Eddie says with a laugh before lifting his cup up to his lips. 

Before Steve can open his mouth to defend his honor (or say the same about Eddie with you), the boys come skipping over, a few skimpy prizes in their hands that they won. The yellow slinky was sure to get lost by tomorrow and the little hot dog shaped whistle was something Eddie was already planning to “misplace.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Ryan asks as the boys switch from their bowling shoes to the sneakers they arrived in.

“That sounds all right to me,” Eddie says. 

The rental shoes all get returned at the counter and Luke takes his father’s hand as the gang walks out into the parking lot.

“What flavors are you guys gonna get?” Luke asks.

“Well,” Eddie says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “I know Uncle Steve will go for Vanilla.”

Steve silently shoots daggers at his friend before replying, “And your dad won’t decide until he gets there because he likes the newest flavors.”

Two soft thuds have Ryan turning around. He sees both his father and uncle holding the back of their heads while his grandfather walks past them, shaking his head. 

“Ow,” Eddie complains, but Wayne just ignores him and keeps walking towards the car.

“I’m sitting in the backseat with you two,” Wayne tells the boys. “Probably more mature than these two knuckleheads—Ed, if you grab that man’s nipple one more time, I swear to God, I’ll leave you both here.”

[bitchlessdino]

OMFG!!! i just read that chan smut and omg. THE DUALITY!! i literally love all the smuts that you write. also my birthday is february 6th so, if you don’t mind, could you write me a smut with my bias/biases. as you know i have a daddy kink. my biases are chan, seungcheol, and hoshi. you don’t have to. love you and thank you for the dino smut i absolutely loved it!-🎧

Pairing: Fem!reader x seungcheol x chan x soonyoung

Genre: smutty smut smut

Word count: 4.7K

Tags: poly, reader wearing a dress, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pet names (princess), degradation, praise kink, brief choking, fingering, oral (rec. And giving), unprotected sex (please assume everyone is clean, don't do this w/o prepping IRL), pussy slapping, ass play, triple penetration (i know), daddy kink, mean chan, sweet Cheol

Summary: it was just a dumb little party game, gets taken too seriously in teh best way possible. Happy fucking birthday to you.

Author note: first off, happy birthday! You’re always active here and sending me ideas and I appreciate you so much. Second off the fact that your list is my exact top three made this very self-indulging. I thank you for that. Please enjoy me writing out of of my darkest fantasies 😭

“Fuck. Marry. Kill. Seungcheol, Chan, Soonyoung. Go.”

You scorn up at Mingyu, “Didn't know we were still in middle school?”

You were celebrating your birthday with a couple of close friends having some drinks and good quality takeout at your place. Somewhat small for others but what you preferred it. Having all the attention on you in a public place was not your scene. These small intimate gatherings were more your speed. Then again, it prompted dumb shit like this.

Mingyu was not many shots in, but he looked like a toddler that learned to walk for the first time, so it was fair to say he drunk out of his mind. “Don’t cop out, answer the-hic-damn question.”

Your gaze shifted from the three men, all equally waiting for a response. You take a moment to linger in each thought of each man, internally listing out any and all of their redeeming qualities. 

Seungcheol, who pretended to not care about your answer, peeks at you through his peripheral. He was the impossibly attractive guy next door, figuratively and literally. It was easy to tell he does everything with purpose and excluded this natural confidence and charisma. Not to mention he was a guy you could rely on like most people already do.

Then we have Soonyoung, the man full of life. If you could describe him in one word, it’d be ‘crazy’. This was the same guy that commits to being a tiger but calling it his ‘brand, and let’s not forget his astrology chart, which you’re not gonna get into. He’s fucking hot, don’t get it wrong, but also the strangest man you’ve ever met on planet Earth. 

Now finally Chan, the cute man sitting next to you, eyes coated in nectar-like sweetness with a soft smile on his face. He’s always has been a sweet guy since you met him. He’s amicable and seemingly harmless, which made people feel comfortable around him. You can’t go wrong with Chan.

You visibly ponder, licking your lips, before answering.

“Fuck…Soonyoung, marry…Seungcheol, and I guess kill Chan? But I can’t kill him,” you look to the man mentioned and interlock arms, “so, I’ll just have to kiss him.”

You press your lips against his cheek, laughing emitting from onlookers. A warm blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks down at his feet. His smile turns bittersweet. “Great. Nice.”

“You’ll always be my favorite buddy, Chan. I could never kill you,” you coo, a finger lightly stroking at his red cheeks before he lightly shoves you away, rolling his eyes, and grabs another beer.

You initially don’t think much of it, it was only a dumb ice breaker after all. However, that event had his friends teasing him the rest of the night (but what’s new) and Chan was being the joke of the night, while Seungcheol was poking fun at you instead. Every chance he got, he’s saying things like he’s ‘waiting on that proposal,’ or ‘should I get started on the wedding planning?’ And Soonyoung seems to be a step behind the older gentleman, playfully suggesting what things he does make him ‘fuckable.’ He could be only cutting up limes for shots, or posing on the back of a wall asking, ‘this do anything for you?’ Attention was on you mainly, as expected, but that didn’t warrant the number of times you had gotten flustered.

Nonetheless, everything that night seemed all in good fun,  a birthday worth having. At some point in the night, Soonyoung passed out on the couch, while everyone else was preparing to leave. Seungcheol offers to help clean up, it was very neighborly of him, which you always welcome. Chan, in the midst of all this, was nowhere to be found and it caused you to worry, calling his phone with no answer. You weren’t apart from him long typically in these social situations.

“Thanks for helping out, Cheol.”

“Anything for my betrothed,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you lightly elbow, “It’s late, I’m gonna wash up to sleep. Just make sure to lock the door when you leave, okay.”

He nods off your request and lets you venture off to your room. He pays it no mind, finishing off some dishes, unable to hear anything underneath the sound of the sink’s running water.

On the other end of your closed bedroom door, you make a startled expression once you realize what, or should you say who was behind it. “Chan? I was wondering where you were.”

He softly scoffs from the mattress, slouching in his spot, looking as if he waited for your return. “Really? Didn’t seem to think you had a second thought about me.”

“Of course I did.” You walk up towards him and pull him up from the mattress by the arm, smiling at him. “I can’t help but think about you all the time.”

“But you’d kill me, hmm?” He tears his wrist away from your touch, drawing his face closer to yours, “That’s not what you said last week up against my bedroom window.”

You purse your lips in amusement, remembering that day all too clearly. It was moving day for him and out of all people, he called you. He mentioned needing a few boxes brought in and everyone else seemed busy, little did you know, he had other plans that night with you. Those plans are how many times he can get you to cum within an hour, or how pretty you look pressed up against a clean glass window. 

“But they don’t know that.” You retort.

“You embarrassed me out there, you know,” His eyes narrow at you, ignoring your attempts of pandering as you flirtatiously tease up his arm, “The friend-zoning, the familial kiss, the rejection, and in front of all our friends. I didn’t like it.”

You softly laugh, fingering through his pretty brown hair, “I’m sorry, but it'd be obvious if I said one of the other two. Could you find in your heart to forgive me?”

He turns away his eyes, feigning thought. “Well, since it’s your birthday, I could…doesn't mean I will.”

He tugs on you similarly the way you did to kiss him, only this time his lips locked on lips, and his skin was noticeably flushed from alcohol and lust. Your eyes naturally flutter shut, arms instinctively reach up for his face, cupping his warm cheeks. You melt in his touch, brazen and ruthless, your arousal basically dripping a hot stain in your underwear as his teeth pull at your bottom lip deliciously.

He strokes your sides, hands drawing the curve of your posterior and clutching in a hearty squeeze, a whimper leaving your lips. You feel the corner of his lips quirk up, eyes pressing into you with a smug expression. “Are you like this with all your ‘buddies’?”

You shake your head with a cheeky smile on your face, “No.”

He hums amused, lips drawing close to your ear, his decadent voice pricking your ear. “I want you to fall apart for me. Can you do that, hmm? Can you do that for Daddy?”

Your abdomen tenses up, a sultry moan escaping you, “Yes, daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” He draws out.

He pulls the zipper down from your dress, pulling off the straps from your shoulders, chuckling against your skin, as your outfit hits the floor. You giggle as he hoists you up, your legs locking around his waist, meeting his lips again more feverishly than the last. He runs you on top of your dresser, parting your legs to stand between them.

“Your turn,” You reach for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side of the room, “That’s better. Happy birthday to me…”

Hand trailing over Chan’s chest, down his torso, tracing over every dent of his abs, making you lightheaded and giddy. You pull on the top of his jeans, meeting him in a kiss, they become the next article of clothing to come off, following his boxer briefs and grasp his length. His nose nuzzles your cheek, hot breath on your skin, and his digits press up against the fabric of your panties to dip in the wet spot and plunge into your clothed arousal. You pleasantly gasp, hips jerking in his direction, one hand combing through his hair.

“Oh, daddy…”

His smile grows wide. “You’re so wet already, sweet girl.”

He allows himself a taste, humming at the familiar flavor, and pushes past your underwear to gradually thrust them inside, watching uneven breaths escape your lips. He revels in your whimpers, pushing them deeper inside you. The airiness of your voice was additive, but what was more addictive in the look on your face when he sees you close. “That feels good, huh? You like my fingers fucking you like this?”

You were practically vibrating in your seat, and your back arches in distress, gripping the edge of the dresser, “God, yes…You’re so good to me, daddy.”

It was a matter of time before his cock would replace his fingers, swiping your taste on your tongue for you to sample. Moaning, your lips wrap around their slender length, your arousal coating the surface of your tongue and inside your mouth. You hold him by the wrist, his knuckles swallow inside you before his very eyes, sucking your neck dry from his hands as he fucks his fingers into your burning hot entrance.

You whimper into his palm before he decides to pull it away and wrap it around your throat, meanwhile, his cock finds entry in your warmth, your fluttering walls welcoming him. Your hips falling slightly below the dresser's flat surface, you gasp for air. Your vision blurs as much as your abdomen clenches, submitting to Chan’s rough touch. He leverages you by holding you up the back of your knee while your other leg hung over his shoulder, snapping his hips back into you with such ferocity, a throaty moan falling short of every thrust. He sounded scrumptious, like fresh honey oozing out of its comb, you wanted to lick every part of him.

“What do we have here?” 

Your helping hand for the party has finally found your helping hand in bed (or this case the dresser), rutting in you like two rabbits in mating season. Chan doesn’t stop his pace, only a smile growing wider on his face. “I guess the jig is up.”

“You’re just gonna keep fucking her while I’m here, kid?”

Chan only grows cockier when you show no sign of change, still moaning his name, “Why shouldn’t I, she sure likes it. Don’t you, filthy birthday girl?”

You nod, “Y-yes, daddy.”

Seungcheol looks impressed, crossing his arms together, he can’t help but enjoy the view. The times he imagined you looking a mess in front of him went on but no image in his head could do justice to the real thing, even if it was Chan’s dick inside you. Your sweat made your beautiful body glisten under the lamp lights, your pretty little pants endearing as they steadily leave your lips, and your messy hair so damn pullable that made his dick twitch.

“Need some help?” He offers nonchalantly.

Chan looks back at the older man for the first time, almost barking back a no, but instead takes a moment to consider and turns to you. His eyes flit back to you, holding you by your face, hips unbearably enthusiastic. “What do you say, huh, you want two cocks in you? Hmm, is that what you want?”

You choke up on your drool, tears already running down your faces as you respond in a hard nod, then proceed to be thrown back on the mattress to have Seungcheol witness your lewd form in its entirety. His hands go to the tent in his pants, palming himself anxiously. He knew you were beautiful beyond words, but there was no other beauty than the way you were almost naked. Your arms come up to your chest, shielding your stiff peaks but at the same time emphasizing the roundness of your breasts.

“W-what?” You ponder up at him, your pretty eyes looking back in a way that made Seungcheol want to scream. “I’m a mess, a-aren’t I?”

“A very pretty mess,” Seungcheol reiterates.

“Of course she is.” Chan sits beside you on the bed, pushing hair away from your face and pressing his lips to your ear, “How about you get his dick wet first, birthday girl?”

“Okay,” you answer back eagerly, trudging forward and pulling Seungcheol by his belt and carefully removing it from him.

Seungcheol gives a look of astonishment, a quick glance thrown to see pride written all over the younger man’s face before turning back to you, already pulling down his pants and exposing his cock slapping on your face.

“Wow.” You gasp, wrapping your hand around his girth, feeling his weight.

“Think you can take it, princess?”

Your heart pitter-patters at the name Seungcheol gives you and you let out a hearty ‘yes.’ Chan stays behind you, hands cupping your breasts, fondling your flesh, he becomes a little devil in your ear. “What are you waiting for then?”

You inch closer to Seungcheol, his angry tip on the center of your tongue. You drag your pink muscle over his shaft, tracing over every bulging vein, hearing him suck in his breath. Your other hand cradles his balls, kneading them lightly in your palm. When you push your head over his length, your mouth coats its surface area, feeling like a new, yet familiar world to him.

“S-shit.” His hips twitch forward, hands against his hips.

You bob down to the base, filling your cheeks and stretching your lips. He feels your saliva dribbling down his thigh, seeing the same scene happen over your chin, while your throat takes him with a gutty grit, taking all of him. When you gag slightly, having him almost pulls away in concern, but Chan takes initiative and combs through your hair, slamming you down on Seungcheol’s crotch, a shit-eating grin on his face. The older man almost doubles over, hand firmly planted on your shoulder in anguish.

“Mmh…god…that–”

“Look at you taking his dick like a perfect little slut,” Chan exclaims before mouthing over your neck, love bites adorning your soft skin, “you can’t wait to be fucking filled with cock, can’t you?”

You lacked the ability to be verbal, only vibrating a confirmation around Seungcheol’s cock, the man shuddering in the process. “Princess…”

Chan's hands snake around to your clit, rubbing it with his digits, his firm chest pressing into your sweaty back, the shaking in your body evident. “Take it deeper, slut.”

Tears burn your eyes, hands lifting to press behind Seungcheol, warming his cock in your mouth until you can’t breathe. The said man lets out his share of obscenities, his hands on either side of your head, fucking your mouth at a desperate man’s pace until he feels it swells well past its limit, “Fuck. Fuck!”

He cums hard, long, and deep. The trail of ivory slides down your throat with no warning, Seungcheol fills you to the brim, even overflowing to the corner of your lips. “So…good…”

“Shit, you lasted a lot shorter than I expected, old man.” Chan smugly grins.

The older man tries catching his breath, but not without letting the other man hear it. “Shut up…Chan.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

The voice resonates from the doorway, a barely awake Soonyoung blinks at the scene in front of him in confusion, adjusting to the change of lighting from the pitch-black living room. “Huh, what are you eating, y/n? A hoagie?”

“Oh, god.” Chan groans, bowing his head. 

Seungcheol couldn’t pull out of you soon enough, the remainder of his cum swallowed up by you in the process. You picked up the courage to be the first one to ask, “How long have you been standing there, Soonie?” 

“Not sure…wait. Are you guys having sex?”

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly cringing. “Yes, Soonyoung.”

“Do you want to join,” you suggest, exchanging looks with both men already involved.

Their eyes initially express reluctance but eventually, they nod in agreement. Chan whispers an “alright,” in your ear before kissing the side of your face. Seungcheol being still very fresh to their current situation had no complaints, nor was he in the place to. They all redirect back to the intruder, and you ask him again. “Do you want to join us, Soonyoung?”

A pink tinge on his cheeks as your naked body slips from the bed gracefully, sliding down your underwear to the ground. “Join? Can I do that?”

His eyes locked on your prowess, your soft laughter sending off butterflies in his stomach as your hands crawls up to his face, stroking it endeared, “Yes, you can. Will you?”

“P-please…”

You guide him by the hand and bring him over to the bed, joining the rest. You slip the worn-out muscle tee over his head to toss it aside. Once you meet his lips, your hands run through his slept-in hair and melt against you like a dream. You were like taffy, sweet yet salty, no doubt from what he witnessed earlier, but he didn’t care. Forgetting the others around him, he pulls you in his lap, your wet cunt rubbing into his denim jeans as his hands take care of your body, collecting its warmth.

Seungcheol simply watches, running his hand down his body and stroking himself, feeling the tension build back up in cock. Chan joins him from across the bed. Licking his lips, he locks on the way your hips grind against Soonyoung’s, blood rushing towards his cheeks, wondering whether he was turned on imagining it was him or that it was genuinely fun watching.

Your bare skin meshes against Soonyoung, inhaling the stretch of alcohol and his expensive cologne etched into his skin, “Mmh…Soonie…”

“Shit,” the man moans, holding your bare ass in his hands, “I really wanted to do this. You have no idea.”

“You came at a good time too, Soonyoung. We were just about to fuck her together,” Chan doesn’t forget to mention, “She was ready to be filled up with two cocks, what’s one more?”

Soonyoung grins against your lips. “Three cocks in our pretty baby huh…I’m certainly glad I woke up.”

The men strip down to their birthday suits. Chan, taking less time than the others, utilizes this opportunity to retrieve the lube you kept in the drawer of your bedside table. Seungcheol kisses you for the first time that night, sensually stroking your back and parting your hair, while Soonyoung lips attach to your breasts, feeling your nipples grow hard on his tongue as he cradles them. It really hits you what’s happening when Chan squirts the cold lube on the center of your folds, rubbing it between his fingers, up in your warmth, before sliding down to prep your other entrance. 

His middle finger carefully tests the entryway, teasing the outer edge, before the lube lets him slide in and adjusts to your grip. Your moans were hard to suppress when he playfully slid them in and out and shot them deeper inside when you ask for more, to which he can’t help but laugh. “Cute little slut, taking it up your ass so well for us.”

He tucks in another digit, curling it inside you, ramming it, and preparing you for every opportunity.

You flex your fingers and toes, “Please Chan, I’m r-ready.”

“Are you sure?” He teases.

“Yes, please…”

Chan obliges, letting you go with a gentle thumb to the opening. They all position themselves, having discussed it moments ahead of time. Soonyoung has his back on the bed with your back hovering inches above his chest. He fingers the hole Chan had gotten ready and made sure it was adjusted to his liking, squeegeeing the excess lube. You twitch on top of him, finally feeling the tip of his cock circle at your entrance and slowly make its way inside you. Your jaw drops open, his member suffocates between your walls.

“Christ…” Soonyoung gasps, “You feel heavenly, Y/n.”

He holds you up from the back of your knees, spreading you wide and pretty, and taking a slow, deep stroke inside you. You let out a low growl, throwing your head back, and reveling in Soonyoung’s gentle pace. “Thats…so…good…”

Chan takes care of himself with aid of the scene, spitting in his hand, and his cock grows to his touch. “You look so fucking good stretched out.”

He approaches you, falling to his knees, and buries his face in your vacant warmth, still stroking himself. He licks stripes up your core, moistening his lips, as the tip of his nose brushes against your clit. Your stomach sucks in, ecstasy enflaming your core. “Fuck, daddy…”

Chan grows only harder and devours you faster, his tenor voices aches inside you, feeding his everlasting lust. Soonyoung takes his time with you still, hands now falling to your thighs, spreading you apart for Chan’s convenience, his hips gradually ramping up the speed. 

Seungcheol is respectful in watching, only inching forward when you beckon him closer with moans on your tongue, mouth still wide and welcoming. He takes advantage of your invite, knees meeting the bed, reuniting his length with your mouth, and seeing you take him just as hard (if not harder) as before. Hands land in your hair, straining your neck but filling out of your throat, that glorious sensation coming back to Seungcheol almost immediately. “Pretty mouth…Princess…take me good, hmm..”

“That’s so hot, fuck, what the fuck?” Soonyoung was being overwhelmed in the best way possible, bouncing you harder in his lap, leaving the man with his mouth full smiling with less work to do.

Chan smacks your center fold with the tip of his fingers, feeling you flinch under his touch, and he does it again and again. 

“Daddy hurtss…but…feels good…” You can’t help you mumble with Seungcheol’s cock pressing to your lips.

“S-shit, you’re gonna make me cum in my hand,” Chan shutters, honest to his word, “bad girl, but I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

He picks himself off the ground, his cock visibly furious. He rubs your slit with the tip, landing a lash to your clit, your sound of ache music to his ears, before he parts your folds and slides inside you, joining Soonyoung. He presses your legs back, Chan rocks in you in a steady rhythm opposite to Soonyoung. “Mm, daddy’s cock with Soonie’s, l-love so…m-much…”

“Such a—ah—cockslut. T-that good, hmm? You like me fucking you with Soonyoung inside you, hmm?”

“Y-y—Mmh..”

“Say it, fucking tell me you love our cocks splitting you open.”

“I-I love your c-cocks split-t-ting me o-open.”

You clench your body in anxiously, taking both cocks the best you can, but your body can only hold back so much cum.

“Look, who’s desperate to cum?” Chan observes, “Well, you can cum all you want, we’re not stopping.”

Chan is a man of his word. Even when your hips shake sporadically in front of them all, no one's pace falters. You were filled in all ends, an eternal loop of euphoria, the pleasant ache of your muscles easily manageable as long as you don’t lose this sensation. 

Seungcheol ruts your mouth with his eyes shut, only hearing the work your mouth puts in and pulls out when feels you’ve had enough. Your slobber prints your cheeks, a tired look in your eyes, but a manic smile on your face. He wipes some saliva away with his thumb, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’ll be sure to be slow at first, okay?”

Heart racing, you nod at his message, eyes drifting to see him place himself between you and Chan. Knees planted in the mattress beside either side of Soonyoung, he eases his length in your entrance on top of Chan’s, and unearthly sound follows coming from all around. Not a dry eye in the room, Seungcheol takes your calves and pressed them against his shoulders, squeezing with Chan in an uneven rhythm. 

“FUCK!” He bites into your leg, muffling his groans, filling you deep, “take me too, you can handle it. I believe in you.”

You scream in pleasure, your holes being fucked and filled, nodding your head forth and back. “Fuck, yes, like that, please…so full…”

The way it feels like everything at once, you can help but be overfilled with pride. You couldn’t describe in words how it felt, only process the event enough to scream and moan.

“That’s it, take us. Never have three cocks fuck your hole like this,” Chan points out through his sweaty pants.

Soonyoung simply groans deeply in your ear, snaking his hand over your clit, pinching the slick skin, your moans only growing louder and louder, and he then sticks his digits in your moisture, as if you were full enough. “You’re so talented, Y/n. Should’ve fucked you sooner…”

The sounds echoing in the room were like a broken record, waves of euphoria played over and over. It didn’t matter how long it took or how many positions were involved, you felt your heart rate taking ups and downs up they eventually grew tired.

“I’m gonna cum in you, that okay,” Seungcheol requests.

“Y-yes, d-daddy…” A blush deepens the surface of Seungcheol’s cheeks upon hearing that.

On the other hand, hearing his title being misused, Chan gets ticked off. He fuck harder with remorse, reminding you only one person can hold such a title, all while Seungcheol drops his load inside, coating you in snow white, grunting in you as his full length pushed the cum deep inside you until he finally pulls away. You open your mouth again, nonverbally asking to finish him off where he has before and he lets you, stroking what's left against your tongue.

Soonyoung follows soon after, his hips losing patience, “C-cum, in your ass, baby?” 

“Yes, please, Soonyoung…” You answer sweetly and he wastes no time, holding his cum deep in your ass after shooting hot cum in your backside until it’s dripping out of the edge.

“Good little cumslut, should I give you my gift too?”

Chan doesn’t even let you answer, encouraged by your startled, shrieks. Finally, his cum spurts from his cock, mixing itself with Seungcheol remnants and pulling out to spray on your torso and fall against your flushed skin, showing you once again he never planned on giving you any mercy. You fall limp against the mattress, ivory honey trailing on your chest, stomach, cunt, and ass. The two of the older men lay beside you, fatigued as you were. Chan tears away from the scene at the moment to come back with wet towels. He tosses one to each of the men before coming to sit at the edge of your feet, wiping away the mess like he always does.

“Should’ve let you lick it up, but fuck it. It’s your birthday,” Chan jesters with a soft grin.

“I would’ve enjoyed it though,” you butt in.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but I like taking care of you.”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol grin upon hearing that, finding their younger friend endearing even after such an unfathomable event, both glancing to see you smile at his words. The intimacy piques both men’s curiosity, erupting all kinds of questions.

Seungcheol shifts his gaze from both you and Chan, smiling knowingly, “You two do this a lot?” 

“And you've been hiding this from us for how long?” Soonyoung chimes in with a cheeky grin, ready to tease you both.

“How did this even happen?”

“Chan’s meaner than I thought, Y/n, did you know that? Is that what you like about him?”

“Chan? Chan? When I lived next door?”

“Seriously, how long was I asleep?”

“I’ve never cummed so much in my life. How the fucked did you do that?”

“Can you guys call me about the next orgy?”

The opposing duo laughs, finding the situation amusing already. Chan squeezes himself between you and Seungcheol, nuzzling his face in your neck as he cuddles you, “Well, ‘buddy’ are you gonna answer their questions?”

You roll your eyes and clear your throat, taking your time in answering, still breathless, “I’m definitely calling you both over again.”

[loverboykirstein]

a goddamn angel /// kinktober pt. 2

jean kirstein x afab!reader

wc: 7,624

mdni -> warnings: drinking, mentions of verbal abuse

***“I don’t wanna let Reiner down,” you couldn’t help but sigh, twiddling the fringe on the hem of the skirt of your bright red dress, definitely too short. “I promised him,”. 

“No like,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like going to this together,”. ***

****

“Are we really doing this?” Jean asked with hesitant eyes, fiddling with his keys. 

It had been three weeks since Eren dumped you out of the blue, without rhyme or reason. You hadn’t seen him, hadn’t seen anyone but Jean, Connie, and Sasha since. 

He had the decency to drop you off at the apartment first, not leaving you stranded in the early October rain. 

He hated the fact that you shared an apartment with boys, let alone Jean. He was indifferent about Connie, thinking he was just in his own little world all of the time. 

Eren never gave Connie or Sasha the recognition they deserved, only bothering to know them on a surface level. 

He never understood that your relationship with Jean was the same as his with Mikasa. Relationships from childhood, brought along to college. 

Sure, you felt threatened by her on the regular. Her responses cut short when you were close to Eren, her eyes full of hatred. She was completely different before she found out, and the two of you even grew quite close with you from the moment you met. 

In minutes, she wanted nothing more than to have you dead on the sidewalk.  

You knew they had grown up together, but you always thought it was more of a sibling thing, and less like a lovers thing. 

Maybe I’m just really bad at interpreting relationships? 

But Reiner wanted to host the party for once, Armin handing him the reins just this once. He had been gushing about this Halloween party, equipped with games, candy, booze, and was hoping for a real DJ. 

You all agreed to be there as soon as he announced it, planning since the end of September. 

“It’s gonna be the coolest shit ever, trust,”. 

Of course, no one else’s plans were complicated, just yours and Eren’s. You hadn’t seen him since, avoiding any interaction that he could possibly be at.

Jean always knew you best, growing from booster seats to tequila shots, scraped knees and student loans. You always joked that you were meant to find each other in every universe, as friends. 

“I don’t wanna let Reiner down,” you couldn’t help but sigh, twiddling the fringe on the hem of the skirt of your bright red dress, definitely too short. “I promised him,”. 

“No like,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like going to this together,”. 

Jean never agreed to go to this party, thinking it was ridiculous and would much rather sit and hope trick-or-treaters would come by in their odd-fitting costumes. 

All it took was a few pleas, and a week's worth of dinners to convince him to go, and pretend you were together, if Eren caused trouble. 

It wasn’t strange for the two of you to be attached at the hip, bickering and laughing at decade long inside jokes. For you to team up on Connie and Sasha, an everlasting prank battle present. 

You had drifted a little with Eren in the middle, building walls against your will. Keeping you out of the house, checking your phone all the time, throwing a tantrum when the two of you were together. 

Slipping apart, afraid to be so close, thinking Eren would take it the wrong way. Two hot-tempered, confident men constantly at each other’s throats, was enough to send you into premature heart failure. 

It was constant tension, constant stress. You don’t know why Eren asked you out, maybe just to prove a point to Jean that he could get anything he wanted, and Jean couldn’t. 

Even though things weren’t like that between you and Jean, everything was platonic, nothing more. Yes, your parents joked that the two of you would end up married one day. Yes, your parents had taken Jean on your summer vacation after graduation. Yes, you spent nearly every holiday with his family and yours. It’s normal. 

“We always go places together,”. You mumbled again, knowing what he meant. Was he really going to play the part? Is this going to fail miserably? 

“You know that’s not what I mean,”. He fixed his hair in the rearview mirror, an anxious habit of his. 

“Listen, it’s only if Eren causes shit, or he’s with someone,”. You shrugged, eyes kept down. “Otherwise you’re free to roam, and we can leave whenever, okay?”. 

“Fine, but remember what you owe me,”. He pointed his finger at you, poking your cheek. Maybe I’m the only one overthinking this. Maybe I’m the one who doubts this. 

“Yes, yes I know. You still need to make me that list, otherwise it’s not gonna happen,”. You flashed him a quick smile before pushing his truck door open, hopping down onto the sidewalk. The truck was at an awkward height, a diy lift kit that wasn’t installed quite right. 

Do we need to play the part from the start? Are Sasha and Connie going to be able to remember what’s going on based on the scenario? 

This was a terrible fucking idea. 

“C’mon, stupid,”. He met you on the sidewalk, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “Quit overthinking,”. 

“I am not overthinking, thank you very much,”. You leaned into his side, thankful for the warmth he provided against the frigid breeze. A classic devil costume, too short for the end of October. He refused to buy a costume, using clothes he already had. 

“I’m a cowboy. Be thankful I’m even wearing this,”. 

“Where’s the hat?” 

“Ain’t happening,”. 

Minimal effort, not thrilled with the idea of showing up in the first place. He didn’t like crowds, didn’t like loud noises. This was his own personal hell, but he couldn’t say no to you. 

“I call bullshit,”. The door was already open, strobe lights flashing and music way too loud. 

There were far more people than expected crowding the entryway, stumbling in their cheap overpriced costumes. You felt too many eyes on you, on Jean’s arm around you. 

“FINALLY,” Reiner pulled both of you into a hug, his face flushed and completely overbearing. “C’mon,”. He tugged your hand, dragging the both of you behind him to his basement. 

His strides were fast, nearly tripping as he walked down the stairs two at a time. 

You were greeted with friendly faces, mostly. Sasha and Connie both waved, nearly jumping up and down. We saw you guys earlier today? 

Armin gave you a small wave with a raised eyebrow, Jean’s arm somehow pulling you closer at the bottom of the stairs. 

You saw Mikasa sitting on Eren’s lap, matching vampire costumes with her lipstick on his neck. 

Her eyes were violent, condescending, sending a shock down your spine. You had never had her look at you that mean, even when you were attached to Eren’s hip for weeks. 

You swallowed your self-consciousness, knowing what the night was going to entail. Lying. Confused glances. Attempted sabotage all around. Lying. Lying. Lying. 

“You okay?” Jean lowered himself to your ear, whispering while holding eye contact with Eren, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Mhm, now pretend like you don’t hate my guts,” you rolled your eyes at him, forcing yourself to look at him just a little longer than you usually would. 

Sasha waved you over, patting the seat next to her. You urged Jean to follow, finally breaking the eye contact you were worried was going to last forever. 

You sat next to her on the couch, Jean slipping between you and the armrest. A little squished, you decided to somewhat rest your back against her, enough to allow you to lay your legs in his lap. 

You kept your legs shut tight, his hands immediately resting on your exposed legs. Mindlessly rubbing his hands up and down them as he locked in conversation with Reiner, pulling goosebumps to the surface. 

“Someone is not very happy tonight,” Sasha whispered in your ear, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Doesn’t really make sense, I don’t know why she’s mad at me,”. You made sure to not even look in their direction, pretending you were invested in Reiner and Jean’s conversation. 

“I don’t get it either, but I know you’re under Eren’s skin. Son of a bitch hasn’t spoken a word since you got here,” she shrugged, moving you with it. “Drink?” She stood, forcing you to support yourself uncomfortably. 

“Please,” you batted your fake eyelashes up at her, pulling her warm smile out in a matter of seconds. 

Did she tell Niccolo about this? Can I trust him if I tell him the truth? 

“I missed you stupid, where were you?” Reiner tossed the piece of plastic he was fiddling with at you, knocking you out of your momentary stare. 

“I got really sick,” you sighed, trying your best to play the part. “Then I was crazy behind, it was a whole mess. Promised you I’d be here though,”. You flashed him a soft smile, throwing the piece back at him. 

Really? That’s the best you could think of?

You two were relatively close, like siblings that pretended not to get along. You bullied each other relentlessly, deep down caring for each other more than either of you would actually admit. 

You knew he was confused, his eyes flashing between you, Jean, and his hands on your legs. 

You held back a shiver as his hands subconsciously rose, nearly reaching the seam of your dress. He seemed unbothered, like it truly was natural. 

You were a mess. 

Why is this getting to me now? We’re friends. Best friends. This is just a show, a play, a skit. 

What do we do after this, though? 

Fuck, great fucking job thinking ahead. 

“Here,” Sasha handed you a solo cup, filled way too high and probably three-quarters liquor. 

She slid back into her spot, a tight fit between you and Niccolo. Conversations went on as usual, distracting yourself with Bertholdt and Annie, surprised they were so talkative. 

You felt searing glares on your exposed shoulder, some from Eren, most from Mikasa. 

I don’t understand what her problem is? She got what she wanted?

“Are we gonna sit here all night, or are we gonna occupy that empty table?” Connie stood, drunkenly grabbing everyone’s attention. “Y/N, Jean, Sash, c’mon,”. 

He waved you all on, walking through all of you. A few familiar faces were scattered about, most of which you couldn’t really remember. 

You looked at Jean, shrugging your shoulders before swinging your legs back on the ground. Attempting to fix your skirt before you stood, Sasha insisting on holding your hand. 

Drink in one, Sasha’s in the other. 

“Can you hold this real quick?”. You practically shoved your cup at Jean, who had somehow acquired a beer when you weren’t paying attention. He grabbed it without mention, giving you the second you needed to hold your skirt down as you were drug to your feet by an eagerly drunk Sasha. 

You felt like your heartbeat was quite literally in your throat, mouth dry and hands clammy. Jean’s eyes lingered a little too long on your thighs, barely covered in the costume Sasha forced you to wear. 

She was the angel, you were the devil. Figures. 

Of course, her skirt was longer, white tights underneath. 

As Sasha drug you towards the table, you looked back at Jean to wave him on. He blinked his eyes hard a few times, before standing and offering Reiner to come watch, and to mediate. 

The two of them walked over together, still conversing about god knows what. 

Sasha and Connie held the far side of the table, eyes on the two of you, and everyone behind you. 

You could only see them and the wall, Niccolo and Reiner on the side. You knew everyone was watching, Jean handing you your cup back. 

“You guys are SO DEAD,” Connie bragged as he rolled one of the orange balls down the table, giving it to you for the eye-to-eye beginning. 

The two of you always did it, tradition since you got your learners permit. You held the ball between your fingers, eyes glued to Connie’s. You tried to make each other laugh, before Reiner told you two to ‘knock it off already’. 

You made it, Connie’s bounced off the rim of the first cup, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Good job,” Jean wrapped his arm around you again, kissing the top of your head. 

What? We’re taking this this far? 

You pretended to be fine, leaning your head against him while Connie rolled the ball back to you. 

Jean always went first, you always went last. Afraid your rhythm would be off after spending so many weeks playing with Eren, then not playing at all. 

It took a few rounds to get your rhythm back to where it once was, dominating the table. You hadn’t done it since the summer, his hand on your lower back whenever it wasn’t your turn. 

“Were next,” you heard the all-familiar brooding voice grow louder behind you, nearly bumping into Jean’s shoulder. 

“We are not done,” Sasha bit at him, drunk enough to give anyone attitude, and you always loved it. 

The cup Sasha poured you now empty, Jean sinking the last cup on the table. Following him, you did the same, completely forgetting that it meant you would have to be across a table from the two people you wanted to see the least. 

“Refill?” Sasha asked while Connie threw his usual fit, aligning the cups back to their original position. Her eyes were wide, panicked for your sake. 

“Please,” you drug it out a little, sighing. 

“Jean? You too?” She asked balancing your cup and hers in one hand. 

“Just water or a soda, I already had one and I gotta drive later,”. 

She looked confused, knowing the two of you usually stayed the night, getting plastered until the sun came up. 

Time felt as it slowed to a crawl, Eren and Mikasa glaring at you just a few feet away. Sasha returned with drinks after what felt like an eternity, standing closeby, refusing to leave your side. 

Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. 

Mikasa rolled the ball down to you wordlessly, lining up the same way Connie did. You waited for Reiner’s command, both of you holding the most painful eye contact of your life. 

You made it. 

She didn’t. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,”. Jean kissed your cheek, pulling you into a side-hug that was just a few inches from a nearly suffocating real one. 

Baby? 

“Since when has this little fling been going on?” Eren pointed between the two of you before tossing the ball hard enough for it to bounce directly off the table. 

“Could ask you the same question,” you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to the left. 

“It’s none of your business,” Mikasa snapped at you, bitterness making your jaw ache. 

“What I do is none of your damn business either, then,” you spit back, before Jean grabbed the back of your dress to pull you back, enough to settle you down a bit. 

“Don’t feed into her bullshit,” Jean whispered as he cleaned the ball off on his jeans, just loud enough for you to hear. 

He’s right. Be the bigger person. Just for a little while longer. 

You watched as he silently went, jaw clenched as tight as the night you came in crying after Eren dumped you. 

He wasn’t nice, accusing you of too many things, that you were the problem and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You weren’t upset about him leaving, the words he spat with a raised voice and flailing hands was what pulled hysterical sobs out of you for hours as the three of them coddled you in the living room. 

He made it, stepping out of the way so you could go. Missed. Fuck. 

“It’s okay,” Jean’s hand was glued to your back once again as if it was second nature. 

“All worked up or something?” Eren snickered, standing as he picked up the ball you threw that ended up on the floor. 

He missed. 

Jean scoffed under his breath, making Eren’s face run hot. Mikasa missed, rolling her eyes. 

Back and forth, somehow keeping the lead. You didn’t know how, hands shaking with sheer anger at every single comment. Each response that you wanted to snap back with you kept gathered in your chest, seeping into your bloodstream. 

You sunk the last one, beating them by 2 cups. 

“This is fucking bullshit, there’s no fucking way,” Eren raised his voice, Mikasa placing her hand on his chest to try and settle him. “Can’t believe we lost to a whore and her boy of the week,”. 

Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say? 

The room fell silent, eyes glued to the hot-headed red-faced boy leaning over the table. 

“What the fuck did you just say about her?” Jean ran his tongue across his top teeth, seething.  

“I said, I can’t believe we lost to a whore and her boy of the week,”. He had a smirk on his face that made you want to tear the skin right off of him, muscles torn, bones exposed. 

“Eren? What the fuck?” Sasha stood next to you, a step forward. 

“Yeager what the hell?” Reiner’s bloodshot eyes swung over to him, genuinely confused. 

“As if you weren’t fucking her the whole time we were together,”. The statement slipped out before you could stop it, blinded by the sheer audacity. Shut up, shut up, shut up. 

Mikasa’s face ran hot, flushed. 

“Oh my god, you actually were?” Sasha asked, completely dumbfounded. 

“I-as if you weren’t fucking him too,” she scoffed, voice cracking. 

“Unlike some people, I really value fidelity,”.  Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up. 

Words were falling out of you faster than you could catch them, eyes glued open. 

“Y/N, hush,” Jean grabbed your hand, interlocking fingers, hoping to hold you back. 

You watched as they tried to collect their words, stumbling. 

“Hope you enjoy sloppy seconds,” Eren spat again, the only words he could seem to find. 

“At least he makes me finish,” you leaned over slightly to make the words sting a little more, replacing your tight jaw with a smirk, just brutal enough for it to sink into him. 

“Want me to show you how? She makes really pretty noises,” Jean played into your blatant lie, nearly everyone’s jaw on the floor. Even the people you didn’t really know were holding their breaths, not wanting to miss a single word. 

“You goddamn son of a bitch, I’ll kill you,” Eren seethed through gritted teeth, all color in his eyes disappearing with each syllable. 

“Someone’s awfully jealous over a girl they dumped. Was two girls not enough for you?” Jean laughed, pulling you in front of him so your back was completely pressed against him. His arms wrapped around you, acting as casual as possible. 

Eren battled for words, stuttering out loud as Mikasa gave him a confused glance. 

“Don’t tell me he told you that I dumped him,” you tilted your head to the side, pouting at her with eyes that held nothing but light and humility. 

“That’s what he told us,”. Reiner shrugged, not quite absorbing the hostility plaguing the air. 

“Once a liar, always a liar,” Jean drug his words out, taunting. 

“As if you two aren’t lying about being together. You two just suddenly show up happy as ever. I call bullshit,”. Eren was scrambling for anything he could use against you. 

Wordlessly, as if it was second nature, Jean pulled you to his side, leaning down towards you. 

He pressed his lips against yours, hand rested on the side of your face. You did the same, falling into it. 

It was longer than it should have been, sending every single emotion known to man straight to the heat between your legs. 

What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. 

“I don’t think friends do that,” a bystander tuned in, jaw nearly on the floor. The short girl next to him was equally as stunned, as if they’d never seen affection before. 

Pulling away, he rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip, before offering you a wink. Turning back to a dumbfounded Eren, he stood there waiting for a response. 

“Cat got your tongue? You can come back and watch us later, it seems like you’re into it,”. Jean’s ego was the highest you’d ever seen it, and it was really fucking hot. 

“Eren, we should just go,”. Mikasa stuttered, flustered and frustrated all at the same time. 

“No, I’m just getting started with goddamn horseface over here thinking he’s better than me,”. He slipped away from Mikasa, letting his rage drive his body. 

“Sash,” Jean nodded to her, letting her take your hand and ensuring you weren’t left alone. 

“Are you doing this just to fuck with me? Huh?” Eren pushed Jean’s chest as he walked forward, both taller and stronger than Eren. 

“Why would we give you that time of day you fucking moron,”. Jean’s presence alone made Eren step back, stopped by the wall behind. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Eren scared. The first time Jean wasn’t yelling back, not feeding into the childish energy Eren always radiated when he was angry. 

“Why don’t you let us know why you’re just so jealous, Yeager. Let us know why you’re so jealous over  a girl you dumped. Enlighten us, please,”. The smile on Jean’s face was unsettling, he’s having way too much fun with this. 

“I just got with her to piss you off! Fine, I fucking said it!” He threw his hands up, pleading that Jean wouldn’t retaliate. “It was just a game, I- couldn’t tolerate her bullshit long enough to make you break,”. 

Jean’s hand gripped Eren’s collar, slamming him into the wall, about to open his mouth. 

“You just fucking used me? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sasha physically held you back, vision turning red. Tunnel visioned and ears ringing, hearing the words you suspected were true the whole time. “You couldn’t deal with my bullshit? You were sleeping with her the whole time! You told me I was the problem!” 

“Y/N, stop,” Sasha tried to hold you back, to shut your mouth. 

“Was the screaming part of the game? Was scaring me away from my friends part of the game? Treating me like shit part of the game? Please, do share, you pathetic piece of shit,”. You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, burning the back of your throat on the way out. 

“You’re gonna pay for this. You thought your lies wouldn’t catch up to you huh?” His grip tightened, knuckles white.  

“You will never hurt her again. You will never come near her again, do you fucking understand?” 

Shoving him harder, enough to knock the wind out of him, Jean repeated his question, much louder. 

“Do you fucking understand Yeager?!” 

“Yes, yes fine, just fucking let me go,”. Eren tried to squirm free, before Jean released his collar with his eyes glued on you. 

“We’re leaving,” he grabbed you by your waist, picking you up enough so he could  swing you in front of him. 

He didn’t let you fight it, nor did you want to. 

That was a fucking disaster. 

Why did I think this was a good idea? 

Practically pushing you out the door, he unlocked his truck and lifted you up directly into your seat. He slammed the door, ushering around to his side and immediately kicking the engine on. 

“Here,”. He pulled your phone out of his back pocket, holding it so you wouldn’t need to bring a bag. 

“Jean, you didn’t have to d-”. 

“Yes, yes I did,”. He sighed, putting the truck in drive, anxiously running his fingers through his hair. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, more of a whisper and less like a question. 

“Are you?” He placed his hand on your thigh, like he was still playing the part. 

You didn’t fight it, craving something, someone to hold you down. 

“I-I don’t know?” You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes glued to his hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. “I mean, he never really seemed to actually like me, so,”. 

Your voice trailed, feeling sickened with embarrassment. Why did I stay with him in the first place? Why did I get with him in the first place? 

You saw him nod his head out of the corner of your eye, biting his lip to hold whatever words he wanted to say back. 

A silent drive, pulling into your empty house. You knew that Connie and Sasha would stay the night, too drunk to drive and too stubborn to pay for an uber. 

You texted them to let them know you were okay, and to not worry about anything, to try and have a good time. Locking your phone and setting it on your lap, eyes glossed over. 

“C’mon,”. He put the truck in park, waiting for you to unbuckle your seatbelt. He pulled his hand away from your thigh, leaving you cold with a vacant chest cavity. 

You walked into the house wordlessly, your body pressed against his as the breeze picked up and your hands began to freeze. 

Kicking your shoes off right by the door, you immediately went and slumped over on the couch, head in your hands. 

I think I just messed everything up. 

Eren really was using me. 

How did I not see that coming? 

Why didn’t believe it was true that he was using me? 

How is everyone supposed to get along now? 

Reiner’s probably pissed. 

Are things going to be weird between Jean and I now? 

I think I liked that kiss a little too much. 

Why do I always fuck everything up. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,”. Jean sat down next to you, leaving no space between you. He pulled your legs into his lap, just like you were on the worn out couch in Reiner’s basement. 

Resting your head against him, you let your body collapse against his. Two college kids in ridiculous costumes, staring at a blank TV screen in an empty house. 

What a way to spend my last college Halloween. 

His hands held you close, one crawling up your side, under the hem of your dress. It wasn’t meant to be like that, but it made your insides twitch. 

Be so fucking for real right now, are you insane? 

We can handle this later in the shower. Calm down. 

“Hey um-” Jean took a deep breath, you rising as his chest expanded. “I’m sorry if that was too much, I got carried away an-” 

“I liked it,”. Your face ran hot, words spilling out before you even registered your thoughts.

Do I lack fucking critical thinking skills? 

What in the goddamn world am I saying? 

“You did?” 

All you could do was nod, too embarrassed yet knowing it was far too late to hide what you had spilled. 

“Good,” his hand ran up your thigh just a little more, hand fully rested on your ass like it was nothing. 

HUH? 

You both sat there in silence, tension flooding the room like wildfire. It was hard to breathe, your head was becoming a mess, hundreds of thoughts running through it faster than the speed of light. 

Your hand that was once cradled against your chest had found its way to the back of his neck, running your nails through the base of his now slightly unkempt mullet. 

“Do you, um-” his voice was shaky, cheeks flushed. You had never seen him so nervous before, always hiding it behind a false smile and loud jokes. 

“Do I what?” You batted your eyelashes up at him, having a feeling you knew what he was going to ask. 

“I- uh, fuck,”. He bit his lip, avoiding your eyes. 

“Yes,” you whispered against his neck. 

You knew there was no going back after what had happened, where his hands had been. The way he kissed you, the way he defended you. 

His eyes turned wide, unblinking. Like he was in shock, heart running a million miles an hour. 

Forcing himself to gather his thoughts, he pulled you up onto his lap, your legs now on either side of him. 

“Are you sure about this?” Your fingers were still running through his hair, shaky and riddled with anxiety. 

He has to be playing a trick on me, right?

As if he was going to die if he waited any longer, he pulled your hips closer with one hand, your head closer with the other. 

You melted into each other, bodies becoming one. It was messy, it was breathless. You moved in unison, your DNA intertwined.   

Your hips rolled against him, feeling him grow harder by the second. Fuck, he’s big. 

“Yours or mine,” he pulled away for a moment in time, craving so much more of you. 

“Yours,” you mumbled through a half broken kiss, unwillingly to let him go. 

He stood up, letting you wrap your legs around him. How he did it so effortlessly, you weren’t sure, too clouded in lust to try and figure it out. 

With rapid steps, he shoved his door open, just to slam it closed behind you. With his hand on the back of your head, laying you down below him, head on his pillow. 

Before the clock could tick another second, his lips were on yours again, tugging on your bottom lip. Leaving them cold and glossy, he trailed his lips down your neck, nipping you with his teeth every so often. 

It pulled a giggle out of you each time, the scruff that littered his jawline tickling against your skin. 

“You can mark me,”. Your words were breathy, hard to push out past your racing heart. 

Following those four words, he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, sucking your skin to break as many blood vessels as he could, telling your veins his name.  

You couldn’t keep count of how many marks he left on you, the aftermath not even remotely present behind your eyes. 

He ran his hands down your body, pulling your dress up as he ran them back up. The air was frigid against the heat he had created in a few minutes time, goosebumps littering your skin once again. 

Your glossy eyes met his, both desperate for so much more, waiting for the other to initiate. 

You grabbed his hand, eyes still locked with his, guiding it down your stomach slowly, resting it on top of your clothed cunt. You could feel the slick soaking through, and you knew he could too. 

His eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. You nodded your head, waiting for him to fill the ache that had grown so quickly inside. 

With permission granted, he dove his hand under the waistband of your underwear, biting his lip as he ran his middle finger down your slit. 

“F-fuck you’re so wet,” he stuttered, drawing gentle circles around your clit. 

It drew light whimpers out of you, needing more, now. 

“More,” you muttered through a bitten lip, whining. 

Before you could finish, he dove his middle finger inside you, causing you to arch your back and the air to be sucked out of your lungs. 

He pumped in and out of you slowly, pressing his lips against yours, absorbing the whimpers that crawled up your throat. 

He slipped another in, curling up and brushing against the spot you needed him to abuse. 

You pulled one of your hands away from his hair, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down his zipper with a few fluid movements. 

Pressing your hand against his hardened length, feeling him shudder with your touch. Even with his boxers still holding a barrier, you could feel how long he was, how heavy he was. 

His pace sped up, drawing the ties of an orgasm closer together. Please, please, please. 

“Please,” you begged through minimal breaks in space between your lips. 

“Please what,” he drug his fingers out of you, brushing your clit on the way up. 

“I need- I want more,”. Your eyelids were low, pupils huge. One strap of your dress had slipped off your shoulder, begging to be taken off. 

You watched him place the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, eyes locked on yours. 

“Fucking hell,”. He tilted his head back, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could. 

You’d seen him shirtless before, but not like this. A slight sheen of sweat, muscles tight, chest heaving. His v-line deep, nearly making you crumble as he tossed his shirt on the floor. 

A little more awkward than he planned, he slipped his jeans off, tossing them out of the way. 

With anxious fingers, he pulled your underwear off in one pull, taking in your glistening cunt with wide, lovestruck eyes. 

He reached behind you and undid the zipper, pulling the cheap fabric off of your shoulders, exposing you entirely. 

You swore his jaw fully unhinged, taking every inch of you in. He ran his hands up and down your sides, cupping both of your tits together, utterly starstruck. 

“Earth to Jean?” You batted your lashes at him again, snapping him out of his clouded stare. 

“Fuck, god you’re so much hotter than I ever could have imagined,”. 

His words were slurred, bringing a rapid flush to your face. 

“I can’t take this anymore,” he slid his boxers off faster than you could register, his fingers finding their place inside you without warning. Your eyes caught a glimpse of him, widening with the single thought of how the fuck is that going to fit? 

He looked up at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his. They were questioning, asking if it was okay to continue. 

You nodded with too much enthusiasm, drunk on the feeling of him, on the hint of his cologne, the lust in his eyes, the gloss on his lips. 

The rest of the world didn’t matter, the only thing that existed in this universe was the man on top of you, pinched brows and disheveled hair, heavy breathing and the stars that surrounded him. 

He spat on his hand, coating his length with a little bit of makeshift lubricant, hoping it would ease his entrance. 

At an achingly slow pace, you felt his tip, dressed in pre-cum, struggle against you. Each centimeter burned, but took your soul out of your body as you slowly felt him filling you up. 

Both of you holding your breath, biting your lip as if you were teenagers who weren’t quite sure what to do. 

You tried your best to relax, slowly stretching to fit as much of him inside as possible. 

You felt him press against your cervix, bottoming out, hips flush against your spread thighs. 

Devoid of oxygen, the sheer size of him pushing out any air you had left trapped inside. Pulling out the harshest gasp, your eyes reaching the back of your head. 

“Oh.. my.. fucking…god,”. He shivered, kicking his head back, swallowing hard. 

You whined against him, needing him to fucking move. Friction, bruising, desperation, and everything in between. 

His motions were slow, cautious. He was being gentle, too gentle for the gnawing cries of your begging core, wanting to unravel at the motions of someone else for the first time in forever. 

His eyes were dark, nearly all color swallowed up by his enlarged pupils, dilated enough to take everything in, keeping the photographs locked in his mind for safe-keeping. 

“J-Jean,” you whined, desperately needing him to speed up, to be harder, to let go of any restraints he was still holding on to. 

“Yes?” His words were caught in his heavy breathing, forgetting how to speak. 

“Harder, p-please,”. It wasn’t like you to beg, to plead so quickly. 

Something about the man you had grown up with side by side, now on top of you, drove you up a wall. You needed him everywhere, never letting go. 

Seeing him in an entirely new light, the sun’s rays illuminating him above you. Seeing him be vulnerable, being so close you were completely intertwined, had your heart carving its way out of your chest to meet his. 

Two words granted him permission to break free from the chains wrapped around him, plowing into you with enough force to snap every bone in your body. 

Pace increasing, slipping in and out with ease by the mess he had created between your legs, spilling onto his emerald green comforter. 

His fingertips leaving bruises on your hips, holding on to you hard enough to never let you go. 

He pulled moans out of you without even trying, babbled curses and whimpers mixed together in a mess of incoherent phrases. 

His guttural, hungry sounds that clouded yours sent you further over the edge, calling your nerves to send shocks down to your fingertips that were leaving bleeding scratches in his back and along his arms. 

You wrapped your legs around him, him pressing a hand on the spot where you felt him crash against you. Watching your brows pinch together, biting your lip so hard you thought it would bleed. 

“Oh is someone close?” His voice was taunting, sticking to your eardrums like honey. 

You nodded, unable to deny your response to the way he filled you up so perfectly. 

He kept pace, hand pushing down hard enough to rupture your core that was aching to break. Spitting nonsense out of your mouth, a mix of curses  and praises and everything in between, colorful spots behind your eyelids. 

Legs shaking enough to almost lose their grip around him, a hummed laugh bubbling in his chest. 

“You do make really pretty noises,”. Your face was flushed, chest moving enough to keep catching his eye with every thrust. 

Never in your life had sex ever felt like this. It always felt like a chore, mediocre at best. Rarely finishing, still feeling vacant. 

You had never felt so warm, so full. Your head so far in the clouds that you were higher than the birds migrating, planes flying to unknown destinations. 

You opened your eyes, their gloss matching your fucked-out face, a devilish flicker behind his eyes. 

“Does my baby have more in her?” He was a completely different man, no longer nervous or worried about hurting you. 

You nodded, never wanting this feeling to end. Never wanting him to leave, never wanting to feel empty ever again. 

“Be a good girl and flip over for me,”. He pulled out of you quicker than you imagined, making you whine with frustration at the momentary lack of warmth. 

Burying your face in his pillow, you felt him pull your hips up, supporting your weight on your knees, the rest on your forearms next to you. 

This time he slipped in easily, no resistance but still tight enough to make him curse under his breath. 

Running his fingers through your hair, he pulled you up towards him, grasp tight on your scalp. 

“You’re mine now, understand?” He was serious, not just playing a role. Words heavy against your neck, your spine aching at the angle he was drilling into you at. 

All you could do was nod your head, airways cut short as the grip on your hair tightened. 

Pushing you back down, thumbs in the small of your back for stability. Fistfulls of bedding saving the palms of your hands from the pressure of your nails, muffled cries into his pillow. 

Your legs trembled as he brushed against the spot your body was begging for him to abuse, hitting harder as you pushed back, arching your back as much as you could. 

“Already? You dirty, dirty girl,” he clicked his tongue, speeding up. One hand dipped below, fingers repeating circles on your swollen clit, sending you over the edge in seconds. 

You could barely keep yourself up, bones turned to mush as you came all over him for a second time in minutes. His fingers never stopped, his pace never faltered, ensuring you rode out your high all over him. 

You felt him twitch inside you as you throbbed around him, tightening as your moans became nothing but strings of cries and whimpers, repeating his name like a broken record. 

“Are you gonna be a really good girl and do one more for me?” He leaned over, kissing your shoulder and you nodded your head. 

You lacked the capacity to think, the ability to form a coherent sentence. 

He pulled out of you again, leaving you confused and a whining mess. 

“C’mere, it’s your turn sweetheart,”. He helped pull you onto his lap, straddling him. Just like you began, a lot less clothing involved. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the only thing your brain could manage was the phrase ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy,’ on repeat, watching his face slightly twist in confusion. 

Supporting your still shaking body on the headboard with your weak hands, you lowered yourself onto him as slow as you could, watching his eyes roll back instead. 

By the force of gravity, he somehow pushed deeper, bruising you on impact. 

Using any strength you had left, you rode him like your life depended on it, the sounds he created enough to give you a second wind. 

Muttering nonsense, hands wandering anywhere and everywhere, eyes glued to the sight of him sliding in and out of you. 

You tightened around him on purpose, watching him shudder and feeling him twitch inside you. 

His nails desperately clawing at your skin, forcing you to hold back your urge to snap again. 

“Fu-fuck I’m-”. He couldn’t piece his words together in time, feeling him lose control inside you. 

The warmth tipped you over, barely able to keep going as your eyes were glued to his face. 

Jaw tight, head kicked back enough to see him struggle to breathe, eyebrows pinched together harder than you’d ever seen. 

Broken breaths, caught in the way of his unraveled nerves taking over his body. 

“Oh…my god,”. You muttered, trying to catch your breath, weight fully supported by your grip on the headboard, knees completely useless. 

He pulled your face closer to his, kissing you gently this time. 

It wasn’t messy, wasn't urgent. It was loving. 

Your heart fluttered at the contrast, innocently brushing lips as he was still inside you. 

“You-You are fucking insane,”. He huffed through a dumbfounded laugh, shaking his head. 

“What do you mean?” You pretended to be offended, unable to hold back a smile. 

“I-fucking hell. Um-”. His face flushed in embarrassment, confidence disappearing with a drop in adrenaline. 

“Use your big boy words,”. You taunted him, slightly moving your hips that were still in control of him. 

“You- you’re a goddamn angel in the flesh, I swear,”. His statement turned your face bright red, hotter than the sun, the lava under the Earth’s crust. Funny, given the costume I wore, and the acts we just committed. 

“Oh hush it,”. You tried to deflect it, knowing it was the post-sex haze pulling nonsense out of him. He rolled his eyes, knowing you were going to do that, squinting at you. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,”. You raised your hips, him falling out of you, followed by a mix of his orgasm and yours spilling out onto his bedding. 

“Fuck I’m sorry I-” 

“We’ll throw it in the wash, it's no big deal,”. He ruffled your already messed up hair, laughing at your panicked apology. 

He carried you to his bathroom, which was really just a few steps. He turned the faucet on in the bath, setting you down on the toilet right next to it. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

You nodded, taking the opportunity to let the rest fall out of you, preventing a uti while he wasn’t around. 

He just came in us, and you’re panicking about that? 

He came back to feed you cold water, an extra  towel in hand. You had your own shower, but it was upstairs and you both would be damned if you tried to go up them. 

He helped you clean up, cleaning himself too in the process. Holding you steady, peppering gentle kisses all over you. 

Still in a daze, now clouded by steam and his body wash, you could barely process what just happened. 

All you knew was that you were happy. 

You let him dress you in one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that didn’t fit him right anymore. 

“I’ll wash those tomorrow”. He shrugged, looking at the mess that was his bed. 

Sitting you down on the couch, now just sore and aching, he turned on the tv, switching to the mindless reality tv show the two of you always made fun of. 

Laying next to him, bodies pressed together on the long part of the couch, his legs still hanging off per usual. 

“I meant what I said,”. He mumbled under his breath as you zoned out on the tv. 

“Hm?” 

“I meant what I said,”. 

“What do you mean?” What did he say? At what point of the night? 

“That you’re mine now,”. He was certain, regardless of your answer. Yet still terrified, worried you were going to dismiss him, hearing his anxious heartbeat shaking the earth. 

“Okay,”. You smiled at him, watching his eyes light up with a joy you had never seen. Brighter than a kid on Christmas, brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

Pulling you in for one more kiss, you felt him smile against your lips, gentle and sealing your words together. 

You were his now. 

Our parents were right.

---------------------------------------------------------------

when no one else is there for you, possessive jean k always will. this can also be found on my ao3! i will post links shortly once i get the hang of this whole thing :')

also shoutout to miss girl (my cat) for being my co-author (eating my computer as i write this) and @justwolosers for being my biggest fan.

thanks for stopping by ! my requests are always open, pls pls message me with anything you would like to see <3

[waynes-multiverse]

Drunk and/or high sex? W/ Dean or Jensen 😇🙏🏼

A/N: Picked Jensen for this since I already had a bunch of Dean requests! I imagined New Orleans in summer for this and thought the "love drug" was quite fitting. It was kinda inspired by the story of how Alison Brie started things with Dave Franco, which she told in a recent interview. Thought that was hilarious, so of course I had to use it. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking & drugs (weed & mdma), flangst, smut (thigh riding, p in v)

Word Count: 1.4k (I'm really trying here lol)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Lavender Haze

There’s a visible haze flowing through the room, a midnight blue veil with particles of shimmering glitter in between that glistens like the night sky outside the French window. It feels surreal, like the fabric of the stars itself is blanketing you, enveloping your entire being as his plump lips touch every inch of your skin, ignite it as he worships your body. The entire universe is suddenly in your room.

The air smells of sweat, a mixture of drinks lingering on your breaths, and the damp summer heat that filters in through the open window despite the cool night air. You can’t remember how you got back to your hotel; too many shots have been downed tonight to care. Did you take a cab? Did you walk the busy streets till you landed back here? All of the above?

All you remember is the laughs, the music, the drinks, and the joint you shared with a friend in a dark alley. You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d land here – with him. More drinks flowed, his irresistible smile blinded you, and a few clumsy touches of his hands on places where he had never touched you before kindled your heart and soul. He was a kid playing with matches, too stupid, too innocent to know what he was doing, what dangerous game he started to play, and you were drunk enough to set both your bodies ablaze without wasting a second thought on it.

It was a harmless text from your friend that started this whole mess: Jensen – I think you should hit that tonight. Of course, your blurry mind thought it was a glorious idea. After all, you had wanted this, wanted him for a long time now.

You never thought he’d say yes, but if you were honest with yourself, you were always scared to ask in case he did agree to your insanity, knowing you weren’t good enough, knowing you’d only ruin it, knowing you could never dream this big. Maybe that’s why you posed the most outlandish question you could think of, hoping with certainty he’d deny your request and gently turn you down.

“I have a Molly… Wanna split it and have some fun in my hotel room?”

It wasn’t like him to agree to something like this. Maybe you’ve always been a bad influence on him, but you were still majorly surprised when he didn’t even blink. He just smirked at you and nodded like it was the million-dollar question he’d been waiting for.

And yes, maybe you knew he wanted you just the same, knew he harbored a crush on you for years, knew he craved the same things you craved. It’s been written in the stars since the two of you met and caught each other’s eyes for the very first time. But call it Southern gentlemanliness or whatever, in all these years, he never made a single move – not obvious ones, at least. True to form, he was never pushy, always waiting for your pull. And God, once you handed him that rope, he lassoed you like the coolest cowboy and tied you up good.

When your back hits the door, your lungs are barely able to catch a breath as Jensen is on you the second you enter the hotel room, scared if he gave you any wriggle room, you’d leave, even though you’d never dream of it. His ample lips find yours first, claiming you in a bruising kiss that leaves you speechless. You’ve kissed before, sharing the odd professional movie kisses between your characters on a set with an audience, but this kiss is entirely different.

Real. Raw. Breathtaking.

Then, his sinful lips trail down your jaw, find your throat, and mark your pulse point purple, green, and blue. His addicting hands have been on you nonstop since you each downed that little love drug with a bottle of water. It started with minute touches – his large palm on the small of your back when he guided you out of the bar, his warm hand on your knee in the back of the cab, his fingertips trailing up and down your spine in the elevator, and by the time, you’ve unlocked the door, he was ready to downright bounce on you. He loves touching you, loves to feel your skin ignite like a chemical reaction underneath his fingertips whenever the two connect.

His aura is emerald – soft, lush, and full of hope. Relaxing. Safe.

Yours is lavender – mysterious, sensitive, and full of passion. Inspiring. Chaotic.

With every touch and every kiss, his aura intoxicates yours, infecting every vein in your body until each drop of blood feels fused to his. A haze of green and purple, inseparable by the end. It’s surreal in the best way.

The tips of your fingers tingle whenever they smooth over an inch of cinnamon-freckled skin. He’s hot to the touch, his warmth swaddling you like a snuggly blanket that feels like childhood memories and home. You never want to let go. This feeling should last forever. The strong heartbeat behind his ribs tells you he feels the same.

His knee sneaks between your legs as his hand crawls inside your panties and finds an ocean waiting for him there. His groans reverberate against your skin, your throat, your chest as you needily seek more friction on his thigh, grinding your clothed cunt against the rough denim fabric as his thick thumb strokes your clit.

“God, this is so hot… you’re so hot,” he murmurs against your neck, his free hand pushing parts of your shirt and bra down to grope one breast, pinching the nipple between his fingertips until it hardens. “Wanted this for so long… So, so long…”

“Me too,” you whisper breathlessly, your cloudy brain torn between an orgasm and a love confession.

His attacks on your tit and cunt seize and still, his head slowly rising as he finds your gaze. The look in his eyes is overflowing with surprise, desire, and hope, showing a longing that’s finally sated. The hand on your breast leaves its place and cups your cheek, caressing it with gentle care.

“Yeah?”

A smile twitches on your lips as you nuzzle your nose against his and nod. “Yeah,” you admit your secret. “Of course, it is. All I need is you. I just wanna stay here forever with you.”

Jensen’s lips curl into a smile, one that hides something behind it you can’t decipher. “Good,” he says and entangles you in a kiss so deep it leaves you breathless once more as he sucks the air from your lungs while you start to think that this might be the sweetest death you could’ve ever imagined.

His hands grab your thighs, lift you up until your legs wrap around his waist. His full-grown erection presses against your pussy as you grab and bite and hold onto whatever of him you can get between your hands and mouth. Clothing items drop in haste, not sure who removes what from where, but you’re positive your lips part as he enters you in one thrust until his long, thick cock is fully sheathed by your heat, stretching your walls like no one ever has before. The delicious burn, the pleasurable sting between your thighs is a new feeling you could find yourself growing quite addicted to.

“Shit, ’m sorry…,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck at his eagerness and apologizes for his temporary loss of control, which you find quite flattering as his cock throbs inside of you while his fingers gently caress your head and comb through your hair to soothe the bits of pain you feel. “I love you,” he whispers softly against your lips and claims them in the same breath.

You smile shyly, happiness wrangling with sadness inside your heart. “It’s the drugs,” you tell him and excuse his irrational behavior, having been through this circle a few times before.

However, he shakes his head with all the stubbornness he can gather and cups your cheek, thumb caringly brushing over its rosy apple. “No, it’s you, sweetheart. Promise,” he assures you.

With a thick swallow, you nod and drop a tear on his thumb pad. “Okay… I love you, too,” you accept and cry out as he pushes back inside and never stops again.

Considering the other drabbles I did up till now and the nature of this request, this turned out oddly romantic and sweet *pats self on back* 🥰

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Seven

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Alcohol. Love It or Hate It.

“Keee-kohh-kuuu,” you sing out loud, wriggling on a mattress you’ve managed to slug away from the front of the Sunny to the back – of course, it wasn’t an easy feat, what with having to shoo a stringy Luffy off its surface. But with an evil grin and a few deft fingers, you managed to throw the mattress spinning in the air, peeling your captain off it like a sticky toy.   

He fell flat on his face, his body only a rubbery plane of thin paper, and with a grinning “Good game, Captain!” you patted him on his squashed shoulder as you pranced away from the hubbub of the festivities. 

You kick your legs in the air, your belly pressing against the feeling of sweet victory of softness. Although your body springs softly upwards in response, your fingers are anything but reckless as they fumble over Law’s prized possession. 

‘Kikoku.’ A voice hisses in your head, clearly aggravated by the dizzying display of your giddiness. ‘If you’re trying to talk to me, then at least get my name right.’

“Ah, sorry…” your lips sheepishly form into a crazy grin from behind the beer bottle that rests against them. Meanwhile, you distractedly shuffle over and peer over the wall, observing the chaos of celebrations.

The party doesn’t seem to be slowing down by any means – and that makes your muscles unconsciously dig deeper into the mattress. You needed this – a break from real life, to drink and nerd out with your best friends... Your swords. 

And you couldn’t be more thankful to Luffy for coming up with the idea. To Luffy, it seemed perfectly natural to hold a mattress party – to Luffy, Law and his crew taking refuge on the Sunny equated to having a never-ending slumber party with his friends.

This party isn't being thrown only because he’s formed yet another alliance with Torao, no. Moreso, it was managing to hold him and his crew hostage, indefinitely, on his ship, that Luffy felt was definitely something worth celebrating.  

“Shut up, Mugiwara. We’re not friends!” Law had bitingly snapped back, glaring at the toast Luffy had just made on welcoming the new crew members aboard the Sunny. 

Regardless, the rest of Trafalgar’s crew roared consumingly after Luffy’s toast, throwing him in the air like some sort of prophet, and, somehow, you had a slight inkling it was because of the alcohol they were downing like water. With a stubborn growl, Law immediately jumped into his crew and took care of that, as expected... Or, well, at least he tried to before his own crew grabbed him by his arms and dragged him into the centre of the noise. 

Franky and Usopp did their absolute godsent best at decorating, as always. With hundreds of mattresses sprawling across every breathable space, you can’t even manage to see the wooden planks of the deck that rests underneath them. Nami brought her fluffiest pillows and Robin, her thickest blankets, and with a copious amount of candles and fairy lights you’d scrounged around in your storage, the whole place looked like an evening none of you’d ever forget. 

And trust me, you'll notedly never forget this one. 

Brook lays casually like a lounging cat across a mattress, strumming his bones thoughtlessly across his guitar with one of his newest melodies. You and Nami start downing shots, competing with each other’s tolerances as Robin smiles widely behind a glass of wine. 

And later on, something unexpected happens. Law comes stumbling and tripping over the springing ground towards you, his face scrambled with overcoming embarrassment, with Kikoku hanging in your face. You gape at him in surprise.  

He rolls his eyes, his arm unwavering. Somehow, he knew you hadn’t been able to have time to really inspect her, what with…circumstances eating up at your delicious time. True to his word and refusing to owe debts to anyone, he gifts her to you with a pointed warning flashing in his eyes and a slight twist of his lips. 

And you…well you’re quite fantastically drunk right now.  

‘How impetuous. How dare my wielder offer my body to the likes of you,’ Kikoku snaps, the metal humming furiously in your fingers. You raise an eyebrow and snap your neck down to the sword.

“I’ll have you know, you’ll never be wielded by someone like me again,” you mutter, taking a large swig of your beer. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re all broken after battle.”

A raucous laughter erupts from the other end of the deck, drawing your attention away from your conversation with the sword. You spot Bepo attempting to teach Chopper how to fold his small arms into a heart, while Law and Sanji engage in a heated argument over who can cook the best barbecue.

You stroke the blade affectionately, relishing in the way it vibrates with energy beneath your touch, and despite Kikoku's protests, you can sense a begrudging acceptance of your presence from the sword.

“Tell me, what’s your wielder like?” You ask softly, rolling around so that your back lays against the mattress.

Kikoku hums sharply in the resemblance of a human scoff. ‘What do you think? He’s worthy to wield me.’  

“Gods, deflate your ego at once or I’ll start adoringly calling you Kiki,” you smile, a devilish grin stretching across your cheeks. 

Kikoku emits a low, disgruntled hum, clearly unamused by your joke.

‘You may jest, but my wielder is a formidable warrior,’ it retorts with a hint of pride seeping into its tone.

You chuckle, taking another swig of your beer before setting the bottle down beside you. "I don't doubt it," you concede, feeling a strange sense of excitement for the sentient blade. "But tell me, what's he like when he's not swinging you around in battle?"

Kikoku emits a low, contemplative hum as if considering your question carefully. “I… admire him. Burdens weigh on his heart - a lot of them. And he may not know this, but I have vowed to protect him until death parts us.’

You almost choke on the alcohol in your mouth, eyes brimming wide in shock. “You willingly protect him? Isn’t that, like… suicide in the sword realm?”

Kikoku hums in affirmation. ‘I must admit, I have not been as giving to my previous wielders as I am now. Before, I demanded to be protected. To be kept safe amidst battle - as would any other sword, with any other wielder. But with Law…well, he is worthy. He needs me.”

"He's lucky to have you," you murmur, a newfound respect for the swordsman blossoming within you. "And you're lucky to have him."

The metal vibrates softly in your hand. 'Indeed, we make quite the pair.'

And then, you hear heavy footsteps. 

RORONOA ZORO

Zoro’s drinking. A lot. 

A lot more than usual, actually. More than his already high tolerance can surprisingly handle. 

But really, can you blame him? 

Look, he knows this. Guilt and alcohol don’t mix well – and, normally, Zoro wouldn’t disagree. Being a swordsman meant being in control of your feelings, of the way you present yourself to yourself, of staying still and accepting the thoughts that come and go like a soft breeze that passes through hanging leaves. 

But this time, he couldn’t reign it in. He couldn’t keep himself under control. And so he drank – he drank until his jug went dry, and then some more. 

Anything to release the convulsing storm in his muscles, the tension in his brain. The thoughts of guilt and grief and swords and the swordsmith and the swordswoman and…

“Oi Zoro! Where ya goin’?” Luffy shouts from a few metres away, his eyes brimming with an unquenchable light amidst the dark sea. “Can I come?”

Zoro waves him off, a few fingers loosening from the jug of his sake. “Need to walk a bit. I’ll be back.”

Luffy stares at him, silently taking in his first mate, a resigned purse of his lips affirming his observation.

I’ve got you, Luffy’s eyes say as they meaningfully squint in a smile. All ya gotta do is ask. 

Zoro huffs out a short breath and nods. His captain really is something, isn’t he?

And with a spin on his heels, Zoro slips away from the buzz of the party. 

As he trudges along the deck of the Sunny, the weight of his heavy eyelids threatens to drag him into the depths of sleep – but, somehow, he fights against it, knowing that the demons lurking in the recesses of his mind will only torment him further in his dreams.

Each step feels like an eternity as he weaves his way through the maze of mattresses and bodies strewn across the deck. His muscles ache with fatigue, protesting against the relentless march of time and the burdens he carries upon his shoulders.

The alcohol coursing through his veins offers little respite, its numbing effects doing little to ease the turmoil within him; instead, it serves only to cloud his thoughts further, blurring the line between reality and the haunting memories that plague him. The rhythmic sway of the ship beneath his feet threatens to send him toppling overboard at any moment, but Zoro presses on, driven by a primal instinct to escape the suffocating confines of his own mind.

And then, like a spectre rising from the shadows, a stray mattress materializes before him, its presence a cruel reminder of the shitty obstacles that are always thrown in his path. He tries to manoeuvre around it, but his coordination’s too impaired by the haze of alcohol and exhaustion.

With a sudden jolt, he finds himself hurtling forward, his body careening uncontrollably towards an unseen obstacle. His heart lurches in his chest as he braces for impact, his mind racing with thoughts of surprise and confusion.

And then it happens.

KOZUKI RAYA

In an instant, time seems to slow as Zoro's body careens toward you, his form hurtling through the air like a falling boulder. With a gasp of shock, you brace yourself for the impact, instinctively raising your arms to shield yourself from the impending collision. But as Zoro slams into you with unexpected force, the realization of what happens strikes you like a bolt of lightning.

With a sickening crunch, the blade snaps in half, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the still night air

Kikoku.

For a moment, there is silence as you lay stunned on the ground, the weight of what has just happened sinking in like a heavy stone. You stare at the broken sword in disbelief, your mind racing as you try to comprehend the magnitude of the damage.

Kikoku, Law's prized possession, lies broken at your feet, its once formidable form now reduced to two jagged pieces. Panic grips you as you stare down at the shattered remains, the weight of what has transpired hitting you like a physical blow.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you reach out to touch the shattered remains of Kikoku. 

As Zoro staggers back to his feet, his eyes widen in shock as he takes in the scene before him. His gaze flickers from the broken pieces of Kikoku to your stunned expression, and a string of curses escapes his lips.

"What the hell did you do?" he growls, his voice thick with disbelief and anger as he glares down at you.

You bristle at his accusatory tone, your own frustration bubbling to the surface as you shoot him a glare of your own.

"Me? What about you, stumbling around like a drunken bull?" you snap back, your voice sharp with irritation.

"Shut up. This is your fault," he seethes, his voice low and dangerous as he gestures towards the broken sword.

“Last time I checked, you were the one tripping over your own feet," you retort, your tone dripping with disdain.

Zoro's nostrils flare with anger, his eyes flashing dangerously as he takes a menacing step forward. "Watch your mouth," he growls, his voice low and threatening.

“Watch your feet,” you retort. 

Zoro rolls his eyes, taking a huge swig of his sake. With a tired exhale, he rests himself against the banister, observing you sprawled over Kikoku like some sort of distraught mother. "S'not like you can't fix it," he mutters tipsily, his breath splintering against the cool air.

And that literally makes you growl.

You snap your neck upwards, pushing yourself up from the ground as you stumble towards Zoro.

"Fix it? In less than – what – a day?" You snap, getting in his face. You throw your finger in the direction of the sword. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to repair a sword like Kikoku?"

Zoro's growls impatiently, his jaw clenching. "You know that's not what I mean, woman."

You take a deep breath, trying to reign in your frustration as you survey the damage before you. The broken pieces of Kikoku lay scattered on the ground, the once formidable blade now reduced to a jagged mess. 

"I'll need a miracle to pull this off," you mutter. Your gaze hardens as you turn to face Zoro. "And you, Roronoa, are going to help me make it happen."

[h-c-u]

Hanging on Hangman

Summary: Hangman has a crush on the captain's girl and they love to tease each other, but this time it became a bit uncomfortable, especially for Maverick watching you from the distance.

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x younger fem!reader

W/C: 2k

Rating: PG | mentions of sex, but nothing descriptive, age gap

TWs: none

A/N: Poor Hangman </3 | What inspired this scene

Masterlist | List of tags

The summer was really hot and if you were totally honest with yourself, you kinda hated it. Well, the sun was nice, but the temperatures... You definitely didn't like that the sundress you were currently wearing was sticking uncomfortably to your skin. But still, you liked spending time with your man and his work squad. You were not 100% sure, but there was a high chance, that you were the youngest of them all, considering all the ranks, medals, and missions that you saw on their uniforms at every official ceremony, because if not - where the hell did they get the time to get all of that....? 

But right now, you observed the volleyball game everyone else was playing; it's not that they didn't invite you, you just hated being so hot with a passion. That's why you were sipping on a cold drink that Jake brought you just a couple of minutes ago; that boy had a crush on you since he saw you for the first time, but he was never inappropriate, just playfully teasing, and it's not like you weren't teasing him right back. 

Like when he brought you a drink, for example. He noticed an unfinished sketch of himself in your notebook and just couldn't help himself and made a sly comment about how he got himself a fan. You instantly shot back that if he wanted a fan so much, you could buy him one in a gift shop. It was all fun and games, and you definitely enjoyed the banter and playful competition that you two had going. But some things were a matter of honor and pride… That's why when he approached you after the finished round and made an offhand comment about your non-exist exercise routine, which was simply not true, you knew you could easily prove him wrong. 

Maybe you weren't visibly jacked like the squad, but when you were a little girl, you wanted to hug a polar bear, and your dad told you that you can't hug a bear, without lifting it first. It was a joke of course, but your three-year-old brain took it as an obvious challenge. Plus you didn't want to be rude to a polar bear if that was some sort of a custom. It didn't matter that you've never seen one in real life, you still started "training" in secret by lifting your teddy bears in the air and it went down from there. After the teddy bears, there were puzzles and books with bears in them, and when your dad finally found out, he just couldn't help but laugh and started taking you with him to the gym. First, as a joke, because he was convinced that you will eventually give up, but you just… never did… And even now, you were still lifting, it just wasn't as visible on you as a full-body exercise routine that apparently the whole squad followed. Or they were severely dehydrated. Or both. You on the other hand… When your muscles were relaxed, which was almost always, they were soft, squishy, and basically invisible, that's why you were sure that Jake will take the bait. 

- Oh, you're so on, Hangman… I bet you'll be the first one to tap out. - you just couldn't help but grin, because your loud words got the attention of the rest of your friends. 

- In your dreams, y/n! - he quickly got up, while the rest of the squad gathered closer to your relaxation station to take a break from playing and see what was going on. - Or maybe there is something else in your dreams…? - he asked with a cocky smile, and you only laughed in reply. 

- Hah! You wish. - you replied. - I'll go easy on you, baby, what do you say…? I'll be doing pullups and all you'll have to do is stand there and look pretty, which is what you do best… - you finally proposed. 

- Did you hear that guys, she called me pretty! - he put his hand on his heart theatrically, and you couldn't help but notice Maverick observing all of you from a bar, where he just ordered a drink. You waved at him and winked, although you doubted he'd be able to see that from that distance. - Challenge accepted. How exactly do you want me…? - he asked, that cocky grin right back on his face, and it didn't quiver when you playfully slapped his biceps. He of course realized that since there was no place for you to actually do pull-ups, you'll most likely be using him as a prop, not that he minded, on the contrary. 

It wasn't the first time you were doing this exercise, so you moved his arms into the right position, making sure that his elbow acted like leverage, so he'd be able to last longer. 

- Anyone wanna count for the history books? - you laughed when you made sure that his stance was indeed secure.

- Kick his ass, y/n! - Phoenix hyped you up, and the whole squad followed. When you put your arms around his forearm, gripped it, and hung yourself from it, he realized something - you were a bit heavier than he expected; more muscles on your body than fat. You only grinned, an evil spark in your eyes and you did a first pull-up, no problem. And then another. and another... and one more... And the whole squad counted, while the great captain Mitchell observed you all a bit more intensely than he maybe should. 

Because you were more than familiar with this specific position, you were extra careful not to rub Hangman's torso with your abdomen when you were coming down, which required a bit more core engagement than usual, and yet you still started to see a panic setting in his eyes after the 10th one, because he realized what such close proximity did to his body. You saw him swallowing more than usual and pressing his lips into a thin white line, so he wouldn't lose focus. You on the other hand got to 15th without any issues, still being very mindful of the way you were positioning your body; you also couldn't help but get a bit closer to his face when you were in the upper position. You grinned again, the evil spark never leaving your eyes. 

- Thinking about tapping out, Bagman? - Phoenix shouted, misunderstanding his facial expression for exhaustion. Sure, his arms started to get tired and he noticed that his muscles were slowly starting to twitch, but that's not what he was afraid of right now. He looked down at the sand because he just knew what would happen if he continue to focus on your face and he definitely didn't want that. He didn't reply to any more provocations from the rest of the squad; he just stood there silently while you were on your 20th pull-up. He was visibly uncomfortable and you noticed... It was all fun and games until both of you were enjoying that, but now... 

On the 23rd, you pretended that your hand slipped and you released his forearm to a choir of disappointed groans from the squad. You've landed with your knees on the soft sand and he finally looked you in the eyes... He knew what you did and why, especially when you gave him a soft smile, right before you threw yourself theatrically on the ground giving a performance of a lifetime. 

- Bagman wins again!!! Nooooo!!! How will I live now...? - everyone laughed again, seeing how into your defeat you were, and Jake played into it as well, throwing his fists in the air and doing a giant victory lap around all of you, and finally sprinting towards the water to cool off in more ways than one, a cacophony of laughter following him until he reached the shore. Phoenix finally helped you get up and shook some of the sand from your hair. and you did the same with your dress. 

- Well, that was fun. - you've laughed and walked back to your chair, but it was currently occupied. You smiled and sat unceremoniously on Maverick's lap reaching for the drink you'd abandoned before this playful competition; fortunately, it was still cold. - Hi... - you smiled, and leaned a bit more into the body below you, while Pete put his hand on your hip and pulled you even closer. 

- Hi... - he did his best to return your smile, but there was something dark pooling behind his eyes, and you immediately noticed, 

- So guys, now that Bagman is finally out of a game due to his cowardly escape and obvious fear of a possible rematch, are you up for another round? That might be your only chance to play without him, cause he's like a very annoying boomerang. - you joked, but they actually got up and went back to a makeshift volleyball field. You weren't sure if they actually wanted to play more, or if they wanted to give you and Mav some breathing room. 

- Spill it... - you said when everyone else was out of earshot. 

- I'm... - he started, but one warning look from you and he immediately stopped the white lie from reaching the light of day. Instead, he sighed heavily and slumped a bit in the chair. Your whole relationship was based on communicating and addressing any issue as soon as it came to the surface because you both knew that with this unusual dynamic you shared, you wouldn't survive otherwise. - I'm jealous, ok...? - he finally exhaled, as if the word burned on his tongue from embarrassment, and you couldn't help but smile, only a little though. 

- Oh, Pete... - you said gently, your expression immediately softening. You crooked your head, so you could catch his gaze, and when your eyes met, he exhaled loudly. 

- I really didn't like how close you were to his body, that you were touching him in the same way you were touching me... And y/n... I know that you could have done more pull-ups, so that means you ended it on purpose... Did he get hard...? - he gritted through his teeth and you just knew today's evening will be amazing; all that pent-up jealousy finding a release in marking you in any and every way possible. 

- Honestly...? - it was dangerous to tease him when he was like that, but still, you drew the silence for a few more seconds. - I wouldn't know. - confusion was clearly visible on his face. - Core strength... I only touched his forearm. - you covered his hand that was resting on your hip, with your own, and he immediately intertwined your fingers together. - And when I noticed that he realized he went too far, I just let him have the victory, cause you boys and your pride. - you sighed quietly and rest your head on his chest, feeling him finally relax a bit. - And I reserve all my special moves just for you. - you added, and he couldn't help but laugh, his body vibrating under you. 

- Ehhh... Sorry I got like that... I guess I'm still afraid you're gonna exchange me for a younger model. - it wasn't hard to understand where that came from due to the age gap between you two, that's why the communication in your relationship was much more important than anything else; if those feelings were left to fester under his skin, stronger and stronger every day, he finally could have exploded and that was the last thing he wanted. 

- I am not going to do that exercise with anyone else. - you smiled, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart mixed with a gentle hum of the waves crashing into the shore. - Beside... I choose you every day. I choose to wake up next to you every day, to live with you, and to invite you into my world. And not to mention - it's your name I'm screaming every night. - Mav hummed in contentment like a cat that drank the creamiest of creams, because in a way - he did. What he did to deserve this divine creature, curled up in his arms despite her open hatred of today's weather - he didn't know. But he was ready to do it every day for the rest of his life. 

[callsignmarz]

MDNI | 18+ : Soap x Reader AU: Euphoria x COD

TW-ments alcohol, arson, DV, sexual content and explicit language.

“Twisted Games”

What was the saying, new year, new me?

Well if only that shit were true...Neither of you would simply just let it go. In the beginning, you both appeared to be picture perfect.

The 'It' couple.

The two of you were inseparable, catering to each other's every little need and desire, wallowing in the epitome of love. Thriving off of people either wanting to be you or to fuck you. Slowly building an empire on envy and lust.

But, like every relationship, there were...cracks.

Some bigger than others.

It was a quarter until midnight and more bodies flood into the lavish airbnb that Gaz booked up. It was said this New Year's party was going to be one for the books. By the looks of it, they weren’t kidding either.

The LED lights hue a kaleidoscope of captivating colors as the bass of the music pulsates through the speakers and smoke wafts through the air.

Closing your eyes, you throw back another shot of vodka. The cool liquid goes down smoothly, your face begins to pucker, struggling with the burn that lingered. Your best friend of 3 years, Winnie, hands over the chaser you both shared and you swiftly extinguish the fire in your throat with Sprite.

"Bitch, you're going to black out before the new year even starts!" She chortled, sounding equally if not more, intoxicated.

"And? I want to black out this whole. Fucking. Year." You drawled each syllable in a slur. The rim of the red solo cup in your hand lightly taps at your bottom lip, getting ready to swallow what's left.

The second you make eye contact with her, the two of you are bursting out laughing. Winnie’s hand clamps down on your arm, holding for support as you mindlessly stumble into each other. After the laughter dies down, Winnie checks the time on her phone and you manage to gulp down another shot.

“We have about, 20 minutes until it’s the New Year and we both need to find someone worth a New Year’s Kiss.” Winnie mentions dryly as her eyes wander off into the sea of people. The smile on her face then evaporates, spotting trouble from a far. "Oh the fucking balls on this guy." She mutters.

Your brows knit together in confusion. “What? Who?”

As you turn to meet with her gaze, your chin tilts down, glaring through your eyebrows. All the fun you were having prior was immediately sucked out of the room.

The fucking audacity.

"Soap!" Gaz calls out as he bumped wrists with Johnny, who had his Herculean arm wrapped around some random skinny blonde. Gaz was never one to judge, but given who was at his party; he could already sense the looming tension. "What's goin' on, brother? Happy New Year's. Glad you could make it. So, uh...who's this?" He casually points, with an awkward smile.

"Of course. Happy New Year's. And uh…This is..." Johnny thinks for a moment, though, of course, he couldn't really find the fuck to give what her name was. Her job tonight was to smile pretty, wave a few times and end with his load on her, preferably on her perked up rack.

The blonde boobs for brain, frolickly rolls her eyes, extending her hand out to Gaz. "I'm Amber."

"Nice to meet you, Amber." Gaz says in a friendly tone as he shook her hand. His eyes flicker over to Johnny with worry eddying.

"So, you and y/n..?"

When your name was mentioned, Johnny shoots Gaz a quick look with resentment and ire ticking in his jaw. His free hand swipes over his face, fixing it and his hold on Amber.

"Fuck that crazy bitch." He denounces in a low voice.

Gaz doesn’t say anything, instead he simply nods as he took a sip from his drink. Technically, Johnny wasn't lying. It also didn't come as a shock either, but it was a touchy subject.

For the both of you.

"I swear to god, Winnie, if he fucks her tonight. I will commit arson." You hissed out your promise with liquid courage backing you up.

Winnie methodically takes your drink away, familiar with your temperament, setting it to the side. Her hand circles back, combing her fingers through your hair, smoothing out your fly aways and nerves.

"On the bright side. You are way prettier than her. She literally looks like someone he picked up last minute at the pub. Definitely a downgrade."

"Clearly, which is so disrespectful on Johnny’s end. At least if you're going to rebound publicly, make sure the girl is worth showing off."

Winnie nods in agreement. “Exactly.”

You squint as Johnny and his plus one walk away from Gaz, maneuvering their way through the cesspool of bodies to dance. When they find a spot of their choice, Amber casts her arms up and around Johnny's neck, swaying her hips to the beat of the music as his palms gently glide down her curves until they lounged on her waist.

Johnny's midwinter blue eyes came up to sweep the room, promptly linking with yours. The corners of his mouth curled into a smug smirk, fully aware you would be watching. He had purposefully made sure to flaunt the piece of ass that he snagged right in front of you.

And just like that, the war was on.

And of course, he was winning.

Drumming your acrylic nails against the porcelain countertop, your chest heaves as the blood in your veins pumps with a potent mixture of bitterness and spite. Johnny pulls Amber closer, cradling her as they grind their bodies together. Mindful that your eyes would follow, Johnny’s hands fall from Amber’s waist to grope her non-existent ass. His eyes darken to a deep glacial blue as they glance back at you, ensuring that you’re witnessing everything.

It was when Amber's lips instinctively find their way to the crook of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses, that finally pushed you off the edge.

"Oh yeah, asshole? Two can play at this game." You grumbled, bolting from the kitchen, in search for a relatively semi-decent looking guy at the party.

"What did you s— Wait y/n!" Winnie goes to protest, but it was too late.

You had made up your mind and set out on your mission.

Approaching the first guy that caught your eye, you were ticking every box. Taller than Johnny? Check. Burly built? Check. Chestnut brown hair and not stupid drunk, but most importantly; not ugly. Triple check.

At the moment, the guy was having a casual conversation with what you assumed were his friends, but was soon interrupted by the hasty sounds of your heels clicking against the tile floor, catching his attention before your question did.

“What’s your name?”

“Paul.” He answers with a sly smirk, giving you a swift once-over.

“Let’s go, Paul. We’re dancing.” You say with no excitement in your voice, giving him no room to object—not like he was going to anyways.

Paul lets you steal him away, holding his hand as you deliberately drag him to the middle of the dance floor and just a few feet away from your ex-boyfriend and his poor excuse for arm candy.

Feeling the beat of the music, you spin to turn your back towards Paul, allowing his hands to roam while you rock your hips against his body. Johnny huffs out a dry laugh, his eyes nearly black as you torment him, rolling your perfect ass into another man’s groin. Your bodies moved in sync as your hands glide up, accentuating your curves with your fingertips.

God, you were so sexy…

He hated that you were. It drove him crazy in the relationship and it was driving him crazy now. But, that was also his favorite thing about you. Especially when you were his and his alone.

The standoff between you and Johnny continues with the tension bound to break at any given time, unbeknownst to Paul and Amber.

Tipping your head back, you lean into Paul with your eyes closing shut, solely focused to the beat of song. Your heart picks up a pace when you felt his hand paw at your left breast. It was unwarranted and instinctively you pushed yourself off. Before you could open your mouth to say something, you’re then hauled away by Johnny, his grip bruising and secure while he ruthlessly shoves people out of his way.

“Get out my fuckin’ way!” Johnny roars out a path, startling you and those around. Looking back, you see Paul and Amber standing there, sharing the same dumbfounded expression and a victorious smile glosses over your lips.

Once you make it outside, Johnny doesn’t stop there. He leads you over to the side of the house, steering clear of listening ears. The music fades into a faint rhythmic boom contrasting with your drunken giggles.

“Oh, you’re laughin’ are ya?” He bites with a vicious edge in his tone, which you found more attractive than amusing.

“Yeah I really am, Johnny. Is there a problem?” You challenge, knowing what buttons to push.

When you both turn the corner, his hand releases your wrist and in a split second, the air in your throat is held captive by Johnny’s vice grip. The back of your head hits the graveled siding with a dull pain blooming from the impact and your nails dig into his arm, leaving streaks of carmine behind.

“Problem?” Johnny repeats in a deep growl as he leans in dangerously close. “Yeah, I got a fuckin’ problem. You’re dancin’ around with some limp dick fuckhead, actin’ like you like that shit.”

Although his hold on your neck was damning, you managed to slip out a chuckle. “And what if I do, huh? Yet, you can waltz in with some blonde bitch?” Your strained words were like gasoline to a fire pit as the anger in his bloodstream shooting up a couple of degrees and his grip tightens as a result.

“Keep talkin’ y/n…” He grits his warning through his teeth with the tip of his nose pecking your cheekbone.

The heat from Johnny’s breath wisps at your neck and derails down your spine. You bite your lip, aroused and bracing.

“Or what? Are you going to put me in my place?”

Despite the heavy load of jealousy and fury, his hand twitches as does his cock, steadily swelling in his blue jeans. Tilting his head down, Johnny’s eyes rake over you and the solid black, over the shoulder laced sequined dress you wore.

It hugged your curves almost too perfectly.

A mirthless smirk twisted his lips. It didn’t take a genius to know this dress was meant for easy access. You felt him press against you along with the telltale sign of his arousal.

“You would want that wouldn’t you?” Johnny implied, his tone husked with libido.

Even when the two of you were together, it was a constant battle for power and it only seemed to get worse when you two would be on ‘break.’

But, in some sick and unhinged way…

You both liked it.

His question was met with a pregnant pause while the both of you burned holes into each other just by glaring. Johnny shifts further into you, riding your dress up and you shudder as your clit brushes against his knee.

“I didn’t hear you, y/n. I suggest you use that pretty little mouth of yours and tell me.” He murmured, dropping his hand to the outer part of your thighs, sliding his fingers under the thin fabric of your dress, exposing the black thong, seizing a hold around your hips so you’re slowly grinding his leg.

“Go on, babe. Tell me.”

[neverland93]

Peter Pan imagine/ Fall Apart

“She told me that I’m not enough “ Peter said with his head down

“And ?” Felix , his best bud asked

“She left me with a broken heart!” He almost yelled

Talking about Wendy

“Come on, you got mermaids and Indians all over you, you can’t be this heartbroken.” Felix said trying to make him feel better

“She fooled me twice and it’s all my fault.” He said with his face in his hands

“Listen Pan, Wendy wasn’t good for you, you know this, she was just , just-“ before felix could speak Pan interrupted

“ENOUGH! There’s too many thoughts going through my brain.” Pan yelled at Felix

“So then what are we gonna do tonight? You know it’s the big brawl. Everyone is going all out.” Felix asked

“Well, I guess just have my poker face on. Nobody can know me and Wendy broke up, just okay it off.” Pan said as he walked outside, preparing for the night.

He see’s you and you nod and smile , you do the same

You and him had a neutral relationship. You were found on the shore trying to catch a breath from the water you inhaled, Pan had helped you and let you stay on the island ever since.

You sit by your friend tiger Lilly , she was princess of the Indians and daughter of head chief on Neverland.

“Excited about tonight?” She asked you

You shrugged your shoulders “It’s the same thing every night, we’ll get too drunk to remember anything and we all wake up with a terrible hangover, don’t you wanna do something different?” You asked her

“Like what?” Tiger Lilly asked

“Like jumping in the lake in the freezing cold, it’s turning winter, trying to make a new soup from searching the Herbs we have on the island, or picking out new sea shells I’m constantly finding on the shore.” You say

“You sure are full of possibilities aren’t you?” Tiger said teasing you

“I just- I just want something different.” You say sighing as the night was getting started.

“Alright everyone gather around.” Peter said in a soft tone

You became curious, this wasn’t like him

“Let’s just get tonight over with, someone start a game.” Pan said

“Let’s play Charades!” A lost boy yelled

“No truth or dare?” An other boy yelled

“Where’s Wendy doesn’t she usually pass out the rum?” A older lost boy said

“She’s not coming.” Pan stated upset

“Why not?” A younger lost boy said

“Because I said so why the fuck are you asking so many questions?” Pan said with an attitude

“Uh pan?” Felix asked “Let’s just start off with charades and I’ll pass out the rum okay?”

Pans nods his head

Felix comes with a bottle of rum and pours everyone a shot of it

“Make mine a double, triple.” Pan said

“You sure?” Felix asked

“Don’t ever ask that again.” Pan started at Felix annoyed as ever

“Just making sure Pan.” Felix asked

“I’m gonna take these shots like they’re Novocain.” Pan said as he drank the whole thing at once.

Felix went along the line

“No thanks.” You said when he came towards you

“Really?” Felix asked

“Yeah I’m fine, I’ll be cleaning duty, I have a feeling I’ll be up all night anyway.” You said smiling at Felix

“Well okay then thanks more for us!” Felix said and moved on

Peter looked at you sipping his drink but didn’t say much

Everyone is playing games through out the night and getting very intoxicated, you laugh at them and join in the games while cleaning up everyone’s mess at the same time.

Sooner than later the lost boys passed out on the logs, their tents, and some on the tree swings Pan built through out the years.

You were cleaning up still and just getting everything done Pan woke up in the midst of you cleaning and dropping a couple things on the ground

“Sheesh.” He woke up rubbing his head

“I’m sorry Pan I didn’t mean to wake you.” You said worried

“What are you doing anyway?” He asked you a little annoyed

“I’m cleaning.” You stated, thinking it was pretty obvious.

“Why?” He asked

“Someone has to do it.” You smiled and shrugged

He smiled as well

“let’s go.” He said gesturing you to walk with him and you did so.

Walking through the woods with him you were a little bit nervous and confused, why all of a sudden, why now?

“Why do you do so much for this island?” He asked you

“I mean mostly because of you.” You admitted

He looks at you and cocks a brow

“Me?” He asked

“Well you did save me from drowning.” You said

“Ahh I did, you poor little thing.” He laughed a little

“What’s been going on with you? You seemed down at the big night.” You said

“Oh well, you see, it’s complicated.” He stated

“Got it.” You said walking a away from him and going towards the lake

“Hey be careful it’s deep and it’s freezing out here.” He said

“That’s the point.” You said pushing him in

“Y/N! What the hell??” He yelled

“What the king of the island is scared of water?”

You jumped in as you said. Realizing it was freezing cold you screamed and tried to get out but Pan pulled you back in and held you. You guys fought and splashed each other til your teeth were chattering.

“Okay okay, let’s not get you sick.” He said getting out the lake

You guys walked back to the campsite freezing. As you were about to go to your tent Pan stops you

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked

“My tent?” You said in confusion

“No. Come on.” He said

You guys walked a little bit more always from the campsite finding a cabin, a nice one at that.

Pan opens it and signals you to come in, you do so.

“What’s this?” You asked

“It’s my cabin, we’ll mine and Wendy’s. If she was here.” He said looking down and turning on the fire place

You sat down near the fire place warming up yourself.

“What happened?” You asked

“I never felt this feeling so hard.” Pan said

“What feeling?” You asked curiously

“Wendy and I broke up. She said she doesn’t want me anymore.” He said

You were surprised, you thought it be the other way around.

“I’m sorry Pan, I had no idea.” You said

He grabbed a bottle from his cabinet and poured him a glass then sat next to you as he sipped it.

“Everybody told me so, they told me she would t last. But I kept denying it and kept telling myself they’re all lying. I feel like I sold my soul.” Pan said

“I thought she was nice.” You said not knowing what to say.

“Ha, she was the devil in form of a whore. She cheated multiple times with the pirates. She’d come back smelling like cigars and rum and had the audacity to kiss me after.” He said sipping some more

You got his hand and pushed his cup down from his mouth

“Just talk, don’t sip.” You said

“Why don’t you drink?” He asks you

“It’s not that I don’t drink, I do, just not all the time like you guys.” You said smiling

“What makes you not want to be like us? This is Neverland after all, you’re a lost girl.” He said

“I am, but when I don’t drink I’m forced to be alone with my thoughts, it’s terrifying yet exhilarating. It’s a challenge within myself. However a drink here and there never hurt anyone. But think about it, when you don’t drink you’re alone, with your thoughts and nothing else, when alcohol is consumed you are automatically thinking happy thoughts, kinda like pixie dust.” You said

Pan looked at you and started to get more curiouser and curiouser. He was going to find out about you, he needed to know about you.

[crguang]

ok honestly im kinda done w genshin atp, like the story is okay, the whitewashing tho is pissing me off tho, um idk, i like the game play, and also i gotta get to sneznaya or wtv when that comes out. and did u just not like the sumeru characters bc more of them are men.../j i still dont have yelan or arle very sad...they're like top 10 genshin characters for me, i was too broke to pull for them when they were running

ALSO that's not what i meant abt natasha, like as a character shes good and i like her, and her story is good, i dont dislike her, what i meant is that i cant be attracted to her, like idk...bc all the stuff u listed i should like her, so like idk. i dont skip story, i did her sq, so maybe it is just the fact that shes a doctor, like that was how she was presented at first and i just cant look past it ok... my mom was a doctor so i just cant...my mommy issues strike again, and i just dont rlly like doctors in general havent had good experiences w them before, so i cant be attracted to one...idk, like ik shes like way more than that. and i did get a few adds for her so its prob that as well that kind messed with my perception of her at the beginning, the only hsr adds i every got continously was kafkas trailer.

tbh i shouldve realized i liked women when i saw kafka dragging her fingers across a wall wish i was that wall with like her voice in the background and that was what made me decide to play the game. they know what they're doing...

speaking of which i got her other two messages, shes ridiculous, like i cant believe she can just go to a movie theater like that, and her checking up on you...i did scream. shes pathetic... honestly her being into phycological thrillers makes sm sense, so she was def seeing one of those. and i think shes exposing herself bc of both of the reasons you listed (also like it being on a burner acc incase she gets rejected...i obviously wasnt mean to her tho).

honestly im just shy sat okay...thats why im an anon, but it is funny, since we're all reading ur smut, and thirsting over everyone together.

i did sleep i promise, i dont really like taking medicine, again doctor stuff, but i'll been taking some melatonin bc last night it took be 3 and a half hours to sleep and ive been drinking tea and stuff, but ill be going to sleep after this. wish me luck.

-🌠

i also wanted to last until snezhnaya like i remember a few years ago when the first fatui trailer dropped after inazuma and my entire timeline went crazyyyy, people who didn’t play the game anymore got back into it just for the fatui like they really united everyone… but since the characters and stories dont do anything for me now i personally never feel like playing. and yes i actually was so bored with sumeru because im not interested in men at all dhfjgkgk but also the whitewashing there pissed me off and how they nerfed dehya and made her a horrible standard character was so annoying like i didnt pull for a single sumeru character 😭 arle/yelan is an insane duo, my yelan is great cause shes been my main for years so she doesn’t need anyone but adding arle is just cheating fr. look at my favs beefing (clorinde was there for the friendship points😪)

i thought you disliked nat because you said your friend thought you disliked her bc she was a doctor, but it makes sense if you’ve had bad experiences with healthcare professionals and are reminded of them when you see doctors. personally i love when people who work in healthcare actually care about the patients they have because it’s quite literally life saving and sooo many of them dont give a fuck, that’s why i adore natasha a lot. it’s totally fine if you’re not attracted to her, you don’t have to be!

kafka’s trailer changed my brain chemistry and i can recite it by heart from how often ive watched it. they definitely knew what they were doing especially with these shots like can i please be that guy… i’ll take the bullet too idgaf. AND YES THE MOVIE THEATER SHES SUCH A LOSERRR, THE “my life is an action movie btw lol haha” when the tb says they like action films is so ridiculous. i need to look up her other answers but when she said the action movies lacked immersion i pat myself on the back for writing that she likes psychological thrillers over horror or any other genre like i know her for real… im literally inside her head.

im glad youre sleeping even if it takes a little while!! hopefully your internal clock stops messing woth you and allows you to get some good rest

[lifesver]

@johnnysslaughter said: ❛  oh, i’m not going to rush this. i’m going to take my sweet time.  ❜ @meatriarch said: [  HYDRATE  ]   after some time of torturing, sender’s muse offer’s receiver’s muse a drink of water.(maria for nosy; we can say that johnny was a lil nice after going ham w/ lee and has her try to get him to eat/drink mayhaps?)

cw for like... nothing good hostage situation (': (mostly) implied torture blood injury etc kinda emetophobia mention. sorry sorry-

-

❛ i thought you were tougher than that. ❜

johnny had laughed in a way that bared his teeth, when he kicked him back down into the dirt. wasn't a nice smile. it was all just fun, for him.

( you weren't tough. and it was tiring to pretend. )

this, of course, is johnny's idea of another lesson. not for escaping — which the insane bastard found positively gleeful; in being able to hunt them down and catch them again. in making them think they had a shot, only to reveal it was all a game. all for them to find dead ends, to find tunnels that went on and on like a maze in every direction.

they had only made it about as far as the slaughterhouse underground, before johnny caught up.

leland liked to think he'd gotten a few good shots in, knocked him flat, too — before he ran into the big guy. mountain of a man with the mask all but eclipsed his path. got his wrist crushed before he could even take a proper swing. got thoroughly bashed senseless into the wall — before johnny finally came to collect him again himself. dragged him, bloody and dizzy, back the way they came. and maria had just looked exhausted, frustrated, close to tears. she'd tried it all before. they should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

so, back down under johnny sawyer's heel, and then back to their god-awful basement cells.

and for you? back to being strung up like an animal.

tongue runs along bloodied teeth, feeling for damage, where fist had landed across jaw. vision sways with residual vertigo — one eye stuck shut, and the other glassy with unshed tears. he feels nauseous. feels sure there's nothing left in his stomach to throw up. he'd have to give this crusade up, if he didn't want to starve.

how long have they even been down here?

( some part of you had thought you'd be saved by now. both of you. some part of you thought they'd come back. that their friends would tell the police about this house. that someone, anyone, would come looking.

... and every day he played the radio for you. every day you never heard your names. not once. )

johnny stopped circling him — to curl fingers idly in his hair — and suddenly yank his head back. leland hisses, pulls uselessly at purple-bruising wrists, locked high above his head. johnny holds him there, to see if he'll reject the glass of water in his hand, again. ( or maybe he's merely inspecting the damage he's done to your face, this time. )

— he does reject the water again, lips pulled into a stubborn frown. johnny's expression dances in his peripherals, sharp features all unreadable. leland thinks he sees him set the water down. he'd surely get bored of playing this game with him, eventually. and though there's undeniable proof in maria, kept alive by the very monster in front of him — leland has a hard time believing that he would be afforded the same treatment, that behaving would prolong his own life in any meaningful way. as far as he could tell, the sick bastard just wanted to play with his food.

he had more to worry about than himself, though.

❝ are you done? ❞ leland bites out, eyes flicking sideways in disdain. and johnny grins like a wolf. there's a beat, where hand tightens in his hair.

❛  — oh, i’m not going to rush this. i’m going to take my sweet time. ❜

leland shudders, involuntary, eyes shut tight to avoid staring into those teeth. swears he catches the last shred of hope in him leaving the building.

johnny lets go of him — maybe deciding against pouring the water on him outright — and allows leland's head to drop between his shoulders again. blood drip-drops from his lips to the floor.

by now, feet barely want to keep him upright, unbroken wrist all but taking his weight. his entire body burned hot and cold, old and new cuts flaring with every shift in his restraints.

come on. just endure it, like everything else. you have no other choice, anyway.

from the shadows in the corner of the room, maria's softer features swim into view. sad. scared. for him. guilt curls a tight fist around his ribs. she's had to watch this entire show. and he's done his best, for her sake, not to make a sound. not to cry.

and in between, he found his mind wandering to his friends. thankful, so thankful none of them were here instead. and still, he couldn't help but wonder; if he were smarter, like connie, like sonny and julie. if he were tougher, like ana, like danny —

— he wondered if he would be able to save maria, and himself, then.

if he would have been good enough, then.

good eye flicks at johnny, hateful. and then, when he returns look to maria, he's something docile, something apologetic, again.

she doesn't fight with their captor like he does. doesn't try his patience, and try to turn the tables at every chance she gets, like he does. a miserable thought sticks in his mind; like back in the tunnels, maybe she just knew better, by now.

and leland doesn't do what he's asked — hates this man's guts.

and in return, sometimes it's the skinning knife along his arm. sometimes it's the threat of taking more than a slice off the surface. bruises, of course, would heal. a bone broken, stitches reopened and bleeding anew, ( — his own doing. he'll be fretted at, and scolded by that older woman on the property, when she sits him down to fix them again ).

and when it had been just he and maria, in the dark, finally alone for a moment — she had pleaded with him, with tear-stung doe eyes. against his stubborn pride, his anger, his nauseating bitterness. to stop making it worse than it needed to be.

he hadn't understood her, then. her acceptance. her passive method of survival. and yet, she had survived. all this time, without anyone else. without him.

( how do you survive a monster? how do you survive the dark? )

— she asks him not to fight, anymore.

then she says, like a nail in a coffin; ❛ nothing is worth losing you. ❜

and that's when he folds, then and there, silent and empty-eyed. ( if he gets tired of you, if he slits your throat in front of her? who will protect her then? )

a pause, a smile. something he hoped was reassuring; you're not gonna lose me, he had promised.

she's standing in front of him with the same glass of water he'd declined from johnny. and she doesn't even need to say anything, for him to fold for her, again. gaze moves once, sidelong, trains on johnny in the background distrustfully. wary, as ever, and being watched pointedly in return. to maria, he gives a half-nod of assent, lifts his head enough for her to tilt his chin. she's tender when she moves his mussed hair from his face, and tips the drink to his lips. he coughs a bit, choking on blood and water and acid.

once cough settles, his half-glossy gaze finds her face again.

❝ hey, ❞ he gravels out, and somehow like a gentle, sincere apology; i didn't get us out. i couldn't do anything. i'm sorry. ❝ ... ’m fine, maria. don't worry. ❞ he forces the barest twitch of a smile, stings the nerves of his split lip. cheek settles helplessly against her palm, for a fleeting warmth in the chilled basement air. eyes rest closed, and for a moment he feels safer. for a moment he forgets about this windowless room. that they're far from home.

( how awful, that this should be the place you find her. how awful that you are not back in your dorm room together, looking over your notes for finals papers. planning summer trips. to visit julie in california, and connie in illinois. )

his vision is blurring, but he's back to watching johnny turn that skinning knife in his hands. take a step closer again; a reminder. and dull, reflexive panic reanimates leland's nerves. and he suddenly got the feeling that losing this man's interest, and patience, was a very dangerous place to find yourself.

— but you're not going to cry. not again, not now, not in front of her. not in front of him —

leland eyes the glint of the knife again.

— you promised her. don't be stupid. don't make this harder than it has to be. teeth sink into tongue, not for the first or last time, to stifle vitriol, seething, sandpaper frustration. eyes flick up, or try to. deadened in their exhaustion.

you could both still be rescued. you could still escape. if you're smart.

brows furrow down, and he forces the words;

❝ please. i-i'm — sorry. ❞

this time he addresses johnny, in something painfully stilted, and quiet. it tastes bitter. it tastes like defeat, and shame. ( you hate how it makes you feel under his eyes. ) gaze drops just as quickly, hangs on the floor, the cracks in the concrete. he's far away from himself, when his voice speaks the words aloud — just like all the other victims that came before him probably spoke it. in a whisper, in a surrender;

❝ please. just — stop. i-i'll do what you want. i swear. ❞

maybe you weren't really missing. maybe you were just dead.

[izzyy-stuff]

Okayyyy! Here it goes!

Idek if this is actually considered as 3sum but would a yeonbin in 1 fic be alright w/ u? 👉👈 idkt if this is considered cheating, but will u give it a shot? 👉👈

It's goes like where yeonjun is reader's bestfriend and soobin is his dearest childhood friend whom they became close with bc of yeonjun. Reader actually loves yeonjun and they most likely go over their little boundaries sometimes, like sneaky makeouts, the..deed..., however, they are not dating. Mutual pining, maybe? Then one time, yeonjun has to leave the town and he left reader at soobin's custody. They do drink sometimes, and since reader was left by yeonjun at soob's apartment they grew closer to each other. Causing spark and temsion between them, sometimes they threw dirty glances at each other until one night of a drunken game, they are also over the boundaries. Idk, am i making sense? 😭😭

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐄 - 𝐂.𝐘𝐉 & 𝐂.𝐒𝐁

bsf!Yeonjun x fem!reader x Soobin feat Chaewon (le ssera), Yeji (itzy), Hyunjin (skz), Heeseung and Jake (enha), and txt members

in which You let your best friend break your heart many times, simply because he always managed to put it back together afterward, until it got to the point he couldn't fix it anymore, no matter how much he tried. You only felt grateful when he left the town for vacation and gave you some space, making it easier for his best friend to approach you and fix what he broke.

wc 8.5k

warnings smut content, fwb, a bit of angst, not at the same time but both of them have smut scenes, alcohol, drunk sex, protected & unprotected sex, size kink, yeah soobin is big (are we surprised), and yeonjun is described as thick, oral, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing, hand job, Soobin takes your panties as a "trophy"

↪ izzy speaks... okay I probably didn't make it exactly like you wanted, but I tried my best to follow your idea while adding my own in. This is my first request so I am thankful a lot to you for giving me this idea, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing <3 Also the biggest thank you to @beomiracles for beta reading! I love you sm

You stood in front of your closet, looking through your clothes for the third time already. It was unbelievable how many garments you owned but still had nothing to wear. “Come on, we don’t have the whole night,” your best friend whined, making you glance over your shoulder in his direction. Yeonjun was on your bed, lying on his stomach as his eyes followed your every movement, the YouTube video on his phone long forgotten by now. 

“I don’t know what to wear, though,” you sighed, walking over to him. You signed for him to move, so he did. You were the one lying on your stomach now while he got up, going to pick something to wear for you on his own. “I don’t know, you look gorgeous in anything you wear,” he mumbled, your cheeks heating up immediately. “But what do I look the best in?” You asked, hiding your face behind your phone, pretending to be texting so he wouldn’t see your flushed cheeks. 

“What fits you the most, hm?” He hummed, turning around again, an unbelievably annoying smirk on his face. You frowned, trying to see through him to understand what he was thinking about. “Personally, I think you look the best naked, with my arms wrapped around you,” he smirked, leaving your closet wide open and walking back to you. “But we can’t let you go out like that for others to see, can we?” 

“Oh, shut up, Jjun,” you said, trying to focus on your phone instead of his tall frame in front of you. But the truth was, it was impossible not to think about him. With the way his eyes looked at you, the way his lips moved when he said your name, and especially the way he felt, it would be weird not to think about him all the time. 

“Why? Don’t you just love it when our bodies are so close?” Yeonjun teased. You didn’t even need to look up to know there was a smirk on his face. There always was. He wouldn’t miss a chance to tease you, no matter what it was about. That was just something that came with being his best friend. 

“I can’t say I hate it,” you admitted, finally raising your head from your phone. “But,” you started, glaring at him. “We have somewhere to be. So go choose an outfit for me, or I’ll get overwhelmed by the amount of dresses I have.” 

Yeonjun shook his head at you, a sign of disbelief and entertainment in his eyes. You could see through him entirely after the years you two have been friends. Yeonjun was a simple man when you thought about it. To make him happy, all you had to do was agree with him and give him building blogs or good sex. 

♡⸝⸝

When you met him in high school, you had no problems agreeing with him. You didn’t necessarily care if his opinions were accurate or not, but when you saw the sparks in his eyes as he talked about something he was passionate about, you swore you could feel your heart skip a beat. It was enough to make you agree with anything he said. It didn’t matter what it was as long as you could see the smile on his face from how excited he was because someone shared the same opinion with him. 

In your second year, you found yourself by his side at all times. You were the person he ran to when he passed his exams with a high score. You were there when he and his best friend got into a fight. And you were there when he got his heart broken for the first time. Even though it hurt you as much as it hurt him, you comforted and told him she wasn’t worth it if she couldn’t see what she lost. You told him he deserved better, secretly hoping he might finally see you as something more than a friend. 

It was your high school graduation when you, for the first time in those four years, thought that maybe, just maybe, he also saw you as something more than just a friend. 

You smiled wide as you ran into his arms, a diploma in your hands. He laughed with you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he spun you around, making all your friends chuckle, too. “You made it!” you exclaimed, your hands wrapped around his shoulders as you gazed into his eyes, unable to hold back your smile. 

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” He smiled, not taking his eyes off of you. Yeonjun was a year older than you, meaning he had graduated already. And even though he promised you he would make the time to show up for you on your special day, part of you didn’t believe him. You knew he had more important things to do.

It was only when his other best friend spoke towards him that he let go of your waist, his arms falling to his side. You stepped back, allowing your hands to drop to your sides as you glanced at the tall male. “Hey, Bin,” you greeted him, your smile now tinier but still visible. “Hi,” the dark-haired male waved toward you, his dimples appearing. 

Soobin was your age, but you never paid him much attention. Actually, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t even know who he was if Yeonjun hadn’t introduced you last year when he got closer to him. Without even realizing it at first, you three ended up hanging out together all the time after that, just like any group of best friends would. And even though you considered him one of your close friends, he could never be as close as Yeonjun was. You were sure of that. 

“Okay, should we go?” Chaewon wrapped her arm around your shoulders, smiling at the two taller males opposite you. “We still need to change,” she commented, looking around as Yeji joined your small party, she too, greeting the two males.. 

The two girls were also your age. But unlike Soobin, you noticed them in your first year of high school and became close friends soon after. They were your girls that you could run to whenever you had a problem, and you always felt grateful to them for that. 

“Change for what?” Soobin questioned, his eyes wandering between you and your two friends. “Well, even though this is nice and all,” Yeji started, looking down at her graduation dress. “I would much rather change into something cuter before we go eat.” 

“I hope you guys don’t have anything planned, do you?” Chaewon asked when she saw the surprise on their faces, realizing you forgot to mention this piece of information to them. 

“I am free,” the older male nodded. “I just…didn’t know we were going anywhere,” he said, glancing from the short-haired girl at you as if he wanted to scold you for not telling him. Awkwardly averting your gaze, your lips turned into a regretful smile. 

Yeonjun sat in his car, Soobin right next to him in the passenger seat when you walked to his car, sliding into the middle seat in the back so your two friends could sit on each side. It was the first time you felt Yeonjun’s eyes on you differently. 

He always looked at you as if you were one of his boys, which you truly hated, but this time, as you fixed your hair, laughing at something Yeji said, you looked different, better. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how your dress hugged your body perfectly, letting him see all the curves previously hidden from his view, or how happy you looked, but the way he saw you changed, and you both knew it. 

You felt his eyes on you during the whole dinner, unable to fully focus on anything else. It was embarrassing. You had no idea what was going on in his head. You didn’t know if you should be scared or happy about it, and it terrified you. You tried to convince yourself that it was just because you had something on your face. That must have been it. But when you went into the bathroom, his eyes still on your lower body as you walked away, you knew it wasn’t that. There was something more to it. 

And you soon found out exactly what. 

“I am sorry, guys. I promised Hyunjin I would be out like five minutes ago. He wants to introduce me to some new guy again,” Yeji quickly apologized when she paid for her food, grabbing her handbag to leave. Chaewon called herself a taxi soon after, leaving you, your best friend, and Soobin at the table of five. 

“I should call a taxi too,” you mumbled, reaching for your phone on the table. “Oh, come on. You know I can take you,” Yeonjun stopped you, looking away for a second to pay for his part of the bill. “You two live on the other side of Seoul,” you reminded him, but it didn’t move him at all as he merely shrugged. 

You got the passenger seat this time, leaving Soobin in the backseat. You felt awful about them taking you, but you knew there was nothing you could say to make Yeonjun change his mind. He would much rather drive through the whole country than have you get alone with some stranger. You loved that about him, how protective he could get. It made you think about how clingy and protective he would be as a boyfriend. 

“Thank you for the ride again,” you smiled, opening the car door to step out. “And for showing up,” you whispered, not paying attention to the male in the back. “Always,” your best friend grinned, watching you walk out of his car. You waved at him one last time, finally turning to Soobin to say your goodbye, but his eyes were glued to his phone, so you didn’t bother, letting your hand fall back to your side. 

As soon as you reached your front door, you heard your name, making you turn around. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out what he needed. Your best friend stood in front of you, his eyes wandering all over your body as if to memorize the image of you in his head. “I just,” he started, tilting his head with a gulp as his eyes met yours. “You look nice today. Stunning even,” he stated, causing your cheeks to turn pink. “Thank you,” you mumbled. 

Yeonjun opened his mouth again but closed it as soon as he saw you do the same. “You go first,” you shook your head, unsure what you wanted to say. Probably just some nonsense that you would regret later on. He hesitated, looking back at his car to assure himself Soobin was still occupied with his game before he took a few steps closer, leaving almost no space between the two of you. “This dress…you seem like a college student already,” he commented, saying the first thing that came to his mind. The truth was, he had no idea what to say, just like you. 

Neither of you said much more after that, suddenly getting awkward with each other as the mood shifted. Thankfully, there was no need for you to say anything to understand. You read each other well after the four years you’ve been friends. You could see the need - lust even, in his eyes. 

“Soobin is in the car,” Yeonjun said softly, reminding himself more than you. “But,” he started before you could say anything, running his fingers through his hair. “Could I come by tomorrow? I think I need to see you,” he admitted. You had to blink a few times to comprehend what was happening. You thought it was clear, but at the same time, it was so confusing. He confused you. That was something he’d always been good at. 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

Back then, you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, but you soon found out it might have been one of your best decisions. 

Of course, as long as sex was all you wanted from him. 

Yeonjun came over the next day like he promised, jumping onto your couch to watch the TV. You watched him from the corner of the sofa, biting the inside of your cheek. You wondered if you had read him wrong after all. You thought you could see through him. You thought the tension and need were obviously there, but now that he was inside your apartment, acting as if nothing happened, you weren’t so sure anymore.

At least until he finally made a move. 

“Do you think it would be okay for me to kiss you?” He mumbled so quietly you weren’t sure if you heard him right. “What?” Your eyes shot up to him, full of confusion. “I want to kiss you,” he repeated, hesitantly looking at you to see what was going on in your head. 

Before you could say anything, Yeonjun got up from his place on the couch and walked over to you. You watched him with anticipation, staying quiet as you saw him bite his bottom lip. “Then do it,” you whispered, watching him lean down. 

Your hand found its way up to his neck, making him come even closer as his lips met yours. One of his hands tugged the strands of your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, keeping you as close as possible. You slightly opened your mouth when his hand moved from your waist to your back, roaming your skin, allowing him enough room to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

You let him kiss you. Touch you in places that you had only dared to imagine in your wildest of dreams. You were sure this was all just a figment of your imagination. After all, there was no way the Choi Yeonjun would be kissing you right now. Right? 

You were the first to pull away, causing him to groan in disagreement. You watched him, your head full of possible scenarios of what could happen next. If you were to be honest, you hoped this wasn’t how things would end. 

Fortunately, you felt his lips on yours again right away, making you smile. “That dress from yesterday,” he mumbled against your lips before he kissed you again, unable to stay away for too long. “Mhm,” you hummed back, your hand making its way up under his shirt, slightly brushing over his abs. “Wanted to tear it off you so bad,” he admitted. “Just tear this off,” you proclaimed, smirking when you felt him shudder. 

You could see him hesitating as he pulled away. His eyes were soft and full of pity as he looked at you, and you finally saw through him utterly. That was all he wanted, you realized. He wasn’t kissing you because he would feel anything towards you. He just wanted your body. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. But one thing was definite. You needed to feel his lips again. And preferably a lot more, too. 

“Can I do that?” He asked. “Please,” you nodded. Maybe it was a bad idea that could lead your friendship with him to the end, but you needed him more than ever at the moment. 

Before you could even consider it properly, his lips were on yours again, this time more aggressively. The kiss was rough but still passionate. His hands held onto your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist before he picked you up with ease, making you yelp. “What are you doing?” you asked, quickly draping your arms around his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall. “The bed will be more comfortable,” he answered bluntly, making his way around your apartment until he reached your bedroom. 

“You would stop me if you don’t like anything, right?” He asked once you were lying on your bed, looking up at him. “Jjun, I have wished for this for as long as I can remember,” you confessed. “So stop worrying and just finally fuck me.” 

He hesitated again, your words getting stuck in his head. Numerous questions surfaced in his head, making him rethink the situation again. Did you have a crush on him or something? Was it a bad idea to fuck you if you’ve been in love with him? And most importantly, why didn’t he know you liked him? 

Yeonjun shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeonjun, you have the green light,” you assured him again, biting onto your bottom lip when you felt his hands on your waist, carefully moving his fingers on your skin under your shirt as he pressed his lips on yours again. This wasn’t the time to think about all that, he told himself. Not when you were lying so beautifully under him, begging him to fuck you. 

You gasped as his right hand slid under your bra cup, groping your breast softly. You could feel him smirking against your lips, and before you could even react anyhow, he was pressing his knee between your legs, making you moan out immediately. “That’s good?” He asked, glancing down to see you trying to move your hips forward on his knee. “Yeah,” you immediately nodded. 

He pulled away for a moment, scoffing when you groaned in disagreement. But you soon found out it was worth it as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his upper body to you. You gulped, your eyes landing on his chest before flickering to his abs. You knew he had been working out lately, but you had no idea he would look like that. “You’re going to stare a hole into me.” 

“I-” you tried to justify yourself but shut your mouth again when you saw the look in his eyes. You sat up just like he did, moving higher on his thigh to get closer to him before you tugged your own shirt off, causing his eyes to fall on your breast. And he was the one pointing out your staring, you scoffed internally. “Wanna take off the rest? You said you’ll tear it off, remember?” You reminded him playfully, watching his eyes shoot back to meet yours. 

You found his lips on your collarbone soon after, sucking on your skin while his hands wandered all over your now naked body, examining every inch. It still felt unreal to him. If Yeonjun was to wake up now and find out this was all just one of his twisted dreams, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Sure, he never paid you any particular attention, and he couldn’t say that this was something he had always dreamed of, but that was because you were his best friend. He knew better than to ruin his dearest friendship by hitting on you. 

At least until now. Now that his hands were roaming your body, being able to grab on your ass as much as he wanted as you tried to get yourself off on his thigh. “Jjunie,” you moaned out, feeling yourself getting closer to your climax. He only hummed in response, slightly glancing up at you. “Lie down again,” he commanded, making you whine as he pulled his leg away. 

You still listened to him, lying on your bed while he hovered over you. “Shit, you’re so wet,” he commented, his fingers sliding down your folds as he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. “Feels like you could cum right away if I just touch the right spot,” he smirked, pressing his thumb on your clit while his middle finger teased your throbbing entrance. 

You gasped, throwing your head back into your pillows as you released on his fingers the moment he thrust his middle and ring finger into your cunt. “Wanna taste yourself?” He looked from his fingers back at you, his playful tone of voice getting stuck in your head. You were convinced you would say yes to anything as long as he spoke to you like that.  

As if acting on instinct, you parted your lips. You could see Yeonjun smirk again as he moved back up, his fingers immediately finding their way to your mouth. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he mumbled, watching you suck on his fingers, your saliva replacing the cum that was on them seconds ago. 

“Pretty enough for you to finally fuck me?” You asked, keeping your eyes on his. You were the one smirking now when you noticed his cock twitch at your words, waiting to be used. “Do you have–” 

“I don’t,” you interrupted him. “But it’s fine. You can go in raw,” you assured him. “Do you say that to all guys?” He questioned, but it didn’t take much longer for him to align himself at your cunt, his tip teasing your entrance. “Just to the ones hot enough,” you proclaimed, your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence as he thrust into you, spreading your knees apart. 

You clenched around him right away, the feeling of his veins touching your walls making you moan so loud you were certain it would reach your neighbors. Yeonjun wasn’t necessarily big when it came to length, but he was thick, and honestly, you loved that more. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, still holding your legs apart as he moved in and out of you. He pulled out completely, watching you whine for him before he thrust into you once again, going faster than before. 

“M’close,” he grunted, fucking your cum back into you. You finished for the second time a bit ago, and now it was finally his turn. “Pull out,” you cried, even though you hoped he wouldn’t listen to you. You needed him inside for longer. It felt too empty without his cock. 

Your legs were shaking when he let go of them, pulling out just like you asked him to. You carefully got up, kneeling in front of him. You looked up to meet his eyes before you wrapped your hand around his cock, rubbing his pre cum all over his length. “Mhm, doing great,” he praised you. You grinned, looking up at him once more, seeing his head thrown back. You let go of him, licking your lips when he whined in disagreement, getting his tip into your mouth instead. 

“Fuck, you were so good,” he breathed out, thrusting his hips towards your mouth once more before he pulled out, his cum leaking out of the corner of your lips. “My pretty girl,” he mumbled, watching you lick the corner of your lips so you could swallow even the last bit. 

♡⸝⸝

That was how it all started. Your secret make-outs, movie nights that turned into something spicier, the dirty messages he would send you while you were at work, and the heartbreaks. 

You knew the two of you wouldn’t date. You realized that back when you fucked for the first time. You two were friends with occasional benefits. That was all. 

Still, it always made your heart ache when you saw him talking to a different girl. 

And today was no different. You sat on the green couch in the corner, a cup in your hands as your eyes wandered all over the room. “What are you thinking so hard about?” You snapped out of your thoughts at the familiar voice, looking up at the younger male. “Looking for Yeonjun,” you proclaimed. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, drinking your ass off with your friends, Beom?” 

“I ran away when Heeseung tried to give me a mix of beer, wine, and some soda,” he explained. “He went crazy, so Jake is trying to get him to calm down now.” You frowned, “Beer mixed with wine?”

“Like he said, he went crazy,” Taehyun joined your conversation, patting Beomgyu’s back with a quick “Happy birthday.” You shook your head in disbelief, looking around the room again. “Yeonjun just went outside with Soobin and some other guys if that’s who you’re looking for,” he informed you. “I see,” you mumbled, sipping on your drink. 

You were tipsy when you decided to go out and find your best friend. You promised him you would tell him once you felt like leaving the party, so that was what you were planning to do now. Even though you liked Beomgyu and thought of him as a good friend, once Yeonjun left you alone, there was nothing for you to do. 

“Soobin!” you exclaimed when you saw him standing on the side. He looked up at you immediately, a smile forming on his lips as he waved at you. “Yeah?” He asked, watching you walk to him. “Have you seen Yeonjun anywhere? I need to tell him I am leaving,” you explained. Soobin breathed out, nodding when he saw the desperation in your eyes. “He’s…over there,” he proclaimed, pointing towards the front fence. You glanced over there, your lips shut as you noticed the brunette beside your best friend. You saw her laugh and stroke his arm, realizing he must have been flirting with her. Of course, he was. That was what he was best at. 

You squeezed your cup in your hand, stopping yourself from walking over to them and turning at Soobin again. “I guess I shouldn’t interrupt him now,” you muttered half-heartedly, shooting the taller male a small smile. “I am just going to go. I’ll see you around.” Soobin opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw the look in your eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “See you,” he mumbled, watching your back as you walked away. 

Soobin looked towards his best friends again, sighing when he saw him kissing the brunette. Yeonjun was unbelievable, in his opinion. As someone who knew about what you and Yeonjun had between each other, he just couldn’t figure out why he kept acting the way he did. He had a gorgeous girl who loved him all to himself, but he still needed more for some reason. 

You slept over at Chaewon’s that night, telling her all about how you were tired of him at this point. You loved him, but you hated everything he did. It was surprising how many different emotions you could feel towards one person. 

You ignored all of Yeonjun’s calls and messages the next day, ignoring his questions about whether you were okay and got home safe. He cursed at you for not telling him when you left, saying he was - and still is - worried about you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to text him back. You just needed to clear your mind in the comforts of your bed. 

But all your plans were ruined when you came to your apartment building and saw your best friend sitting by the front door, his head hung low as he scrolled on his phone. “You’re kind of in the way,” you stated, walking closer to him. “Oh, sorry-” he apologized immediately, moving to the side when he noticed who you were, a sigh escaping his lips. “Thank God you’re okay.” 

“Of course I am,” you said, the words rotting on your tongue. It was obviously a lie, and you were sure Yeonjun saw through it. “So what are you doing here?” Yeonjun stood up from the ground, taking something out of his pocket. Your eyes widened at the notice in his hands. “You’re kidding, right?” You asked, panicking. “Nope. Your landlord let me in so I could take some of your stuff. It looks terrible,” he informed you calmly, pointing at his still-wet shoes with his eyes. You wanted nothing more but to slap him at the moment. Why was he so calm about your apartment being flooded? 

“Fuck,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Okay, give me my things. I am going to call Chae again,” you mumbled, rethinking all the opinions you had. “Did she say for how long I need to stay away?” 

“Around a week,” he answered. “So come on, I have your suitcase in my car already,” he said, and before you could react, he was already walking towards said car. “Wait, what? No, just give them to me. She isn’t that far away. You don’t have to drive me.” 

“I am not driving you to her apartment,” Yeonjun shook his head, opening the door on the passenger’s side first, waiting for you to get in. “You can stay in our apartment. My room will be empty for the next week, remember?” Right. His vacation with Kai. You reminded yourself. “Oh, come on, it’s not like you never slept there.” 

You wanted to argue, tell him that he was pissing you off lately, but he had won over you again. You just couldn’t refuse him for some reason. So you walked over to him, sliding into the passenger seat and looking down to your lap while you waited for him to start the car. 

“Hey, what’s going on? You were ignoring my calls and texts, and now this?” He asked, stopping at a red light. You squirmed in your seat, refusing to look at him after you shook him off when he placed his hand on your thigh, just like he did every time you were in the car with him. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, taking out your phone so you would have something else to focus on. “Do I look like an idiot to you? Did something happen when you left the party?” 

“You happened, asshole,” you admitted, turning your head towards him. Yeonjun blinked a few times, the anger in your eyes surprising him. “I did? What did I do?” He asked confusedly, his eyes flickering between you and the traffic light. “Are you seriously asking me that?” You scoffed. “I don’t know. Maybe I am pissed you use me like your fuck toy just to sleep with other girls at parties instead of paying even the tiniest bit of attention to me,” you burst at him. Yeonjun opened his mouth to argue with you, but before he could do so, the car behind him was honking at him, making his eyes focus back on the road. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, too flustered to say anything. The way he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you only made you want to take your things and run away. How were you supposed to stay with him during the weekend and then sleep in his bed the following week? This was definitely a bad idea, but somehow, when you noticed Yeonjun’s best friend at the door, waiting for you to get out of the car so he could help with your stuff, a part of you wanted to stay more than ever. 

“Hey, are you okay?” The taller male asked softly, walking to you while your best friend got to the car trunk to get out your suitcase that he had packed. “We’ve had a little…argument. Don’t worry about it,” you smiled, hoping for him to catch your drift and drop the subject. 

“You came to help, right? So stop chatting and take this,” Yeonjun interrupted, throwing a plastic bag at Soobin. To your surprise, and probably his too, he managed to catch it without a problem. “A little argument, huh?” He questioned, shaking his head as he watched Yeonjun walk inside with the rest of your things. Yeonjun’s back looked tense, no matter how you looked at it. He was pissed. 

But what were you supposed to do about it? It wasn’t your fault he made you feel like shit. Maybe it was, though. When you thought about it, it was all your fault. If you hadn’t fallen for your best friend, you wouldn’t be here now, in this position. If you had told him no the first time you made out with him, it would all be okay. 

“Uhm, you’d probably want to take it instead of me,” Soobin proclaimed, bringing you back to reality. You had to blink a few times to realize what he said before you glanced down at the plastic bag in his hands, your eyes widening right away when you saw your panties on the top. It was a bag full of your underwear. “Yeonjun!” You yelled at him, snatching the bag away from Soobin in embarrassment. 

Soobin chuckled as he watched you run after your best friend, ready to beat him up. The way your cheeks turned red when you noticed what he was holding and how you tried to apologize was going to stay in his head for a while. He was sure of it. 

You sighed as you got inside, the anger you felt suddenly disappearing when you saw the look in Yeonjun’s eyes. He was standing in the middle of the hall, your things on the floor next to him. It was his eyes that managed to say everything his mouth couldn’t, and you hated it. You despited how he thought he could just look at you lovingly, and you would act like nothing ever happened. But you hated even more the fact he was right. You just couldn’t hold a grudge against him for some reason. It was one of his charms, you supposed. Or maybe it was because of your heart again. The stupid silly heart that always excused anything he did to you. 

“I hate you so much,” you muttered, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at him. You weren’t sure if you should cry or scream. “No, you don’t,” he said, making you look at him again. “Do you?” The look in his eyes was broken as his gaze met yours, making your heart ache. 

“I am…just going to go to my room,” Soobin mumbled, quickly getting past the both of you when he finally got inside, too. Right, you weren’t alone, you reminded yourself. “I don’t know,” you answered finally, squeezing the bag in your hand tighter. 

Neither one of you said anything after that. You grabbed all your things from the floor, only looking at him briefly before you walked past him into the living room, placing them in the corner where you knew they wouldn’t get in the way of anyone. You would die in this house. You were sure of it. There was no way you could survive being around him for the next two days. 

♡⸝⸝

You woke up with your alarm, announcing that the morning had come again. You turned it off immediately, rolling to the other side of your - Yeonjun’s - bed. You knew you should get up. There was a reason why you set the alarm after all, but not only was your body still too tired to get up, but your mind kept convincing you it was a bad idea to send him off. 

To your surprise, the two days you were so worried about were calmer than you expected. Yeonjun didn’t touch you at all and even let you sleep in his bed while he stayed on the couch. He barely spoke to you and only looked you in the eyes when necessary. It was obvious that he was avoiding you, but for some reason, you didn’t mind. You needed to clear your head, and that was done the best without him around. 

The problem was he was everywhere. 

Of course, he was. It was his room, his home. You couldn’t just erase him when you were staying in his house. 

You turned around so you would be lying on your back when you heard the muffled voices behind the door, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t properly figure out what the two boys were talking about, but you figured it couldn’t be important enough for you to leave the room. 

But there were words that reached you even through the door. “Take care of her, yeah? I think I messed up too bad this time.” It was Yeonjun’s voice. You squeezed your blanket, closing your eyes as you fought a fight with yourself about getting out of bed to say goodbye to him after all. 

You didn’t go, though. You decided it was for the better. You needed to get your mind off your best friend and, most importantly, your heart too. You had to stop loving him, and this was the first step in doing so. 

♡⸝⸝

“How is it that your cooking keeps getting better and better?” Soobin commented, almost finished with the lunch you prepared. You smiled, embarrassed as you thanked him. “You’re exaggerating,” you mumbled, but he only shook his head, praising you once more. 

“What are you doing?” You turned around to face him, the water still on, washing off the leftovers on your plate. “The dishes,” you answered, not paying much attention to him and turning back again to finish what you started. “You already cooked us lunch. Dishes are supposed to be my job,” he stated, stealing the plate from you. “You can go sit down now.” You wanted to argue, but he was already pushing you out of the kitchen, refusing to hear you out on this. 

It has been like that since Yeonjun left. The two of you had never talked that much despite hanging out with each other often, but it suddenly changed now that it was just you and him, without your best friend to steal your attention. You must say you liked this side of Soobin. 

A part of you was worried you would be bored without Yeonjun around as it was always him you talked to when the three of you were hanging out as a group, but now that he was gone and you could actually get to know Soobin, you found out you have things in common. 

“Should I pick the movie, then?” You suggested. It’s only been three days, so you weren’t sure if you could call it a tradition, but watching a movie or a show has become something you always did after lunch. “Sure, go ahead,” Soobin agreed. You nodded, looking around the living room to find the remote control. 

It was a peaceful afternoon. It always was with him. With Soobin, it all seemed easy. You didn’t need to worry about what to wear around him just to impress him. You could talk about anime with him without him looking weirdly at you, and you loved that. It was the little things you could do with him that you knew you couldn’t do with any of your other friends. 

You found yourself wishing he could be your roommate after the end of this week, too. 

“I should get going,” you proclaimed as the third movie of the day ended. Soobin looked up at you immediately, pausing the credit scene that was running on the TV. “You’re going out?” He asked, confused. He knew for sure you hadn’t told him anything about it. “Yeah,” you nodded. “With a few people from high school. They decided to do this little meet in a bar. And I heard Heesung might be tagging along, too. I heard he begged one of the guys from our old English class to let him join,” you laughed. The thought of him begging to get invited was hilarious to you. “Do you want to come? They are your old classmates too, after all.” You suggested. 

“I am fine,” he shook his head, disagreeing. It wasn’t like he would get along with many of their old classmates. Actually, except for your friends, who he got close with only after Yeonjun made him tag along any chance he got when you and your friends were hanging out, there was no one he would talk to. He didn’t blame them for not inviting him or anything. After all, he never took the effort to speak to them, either. “I already agreed to play league with Beomgyu tonight anyway.” 

“I see,” you mumbled, nodding slightly. “I am going to get dressed, then. Don’t disappear into your room just yet. I want to see you before I leave,” you warned Soobin, not waiting for his reply before you hopped into Yeonjun’s room. 

You bought a new dress the day before, and it was perfect for this opportunity. You weren’t sure where you were going yet, as everyone agreed to decide on the spot, but it was perfect for any kind of party, and you knew better than anyone that they couldn’t go much without alcohol involved. So, whichever bar in town you would end up at, you were ready for it. 

And you were right. You knew there wasn’t a better dress you could wear when you saw the way Soobin looked at you as you ran around the apartment, trying to remember where you put your handbag. The way his eyes followed your every movement had you smiling. You couldn’t lie; you enjoyed having that kind of attention on you. Especially coming from someone as hot as Soobin. 

You were drunk when you left the bar. You knew you were drunk when you almost tripped as you got out of Hyunjin’s car, thanking him for driving you back, but still, you found yourself on the floor of Soobin and Yeonjun’s apartment, with a drink in your hands again. 

“Is it my turn now?” Soobin wondered, watching you. He was tipsy himself by now, but he was still okay. Which he wasn’t sure if he could say about you. “Shouldn’t we go to bed instead?” 

“No,” you shook your head immediately. “I am fine, I promise.” You were lying just partly. Yes, your head was spinning a bit, and you needed a glass of water as soon as possible, but you still could think straight. Or you believed you could. 

“Alright,” he nodded, thinking about what to say. Two truths and a lie. It sounded silly when you suggested it at first. It used to be a game he played with his friends back in middle school, so he doubted you when you came into his room, telling him to go play with you, but now that he was sitting here with you, a shot of vodka in front of him, he could see why you suggested it. 

“I used to like you when we were in high school. I won against Beomgyu today when we were playing League. And…” he stopped for a moment, looking you up and down once again, pretending he was still thinking about it. “You look so good tonight that all I can think about is fucking you on that couch.” 

You froze for a second, blinking a few times to assure yourself you heard him correctly and it wasn’t just your mind playing games with you. Sure, there was a lie hidden in what he had just said, but he couldn’t be lying about that, could he? 

“You…” you hesitated, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t win, did you?” 

“No, I didn’t,” he nodded, raising the shot of vodka. “You got it right. My turn to drink,” he proclaimed, not hesitating as he drank the full shot at once. “Your turn. Say your sentences,” he encouraged you, placing the shot glass in front of him again. “Wait, no, stop,” you shook your head. Suddenly, it felt as if you had sobered up. “You said you liked me? And you want to fuck me?” 

“Your turn,” Soobin repeated himself, ignoring your questions. You took a deep breath, holding onto your glass tighter. “Alright, fine,” you agreed. It would be obvious to anyone around you that you were pissed, but he didn’t want to pay attention to it. It would be better if he never mentioned anything about it again. You wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway, would you? 

“I have a black cat. I dressed like this to impress you. I want you to fuck me on this couch.” You finished casually, batting your eyes at him innocently. 

Whatever was going on through your head at the moment was working. Soobin cursed at himself in his head, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t need to look at you. It was all too much for him. The look you gave him, the way your lips parted, and even the way you played with the hem of your dress. You were going to be the death of him.

“I know you don’t have a cat,” he reminded you, but you only smiled at him. You knew he knew, he realized, scoffing. “You’re unbelievable,” he shook his head. “And drunk. You’re not thinking straight anymore. Go to bed.” 

“I am completely okay, Soob,” you argued. “No matter how much I drank today, I know what I am saying.” 

“No, you-” “Please,” you interrupted him, your beg sending shivers all over his body. This wasn’t what he expected. How could it be? But he couldn’t say he would be against it. Heck, he even told you he wanted to fuck you. 

Soobin swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at you again. “Please, what?” He asked, knowing he already lost whatever battle his head was fighting with his hormones. “Please fuck me,” you pleaded, your puppy eyes getting into his head immediately. 

“For fucks sake,” he mumbled, getting up from the floor. Your eyes followed his every movement, watching his back even as he disappeared into his room. You closed your eyes when he got out of your sight, sighing. That was not a reaction you expected. 

Your eyes lit up when you saw his figure again, coming closer to you. “You can still go back to your room, and we can pretend no one ever said anything,” Soobin proclaimed, but you only shook your head, looking up at him. You grabbed onto his hand, looking at the condom he was holding. “You’re already prepared. Why call it off now?” 

And just like that, you were sitting on the couch, your head thrown back, and your legs spread open. Soobin’s head was in between them as he teasingly sucked onto your clit through your panties, evocating a moan from you. Your dress was long forgotten, somewhere on the floor, and one of your breasts was out of your bra, but your attention was on something else at the moment. It was impossible to think about anything else but Soobin when his hands were squeezing your thighs, making sure your legs would stay open for him. 

“Please, Binnie,” you whined. “Mhm,” he hummed, his fingers finding their way to the hem of your panties before he yanked them down with one swift motion. He held them up, making sure you saw how soaked they were. “I am keeping those,” he stated with a smirk, making your eyes widen. “What? No!” You tried to argue, but the moment his lips were making out with your clit again, you gave up. He could take all your panties for all you cared if he kept making you feel this good. 

“What did you say?” He asked. “Take them,” you cried out, unable to hold back your moans as he started fingering you, soon bringing you to your first orgasm of that night. 

“There is no way,” you breathed out, watching Soobin put on the condom he brought earlier. “There’s no way what?” He questioned, coming closer to you again. You shook your head violently, putting your hands in front of your pussy as if you were trying to protect it. “You can’t possibly fit.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he assured you, chuckling when he saw the look on your face. “If you think you need it, we can set a safe word.” He suggested, cupping your cheeks. He wasn’t sure how to behave if he was honest. He knew he was big, but no one had a reaction like you yet. “No, I am fine,” you shook your head as if you were trying to prove yourself to him. “I was just surprised.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit again. You closed your eyes from the pressure, quickly nodding to him. “I need you inside, please,” you begged him, and before you could realize it, his tip was already in you, making you gasp. 

“Can I move?” You nodded, your nails digging into the skin on his forearm as you held onto him. He groaned, sliding deeper into you. He was only half way in, but the way you clenched around him was already driving him crazy. He wasn’t sure how long he could last. 

“Just a bit more,” he said, noticing you were calmer when he talked to you. He never was someone who would talk much during sex, usually only letting out quiet groans or curses, but if it meant you could stop clenching around him so much, he was willing to give it a go. 

“You can go faster now,” you breathed, moaning out when you heard him groan. He didn’t need to be told twice and did as you said, finally going at a speed that suited his needs. He didn’t mind going slower while you were getting used to his size, but he knew he needed more than that to finish. 

“S-Slow down, I am close.” You gasped as his thrusts became even faster, harsher. You could tell he was reaching his high, making you clench around his cock once again. “You’re taking me so well,” he praised. The feeling of his veins on your walls was your last bit, making you cum around his cock. He was driving you crazy. 

“I am almost there, too,” he said, his groans becoming louder. 

With a few last thrusts, Soobin reached his orgasm, too. But even after he came, filling the condom with his cum, he didn’t pull out. And frankly, you were glad. You needed to feel him a bit more. 

He brushed off the messy strands of your hair off your face, looking at your fucked out face. You looked perfect, even ruined like this. It almost made him hard again. “Sleep in my room tonight,” he proclaimed, catching you off guard. “What?” 

“I don’t want you to sleep in Yeonjun’s bed anymore. Please,” he pleaded, leaning down to you. He was only centimeters away from you now, his cock still deep inside you while his breath landed on your lips. “Please,” he repeated himself, breaking the distance between you and pressing his lips on yours. 

It was the first kiss you exchanged, but you hoped it wasn’t the last.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel ✶⋆ want to get notified? join taglist here!

[moonchildstyles]

the witching hour

despite harry being the witch in this situation, maybe his crush on gemma's new friend was going to be the most bewitching thing he ever encountered

wordcount: 10k+

—————

"Are you just going to watch me set up or actually help?" 

Harry couldn't help the bark of laughter that left his lips at his sister's jab. He stayed just where he was even when he felt the glare of her eyes on him as he continued the game of changing the contents of her flower vases every time Gemma flicked it back to water before the blooms died. He currently wanted to see how long it would take her to noticed he'd snapped spiked seltzer into the water's place. 

"I don't know why you're worrying so hard, Gem," Harry sighed, sinking into the back of his stool where he sat at the breakfast nook, "Just cast a spell and make everything set itself up. It would take 3 minutes compared to the three hours you've been stressing over this." 

He didn't have to see his sister's face to know she was rolling her eyes hard enough their mother would have chided her, saying they were going to get stuck that way if she kept it up. "Sorry, I try not to rely on my magic, like you. Is it so bad I want everything to be perfect? This is the first time we're not living with the coven—or even near them. I want these people to like us, Harry." 

"And they're going to," Harry cemented, just as he had been since his sister started worrying over the opinions of the mortals that were now their neighbors, "We're giving them free drinks and food, there's no way they aren't going to like us—like you." 

"That's not a guarantee, Harry," Gemma argued, twisting in her spot so he could see just how exasperated he was making her. Her expression fell flat when she noticed the bubbling soda water soaking her roses. She shot him a glare that was only deflected by Harry's grin. "Could you at least try to be on your best behavior tonight? It's going to be hard to stay in the HOA if they realize you're a dick and a witch." 

"I always am," he said with a cocky grin stretching his lips. Not a complete lie, but definitely not the truth.

Gemma shook her head before she brushed past him, a large crystal bowl full of ice in her hands. "You don't have to come tonight, you know. You could go do something with Mitch or whoever; leave the house to me and I'll just tell everyone how nice my brother is without you contradicting everything I tell them." 

"I invited Mitch to come tonight, so I think he'd be a bit busy." Harry's voice was breezy as he kept an eye on his sister. He needed to find the right moment to fill the vases with almond milk when she wasn't looking. "If I didn't know any better, I would feel like you don't want me there, Gems." 

"You're not even dressed up, Harry! Do you even want to be at the party?" 

"Yes, I am dressed up," Harry argued, a pinch knitting his brows together as he sat up straight in his seat. 

"No, you're not," Gemma countered as she climbed on top of a chair with a strip of led lights in her hand she was planning on tacking along the line of the ceiling, "You look like normal." 

With an exaggerated wave of his fingers, deep purple nail polish glittering in the light, he gave her another self-satisfied grin. "Exactly," he said, "'M dressed like a witch." 

That seemed to finally get his sister to crack a smile, a matching dimple in her cheek making an appearance. As much as he loved to tease his sister, especially now that they were living together for the first time away from their family, he didn't want her to feel like he wasn't supportive of her or messing with her just for the sake of pushing her buttons, and not because he was trying to ease her nerves. Sure, the former was a part of it, but he was here to support her and make her days easier, especially knowing how much she was missing their coven. 

"You're annoying," his sister laughed, using a flick of her fingers to keep the strip light held up to the wall while she fixed them to the crease between the ceiling and the walls, "Are you going to change before the party, or is that really your costume?" 

"You'll jus' have to wait and see." And, so would Harry. He had no idea if Mitch was actually going to follow through on the corn costume they had been joking around about a few weeks prior, because if he was, then Harry had agreed to dress like a pad of butter. "Who's all coming tonight?" 

"Well, I sent out that mass invitation on the HOA's Facebook page, so hopefully a lot of neighbors we haven't met yet. But, I also invited a couple of the girls from work and people from that record store you like. One of the girls from my yoga class said she'd try to ma—" 

"Was it (Y/N)? The one from your yoga class." Harry didn't even pretend to care about how eager he sounded cutting her off. He needed to know if (Y/N) was going to be there. 

On more than one occasion in the last couple of months since moving to the neighborhood, Harry had picked up Gemma from her yoga classes after he finished with his spinning sessions, and without fail there was always this girl that walked out with his sister. After that first time he saw her, Harry couldn't help but begin to look forward to picking up Gemma if only for a moment's glance at her friend. 

Maybe it was the sweat that clung to her skin after the workout, but Harry swore she was covered in stars, glimmering in the light, even when it was after one of the late classes with only the moon above. Without fail, there was always a sweet smile on her face when he spied her, quiet while she listened to his sister talk about whatever, or growing brighter when she told her own stories. One time, he was able to hear her laugh after he had cracked the windows, and maybe his breath had been stolen at the sound, but he would never tell Gemma that. He wanted to get to know her as more than the pretty face that always escorted Gemma to his car after classes and gave him a polite wave before heading towards her own way home. 

"Harry," Gemma sighed, settling her hands on her hips as she gave him a pointed glare. 

"What? 'M jus' asking!"

His sister rolled her eyes, the fake lashes she'd glued to her eyes fluttering at the familiar movement. "She's my friend, Harry, you're not allowed to date her! We already share a house, I'm not letting you have my friends, too." 

"Would it really be that bad, Gems? I'm a gentleman, wh—" 

"If you fuck her and she stops talking to me like what happened with Meredith, I'm seriously going to be so pissed at you. She's much more fun than Mere, so she's completely off limits if you don't want me to tell mum." 

Harry groaned at the mentioning of his sister tattling on him to their mom. "How was I supposed to know she was a virgin beforehand? If she had told me, I wouldn't have put my—" 

"I don't need to hear that story again!" Gemma shouted over him, cutting him off. Stepping off the chair she'd used as her ladder, she gave him one more look as the room filled with a cool purple glow from the lights she'd just pinned up. "Just be nice to her, Harry. At least let me see if she wants something serious or whatever, so if she does, you can leave her alone and not hurt anyone's feelings." 

"Deal," Harry rushed out. He could work with that. "So I can talk to her tonight?" 

A sigh puffed her lungs, though she didn't offer any answer. 

"Jus' one dance, at least, Gems. I won't bother her after that, unless she wants to talk to me. I promise." 

That look only his protective older sister could give him crossed her features. He knew even through all her protests and claims to be protecting her friendships, that this was also in part of caring for her baby brother that sometimes felt too deeply, too quickly, for people who weren't in the same boat as him. 

"Just one dance, then. If she even comes tonight."

Sinking back into his chair as Gemma continued to flutter around the house, cheesy decorations in hand, a satisfied grin slipped into place on Harry's face. Knowing that (Y/N) was coming now, he really hoped Mitch didn't pull through with the corn costume.

—————

The purple glow Gemma had set up to emanate through the house was the perfect touch, Harry realized as he lent back against the breakfast nook, the view of the main space of the house perfect for him as he people-watched. Her invitation had apparently garnered interest in the entire neighborhood as Harry was able to pick out the faces of most of their neighbors and those who lived in the apartments bordering their subdivision. It felt like a teen movie, the comparison making Harry laugh, with the way alcohol was distributed out in novelty plastic cups with ghouls and ghosts printed on the sides, the contents of the glasses sloshing with the way people were dancing to the music that'd progressively become louder the more crowded the space got. 

Costumes of every type littered the room. A group of zombies were huddled by the backdoor, a pair of angels throwing shapes on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, and the Powerpuff girls along with a few of their most iconic villains had made an appearance as well. Amongst the groups and couples, single costumes of television characters, celebrities, and era specific getups were dotted throughout, coming together to make the perfect picture of Halloween. Parties like these were only fun when people weren't too full of themselves to dress up. As much as he played around with Gemma earlier, even Harry made a point to conjure up a costume (after he got the confirmation that Mitch had completely blown off the deal with the corn costume, of course). 

While it wasn't that creative given his identity, he couldn't help himself as he cast his spells and made a black pointed hat to sit on his head, his getup all black with fringed veils and bats stitched into the lace overlay on his flared pants. A well dressed witch, he had told Gemma when she rolled her eyes as he descended the stairs with a flourish just before guests started to arrive. As much as his sister wanted to disagree, call him out for not actually dressing up for the party, he knew she was going to see if she could make an outfit just like that soon enough. 

Speaking of his sister, he found her in the sea of guests, picking her out from the cat ears she had perched on the top of her head. She had been dragged into the fray of the dancefloor by her friends, leaving Harry to play the host with the most while she finally let loose. He didn't mind going around, greeting their neighbors and introducing himself while he nursed his own drink, knowing Gemma needed a break from all her worrying about making a good impression on these people. (Plus, he was given a slew of compliments on his outfit everywhere he went, so he was getting something out of this as well). By the time the party was in full swing, the constant in-pouring of guests slowing to a near halt, he was glassy eyed with his third drink in hand (he hadn't realized how much tequila he was pouring in until he realized he was just doing magic out in the open as he flicked his fingers to clean up the spills that littered the counter) while he watched his new home being filled with the laughter and mischief that he had been missing since moving away from the coven. 

But, there was one thing missing. 

"Are you waiting for someone?" Mitch mumbled behind the rim of his cup, lent up against the counter with Harry. 

"Hm?" Harry hummed, his reaction delayed as he looked to his friend.

"You've been watching the door for the last, like, five minutes. Are you waiting for someone?" he asked again, substantially less drunk than his counterpart. 

Harry didn't even realize he had his gaze trained on the front door until it was pointed out, making a point to whip his head back to face his friend, witch hat askew on the top of his head. "Oh, sorry," he murmured, not at all sorry, "Gem's friend was supposed to come, but she's not here yet." 

"The yoga one?" Mitch's dark brows were raised over his eyes. Harry didn't have even an ounce of embarrassment in him over the fact he'd told Mitch so much about her, that he knew immediately which of Gemma's friends he was looking forward to seeing.

Nodding into his cup as he sipped down another mouthful, Harry hummed. "Yeah, that one. I finally got Gemma to lay off some and let me talk to her if she came tonight." 

"Even after what happened with Meredith?" Harry could have rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. As far as he could remember, everything with Mere wasn't even that bad. 

"Yes," Harry sighed, taking another gulp of his drink when the doorknob on the front door didn't even twitch, "But, 's not like anything will happen if she doesn't show up." 

"I'm sure she will," Mitch reasoned, "It's still early in the night anyway, and she could have been stopping off at other part—" 

Harry didn't mean to cut Mitch off, but he couldn't help the way he choked on his drink the second the unlocked front door opened to reveal (Y/N) tentatively peeking into the party. He sputtered on the alcohol that burned in the back of his throat, aware of Mitch's hand slapping between his shoulder blades as he tried to suck in a breath though he couldn't find it in himself to tear his watery eyes from where she stood. 

"Is that her?" Mitch mumbled once Harry caught his breath, following his line of sight to the girl quietly shutting the door behind her as if the noise would disturb the loud music and rowdy set on people on the stairs. 

The breathy yeah he gets out is complimented by the soft smile stretching his lips. She was even dressed as a witch, he realized—a Stevie Nicks-era witch with gauzy fabrics and twinkling beads, but a witch nonetheless. He even spotted the purse hanging over her shoulder, stylized to be a witch's spell book with the name and the silhouette of a crescent moon stitched in gold over the black leather. Nice to know she, at the very least, would be fascinated by his culture.

"That's kind of funny," Mitch pointed out, nodding his chin in her direction as if Harry could have forgotten where she was, "She's dressed like you—a witch." 

Mitch was privy to the secret he and Gemma harbored, having met Harry in college. Being Mitch's roommate made it hard for Harry to keep himself in check, so after Mitch walked in on him concocting potions for the third time, he had to come clean. 

"'S cute," he mumbled out, dropping his drink off on the counter behind him when he determined he was going to talk her. "I'll be ri—" 

Just as he took a single step in her direction, he heard the sound of his sister's voice bubbling over the loud music filling the house. "(Y/N)! You made it!" 

He could tell she was plastered by the way she didn't even look a little embarrassed at the way she stumbled over her feet and a splash from her cup spilled her suede boots as she toddled to her friend. (Y/N) was much more reserved in her answer, nodding her head and speaking quietly while giving Gemma a hug. Harry watched as his sister tugged her to the kitchen, surely getting her a drink while he stood back, reaching behind him to take another swig of his drink. 

"What were you saying?" Mitch prodded, entirely too proud at seeing Harry's advances squandered for the time being. 

"Shut the fuck up." 

—————

Maybe Harry needed to be a little bit more careful, knowing he was leaning a little bit closer into tipsy territory than the comfortable buzz he'd been at earlier, but he couldn't help himself. 

(Y/N) was practically the center of the dancefloor as far as he was concerned. Her smiling face with her styled hair being tossed around to frame her features was the beacon in the middle of the muddled purple and orange hued living room, the music being an afterthought when her laughter was the main song that had Harry's heart thumping. He couldn't help himself as he traced his finger in the air, manipulating the beams of warm orange light to sit right on her as if it were a spotlight for the headlining performer. He just wanted a better view of her. 

Though he hadn't had a single chance to talk to her all night, that didn't mean he didn't keep an eye on her during that time. Not once, even with all the dancing and pushing happening on the packed danced floor, had her drink spilled, not with the way Harry ensured that every unbalanced raise of her cup was corrected with a trace of his finger in the air. She didn't go thirsty either, an enchantment keeping her cup full so she wouldn't have to stop having fun. He kept her spirits high even when Mitch teased Harry for being so invested in her time away from him; he didn't mind, not when each one of his tricks paid off, her smile glowing bright like the full moon outside. 

As the time ticked passed midnight, Halloween night technically over as the first of November had started twenty-three minutes prior, Harry didn't see their party ending any time soon. The main room was still packed, drinks still flowed in the kitchen, and every time he went around with a tray of shots for the guests to enjoy there wasn't a single glass left over. Though no new attendees had arrived after (Y/N), he hadn't seen many leave either. The energy filling the house had his aura turned up high, feeding off of the high enthusiasm exuding from each of his new friends. He didn't want it to end. 

While he was soaking in the fun of the space, a playlist going on in his head that had him touching his finger to the air as he added track after track to the running queue that played from the bass-heavy speakers, Harry hadn't realized he'd lost track of (Y/N) until he couldn't see her in the crowd. Gemma and her friends—including a pretty brown haired girl dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz that had Mitch currently wrapped round her with softened eyes—were still out on the floor, bubbly, bright, and loud as ever even with their missing piece. But, Harry had trained the orange spotlight to follow whatever which way she swayed. He just had to find the pumpkin glow and the witch standing underneath it. 

"I like your pants!" 

Harry jumped in his spot at the sound of the chirped voice bubbling off behind him. His vodka-dredged reflexes had him turning on his heel, the movement a lot slower than he intended. The orange light hit his hooded gaze first, a squint of his eyelids making him focus on the figure before him until details surfaced. 

With her hair a pile on the top of her head, stray strands plastered to her temples and neck with the sheen of sweat that covered her skin, stood his wannabe witch. (Y/N)'s gaze was cloudy as she took him in, though she seemed to be much more attentive than him. The gauzy sleeves of her costume were drooping down her shoulders, giving him more glimmering skin to drag his lazy eyes across if he hadn't been so wide-eyed surprised that she'd found him before he even had a chance to properly look for her. 

"Thank you," he choked out, remembering her chirped compliment in greeting. 

"Yeah, of course!" she beamed back, all but bouncing in her spot though he was sure she wasn't even aware she was doing so, "You're Gemma's friend, right? I've seen you pick her up from yoga before." 

So he hadn't been imagining the way her eyes would linger, even after giving a polite wave goodbye. "'M her brother, yeah," he clarified, leaning forward so he wouldn't have to shout to get his words across. 

"You're Harry!" (Y/N) bubbled, features lighting up with recognition, "She's talked about you before!" 

"And I'm sure it was all terrible," Harry joked, though knowing Gemma it wouldn't be that far off if she spilled all of his bad habits with her pretty friend, "You're (Y/N), right?" 

"No, no, no," (Y/N) shook her head, hands out as if to ward him off, "She always talks about how funny you are, never anything bad! I didn't realize that was you picking her up those nights, I would have said hi earlier." 

"'S alright," he waved off, thinking it was cute how excited she got when she drank. He was much closer to the mellow end of the spectrum when it came to alcohol. A perfect balance between the two of them, he thought. 

"And, yes, I am (Y/N), by the way," she laughed at herself as she caught up to his earlier question, leaning into the counter beside him. He hoped Gemma wasn't paying attention enough to catch the way he turned to face her, giving her the full of his attention with his cup being pushed to the wayside. 

"Gems talks about you all the time," Harry mused, talking quietly enough she had to crane her neck and shuffle closer to hear. 

"She does?!" was (Y/N)'s awed response, her eyes sweetly rounding out as she gazed up at him. "She's, like, my best friend. That yoga class always sucked before she started coming—it's all so cliquey, and I never got invited to the after class drinks the instructor would put on." 

A pout puffed out Harry's lips as he reached across, settling his hand carefully on her plush hip. "That's not nice. But, Gems talks about you like you're her best friend, too. 'M happy she has you; I was worried when we moved out here. She can be a little nervous trying to make friends, but she says y'were the first one to put your mat down by her and not make her feel bad when she couldn't hold some of those bendy poses." 

"Some of them are really hard," (Y/N) nodded, sipping from her cup though there was little left behind the guise of ghosts and goblins printed on the plastic as his enchantment on her drink wore off. "But, what about you?" she chirped, wobbling some as she bounced in his hold, "Do you have any best friends here yet?" 

Dimples deep in his cheeks, Harry could feel the muscles beginning to grow sore the longer he talked to her. "M'old university roommate lives out here, so I've been getting to hang out with him a lot more now that he's close. Actually," Harry paused, peering out at the sea of dancers taking over his living room, "he's over there"—pointing to where Dorothy and a costume-less Mitch were dancing—"with your friend." 

"With Sarah?!" (Y/N) blurted, eyes growing wide, "Your friend is the one that's too cool to dress up?" 

Harry laughed at her chiding. "Well, it was either that or a corn outfit—I personally think he picked wisely. If he'd picked otherwise, I promised I'd match him as some butter, so I think it worked out better for everyone this way." 

He only caught a glimpse of her features lighting up, mouth dropping into a smiling gape before their attention was stolen away. Somehow, over the volume of the music, his sister managed to yell (Y/N)'s name loud enough to be heard. With a gasp and her hair fluttering behind her as she whipped her head in the direction of Gemma's voice. 

Following (Y/N)'s line of sight, Harry caught his sister's eye as she beckoned (Y/N) with a flick of her hand to come back. The gloss of her eyes made it clear she was leaning on the side of drunk though the second she made eye contact with Harry, that pout turned hard. The glare of her gaze was quick, the same kind of look the would have fire sprouting from her fingertips if they hadn't been in the middle of a party. She was mad, mad that he was taking advantage of the permission he had been given earlier to speak to her pretty friend. With (Y/N)'s attention placed elsewhere, Harry only shrugged with a lopsided smile on his lips. 

Giving a small nod to Gemma, having disregarded the squinted look she gave to her brother, (Y/N) started curling out of Harry's hold. Just as he dropped his hand from her hip, the warmth of her skin lingering on his palm, she grabbed for his hand. Lacing her fingers between his, she gave a gentle tug as she edged towards the dancefloor. 

"Come dance with me," she requested in a smiley voice. 

"Don't know if m'sister would like that much, but I don't think I really care," he told her, his dimple sinking deeper into his cheek as he solidified his hold on her hand. 

"What do you mean?" she asked as he came up beside her, a pinch knotting her brows together.

He traced his gaze over her features before tugging her along through the mass of their neighbors dancing in his living room, eyes lingering over the height of her dewy cheekbones. "She's worried 'm gonna like you a little too much, love, that's all." 

Once close enough, Harry used his grip on her hand to tug her in front of him, chest to chest with Gemma standing behind (Y/N). It didn't take his sister long to reach for (Y/N)'s shoulder, black painted nails wrapping around the slope as she tugged on her dress. 

"Is my brother bothering you?" Gemma shouted over the music, absently taking a sip of her drink. 

"Harry?" (Y/N) bubbled, her hand in his squeezing as she tossed a glance at him, "No, no! I asked him to come dance with us. Is that okay?" 

At the mention of his tagalong being (Y/N)'s idea, he could see the way Gemma begrudgingly reined herself in. "Okay," she relented, "Let me know if he starts being annoying, though. He does that sometimes." 

(Y/N) laughed off her offer, muttering something to Gemma that Harry couldn't hear before she was placing her attention on him once more. On instinct, she moved along with the song, trailing her grip on his hand to land further up his arm while the other still had her drink. 

Feeling her warmth pressed against him, her smiling lips and bright, glossy gaze directed up at him, Harry felt his heartstrings tug. She really was so pretty, and here he had her tucked against his chest with his touch warming her. There was something to be said about the sparks flittering through his system, the ripples reminiscent of the magic that was a part of his being. It was easy to give in to the moonbeam that had accidentally just stepped on his toes. 

"What?!" she bubbled off, standing on her tiptoes when she noticed he was too distracted to dance with her. 

Shaking his head, he brought his hand up and brushed a stray piece of hair that brushed the top of her cheekbone. "Nothing, darling." 

He swore he saw her eyes sparkle. 

—————

Harry didn't mind using magic to make his life easier in mundane ways, but this wasn't something he could use a flick of his wrist to fix. At least not without exposing both him and his sister to their entire neighborhood. 

"Come with me, darling. Let's go to the bathroom and see what we can do, yeah?" His grip on (Y/N)'s hand tightened as she wobbled on her feet trying to follow behind him. 

He could hear the murmured okay coming from behind him, her mournful voice indicative of the pout he was sure was on her lips. Even without looking behind him, he was sure her gaze was still stuck on the spill dripping down the front of her dress, brightly colored liquor and juice staining the creamy white of her costume. Someone had bumped her just right when she had her drink huddled between their chests, knocking her cup askew and sending the contents down her chest.

While Harry could simply snap his fingers and lift the stain from the fabric without even a single dot of the shockingly blue juice remaining, he knew that wasn't a wise choice, even in his tequila touched brain. Instead, he was forced to clench his fist to keep from instinctively raising his fingers with a spark of magic on the tips, and escort (Y/N) to the bathroom. While it seemed the patrons of the party had began to spread out, some finding refuge in the backyard as well as waves realizing there were snacks set out in the kitchen for them to munch on, the space was still packed beyond comfort. Harry knocked people out of the way as gently as he could, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's with a soft smile on his face. 

Making it to the restroom, he knocked with his ear pressed to the wood. When no response came with (Y/N) shuffling uncomfortably behind him, he forged forward, jumping back as soon as he saw a blonde on their knees with their companion's thighs spread and head thrown back. Gemma definitely did not need to know that happened in their bathroom. 

"Shit, sorry!" he blabbered out before swinging the door shut as quickly as he could, his grip on (Y/N)'s hand still tight. 

Turning around, he saw his wannabe witch looking with wide eyes and her mouth dropped in a small gap. Their eyes met for a moment, flicking back to the unassuming door that was the only shield between them and someone else's intimate moment before matching once more. 

It was (Y/N) that cracked first, a choked laugh snapping from her lungs before she was melting into her giggles with her eyes fluttering closed. Harry couldn't help but to follow suit, the embarrassing moment combining with the amount of alcohol in his system to draw out a matching set of laughter.

"Did they even see you?" (Y/N) got out, doubling over with her forehead pressing into Harry's chest. He could feel her warmth through the sheer fabric covering his torso, only the piping of the spiderweb motif stitched through the mesh separating them. 

"I don't think so," Harry breathed out, his nose brushing the strands of her hair as he curled into her, "And I think the one on the floor was dressed like a Minion. I feel like that should be illegal."

His extra details only served to steal (Y/N)'s breath further as she succumbed to her laughter and all but fell into Harry's arms. It was ridiculous, the whole situation, but Harry only laughed as much as he did because he couldn't help but feel infected by her energy. Her reaction was his favorite part. 

As she slowly caught her breath, Harry ducked down with his lips hovering by her ear. "We still need to get y'cleaned up, love," he reminded his moonbeam, "The only other bathroom is upstairs. Can I take y'up there with me?" 

She didn't hesitate before she was nodding her head, unfurling herself from around him though neither of their goofy smiles dissipated. Along with her grip on his hand, (Y/N) reached to grab for the hem of his top in her fist, keeping close as he escorted her to the stairs leading up. 

Despite being only a floor above and hallway away from the noise, the second floor felt significantly more peaceful that the party raging on below. Luckily, no one seemed to have dared to go above and peek around the bedrooms for anywhere to conduct their own private times, leaving his bedroom free and clear for him to take (Y/N) to the adjoining bathroom. 

It wasn't until he was pushing open the unassuming white door that he remembered how not normal he had the space. While he and Gemma were considered to be apart of a very modern generation of those who were gifted with the Craft, that didn't mean he didn't appreciate the aesthetic and traditions of the past. That was why his room could be considered something of a lair if Gemma got to teasing him. 

Heavy drapes covered his available walls, blocking out the asylum white painting the plaster with ornate weavings of star maps and whirling designs baring crests and traditional scenes unique to his home coven. Shelves were nailed to the walls with bookcases propped up on either side of his potion table, the planks of purple painted wood holding volumes and tomes of spell books, diaries of witches before him, and his own detailings of magical happenings he planned on passing to his own coven when he formed one. In between the clusters of books were vials and flasks, tubes and containers all holding various ingredients to his most used potions. While they weren't readily available at a Whole Foods or farmer's markets, his shelves were still stocked to the brim of newt's tongue, friar's goo, and pixie clippings. Some bottles were glowing in the low light, others boiling without any heat beneath, and the rest standing atop the wood with clear views as to what was held inside. His bed had been an afterthought in the design process, leaving the mattress to float from the floor with the help of an incantation after Harry didn't feel like picking out a proper frame and boxspring to go along with the bedding. He hadn't planned on inviting anyone to his bedroom, so he didn't bother to will away any of the less than mortal items dotted throughout. 

Making a point to slow himself down with a calculated trip over his own feet, Harry flicked his fingers with a mumbled incantation under his breath. The vials were now replaced with the illusion of wildflowers and different decorations filling the glasses, his spellbooks guised as classics, and bed now held up with he help of a cherry-wood frame. The glamour rippled into place just in time as (Y/N) stumbled in beside him.

"Are you okay?" she giggled out, her attention solely on him after his fake stumble. 

"'M alright, yeah," he agreed with a breathy laugh, "Jus' drank a little more than I thought, I guess." 

(Y/N) accepted his explanation readily with a giggling nod of her head. Pulling her along with him, Harry showed her to the bathroom, opening the door with a flourish. Working together, they came up with a drunken plan to try to wipe the stain out using some soap and washcloths he had stored under his sink. All it took was a few swipes over the soaked stains to realize they weren't going to get too far with this method. 

"Do you have bleach or something we could put on it?" (Y/N) murmured with a furrowed brow, her hands holding the top of her costume taut as she worked on the bust, and Harry the skirt. 

"Not while it's on you," he told her absently, making a conscious effort to keep from using his magic to buff away the electric blue on her dress. Harry didn't realize she'd stopped her efforts until he looked up from where he was wiping away with a still pristine—though soapy—flannel, (Y/N) no longer matching his buffing. "What?" he asked when he matched her gaze. 

"Do you have anything I can wear while we bleach it?" 

Harry blinked as he processed her question. She wanted to wear his clothes?

"Are y'sure, love? 'S gonna take a while to get the stain out even with bleach, and we'd still have to rinse and dry it. 'S already really late." 

Her answer came with the help of a shrug. "It's already, like, one a.m. anyway. What's a few more hours?" 

A smile grew on his features at her nonchalance. She was cute.

"Alright," he said, standing to the full of his height, "I'll grab y'something and y'can get changed while I take your stuff to the laundry. That alright?" 

The perky nod she gave him was enough to have him backing out of the bathroom with his dimples poking into the apples of his cheeks. Harry gazed through rose-tinted glasses as he rifled through his dresser, looking for his softest sweats and most comfortable top to let her wear while he feigned the act of running her costume through the wash (now that he suggested the timeframe, he kind of had to stick to it despite the fact he was going to have the stain out in two seconds flat with a quick spell). Landing on a pair of emerald green sweatpants and a slouchy black top, he returned to the bathroom to find (Y/N) untwisting her hair from the ornate clip she had stashed in the strands. 

"Thank you!" Her voice was a chirp as she smiled up at him, the clothes being bundled to her chest after taking them from his offered hand. "I'll be out in a second, H." 

The dazed nod of his head came just before she shut the door to give herself some privacy in his bathroom. Harry didn't even think before he was sinking into the edge of his bed, gaze stitched to the jamb of the door to watch for any changes in the sliver of light peeking through, any sign of her coming back to him. 

Before tonight, Harry had thought she was pretty, sure. He wanted to get to know her, of course, but he couldn't say his attraction went further than the pretty face that was presented to him every time he picked up his sister, especially with only a few stories here and there shared by Gemma that explained some of the sweet character that made up (Y/N). But after this, getting to know her while she danced with him, flirting and playing while giving up tidbits of herself and the life she had outside of that yoga class, Harry could feel the cocoon of butterflies infiltrating his stomach. 

This was one of Gemma's friends Harry could understand where she was coming from with her attempts to fend him off and away from her. She was entirely too good for him, he was realizing. Even with her drunken mouth, not once had a soured word left her lips. Her unfiltered thoughts were just as kind and bubbly and Gems had talked her up to be. 

But, while he could understand he may not be the kind of perfection that should be gifted to a woman like (Y/N), that didn't mean he wasn't going to try anyway. Part of lacking perfection meant he made up for it with a smidge of selfishness. 

The second (Y/N) was twisting the knob and pushing the door open, Harry rose to his feet, ready to dote on her and fix every problem she might present to him. Dressed in his dark clothing, seeing the fabric adorning her body was a stark contrast to the creams and pastels he'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, especially compared to the ethereal white dress she'd had draped over her the whole night. 

Emerald green sweats dragged over the stained hardwood under her feet as she stepped out of the bathroom, the wad of white and blue fabric balled up against her chest while her hair had been clipped back, the twist refined and cleaner than how she'd had it tied back before. Her makeup wasn't quite as perfect as he was sure it had been at the start of the night, the shine of her skin peeking through the layer of powders and pigments she had distributed with her lashes losing the high curl he'd met her with. But, Harry liked those peeks at the less-than-perfect (Y/N) beneath; he liked every version of her. 

"Thank you, again, Harry," (Y/N) sighed, the glassy lacquer over her eyes shining in the low light of his bedroom, "You're sure it's alright if I stick around until my clothes are clean?" 

"Of course," he answered on instinct, canting his head to the side, "We'll jus' have to stay up here and hide, I think. I hear some people around here are real sticklers about having a costume." 

Catching the joke at her expense with the way she had reacted at Mitch not having dressed up, (Y/N) let out a peal of laugher, boosting his ego at the high reaction to his mid-level joke. When she leveled out, though her eyes were still creased and squinted at the width of her smile, she placed a gentle hand on his arm that effected his balance more than he would have liked to admit. "It's alright if I crash in your room then? I promise as soon as my stuff is done, I'll be right out, though!"

"More than alright with that, darling. Y'don't need to worry about rushing out, either," he cemented, the words sounding a lot dreamier than he meant, "I was getting tired down there, anyway. And we can actually talk up here; 's quiet." 

(Y/N)'s features softened at the mention of her taking her time with him, getting a moment to stay and speak with him without a time limit. 

With her looking up at him like that, it took effort for him to excuse himself with her stained costume in hand, keeping up the facade of depositing it in the laundry room and working to get the stain out with all the bleach and detergent he had. He left his room with slow steps, more than one glance tossed over his shoulder as he saw her venture towards his glamoured bookshelf. A look of wonder crossed her face when he was sure she wasn't aware he was watching. 

It was that vision that tided him over as he trekked to the laundry room, following the motions until he reached the space. Forgoing the bleach and whatever else she figured he would use to help resurrect the fabric, Harry only brushed the pads of his fingers over the electric blue stain, a warmth following after as the incantation muttered under his breath took effect. Before his eyes, the blue sucked itself in, reducing the long draw that started on the bodice of her dress and down to the mid of her skirt until it was nothing more than a tiny dot on the waist that flickered away in a blink. In pristine condition, Harry plucked at the dress by the shoulders and held it up. 

Perfect. 

In order to maintain the facade, he carefully hung up the garment in the laundry room, figuring he at least had another hour to spend with a quick break between so he could pretend to throw the dress into the dryer. The time it took him to make his way to the laundry room had been cut in half on his way back, eager to return to the wannabe witch in his quarters. 

Pushing open the slightly cracked door, he found (Y/N) on his bed with one of his vials in hand and a book splayed open on the mattress. She looked up at him with bright eyes when she realized he had returned. 

While his illusions were strong, able to trick the eye of even the most skeptical of witches, that didn't mean they could hold up against someone digging their fingers through the veil. The spell could only do so much when whoever was gazing upon it went looking for answers. 

"Harry!" she bubbled off, practically bouncing in her spot with the mattress creaking underneath. 

"W-What are y'looking at, love?" he asked her, voice cautious as he took measured steps towards her. While she didn't seem particularly disturbed by what she found, he didn't want to spook her if she happened to be teetering on the edge. 

"One of those books on your shelf," she smiled, pointing at a passage on the worn page in front of her, "You really go all out, don't you?" 

Crawling onto the bed beside her, Harry peered over her shoulder at the book. A spell for how to grow a witch's garden, complete with a guide for the best seeds for beginners and an illustration with different critters growing out of a soiled plot. This was a good one; he used this one a lot in college when he was too broke to go out and get his potion ingredients. It had been hard to hide from Mitch before he knew, though.

"What do you mean?" Harry pressed, feeling sober as he sussed out where she was coming from. 

"For Halloween," she stated, a 'duh' tone to her words, "With all your decorations, I mean. Where did you even find something like this?" 

Harry deflated on the spot when he realized she thought this was all apart of his costume, his commitment to the holiday stretching as far as filling his bedroom. "Oh yeah," he sighed, a gently nod of his head having his curls swaying around his face, "'S my favorite time of year, what can I say." 

"I can tell," (Y/N) laughed, turning the page of the book with a vial of lavender's blood in her hand, "It's like a witch's lair in here. All you're missing is one of those big pots." 

"A cauldron?" Only the head of the coven had one of those. 

"Yes, that! Where they make all their potions and cook kids for dinner, and everything." The way (Y/N) muttered those details, her words could have been taken as fact. If he got far enough, he knew he would have a lot of fun dispelling all of the myths floating around her pretty head. 

"I'll have to think of that for next year. Definitely not really selling the whole witch thing without it, am I?" Propping himself up beside her with a hand sinking into the mattress behind him, Harry settled into his spot. With (Y/N)'s shoulder exposed thanks to the slouchy nature of the shirt he gave her, he felt himself begin to float off in his thoughts.

He wondered what she would taste like if he stole a kiss on the cuff of her exposed shoulder. 

"I don't know," she mused, the sound of her voice pulling him out of his head, "I think you sold it really well. Even without that pot thing, you've got that thing about you."

"I do?" he pressed, feeling all too satisfied at the peek into her thoughts about him.

"Yeah, it's like... I don't know what to call it," she started, her voice falling to a lower volume as her brows pinched together, "Is it an aura? Or is it a—" 

Her explanation was cut off as soon as she turned her head to face him, her mouth dropping into a gap when she realized just how close he'd come to her. The tangle of her lashes could be seen up close now that he wasn't hindered by the colored lights from downstairs or the obstacle of distance. If he could, Harry would have sat here all night counting her lashes and recounting them three times over just to be sure. Anything to keep him close. 

But, right now, his main focus was the pout of her gaped lips. 

"What were y'saying, love?" he prodded, absently bringing his free hand up to cradle the soft of her cheek. He could have sworn he felt the skin heat under his palm. 

"Um," she hummed, her gaze flicking between his own before skating down the bridge of his nose and the hills of his Cupid's bow, "I don't know, actually." 

"My aura?" he offered though he didn't even really listen to what he was saying. 

Recognition flickered in her irises for just a moment before it was melted away in favor of letting something much warmer and honey-dipped to take it's place. Again, there was that circuit she ran from his eyes, to his nose, and down to the pout of his lips. Oh, a quick detour to the small mole that was stationed just off to the side of his mouth. 

"Yeah, that," she muttered, shifting in her spot to give him the full of her attention with the book forgotten for the time being, "I like your's. It makes me feel... warm. It's nice." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, tilting his head to the side just so, "'M nice? I like your aura too, honey. 'S very sweet; giving me butterflies if 'm being honest." 

"I am?" she asked, her features lighting up as she stilled with her gaze matching his. 

"Mhm," Harry hummed, a grin stretching across his features, "You've got me bad, darling, I can't lie. Been wanting to get to know y'since I picked up Gem that first time. You're so pretty, I couldn't get y'off my mind." 

When the tip of his nose nudged against hers, Harry felt a bit smug when he heard the hitch in her breath. His hold on her cheek solidified into a grounding touch, ensuring he was right here with her and he had her just where he wanted. In the same moment he opened his mouth to ask the same question he'd had on his mind since he saw her outside of the yoga studio, he was cut off by the sound of his wannabe witch's voice. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

It was a no-brainer, the way he reacted. Not only was she the sweetest thing in the world asking him for a kiss, but she'd read his mind completely. Maybe she did have some power in her, if she'd read him so clearly. 

Tipping his head, Harry pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. The lingering essence of alcohol was the first taste he picked up from her skin before he was washed away with the flavor of the remnants of her lip gloss she'd started the night with. Notes of hot cocoa with whipped cream had him smiling into the kiss, the slight grit of glitter touching at his own lips.

"Hot chocolate?" he murmured against her lips, unterrupting himself with another taste of her soft lips. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, the noise almost a throwaway as she brought her hands to cradle his face, the vial of lavender's blood rolling somewhere across his bed. At least he had a cork in it. 

"Your lip gloss. 'S hot chocolate, isn't it?" 

(Y/N)'s mouth erupted into a smile that matched his own, only falling when she had to pucker to give him something real to taste. "Oh yeah," she sighed with amusement tinting the words, "I forgot about that, sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, love," he said, going in for another smattering of kisses, the soft sounds of the contact filling his room. "I like it." 

She all but melted at his admission, Harry being the only thing that kept her steady as she fell into him. Mindful of the fact the both of them had been drinking tonight, (Y/N) seemingly a tiny bit more effected still, he maneuvered himself to lay back onto his bed with a bounce of the mattress. He pulled (Y/N) to lay atop him, her torso pressed against his while their legs tangled together side-by-side over his duvet. 

Slotting his lips between her own, Harry got to taste her mouth and a swipe of her tongue. As much as he wanted to explore more, taste more, learn more, he left her to tease him with those disappearing licks from the tip of her tongue and wet kisses delivered to his lips. It was more than enough to feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest from how tightly they were pressed together. 

"Harry?" she asked after who knows how long of their only communication coming in the form of lingering kisses.

"Hm?"

"How much longer do you think for my clothes?" 

Harry hummed with a growing smile. He feigned deep thought as he pulled away just enough to graze the corner of her mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the apple of her cheek. "We have time." 

—————

"Did you sleep with her?" 

Harry rolled his eyes as soon as he heard his sister's voice in the kitchen. He had been hoping he woke up early enough to avoid her. 

"No, Gemma." 

"So why is her costume in the laundry room and she's in your bed?" 

He was too hungover for this. 

"She spilled something on her dress, and then we jus' talked in my room until she fell asleep. I swear on mum's spellbook that we didn't have sex." He looked her in the eye as he made his promise, raising a brow to see if she would bother to argue with him. 

For the first time since moving away from the coven, Harry saw his sister give in. With a flutter of her eyes that he swore were identical to their mother's, she took her metaphorical step back. 

"Sorry," she offered, shaking her head as she picked up another discarded ghoul cup, "I think I'm in a bad mood this morning." 

"'S alright," Harry told her, meaning the sentiment, "I get it, you know. After really meeting her, I get why you've been a little protective." 

Gemma brightened up at the roundabout way he had admitted she was right. "Yeah? Doesn't she kind of remind you of C—" 

"Colleen," he finished for her, referencing one of the sweetest women of their coven. The resident healer and brightest of their little family. Despite being closer to one hundred than Harry could imagine living, she never lost that starry sparkle or softened heart. 

"A younger, not as nosy version, but she's definitely a little like Colleen." 

Harry agreed with a hum as he jerked his chin to commanded the butter he'd pulled from the fridge to spread across his toast, extra slices for (Y/N) included. "I promise 'm not trying to mess anything up, Gems, really. We talked a lot last night, and she ended up falling asleep, that's all. But, if she'll let me, I do want to take her out." Harry paused, shuffling his feet with his gaze falling to the kitchen island. "Is that alright?" 

"You don't have to ask me for permission to date anyone," Gemma stated, shaking her head with a twist to her lips, "I'm sorry I've been hard on you about all of that stuff. I think I'm just missing mum a lot, so I'm trying to be like her as if that'll be the same, so I'm sorry about that. Whatever you do, as long as you're happy, I'm fine with it." 

It was unspoken the way Harry offered her a hug with his opened arms, Gemma wrapping her own around his middle when she was close enough. As much as they loved to argue, Harry would do anything for his sister; there was no one else he'd rather try out this suburb experiment with. 

A silence that felt alot like the kind that used to fill their home with the coven settled over the party-torn kitchen. Running a hand over her spine, Harry tightened his hug just before loosening and pulling away enough to catch her reaction to his next works. 

"I think (Y/N) knows, though. About the witch thing." 

"What?!" 

—————

Harry squeezed (Y/N)'s hand in his own as he followed the directions she'd given him to take her home. In his passenger seat, she was still clad in her borrowed clothes, slouching shoulder prevailing with her skin shining the morning light.

"I had the weirdest dream last night," (Y/N) started, sounding much too chipper for a night of drinking and the fact the time was still before noon. 

"Yeah? What was it?" Harry pressed, hoping he sounded as interested as he actually was despite the lack of energy under his skin. 

"Well, you were—I don't even know how to describe it," she muttered, stumbling over her ideas though Harry was very much stuck on the idea of him starring in one of her dreams. Even if it was weird. "I guess you were a kind of witch or something," (Y/N) picked up, her choice of words getting Harry's eyes widening before schooling his features. 

"Really? What was I doing?" 

"You had one of those spell books you had on your shelf, but it was real," (Y/N) bubbled off, sounding sweetly enthused at her imagination, "You were showing me all these potions, and there was this black cat following you, and then things got kind of weird but you were still a witch." 

"What got weird?" Harry pressed, his brows pinching as he took another instructed turn from his GPS.

"Well," she pitched, messy hair falling around her face, "Your black cat turned into some kind of squid or something and started inking all over the place and I kept trying to get the stains out and no one would help me. I had to wake myself up before I got too upset." 

The laughter that puffed from Harry's chest was incredulous as he listened to her recount the tale with conviction behind it. "'M sorry I didn't help you, love," he offered, bringing their joined hands to his lips with a kiss pressed to the back of hers, "I promise I'll help y'if m'cat ever turns into a squid, alright?" 

While his smile lingered on his face, Harry could tell the tone shifted when he pulled up in front of (Y/N)'s apartment building. Silence settled over the car. 

"Har—"

"So, I—" 

(Y/N) cut herself off with a jump while Harry immediately snapped his mouth closed to let her go first. It only took a nod of encouragement on his end and a squeeze of her hand to have (Y/N) taking the opportunity to speak. 

"I was just going to say that, I know we kissed and everything already, last night," she started, a beep breath filling her lungs in the middle when her gaze dropped to her hand in his, "But, I was wondering if you might want to go out, still? I get it if this was just a little party-thing, but—um—" 

"Are you asking me on a date?" Harry couldn't help the smug curl of his lips, a dimple thumbing into his cheek. 

With a shake of her head, gaze still down, (Y/N) rolled her eyes though the motion lacked grit with a tender smile on her lips. "I guess so. You don't have to sound so sure of yourself, though." 

"Me? Smug and cocky? I don't see it," he teased, leaning across the center console until he only had to speak in a gentle tone for her to hear, "If 'm not too sure of myself for you, I would love to take y'out, honey. It would be a bit of a bummer if we have to tell people our first date was jus' us making out in m'bedroom after walking in on someone getting head in the bathroom." 

The bubbling laugh he pulled from her was one he wished he could commemorate somehow, make it into something he could wear with pride wherever he went. That was something he would be smug about, no questions asked. 

"I don't know, I don't think that sounds that bad," she played along, chancing a look through the fan of her lashes, "But—um—I don't have to work on Friday, so maybe we could go to dinner or something?" 

"Got anywhere special in mind?" he asked, a lilt to his tone. 

Her messy hair fluttered with a nod of her head. "Kind of. There's this place downtown that's pretty good, but it's two doors down from this shop that has all of these 'witchy' things, so we could go there, too, if you haven't been yet." 

"I don't think I have," Harry smiled, the curl lopsided, "Y'gonna take me and show me how it all works?" 

The way she lit up at his gentle words had dangerous implications. If she wasn't careful, Harry was going to keep her forever. 

"Maybe, they even have a cauldron to go in your room next year." 

"We can only hope." 

He couldn't help but to kiss her then. The scent of hot cocoa and sparkle of glitter stained his mouth all the way home. 

—————

I know this is late for a halloween fic but I really hope you guys still like it! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in !

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.