#maybe consider instead drinking a glass of water

[heavenlyraindrops]

☆ “ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

☆ She said “fuck me like I’m famous”| Chapter one

☆ Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, awkward!reader, reader is literally a hermit, no established relationship, not proofread, porn with like a drop of plot, they get slightly awkward after doing it but it’s ok <3 ☆ Word Count: 3.3k | Available on Tumblr & AO3

“Out? For dinner?”

You tore your eyes from your phone to look at Ami, who was watching Chiho roll around on the floor, immersed in whichever new game of pretend she had devised.

“Yes, dinner,” she repeated, then turned to look at you. “I’m meeting a… friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And it would do you some good to meet new people, and to get out more.” She raked her eyes over you, from your baggy clothes to messy updo. 

“What’s that meant to mean? I get out plenty often. I’m out right now with you, aren’t I?”

“‘Chilling out’ at my house twice every week isn’t exactly going out, [name],” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she stood up, stepping towards the kitchen. “You’re like a hermit.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Maybe that’s how I like it.”

You heard water trickling as it filled up her glass, and her voice drift down towards where you were sitting. “I tend to wonder if I’m your only friend.”

At those words you stiffened, eyes opening wide and shooting up, back straight. “What? Friends?” You spluttered. “I have friends. I have plenty of friends. You’re not my only friend.” The words tumbled out of you hastily, and then you paused, flashing her a charming smile, trying to distract her. “You’re just my favourite one!”

She rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “Well, you have awful taste.” She handed you a drinks can. Your favourite.

“Hardly,” you uttered

“Just- you focus on work too much, okay? You need to find balance.” She took your palm, uncurling your fingers and placing the cold can in your hand. “Just come to this dinner.”

“…Fine.” You dug your finger under the tab, trying to get it open. “Who even is this friend, anyways?”

“Kenji Sato.”

You stared at her.

She must have mistaken your silence and blank stare for shock, or stupor instead of a reaction to what you considered to be an underwhelming statement, because she just sat back, letting her words sink in. They did, not that they meant much to you.

“Who?” You said blankly.

She blinked, then leaned forward. “Uh, Ken Sato? The really famous baseball player?”

You took a slow sip of the drink- the carbonation danced on your tongue. “No idea who that is. I don’t follow baseball.”

“You don’t follow anything,” she pointed out. “You’re completely out of the loop.”

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “Just- look, is he someone I should be impressed with? Like, am I-“

“I’ve mentioned him once,” Ami cut in. “Played in the States, moved to Japan suddenly? I was wondering why, and mentioned it to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you weren’t listening.”

“No no, I was,” you said quickly, then frowned, furrowing your brow. “Wait, didn’t you interrogate him, once? Twice?”

“Thrice,” she corrected you. “And it's called an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Same thing,” you said indignantly, with another gulp of ice cold carbonated sugar. “And you’re sure he’s just a friend.” You eyed her, testing her for any telltale signs on her face suggesting otherwise.

She simply stared at you, unimpressed. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching out the vowel, rolling it along your tongue. You stopped. “Okay, fine, I’ll come to your dinner thing.”

“Yes!” She said, sounding a bit too relieved. You stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m so glad you’re finally-“ she cut off with an excited, pleased noise. 

You looked at her, concern for yourself creeping into your expression. “Am I really that-“

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Now, please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night-“

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, do you have plans?” She didn’t wait for an answer, because she already knew it. “No? Thought so. Please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night, because it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh huh,” you said slowly.

“I wonder if you even remember how to behave in a social setting,” she mused, and you smacked her shoulder. 

That night when you got home and flopped down on your bed, pulling out your phone, your finger hovered over the search bar.

What was his name?

Kenji Sato.

You were typing in the words before you even realized it, and seeing the images, you froze.

Oh. 

Shoving down any sort of deranged thoughts that could have been formulating in your head, you buried your face into your pillow and tried to fall asleep.

-

“[name]!”

“Ami!” You stuttered. Ami came towards you, eyes lighting up as she took in your appearance.

“You look really different,” she said, taking in your appearance. “Really pretty.”

You didn’t often wear clothes that were form-fitting or flattered your figure, but you’d decided that since it was a dinner with basically a celebrity, you might as well have put in some extra effort into your looks. 

“Thanks,” you said, as she led you through the restaurant doors and to your table. Pausing, she turned to look at you. 

“You look sick,” she frowned. “And nervous.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe this really was a bad idea. I should have know you can’t handle-“

“No!” You almost burst out. “No, I mean, I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just meeting a new person, right?” 

She nodded hesitantly, still frowning at you.

“Right. So, not a big de-“

“Hey, Ami.”

You froze, shoulders stiffening.

“Kenji.” Ami turned to him. You still hadn’t looked at him yet, eyes fixed desperately on Ami’s face. “This is [name]. Name, this is-“

“Ken Sato.” He held out his hand to you, to shake. You stared at his long fingers, then slowly looked up to his face. He was wearing this easy, charming grin. Your knees almost buckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “N-nice to meet you.” You both held your stare a few seconds longer than you needed to. 

He raised a dark brow, and you could have sworn his expression had flickered with amusement before he turned back to Ami. “And here I was worried I was late.” He waved you both on towards the table, where you took your seats.

Ami was looking at you, frowning. You gave her a wobbly smile back. 

Oh, fuck this.

-

“So, what did you say you work as, [name]?” 

Kenji’s voice snapped you out of your haze, and you looked up at him, eyes widening. “Oh, I’m an, uh, I’m an author.” You stared hard at your food, then looked back up at him to gauge his reaction. 

He just leaned back against his chair. “Cool.” His eyes were set on yours. You flushed. “What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Uh,” your eyes slid to Ami, who was looking at you expectantly. “Romance, mostly.” The confession made your cheeks burn but you were too much of a mess to lie smoothly, not that it had even occurred to you in the first place- and Ami would have teased you about it later.

But Kenji just formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth, then smirked. “That’s cute.”

“Is it?” You had to fight to not make your voice sound like a squeak. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food like it was nothing. 

He’d said it so casually that Ami hadn’t even noticed, instead pouring herself more of her drink and commenting on how Kenji had healed up. You blinked, confused, and turned as he held his arm out, flexing it.

“Yeah, quicker than I thought,” he said. You could see the faint outline of his muscles through the fabric and were so prepared to just jump out the window, then and there. He must have caught you staring because, without turning his head, he locked eyes with you and fucking winked.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together and trying to ignore every instinct in your body screaming at you to throw yourself across the table. “You got hurt?”

He dropped his arm back to his side, rolling his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s fine now though.”

You didn’t press any farther, just eating your food in flushed silence, trying to ignore the burning you could feel in between your thighs. 

-

“How’d you get here, [name]?” Ami asked. You stared desperately at your phone screen.

“Cab,” you muttered, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck. The app was empty. “But there aren’t any available.”

You checked the time. Half past eleven. You shivered, the night air biting at your skin. Ami looked at you, concerned. “Should I drop you?”

“No. No.” Guilt ate away at your gut. “No, you need to get home to Chiho, and I’m in the completely opposite direction- it’s not worth it.” You stepped back, and you could feel Kenji look over your shoulder at your screen. He leaned down to your level, breath warm on your ear. You shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’ll just wait until something shows up.”

“What’s your address?” He tilted his face slightly towards you, before pulling away. You stared at him, then frowned at him slightly, opening your mouth to reply, but Ami cut in.

“Look, I-“ she glanced at her watch. “I really need to go.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, [name].”

You waved her off. “Don’t be.”

And she was gone, her car rolling off. You looked back at Kenji, and quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling your address.

He tapped something into his phone, and his face twisted into a satisfactory grin. “It’s on the way to mine. So I’ll just drop you.” He started walking down the street.

You stumbled after him. “Oh- are you- are you sure?”

He turned, walking backwards, in the same direction but facing you know as he shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Better than waiting around in the cold for a ride.”

“R-right.” 

He led you to where a motorbike was parked, and you blinked. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”

He shrugged his blue biker’s jacket off, and without warning, draped it over your shoulders. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“I… don’t know.” Your face was burning at the action. “Are you sure…” you fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

He waved his hand at it dismissively. “Take it. You look cold.”

You fell silent. Then: “I don’t have a helmet.”

He reached into a compartment, pulling one out. “Spare. For situations like this, I guess. Comes in handy.”

“Situations like this?” You echoed, as he stepped towards you, setting the helmet down over your head and fastening it tight. Your heart was going a million miles a minute.

“When I have to make sure a pretty girl like you gets home, obviously,” he said casually, but the look on his face betrayed his nonchalant tone. He clambered onto the bike. “Come on, then. Get on.”

You blinked, face burning even harder than before, but did as he told you to. 

-

“Thanks. For taking me home, I mean.” 

He looked up at you as you pulled the helmet off your head, imitating the action himself. A strand of hair fell in front of his forehead. “Don’t think about it,” he shrugged, and your grip on the helmet tightened as you clutched it to your chest. 

“Oh, but I will.” You dropped your voice to a husky whisper, and watched his jaw clench. Oh thank you god, I remember how to flirt. Kind of. 

Now it was his turn to become flustered, as he gave you another grin, shaky this time. “Really?” He asked, voice hoarse. You stepped back, towards your house.

“You should come inside,” you suggested. “It’s not that late.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s almost midnight,” he laughed, but didn’t object to your offering, licking his lips nervously. You paused your walk up towards your front door, turning and looking at him expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, abandoning the bike and walking towards you. Your stomach exploded into a flurry of butterflies as you both hurried towards your front door. 

-

You bit back a whimper as his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with a hunger you hadn’t been met with before. The door hadn’t even shut before his hands were on your waist, dragging you close to him- and then it was, and he pinned you against it, your back pressing into the ridges of the wood. 

He pulled away, both of your breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact unwavering. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry- I should have- I should have asked.”

You were barely able to move your mouth, shaking your head lightly. “It’s fine,” you breathed, and his eyes flicked back down to your lips, grip on your waist tightening. “You didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re-“ he choked on his own words. “You’re pretty.” 

You didn’t have time to respond before his mouth was capturing yours again, heat burning all over as one of his hands wandered to grip your nape, holding you steady. His teeth grazed your lip and you gasped, but he pulled away, pressing kisses all the way down your jaw and collarbone, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. His other hand fell from your waist to hip, pressing you close up against him, and heat pooled in your core. 

“Ken,” you managed to whisper weakly through the dizzying haze clouding your mind. He paused, teeth pressed against your skin, and he leaned back up to you, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear, humming. “Are you sure this is a g-good idea?” Your voice was shaking. He frowned, pulling away, and his fingers dug into your hips. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” His voice was husky with desire, eyes trained on your every movement. You could feel his breath on your skin. You opened your mouth, searching for a reason, but couldn’t find any. He trailed his fingers down your neck, brushing over the marks, to the collar of your top, tugging at it. “Come on.”

You stumbled after him, shedding the jacket, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, and he pulled you down onto the couch with him, hands on your waist. You fell into his lap, straddling him. He grinned. “Still can’t find a reason?”

“…No.”

“Then just relax,” he told you, lips still pressed against your jaw, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your top. “Because I’m about to make you feel really good.”

At his words you bit back a moan, sucking in a harsh breath as you bit your lip, involuntarily rolling your hips against him. He hissed, tipping his head back. You were certain his hands were going to leave marks everywhere they touched, feeling them dig into your hips as you dove onto his neck, suckling and biting, anything to repay the affection he’d shown you earlier.

His hand fisted your hair, gently but firmly tugging you back and away. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Just let me do my thing, okay?”

You looked at him, confused, and slightly hurt, until he quickly pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I said I’d make you feel good, so just sit back and let me, got it?”

You didn’t argue with him, not when he flipped you around so that your back was pressed against the couch, or when he sank to his knees, pushing your legs open, letting out a shaky breath as your skirt hiked right up your thighs. 

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re wet,” he teased, his hot breath hitting your skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you shiver, then another, each one lasting longer before the one before, leaving marks littering all over your inner thighs. You bit your lip- the mere sight of his face in between your legs was enough to get you dripping, even more than you were before, and he seemed to notice, because he let out an amused chuckle.

“Wh-what?” Your voice was broken, and hitched when he pressed his thumb to your clothed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure into your cunt. He smirked at your reaction. 

“Nothing,” he murmured, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging them slowly down your legs. Your teeth pressed down on your bottom lip harder. His eyes flicked up to meet your expression. “What? Nervous?” 

You didn’t reply, just shaking, and he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips back against your inner thigh as his expression softened. “Don’t be, baby.” His lips curled back into his signature grin. “I told you you could relax, remember?”

You flushed, and nodded.

Without warning, he dove in, lips pressing down on your clit. You whimpered, not even enough time to react before his tongue licked a long strip up your entrance, making you twitch and spasm, throbbing pleasure aching. Your legs instinctively pulled together but he forced them back apart, tongue tracing slow patterns across your bundle of nerves, eyes hooded with lust as he watched your flinch and gasp. 

You let out a broken whimper of his name, and felt him tense under you- but he didn’t stop his movements, slipping his tongue in between your folds, stretching you out with his fingers. You bucked your hips, but he grabbed your hip with his other hand, pinning you down to keep you from moving. “Shhh,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations into your core. You let out a desperate moan- it took everything in you to not desperately start grinding against his face. He chuckled slightly at your pitiful state, turning his attention back to your dripping cunt, slipping a finger inside. Your back arched, hand flying to your mouth to clamp over it. A finger slipped inside, curling to hit that sweet spot- you almost saw stars.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

He simply hummed at your words, the vibrations of his voice sending another shockwave through you, lapping at you like he was hungrier than before, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. You knew what he was saying.

Go on. Cum. 

And you did, a broken cry of his name slipping past your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, legs shaking as he drew out your high for as long as possible. And when you finally came down he pushed himself up, towards you, capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. 

You could see the shaky movements of his chest as he breathed heavily, feel his boner pressed up against you, his face flushed and burning to the touch. You pulled away. 

“Are you… shoud I…” You reached for his zipper, despite the fact your voice was heavy with fatigue but he just shook his head, laughing breathlessly.

“No, no, I… don’t worry about me.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll just- where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the corridor, first door on the left,” you mumbled, slumping back. He stood up, adjusting your head on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

You heard his footsteps hurry away and the door shut.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed, with you laying on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, when you heard his footsteps approach you again. You looked up at him drowsily.

“Hey.” Your voice was barely audible. “You should stay here for the night.”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t object, even when you waved him over to lay next to you. You settled on top of him, laying your head on his chest. His arm looped around your waist. 

“[name],” he muttered. You lifted your head. “Is this just a… one time thing?”

You tilted your head. “Do you want it to be?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

You smiled. “Me neither.”

☆ A/N: visit either the first tag or the pinned post to find the other chapters!

[starlightkyeom]

on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum. 

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home. 

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers. 

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says. 

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say. 

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees. 

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.” 

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo? 

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer. 

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.” 

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure. 

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble. 

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.” 

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses. 

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious. 

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.” 

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill. 

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear. 

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles. 

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes. 

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly. 

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules. 

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells. 

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes. 

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you. 

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll. 

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either. 

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything. 

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve. 

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters. 

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out. 

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you. 

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs. 

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine. 

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy. 

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal. 

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter. 

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel. 

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply. 

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too. 

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now. 

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns. 

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back. 

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs. 

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire. 

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits. 

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust. 

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses. 

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg. 

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more. 

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over. 

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high. 

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,”  you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers. 

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone. 

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh. 

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.” 

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say. 

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?” 

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time. 

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says. 

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place. 

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page. 

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around. 

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started. 

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment. 

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?” 

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear. 

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand. 

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.” 

“Of course not,” he says. 

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed. 

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you. 

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked. 

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble. 

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan. 

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out. 

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. 

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night. 

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.” 

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says. 

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says. 

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited. 

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird. 

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts. 

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?” 

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?” 

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.” 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.” 

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure. 

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings. 

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness. 

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake. 

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep. 

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says. 

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him. 

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge. 

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.” 

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply. 

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits. 

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.” 

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks. 

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation. 

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him. 

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit. 

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous. 

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug. 

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?” 

“I don’t know, a while,” he says. 

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.” 

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.” 

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool. 

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment. 

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.” 

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.” 

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural. 

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

[ennabear]

⭑ SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE ⋆˚ ༘ *

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ themes of jealousy, porn w/ plot, ellie is lowkey a bad gf (she makes up for it in the end i swear), hate sex w rockstar!ellie, dom!r, brat!ellie (heh, get it?), slapping + spanking, ruined orgasm, based on sympathy is a knife by charli xcx, somewhat projecting here because i’m an insecure overthinker oops, brat summer challenge entry for my oomfies, check out everyone else’s entries and consider joining the server!! fank yewwwwq!!! 18+

🍏 wc: 2.5k ++ divider creds

✮ don’t wanna see her backstage at my girlfriend’s show. ✮

the crowd was crushing you from all sides, a wave of sweaty, drunk strangers all packed tightly together. girls surrounding you were wearing short skirts and low-cut tops, all cheering for your girlfriend.

your girlfriend.

this was one of the cons of dating a rockstar, sure ellie made lots of money, sure you were her one and only muse, sure she only had eyes for you, didn’t she? but this enraged you, the way they all screamed at her like you weren’t even there. begging her to take her shirt off, play them a song, and especially the way she always followed their orders.

you sigh, turning around to squeeze to the back of the crowd, muttering a few ‘scuse me’s and ‘pardon’s. the smell of sweat and weed infects your lungs, causing you to cover your face with your elbow. stumbling over your feet, you finally land on a barstool, asking the bartender for a glass of ice water. ellie notices your absence, scanning the crowd for you, her gaze being met with thirsty glances all around.

the cool water soothes the rage boiling in your stomach ever so slightly. your heart is still pounding, hands shaking, feet tapping the floor. thoughts of self-hatred plague your mind at a million miles per hour, a wild voice that tears you completely apart…

“where the hell did you go?” ellie’s annoyed voice cuts through your mind. you jump.

“sorry,” you trail off. “i got too hot.”

“man… you should’ve seen the way those girls in the front row were screaming.” she beams, a glistening smile creeping up on her expression. “almost blew the fuckin’ roof off.”

you don’t respond to this, instead looking down into your drink and swirling the ice around with your straw. “you gonna come backstage?” she asks. “or sit here and pout.”

“i dunno, els. i’m kinda ti-” she cuts you off by pinching the apple of your cheek, grinning at you like you’re a trophy. a grammy, in her mind. “knew you’d say yes.”

another wave of rage crashes over you, a chill running down your spine. ellie’s tattooed hands grab your wrists, dragging you with her as if you’re a lost puppy. you don’t let it get to you though, letting it simmer as she drags you from the bar, and trying to ignore it once you slump onto the cracked leather couch.

maybe it’s just the sour mood you’re in, but the sudden change of environment makes your stomach churn. the paint chipping off of the walls makes your skin crawl, the lights surrounding the mirror are faded and yellow, the air in the room is stale and smells of body odor and piss. it’s uncomfortable all around.

ellie doesn’t notice this, of course. too lost in her own jabber about the show to pay any mind to you. a knock on the door halts your thoughts again. “ellie?” someone asks.

“yeah?” she calls back, throwing her shirt into her bag and lighting a cigarette.

“are ‘ya decent? i brought a few girls from the pit. they’re gonna kill me if you don’t open this door.”

your jaw falls open involuntarily. the audacity strikes you in your burning heart. the audacity. the audacity to shove other girls in ellie’s face while she barely even loves you.

once again, ellie pays no mind to this, swinging the door open and presenting her bare chest to the small group of girls peeking in from the hallway. your jaw clenches, you wish so badly she would say no for once. that she would forget about the fame and the money and take you on a god damn date.

in a moment of defeat, you cross your fingers behind your back. praying to some god, any god, that this moment ends soon. and with your luck, it doesn’t. you’re cramped in this small, crappy room, watching the love of your life converse with girls who are so much prettier than you.

and they’re so much prettier. they all have silky hair that cascades down their backs and and finishes with a little curl. expensive earrings and bracelets, full faces of completely untouched makeup, not even a single smudge or stain. shoes that cost more than your house, perfume that smells better than the bouquets of flowers ellie used to buy for you. you couldn’t even be them if you tried.

laughter breaks out between ellie and the girls. she nudges you in the side as a hint to start laughing along, but you bite your lip and look down, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. you can’t hear anything, so jealous you feel like you might faint.

ellie smiles and stands up, patting you on the knee as she does. you don’t follow, instead watching through blurred vision as she ushers the girls out of the door. tears fall from your eyes and you grimace, holding your head in your hands and starting to sob.

“do you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing in anger. you don’t respond. you can’t. how are you supposed to tell her you’ve been spiraling because she’s been eye-fucking other girls? when she hasn’t even kissed you in days? and when was the last time she said i love you? why hasn’t she noticed?

“hello?” she shouts. “what the fuck is going on with you? why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“why haven’t i been talking to you? i don’t know, maybe because you’re too busy feeling up other girls in front of me?” you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your eyeliner is streaming down your face, and suddenly your band tee and jeans feel improper.

“when’s the last time you’ve asked me about my day, ellie? i talk to you all the time. i help you write songs, i listen to you talk about your gigs, i clean your ass up when you come home drunk out of your mind.” you trail off, looking up at her to see a broken, almost confused look.

“you can’t at least pretend to appreciate the things i do for you?” she scowls, cornering you in the small dressing room. “you can’t even grit your teeth and fucking lie in front of my band? in front of my friends? i work my ass off providing for both of us and i don’t even get a thank you?”

“you don’t mean it…” you sob, absolutely sure that anyone outside of this room can hear the screaming match between you two. ellie scowls, your favorite green eyes are no longer soft and reassuring, but instead sharp. dangerous, almost.

“why do i have to share the space, ellie? did i do something wrong? did i-” you’re cut off by the door slamming shut. the mirror rattles behind you, shaking your reflection for a second.

what do you do now, sit here and cry? or will that only make it worse? a knock on the door soothes your racing heart. “you okay in there?” it was ellie’s assistant, the same guy who rounded up those girls earlier. “i- yeah?” your voice shakes as you answer. you go so cold.

he enters the room, sitting on the chair next to you. “we’re packing up the busses. you’d better hurry up before we leave you here.” how could you be mad at him? some sweet old guy who cares about you more than ellie does. you pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to form. “i don’t know if i belong here anymore.”

the comfort isn’t much, but you’ll take what you can get right now. you let a few tears fall, tear ducts already exhausted and drained. “don’t cry, kiddo. you’re both still young, she’s just going through something right now.��

somehow, this makes it worse. your cheeks heat up, that same anger stirring in your veins. “cmon, let me walk you out before they forget us both.” he laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exit through the back of the building.

ellie is waiting for you in her bus, wearing an old beat up tank top and some sweats. she refuses to meet your eyes, her newly reformed ego letting her think that she’s too good to give an apology. you quickly change clothes, replacing your band tee with a sports bra and scrubbing off your smudged eyeliner.

she comes up behind you as you wash your face, completely ignoring you as she picks up a pair of scissors and starts snipping at her shaggy hair. the bathroom suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in on you. “so you’re still too good for an apology?” you ask.

“sorry.” she mumbles monotonously.

you turn and look at her. no, you glare at her. the attitude she’s had lately is almost jarring. here your once sweet, loving girlfriend stands. neglecting you for months, complaining to her friends about you, making you cry, embarrassing you in front of everyone she knows. this isn’t like her at all.

that rage boils up inside of you again. red-hot, vicious anger that scorches your insides and washes over you like a violent midnight hurricane. before you can even think, the palm of your hand is smacking her at lightning speed. her jaw falls open involuntary, eyes piercing into you.

that felt good. so, so good. you wiped that smug off of her face real quick. with your hand still raised, you grab her by the neck of her shirt— ripping a hole into the thin, flimsy fabric— and bend her over the sink.

“this’s how you wanna treat me, huh?” you laugh, out of exhaustion or relief, you aren’t sure. her pants slip off as soon as you tug them down, palming her bush beneath her boxers before you snag them off too.

“i- i’m…” she stammers. “i’m sorr-!!” you cut her off, pulling her back by the roots of her hair.

“i’ll show you how it fucking feels.” you punctuate this by sending your hand down to slap her ass, leaving a glowing red handprint on her pale skin. she grips the sink, whining loudly at the smack but deciding not to talk back, she might make it worse.

“that hurt?” you tease, rubbing over the area you hit. ellie bites her lip, not wanting to admit that it stung. she heaves a sigh, muttering a quick no.“no? not yet? guess we’ll have to go harder.” you smirk evilly. she gasps at this, but it’s too late. now she’s wincing at the slap, back arching into you as you palm at her ass.

“please!!” she begs. “i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!!” tears roll down her face, she looks just as pathetic as you did back in that dressing room. “what would those other girls think if they saw you like this right now?”

she doesn’t answer, instead her cheeks turn a bright beet red. one of your hands lifts her head up by her hair, angling her face to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. she can’t help but gawk at her expression, tears rolling down her face, lips pink and sore from being chewed on.

“one more? or are you gonna apologize now.” her lips pull back into a grimace at the thought of getting another smack from one of your heavy hands.

“i’m sorry.” she admits shyly. “i’ve been an asshole. i’m sorry and i mean it.” you slide two fingers into her dripping hole as she spews out her apology. she groans, gripping onto your wrist that just released itself from her scalp.

the pleasure soon overtakes the pain, and the stinging of her ass goes almost numb as your fingers reach deeper than ever. her lips quiver as she tries to hold back her moans, cunt practically sucking your fingers in.

her eyes roll back into her head as you pound into her, slick dripping down your fingers and wrist. she looks pathetic like this. now her own makeup is smudged and runny, she’s the one begging for forgiveness. “ohh, god, please!! right there.” she sputters, eyebrows furrowing as she gets closer and closer to finishing.

it doesn’t take much to please her, with two fingers massaging her g-spot and your teeth in her neck, she’s about to cum her brains out. she doesn’t, though. as soon as you notice the telltale twitch of her thighs, you pull your fingers out. she groans at the loss, cunt squeezing and clenching, desperately trying to get off without you.

“is that how you like it now? being neglected and completely left in the dark?” her head shakes, she wants to scream at you for ruining this for her, but she knows deep down that she deserves it. “keep going, please. i swear i’ll be so good. isweariswearisw-” you yawn, helping her pull her boxers back on.

“i dunno, ellie. i’m not sure you deserve it yet.” you sigh. “plus, i’m kinda sleepy.” once she’s dressed, you turn to leave. sliding the door shut behind you and flopping onto the small bed in the back of the trailer.

ellie takes a second to sit and think, and now she really realizes what she’s done. that her ego and crave for fame has gotten in the way of her love. as soon as your hands left her body, it was like she could feel herself losing you in real time.

the faucet squeaks as she turns the handle, splashing some cold water on her cheeks, and it mixes with her tears. what if you leave her? what if you leave her and it’s her fault? what if you showed her countless signs that you were feeling unloved and she completely ignored it? did she do that? now it’s her turn to spiral, to fall down the rabbit hole of insecurity and have to claw herself out with no support at all.

her body is starting to overheat, she peels her sweaty shirt off and throws it in front of her, soothing herself with the cold tile on the floor. she realizes how distant she’s been, how much she’s taken you for granted. maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

a few painful minutes later, she exits the bathroom and lays down beside you, curling into your side and sighing heavily. you can sense her unpleasant mood, but you still don’t really feel bad for her. not after how she’s made you feel.

and then she sits up and she kisses you for the first time in months. a real kiss, not a peck or a bite. her lips press against yours, she tastes the same, sweet and a little bit throaty. soft lips roam around yours, remembering how it feels to be intimate in such a way. to be loved. “i’m sorry.” she whispers on top of your lips. “i really am. do i get another chance?”

maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

[mywhisperingwords]

am i what you wanted? | fred g. weasley

summary: casual. no strings. just something to forget the loneliness. right? word count: 7.6k masterlist

The air at the party feels heavier than usual, like everyone is trying too hard to pretend they’re having a good time.

You’ve spent most of the night nursing a drink you don’t particularly like, offering polite smiles to people you barely know. It’s not your scene, but you came anyway because that’s what friends do—they drag you out, convince you it’ll be “fun,” and leave you regretting it by the second hour.

You’re just about ready to slip away when you spot him—Fred Weasley.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, casual and effortless as always, but there’s something different tonight. The usual spark in his eyes is dimmer, his smile not quite as wide. He’s talking to someone, but his gaze keeps drifting, like he’s only half paying attention.

You consider leaving without a word. After all, you’ve spent years perfecting the art of avoiding him. Not because you dislike him—quite the opposite.

Your stupid schoolgirl crush on him hasn’t quite fizzled out, no matter how much time has passed.

And of course, there was the matter of his latest relationship, a whirlwind romance with someone you considered a friend, Leah.

It would be wrong to approach him now, wouldn’t it?

But then Fred’s eyes land on you, and there’s no escaping. He gives you a faint smile, a shadow of his usual grin, and lifts his drink in a lazy sort of greeting. It’s an invitation, subtle but unmistakable. Against your better judgment, you cross the room.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, his voice low enough to cut through the background noise without effort.

You shrug, trying to seem unaffected. “Alicia dragged me out. Said I needed to get a life or something.”

Fred huffs a quiet laugh, looking down into his glass. “Sounds like something she’d say. George said the same to me, actually. Guess misery loves company.”

The comment surprises you. Fred doesn’t usually talk like that—so openly, so vulnerable. It’s enough to make you pause, to glance at him more carefully. “You don’t seem miserable,” you say, testing the waters.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink and stares past you, like he’s trying to find the right words. “You’d be surprised,” he finally says, his tone softer now.

It’s an opening, one you hadn’t expected but can’t ignore. “What happened?”

Fred glances around, his expression unreadable, before gesturing toward the balcony. “Do you mind? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You follow him outside, where the night air is cool and quiet compared to the chaos inside. He leans against the railing, staring out at the city lights, and you stand beside him, unsure of what to say.

“She left,” he says abruptly, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about her—his ex.

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage.

Fred smiles faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Not the dramatic kind of leaving either. No big fight, no slamming doors. Just… stopped caring, I guess. Said it wasn’t enough for her.”

The confession stirs something in you, a mix of sympathy and something sharper, harder to define.

You’ve never known Fred to be anything but confident, self-assured. Seeing him like this—guarded, almost uncertain—it’s disarming.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, and you mean it.

He glances at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How loneliness sneaks up on you. One day you think you’re fine, and the next, it’s like you can’t breathe.”

You nod, because you understand more than you’d like to admit. “Yeah. It’s awful.”

Fred studies you for a moment longer before offering a faint, almost wistful smile. “You get it.”

The words settle between you, warm and unspoken, and before you can overthink it, you say, “Maybe we’re just terrible at choosing the right people.”

Fred laughs then, a soft, genuine sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Maybe we are.”

It feels like an unspoken agreement, a quiet acknowledgment of shared pain. And when he leans just a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, you don’t pull away.

&

The door slams shut behind you both, barely closed before Fred’s hands are on your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth is on yours again, urgent and consuming, and the world outside this moment ceases to exist.

You’re not sure how it started—or maybe you do—but you’re too caught up in the feel of him, in the way he kisses like he’s unraveling a part of himself he’s never shown anyone.

Your back hits the edge of the couch, but Fred doesn’t stop. He moves with you, stumbling through the dark like neither of you can think beyond each other.

You barely make it to the bedroom. A trail of discarded shoes and jackets marks the path, forgotten in the haze.

He pauses only briefly, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “This…” he begins, his voice rough, barely a whisper. “This is what I needed. Something… easy. No expectations.”

The words are quiet but land with a weight that sticks somewhere in your chest. You know what he means—casual, uncomplicated, something to dull the ache of loneliness he spoke of earlier.

Your heart lurches, but your mind, clouded with want and the intoxicating proximity of him, nods before you can think it through. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The lie tastes bitter even as the kiss resumes, as his lips trail down your neck, as his hands find your skin. You tell yourself you’re fine with this. It’s Fred, and it’s what he wants. Isn’t it better to have this than nothing at all?

When morning comes, he’s gone.

You’re not surprised—he doesn’t strike you as the type to linger—but the silence in the room feels deafening. The sheets are cold where he was, and you stare at the ceiling, replaying his words in your head.

Something easy. No expectations.

Your agreement, muffled and uncertain, rings louder now. You agreed. This is what you signed up for. So why does your chest ache? Why does it feel like you’ve made a mistake you can’t undo?

You sit up, the mess of the night scattered around you—a shirt draped over the chair, an overturned glass on the table. It’s all so mundane, yet it feels like the air has shifted in your room, like the walls are pressing in.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a slow, measured breath. Maybe this wasn’t the right decision. But you can’t change it now. Fred was what you wanted for so long, wasn’t he? Maybe this is all you get.

Maybe this is all you’re allowed to have.

You hope you can convince yourself of that.

&

The pub is buzzing, laughter and conversation spilling out from every corner as you sit wedged between Alicia and George.

Fred is across from you, casually leaning back in his chair, a pint of beer balanced between his long fingers. His laughter blends with the noise around you, effortlessly charming, as always.

It’s easy to forget, in moments like this, that this is supposed to be casual. Easy.

You catch yourself watching him longer than you should, noting the way his hair falls into his eyes when he laughs, the way his smile lingers just enough to make your stomach twist.

You remind yourself to look away.

The conversation circles back to someone’s recent breakup, a natural segue into a casual remark about Fred’s ex.

It’s Angelina, sitting two seats down, who says it without malice—just an innocent mention of the girl who was once by his side.

“You were so into her, Fred. Thought you two were endgame, honestly,” she says with a smile, tipping her glass toward him.

Fred’s expression flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough to change the energy at the table. The easy grin falters, his fingers tightening around the glass. “Yeah, well,” he says, voice light but guarded, “things don’t always work out the way you think they will.”

The group catches on quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere, but you can’t take your eyes off him. There’s something in the way his shoulders tense, in the way he avoids eye contact, that makes your chest tighten.

The rest of the evening is a blur of noise and small talk. You find yourself gravitating toward the bar, needing space, needing air. But you don’t get far.

Fred appears beside you, leaning on the counter with a quiet sigh. His eyes are darker now, shadows of something unspoken behind them. He doesn’t say anything, just glances at you, and suddenly the air feels heavier.

“Come with me,” he mutters all of the sudden, so low you almost don’t hear it.

You hesitate, your heart skipping, but you follow.

He leads you down a narrow hallway, past the kitchen, until you’re standing outside the bathroom door. He checks once over his shoulder before pulling you in, locking the door behind him.

“Fred, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his mouth crashing into yours with a force that takes your breath away.

It’s messy, hurried, like he’s trying to drown something out. His hands find your waist, pressing you against the cold tile wall, and you can feel the tension in his grip, the desperation in the way he kisses you.

It’s different this time—more frantic, less controlled. There’s no room to think, no space for words, just the heat of him against you and the quiet hum of the pub muffled beyond the door.

When it’s over, you’re both catching your breath, the silence settling around you like a weight. Fred’s forehead rests against yours, and for a moment, it feels like he might say something—something real, something vulnerable.

But then he steps back, adjusting his shirt, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “Thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly, and the word hits you like a slap.

You blink, trying to find something to say, but he’s already unlocking the door, slipping out like nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, the cold tiles against your back, your pulse still racing. You stare at the empty space where he was, your mind replaying the moment in vivid detail.

Something about this feels wrong. But then again, wasn’t this what you agreed to?

&

It’s late. Later than late, really, with the kind of stillness in the air that only comes when the rest of the world is sleeping.

But you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of your couch with a half-empty glass of wine in your hand, listening to the faint hum of the city outside.

You don’t know why you’re waiting.

Or maybe you do, but admitting it feels like giving it more weight than it deserves.

It’s been a few days since you saw Fred—since he showed up at your door for the first time, with that crooked smile and a cocky, unspoken challenge in his eyes.

You hadn’t known what to expect then, and you still don’t know now. But when you hear the knock at your door, your chest tightens in anticipation anyway.

You set the glass down and cross the room, opening the door to find him leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

“Bit late for a social call, don’t you think?” you tease, though your voice wavers just slightly.

Fred grins, that easy, practiced grin that always feels like it’s hiding something. ���Thought you might say that. But then, you’re still awake, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and step aside, letting him in. He walks past you, his steps slow and deliberate, like he’s taking his time to assess the space.

It’s not the first time he’s been here, but he looks around like it is, his gaze lingering on the small details you’d never think to notice.

“You always keep it this tidy?” he asks, turning to face you with a smirk.

“I knew you were coming, didn’t I?” you shoot back, closing the door behind him.

Fred laughs, the sound low and warm, and suddenly the room feels smaller.

It’s always like this with him—this electric push and pull that leaves you feeling off-balance and exhilarated all at once.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the back of a chair, and then he’s sitting on your couch like he’s been doing it for years.

You join him, keeping a safe distance between you, but it doesn’t matter. The tension fills the space anyway, a quiet, unspoken thing neither of you is willing to address.

“So,” Fred says, his eyes flicking to the wine glass you left on the table. “Drinking alone, are we? Rough night?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Not rough. Just… quiet.”

Fred hums, leaning back and stretching an arm along the back of the couch. His fingers are close enough to brush your shoulder, but they don’t.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “I’m good at making noise. Want me to liven things up?”

You turn to look at him, arching a brow at his choice of words. “That depends. What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins again, wider this time, and before you know it, you’re caught up in one of his ridiculous stories—something about a prank that went wrong back at Hogwarts and ended with George covered in soot and screaming about cursed cauldrons.

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s shaking loose all the tension you’ve been carrying for days. Fred is laughing too, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking.

And for a moment, it’s easy to forget the doubts gnawing at the edges of your mind.

But then the story ends, and the laughter fades, and the room feels too quiet again.

Fred’s laughter dies in his throat first. He turns his head toward you, the space between you charged, his expression softening as his eyes flicker to your lips.

“You’re staring,” you whisper, trying to keep your tone light, but your pulse betrays you.

“Am I?” he murmurs back, his voice low and teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly, the space between you disappears. His mouth meets yours in a rush of heat and hunger, and your body reacts without thought, your hands tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer.

He tastes like mint and something else, something unmistakably Fred, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It starts like it always does—feverish and desperate, hands searching, breaths stolen. Fred’s hands find the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, and your back hits the cushions of the couch before you even realize you’ve moved.

But somewhere in the middle of it—between the hurried kisses and the whispered curses—something shifts.

His touch slows, his fingers trailing along your skin with an almost reverent softness. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s more to this than just a casual arrangement.

Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.

Fred pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if you feel it too.

But then the moment passes, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head like he’s dismissing some unwelcome thought. He presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone before shifting his weight and standing, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

“Leaving already?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred hesitates, his back to you. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than the moment calls for. “Gotta keep you wanting more, don’t I?”

The grin he throws over his shoulder is forced, you think, but you don’t call him on it.

You watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and you’re left alone again, your chest tight and your mind racing.

This is what you signed up for, you remind yourself. Casual. Fun. No strings attached.

So why does it already feel like so much more?

&

The party isn’t much different from the last one. A haze of laughter and music hangs in the air, the dimly lit living room thrumming with energy as bodies mill about. You’re leaning against a wall, clutching a drink, when you spot him across the room.

Fred.

Your breath catches—not because you didn’t expect him to be here, but because it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this since everything began.

In the few weeks since that night, he’s always shown up at your door under cover of darkness, a secret that slips away before the world wakes. Now, he’s here, among friends, out in the open. It feels… surreal.

His eyes catch yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he looks away. You should probably do the same, pretend he’s just another person at the party, someone you barely know outside of shared jokes and casual conversations.

But something about seeing him here, the same Fred everyone else knows, tangles in your chest.

The game between you feels different now. Riskier.

You manage to avoid each other for most of the night, though you’re painfully aware of him. The way his laugh carries over the music. The effortless charm in the way he leans against the kitchen counter, surrounded by people.

But it’s when you least expect it that it happens.

You’ve slipped into the quiet hallway, hoping for a moment to breathe. He appears from nowhere, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, low enough that no one else could hear.

You swallow, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me too.”

A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, filled only by the distant hum of the party, the bass thudding like a heartbeat. Then he shifts closer—too close, considering the thin walls and prying eyes just a room away.

“This is risky,” you murmur, though you don’t move away.

“Since when do you mind risky?” he counters, his voice teasing but quiet. There’s a flicker of warmth in his tone, a reminder of those moments when he’s let his guard down just enough to let you in.

You should push him away, but you don’t.

Instead, you glance up, and for the briefest second, he looks at you like he’s about to say something important. Something real. But he doesn’t. He’s Fred, after all.

Instead, his hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You hesitate, your chest tightening. “Then why are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers graze your wrist, light and hesitant, before he steps back, creating a distance that feels far too wide.

“I shouldn’t be,” he says again, as though repeating it will make it true. Then, softer, “But I am.”

The air between you feels heavier than it should. He’s pulling away again, retreating into the shell of secrecy he’s so carefully built. It frustrates you more than it should.

“You don’t have to make this so complicated,” you say, surprising even yourself.

Fred’s jaw tightens. He glances at the door leading back to the party, his gaze distant, before his eyes flicker back to you. “You think it’s that easy?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know how to.

Instead, he leans in, his voice a whisper. “Careful. Someone might see us.” His words are teasing, but there’s an edge of something sharper beneath them.

And then he’s gone, disappearing back into the crowd as though nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, your heart racing and your thoughts tangled in ways you can’t quite unravel.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You don’t see him again, but his presence lingers like a shadow, like a secret you can’t escape.

And when you finally leave the party, stepping out into the cool night air, you can’t help but wonder if this game you’re playing is one you’ll ever win—or if it’s one you’ll lose before it even truly begins.

&

It’s been days since the party.

Days of wondering if Fred will show up again, if you’ll hear that familiar knock on your door in the dead of night. He doesn’t call, doesn’t send any owl—not that you expected him to. But his absence still gnaws at you.

When the knock finally comes, it’s past midnight. You hesitate for a moment, standing barefoot in the hallway, staring at the door like it might vanish if you blink. Then, as if on instinct, you reach for the handle.

Fred is there, leaning against the frame, his hair tousled, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, his hands finding your waist almost immediately.

It’s fast, like always. A trail of kisses down your neck, murmured words you can barely catch, and then you’re stumbling toward the bedroom. It’s almost routine now—the way he knows exactly how to pull you apart, the way he leaves before the sun comes up.

It’s the same pattern, the same urgency, like he’s trying to chase away whatever’s haunting him.

Only this time, he leaves without saying much of anything. A quick glance back, a muttered “I’ll see you,” and then the door clicks shut behind him.

The quiet that follows feels heavier than it should. You sit on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the empty doorway, wondering why the familiar ache feels sharper tonight.

&

Alicia’s offer couldn’t come at a better time. “You need a reset,” she says, twirling her straw in her iced tea. “Seriously, this guy is perfect. Smart, funny, normal. Give it a shot.”

It’s not like you have anything better to do, so you agree.

The date is fine. Fine. Paul is nice—charming, even—but there’s no spark. By the end of the night, you’re both laughing about how you’d make better friends than anything else.

It’s late when you finally get home, the streets quiet and dimly lit. You’re fishing for your keys when you notice the shadow near your door.

Fred.

He’s leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks up as you approach, his gaze flickering to the key in your hand before settling on your face.

“You’re out late,” he says, his voice casual.

“I had plans,” you reply, matching his tone as you unlock the door. You don’t elaborate, and neither does he.

Inside, the tension follows you, crackling in the air as you set your bag down and turn to face him. He’s watching you, his expression neutral but his shoulders taut, like he’s holding something back.

“How were the plans?” he asks, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it you can’t quite place.

“They were fine,” you say. “We’re better off as friends.”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, you think that’s the end of it. But then he’s stepping closer, his hands finding your waist like they always do.

This time, it’s different. His kisses are rougher, his grip firmer, but there’s something else underneath it—a quiet desperation, like he’s trying to claim something without admitting it. His hands linger longer, his lips move slower, and you let yourself lean into it, pretending not to notice the shift.

Afterward, he’s quiet again, lying beside you in the dark. The air feels heavier, and you can sense the walls going back up before he even moves to get dressed.

As he pulls on his shirt, he pauses, standing by the door with his back to you. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something, but instead, he runs a hand through his hair and exhales softly.

Then, just before he leaves, he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze flickering to yours. “Let me know when you’re too busy.”

It’s barely a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it. But there’s something in the way he says it, something unsaid lurking beneath the words, that lingers long after he’s gone.

You sit there in the dark, replaying the moment over and over, wondering why it feels like he just said goodbye.

&

Angelina’s birthday party is already in full swing by the time you stumble through the door, only half-committed to being there. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it’s all too loud, too bright, too much.

But you came anyway, maybe out of habit, or maybe because part of you hoped you’d find a distraction in the chaos.

Fred is here. You noticed him immediately. He’s impossible not to notice, leaning against the bar, his easy smile tugging at something in your chest you’ve been trying to ignore. He hasn’t come near you, hasn’t even spared you more than a glance. But that glance—it felt like it saw too much.

You bury your feelings in your drink, letting the bitterness of it settle the knots in your stomach. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, what’s with the face?” Alicia’s voice cuts through the noise as she drops onto the couch beside you. “You look like someone just ran over your cat.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, swirling the last of your drink. “Just…thinking.”

“About your nonexistent love life again?” she teases, nudging your shoulder. “Seriously, you need to loosen up. Or at least stop picking all the wrong people.”

You force a laugh, but it feels hollow. Alicia doesn’t know. No one does. You’ve kept Fred a secret, just as he asked. The weight of it presses heavier tonight, threatening to spill over as you down the rest of your drink and reach for another.

As the night goes on, the alcohol blurs the edges of everything. Faces blend together, voices turn to static, and you’re left moping in the corner, the ache in your chest louder than any song playing.

Fred’s there, somewhere. You’ve caught glimpses of him—his easy posture stiffened, his smile more strained than usual. But he doesn’t approach, and you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking too long.

By the end of the night, most people have left, and the crowd has thinned out. You’re sitting on the couch, staring at the bottom of your empty glass, when a shadow falls over you.

“Let’s get you home,” Fred says, his voice low but firm.

You look up at him, the alcohol dulling your usual instincts. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes, you do.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but there’s something gentler in his gaze, something that makes your chest tighten.

You don’t resist when he helps you up, his arm steady around your waist as he guides you out the door. The walk home is quiet, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. Fred doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence feels heavier than usual.

When you finally reach your flat, he helps you inside, sitting you down on the couch as he disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water, kneeling in front of you.

“Drink,” he says simply.

You take the glass, your hands shaking slightly as you bring it to your lips.

“Fred,” you start after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay.”

He looks at you, startled by the request. “I—”

“Please.” The word spills out before you can stop it, raw and pleading. “Just for the night. I don’t want to be alone.”

He hesitates, his expression flickering between something unreadable and something achingly vulnerable. Then, finally, he nods. “Alright.”

Relief washes over you as he helps you to your feet again, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s careful as he tucks you into bed, his hand lingering briefly on your shoulder before he steps back.

“You’ll stay?” you ask again, your voice softer now.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, his voice low and steady.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

When you wake up, the room is quiet, the sunlight streaming through the curtains. For a moment, you lie there, disoriented, the haze of last night still clinging to your thoughts.

Then you notice it—the bed is empty.

Your stomach drops, a hollow ache blooming in your chest as you sit up. The other side of the bed is cool to the touch, and for a moment, you wonder if he left as soon as you fell asleep. The ache sharpens, and you feel foolish for believing he’d actually stay.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you bury your face in your hands. Of course, he left. Of course, this is what it always is with him—half-hearted promises and fleeting moments that never mean as much as you want them to.

It’s only when you lower your hands that you notice it.

A glass of water and a small packet of painkillers sit neatly on the nightstand.

Your breath catches as you reach for the glass, the pieces falling together in your mind. The bed might be cool now, but the faint warmth lingering on the pillow tells a different story.

And then you hear it—the faint click of your front door closing.

Your chest tightens, your heart pounding as you realize the truth: Fred stayed. He kept his promise.

The ache in your chest softens, replaced by something you can’t quite name. It’s not relief, not entirely. It’s something more fragile, more complicated.

He stayed.

And for now, that’s enough.

&

The pub feels suffocating tonight, the air heavy with laughter and music that’s a touch too loud. You’re sitting at the edge of the booth again, nursing the remnants of your drink while the conversation at the table flows around you. Fred is there too, only a few feet away but worlds apart, as always.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

But tonight, something is different. You’ve caught him looking at you more than once, a flicker of warmth in his gaze that lingers just a moment too long before he turns away.

And then there are the little things—how he slid the drinks menu your way when you couldn’t reach, the casual way his hand brushed yours when passing the salt, and the faint smirk on his lips when you dropped your napkin, like he found your clumsiness amusing.

It’s maddening. These small, almost imperceptible gestures that would mean nothing if it were anyone else, but with Fred, they feel like everything.

You glance his way now, trying not to linger. He’s leaned back in his chair, his long fingers drumming lazily against the table, his attention seemingly on George, who’s telling some animated story about a prank gone wrong. But then, as if he feels your eyes on him, Fred looks up.

The corners of his mouth twitch, and there it is again—that fleeting, private smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

It’s a cruel kind of softness. The kind that makes you want more.

“Leaving soon?” His voice pulls you back, low enough that it barely cuts through the noise, and you realize he’s speaking to you.

Your heart skips. You shrug, trying to feign indifference. “Maybe. You?”

His smirk deepens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Not yet.”

The words hang between you, unspoken but understood. The plan forms, unspoken as always. You’ll leave first, and he’ll follow.

When the clock creeps toward midnight, you push yourself up, offering the table a vague excuse about an early morning. Fred doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension, the way his fingers still against the table as you grab your things and step into the cool night air.

The sharp contrast of the quiet street is a relief at first, but it doesn’t last. Your thoughts churn, the familiar mix of guilt and longing rising to the surface. You shake your head, trying to focus on the walk home when you see her.

Leah.

She’s leaning against the wall just outside the pub, her arms crossed, the faint glow of a cigarette in her hand. She looks up when she hears you, her face illuminated by the streetlamp above.

“Hey,” she says, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

You freeze, your chest tightening. “Hey.”

Her lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile, and she takes a slow drag of her cigarette before exhaling, the smoke curling into the air between you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head slightly.

She must’ve watched you—you hadn’t even noticed her in the pub. Had Fred?

You force a shrug, your voice tight. “Long day.”

She hums, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Fred seemed to have been distracted too. Must’ve been one of those days for everyone, huh?”

The mention of his name sends a jolt through you, but you keep your expression as neutral as you can manage. “Yeah, maybe.”

Leah watches you for a moment longer, her gaze unsettlingly calm. She takes another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her heel. “You two seemed friendly tonight.”

Your stomach twists, but you don’t falter. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Her lips press together, her expression unreadable. “Sure.”

The pub door swings open, the sound spilling into the street, and your heart sinks as Fred steps out. His hair is a little messy, his face flushed from the warmth of the pub. He glances around, his eyes landing on you almost immediately.

“There you are,” he says, his tone light as he steps closer. “What’s taking so long? I thought you’d—”

His words die as his gaze shifts, landing on Leah.

His smile falters, and for a moment, the easy confidence he always carries slips. “Leah.”

“Fred,” she says smoothly, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp as they flick between the two of you.

He straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets as the tension thickens.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice tighter now.

You feel like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You glance between them, your chest tightening. You can’t do this. The weight of the secrecy, the guilt, the unspoken accusations—it’s too much.

“I was just leaving,” you say quickly, your voice steadier than you feel.

Fred’s gaze snaps to you, his brow furrowing. “Wait—”

“I’ll see you later,” you cut him off, stepping away before either of them can stop you.

You won’t see him later, you’re sure of it.

The last thing you hear as you walk away is Fred’s voice, quieter now but still tinged with something you can’t quite place.

“Leah, we should talk.”

You don’t look back. You can’t.

&

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of the city outside is no comfort tonight. It’s too quiet, too still, and your mind refuses to stop racing.

You picture them together—Fred and Leah. You imagine their conversation, her calm but sharp gaze and his uneasy expression. Maybe they’re sitting close, voices low and familiar, smoothing over the jagged edges of their breakup. Maybe they’ll work things out. Maybe they’re already back together.

The thought is a knife to the chest, twisting deeper with every passing second. You roll onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, but it doesn’t help. The ache is relentless, carving itself into every corner of your heart.

Hours pass. The clock on your nightstand glows faintly, marking the time you’ve spent wide awake. 2:47 a.m. Your body is heavy with exhaustion, but your mind won’t let you rest.

You try to reason with yourself. Fred never promised you anything. This was always supposed to be casual, meaningless—a fleeting distraction for both of you. You knew that. You agreed to it.

And yet.

A sharp knock cuts through the silence, jolting you upright. For a moment, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Another knock.

You stumble out of bed, heart pounding, and shuffle to the door. When you open it, Fred is standing there, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled like he’d left in a hurry. The faint light of the hallway casts shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear, intense.

You can’t speak. You just step aside, and he walks in without a word.

The door closes behind him, the lock clicking softly into place. He turns to you, his gaze searching, but whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t say. He just steps closer, his hands brushing against your arms before they settle on your waist, pulling you toward him.

There are no questions, no explanations. Just his mouth on yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way you feel.

It’s different this time.

The usual rush of urgency is gone, replaced by something quieter, softer. He touches you like you’re fragile, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. His hands linger, tracing patterns on your skin, and his lips trail down your neck with an almost reverent slowness.

When he lifts you, carrying you to the bed, it’s not hurried or thoughtless. He lays you down gently, his weight pressing into you as his lips find yours again.

It’s almost too much. The tenderness, the quiet intensity—it’s overwhelming in a way that makes your chest ache.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is goodbye. If this is Fred’s way of ending things, giving you something to remember before he walks away for good.

The thought makes your throat tighten, but you don’t stop him. You can’t.

When it’s over, you lie there in the dark, the sheets tangled around you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. His breathing is steady, his body warm against yours, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is enough. That this could be enough.

But then he stirs, pulling away.

You turn to watch him as he sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look at you as he stands, gathering his clothes and pulling them on with quiet efficiency.

Your chest tightens, but you don’t say anything. You just watch as he moves to the door.

He hesitates, his hand on the knob, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But he doesn’t. He just turns back to you, his expression unreadable, and steps closer.

He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s the kind of tenderness he’s never shown before, the kind that makes your heart break even as it swells.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours for a brief moment. There’s something there, something unspoken, but before you can grasp it, he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re alone again.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest heavier than ever.

This is goodbye, you think.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come.

&

The weeks without Fred are a blur of emotions, each one more exhausting than the last. Some days, you manage to feel like yourself again, like the world might not actually end without him. Other days, the grief hits you like a wave, dragging you under with the weight of all the unsaid words and the things you wished could’ve been.

Your friends help, of course. Alicia keeps you busy with plans you don’t want to make, and Angelina sends you pep talks at odd hours of the night. But there’s a hollow ache they can’t touch, a space inside you carved out by Fred and left empty when he walked away.

You try to fill it with distractions—new books, long walks, even the occasional half-hearted date—but nothing works. Because no matter what you’re doing, your thoughts always circle back to him. To the warmth of his hands, the sound of his laugh, the way he looked at you that night before he left.

The worst part is the silence.

For weeks, there’s no word from Fred. No knocks at your door, no teasing notes slipped under the frame. He’s just… gone. And while you tell yourself that’s what you wanted—that it’s for the best—you can’t stop wondering where he is. What he’s doing. If he’s with her.

And then, one day, the silence breaks.

It’s mid-afternoon, and you’re home, though you have no memory of how you spent the morning. The hours have blurred together in a haze of restless pacing and half-formed thoughts, none of which have brought you any peace.

When the knock comes, you almost don’t hear it. It’s soft, tentative, like the person on the other side isn’t sure they’re welcome.

Your heart stutters.

You tell yourself it’s probably Alicia or Angelina, or maybe even Leah. But when you open the door, it’s Fred.

He looks different in the daylight. There’s no mischievous grin, no late-night bravado. Just him, standing on your doorstep, his shoulders tense and his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Hi,” he says, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You stare at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or slam the door in his face. “What are you doing here?”

Fred shifts, glancing past you into the flat before meeting your gaze again. “Can I come in?”

You want to say no. You want to tell him to leave, to take all the chaos and heartbreak he’s brought into your life and walk away for good. But instead, you step aside, letting him in.

Fred moves to the middle of the room and stops, his eyes scanning the space like he’s trying to memorize it. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t relax, just stands there, his weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I didn’t know if you’d let me in,” he admits after a moment.

“Why are you here, Fred?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or fear. “I needed to see you. To explain.”

“Explain what? That you left? That you couldn’t give me what I wanted? What I needed?” Your voice wavers, betraying the anger you’ve been holding onto for weeks.

Fred flinches but doesn’t look away. “Yes. All of it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I was a mess when we started this,” he says finally, his voice low and steady. “Leah and I were over, but I wasn’t okay. I told myself I didn’t want anything serious, that I couldn’t handle it. And then you…”

You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“You made me feel like I could handle it,” Fred says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And that scared me. It made me feel wrong, like I was moving on too fast. Like I didn’t deserve it.”

You blink, his words sinking in.

“I pushed you away because I was scared,” he admits, meeting your eyes again. “But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And now? Are you still scared?”

“Yes,” Fred says without hesitation. “But I’m more scared of not being with you. Of letting you slip away because I was too much of a coward to fight for this.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening with a mix of hope and fear. “And what happens when it gets hard again? When you start to feel like it’s too much?”

Fred takes a step closer, his expression earnest. “Then I’ll tell you. And we’ll figure it out together. Because I’m done running, and I’m done pretending this doesn’t mean something.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much. You look away, your hands trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check.

“What are you asking for, Fred?” you whisper.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. “I’m asking for a chance. To do this right. To give you what you’ve always deserved.”

You close your eyes, his words washing over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely audible. “But we take it slow. No more secrets, no more running. We do this the right way.”

Fred nods, a small, relieved smile breaking through his tension. “Slow. Got it.”

He steps back then, extending a hand like he’s meeting you for the first time. “Hi. I’m Fred. Nice to meet you.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Nice to meet you, Fred.”

For a moment, you let yourself smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. Then you glance at his outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow. “Though I have to say, you look a lot like this guy I used to know. Total pain in the arse, but surprisingly charming when he wanted to be.”

Fred grins, his eyes lighting up in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, I’m hoping I’m nothing like him. He sounds awful.”

“He was,” you say, shaking his hand firmly. “But I think you might be an improvement.”

Fred laughs, the sound warm and unrestrained, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe again.

[kiribakuswife]

Ring My Bell

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Kinktober Day 16!!

You swung the door open with a grin, the remaining guest to your little halloween get together hopefully on the other end. “You made it!” You cheered, already a few drinks in. Hitoshi grinned back at you, shaking his head slightly at your excitement. 

“I told you I would.” He reasoned, reaching out to flick the cat eyes that sat on your head, “Cute costume.” He whispered, eyes heavy in a way that made you shiver. He was dressed up as well, if the two little bite marks on his neck made with some fake blood was enough to be considered a costume. 

You bounced back, nervous, the stupid bell on your collar jingling. It was obvious to anyone that you and Hitoshi had some sort of weird tension, but you couldn’t put your finger on just why, or what it meant. He chuckled lightly at you, pushing past you and deeper into your house. Music sounded from your living room, Denki and Mina’s bickering drowning it out.

“My music tastes way better than yours! I should get the aux!” He whined as she laughed, holding the speaker out of his reach.

“Fat chance, all you listen to is that frat boy shit!” She shot back, dodging as he tried to grab her.

“That’s not true! Jiro, back me up here! The playlist we were listening to earlier, that was good right?” He tried, earning an eye roll.

“Denki, the playlist we were listening to earlier was mine, it was just from your phone.” She smirked at him as his face fell.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” He cried, dramatically falling back onto the couch and staring into your ceiling. “I’m just a frat boy.”

“Win some, lose some.” Hitoshi mocked, patting his head perhaps a hair too roughly. The blond pouted up at him, as the other laughed, his eyes flicking to you in the way they always seemed to. It almost made you uncomfortable with the way he always seemed to keep at least a tab on you at all times. Perhaps it would have made you uncomfortable if it didn’t draw you in so much.

You shifted on your feet, soon deciding to go to the kitchen to at least grab him a drink since he had come. You almost didn’t invite him, you knew he was busy, and you were sure the last place he wanted to be on halloween was your shitty apartment with your loud friends, but Mina had convinced you with a he’ll come if you ask! That made you not want to read into the situation anymore than that. You sort of had a thing for him, and you truly could not tell if he felt the same or if he just didn’t particularly like you. Maybe he only tolerated you because you were friends with his friends? But Mina’s comment made your train of thought pause.

You shook your head, dumping your cup and filling it with water instead, pouring him a jack and coke you knew he was partial to. You entered the room again to applause, giggling at their antics as you curtseyed before making your way to Hitoshi, handing him his glass. “I can’t believe you let these animals in your house.” He whispered in your ear, making your hair stand on end at his closeness as you followed his eyes to Denki knocking over Jiro’s entire cup of red wine onto your rug.

You shook your head with a sigh, moving again to head back into the kitchen, “He doesn’t get out much.” You called, earning a sound of disagreement from Denki as he fumbled to pick up the cup that had thankfully not shattered. Hitoshi followed you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes burning into your back as you searched your cabinet for the cleaning supplies.

“I meant it.”He said suddenly, causing you to jump, smacking your head off the counter as you did so, a strangled sound coming out. “Holy shit, (y/n) are you okay?” He laughed a bit at you, coming close, close enough you could smell his cologne, making your head spin.

“Fine!” You squeaked out, trying to step back, but there was nowhere to go, the counter against your back. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” You asked, eyes darting anywhere but him as he watched you.

“I said I meant it.” His voice had dropped to a low tone that made you stiffen, “You look cute.” He reached forward, adjusting the cat ears on top of your head before his hand drifted down to flick the little bell around your neck. “You look cute.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, at his touch. “You know-” He continued, looping a finger under your collar, but was suddenly interrupted by a shout.

“(y/n)! Dude, you better hurry up or your rug is fucked!” Jiro’s voice snapped the bubble you had been in and Hitoshi pulled away like he had been burned, stepping back and clearing his throat as you tried to regain your bearings, embarrassingly bowing to him as you practically ran from your kitchen. 

What the fuck you whispered to yourself as you entered the room, rushing to save your poor rug, the cheers ringing out again as you waved them off, rolling your eyes. The rest of the night went on without too much of a hitch. Hitoshi lingered on the couch, dragged down on the couch by Denki to form a “boys club” as you, Mina, and Jiro took to the small dining room table you had behind the couch. Despite the open floor plan, you couldn’t hear anything they said, only Denki’s laughs as he basically curled into Hitoshi for support.

“We should probably get him home.” Mina shook her head with a laugh, watching as Denki clung to Hitoshi’s shoulders, deep into some story that clearly needed his full attention.

“He’s such a mess.” Jiro added a smile on her face as she watched him, eyes soft. “Thank you for having us, (y/n).” The goodbyes continued as they left the house, until it was just you and Hitoshi waving at the door as they shuffled down the street, Denki singing as the girls struggled to hold him up, their laughs echoing down the street.

“And then there were two.” Hitoshi’s spoke, sending shivers down your spine.

“If you’re going to stay, you might as well make yourself useful.” You tried to laugh, coming out awkward as you pulled away from the door, shutting it behind you. You made your way to the living room, gathering the cups that had been scattered around, and to your surprise he appeared in front of you, taking them from your hands.

“I’ll wash, you dry?” He offered a pile of plates already in one of his off hand. You nodded dumbly, following behind him as he entered your kitchen. He piled the dishes in the skink, rolling up his sleeves in a way that made you gulp, his arms flexing as he began to scrub, your mouth dry as you took a now clean dish from him. The silence stretched as you washed, and you were too nervous to break it, the scene from the kitchen earlier replaying in your mind on a loop. What was he going to say? Why had he grabbed you like that? Your jaw tightened as your body moved on auto pilot, his voice startling you again as he spoke.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You kinda seem out of it.” He said, concern lacing his voice as he took the towel from your hand, drying his own hands as he leaned back on the counter.

“What do you think about me?” You blurted out, cheeks flushing as the words hit the air like oil in a hot pan. His eyes scanned over you, making you feel antsy as you waited for this reply.

“Truly?” He asked, voice low again. 

“Truly.” Your voice on the other hand was nearly a whisper, not sure if you really did want to know. If you never knew then you could never be hurt by whatever he was going to say, but it was a little late for that.

“I think that I am dying to bend you over that counter.” He said, making you choke, “And I think you wouldn’t mind too much either.” He stepped closer to you then, and you held your breath as you looked up at him, mind racing. It wasn’t like he was wrong, you reasoned, and if you both wanted to then why not? It’s not like you could lie to yourself and say you weren’t interested, you definitely were, far more than just interested.

“I think you're right.” You whispered, eyes wide as you blinked up at him. He stepped forward, looping a finger through your collar again.

“Alright, kitten.” he purred, pulling you closer, “Are you sure? You’ve been driving me crazy all night, I won’t be gentle with you.” His lips were so close you could practically feel the words on your own, making you sag in his hold.

“I’m sure.” You sighed out, and with that he finally moved the last bit, finally crashing his lips against his own. You groaned into him as he pushed you back against the island, his hands trailing along your side before slipping below your skirt. 

Everything seemed to be moving so fast, like you could hardly keep up as his hand traced over your core, melting in his hold. “I’ve hardly touched you, kitten, and you’re already soaking through your panties.” He chuckled lowly at you, pulling back a bit to watch your face as a single finger slipped inside, causing a moan to slip out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you around before you could gain your bearings, pinning your hips to the counter as he flipped up your skirt. “We’ll need to get you a tail for next time, hmm?” he hummed, making your shiver as he laughed at your response, heart beat picking up at the thought of “next time”.

His hand stroked over your ass, warm as they massaged the flesh. He slid your underwear to the side, the feeling of his cock rubbing against you making you preen. One of his hands slid from your backside to your neck, pulling you up gently as he eased in, a cry falling from your lips from the angle. He placed a kiss on the side of your jaw, hand sliding along the collar again. “I love this fucking thing.” he groaned, pulling out before slamming back into you again, bell jingling under his hold.

He continued his fast pace, finally allowing you to fall back to the counter, cold on your cheek as you cried out. His hold on your hips was tight, nearly bruising as he plowed into you. Your mind swirled as you tried to keep your balance, legs shaking below you.

You felt the cord inside you nearly snap as he pulled one of your legs up, propping it up on the counter. The new angle made you see stars, sounds echoing around your quiet apartment as you fell apart below him, his pace only slowing for a moment before he continued. You nearly tapped out, sobbing as he finally pulled out roughly, instead cumming across your bare ass.

He eased your leg back down, stepping back so you could stand. You pulled yourself up from the counter with a sigh, looking over your shoulder at him. He looked almost domestic as 

he looked back at you, a lazy smile on his face, belt undone, hair ruffled in a way you hadn’t seen since high school. You moved to step closer to him, but gasped as your legs suddenly gave out, shaking below you. Before you could hit the ground though, a pair of strong arms caught you, a husky laugh cutting through the air. “Walk much, kitten?” He teased.

[syoddeye]

Idk if you take requests, but I am ✨obsessed✨ with davey jones Ghost and was wondering if you have more thoughts about him? Esp if you have Ghoap or Ghoap/Reader thoughts 🙏👀

well, i didn’t have any thoughts until now! i mean. yeah. imagine the ten year curse cycle inflicted on both of them. lightly edited.

cw: blood/violence, non-consensual touch, implied but not depicted eventual noncon

they don't think much about the drawbacks of immortality or their land-based limitations. they don't consider the madness that gnaws at the edges of their minds or the insatiable hunger that regular slaughter can't satisfy. how the blood sours in their mouths after years of excess.

not soap, with his appetite for violent spectacle, or ghost, who savors it like a gourmand. no. they careen through decades, gleefully unmoored from consequence.

then they see you.

the ship is anchored in the bay of your coastal town, rocking gently in the waves despite the atmosphere. lanterns swing in the breeze, casting light across the deck as the sun sets. the crew drinks and gambles away the hours until the decade burns out when their leaders can, at last, join them on land, chomping at the bit for their share of blood and gold.

a few shots ring out as they pick off the fools attempting to escape by boat. on shore, a harried militia fumbles to barricade the town, a pitiful display that amuses soap to no end.

he paces, barking laughter, the row of spines down the center of his skull rippling with the sound. ghost leans against the mast, idly loading his pistol. he doesn't join in on the festivities, though soap knows he's just as eager for the bloodletting to begin. it's what sustains them best, after all—carnage.

"you'd think they'd learn," soap clicks his tongue, watching through a spyglass as another group tries to skirt past their ship in a dinghy, wailing as they slump one by one. his cloudy eye rolls loose in its socket as he pans toward shore, looking for the tortured faces of their loved ones and—

he freezes.

"steamin' jesus."

"what?" ghost doesn't bother looking up.

soap lowers the glass just enough to flash him a grin, a different sort of hunger glinting in his eyes. "you've got to see this." he tosses the scope.

ghost catches it with a bored grunt. he expects the same old scene: villagers sobbing, soldiers struggling, someone drowning themselves in the shallows. instead, he finds you.

stockings and shoes stripped off, skirts gathered high to keep them dry, showing your bare legs braced in the surf. you stand alone, a fair distance from the panicked men crowding at the docks. one hand flat over your eyes, shading them, as you strain to get a better look at your town's doom. pretty mouth curved into a worried frown.

"what do ye think she's doin'?"

"don't know." ghost adjusts the focus, trailing the glass down to your bare, breakable ankles, the way the water curls around them, before dragging his gaze back up. "doesn't matter."

maybe you're overly confident in your soldiers. maybe there's nowhere to go inland, no path that doesn't end with their blades at your back or another tide. or maybe it's much simpler than that—maybe you have a morbid curiosity, something only they can sate.

you look soft. smooth. utterly defenseless, a lamb right before its throat is slit. fearless or stupid. ghost hasn't decided yet.

behind him, soap mutters a low curse, leaning over his shoulder like a child begging for another turn. "she's perfect." he murmurs, his tongue flicking over his sharpened, brine and rust-colored teeth. 

ghost lowers the spyglass, gripping it tight.

"think she'll run if we call out?" soap asks, already moving toward the longboats. "might be fun to chase her down."

"no."

soap stops mid-stride, turning with a hollow-eyed grin. "what d'ye mean, no?"

ghost doesn't answer immediately. his gaze drifts back to the shore, to you, alone in the surf, transfixed by the evil before you. oblivious to what you've done. to what they are. the sort of personal attention you've invited. 

he knows in the marrow of his bones. the way hunger knows the taste of meat.

"no," he repeats, jaw clenching, reaching down to adjust himself. "you're gettin' ahead of yourself. we've got 'ours, still."

soap huffs, bleeding anticipation and impatience. "what if she runs for it? we cannae—"

ghost cuts him off, taking a single step to hook his good hand around the back of soap's neck. he drags the other man in close, pushing the cold metal of the spyglass's eyepiece into the soft spot under soap's chin.

"if she runs, then we catch 'er. bring 'er aboard. simple as that."

soap stares for a moment, the muscles in his jaw working like he wants to argue. wisely, he does not. "fine." he concedes, though he looks to the longboats again. "we wait."

"good lad. now," ghost squeezes soap's neck, fingers pressing flesh and carapace, and then he pushes, guiding the man to his knees. then he lifts the spyglass again, fitting it snugly against his socket. you're out of the water now, seated, hurriedly rolling your stockings up. he wets his cracked lips at the brief flash of the underside of a thigh. you really think no one's watching. "we've plenty of time to warm up."

they leave the pillaging and razing to their men, the chaos in the town spreading behind them like fire on dry grass. smoke rises in thick, black columns, and the screams of the dying and the terrorized carry across the streets. they don't care for riches or ruin, not tonight. they're hunting for you.

every house and hovel is torn apart by their hands, windows shattered, doors broken off their hinges. soap, wild-eyed and feral, tears through the streets like a storm, leaving splinters and wreckage in his wake. ghost grows just as frenzied as him as the hours march toward dawn. 

but, as it turns out, you truly did believe in the uniformed men of your town. your first mistake. your second was that you did not run far enough.

they find you.

tucked into a cramped hiding space of what must be your home, they pry you out like a pearl from an oyster. it's soap who finds you, his grin splitting wide as he hauls you up, your face tear-streaked, a laugh rattling out when you lift your chin.

"better up close," soap says, pressing his nose to your temple and inhaling deeply. he spins you to face ghost, his damp cheek pressing to yours. sea salt mingling with the scent of sweat. desperation. "smells good enough to eat."

ghost draws a line from the curve of your cheek down to the hollow of your neck, fitting his thumb to the divot of your throat. how odd it is to feel a heartbeat he does not want to immediately stop.

"then let's have a taste 'ere," he murmurs, voice rough as your pulse kicks up. "then a feast on board."

[chaepink]

Stripper!Bakugou HCs ♡

wc: 710+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, stripper!bakugou, begging, prostitution, teasing, lap sitting, mention of a strap/dick, hair pulling, suggestive, dry grinding

note: also there's a drabble cause why not

3rd repost...

stripper!bakugou who catches your eye as you walk in the club and continues to peek over where you're sitting throughout the night

stripper!bakugou who steps up his routine, purposefully showing more skin than usual, hoping to catch your eye, unbeknownst to him that you already had your eye on him the moment you walked in

stripper!bakugou who looks over to you only to see you already looking at him so he lifts his skin tight shirt up, exposing his small waist and abs to everyone, eyes on you the entire time

stripper!bakugou who gulps when he sees you glance down at his body, eyes narrowing as your grip on your drink tightens. You know he's teasing you.

stripper!bakugou who ignores all the other onlookers near his stage and instead chooses to pay attention to you and you only

stripper!bakugou whose heart is beating so hard when you walk over to a worker a little later, your eyes on him the entire time as you talk to the worker and point to him on the stage

stripper!bakugou who tells himself to calm down when the same worker walks up to him and whispers for him to go to a specific room, telling him that someone paid for the special package

stripper!bakugou who, when he walks in the room and sees you on the couch all spread out, knows he's in for a long night.

"do something please"

He's begging already and you haven't even touched him at all yet. From the moment Bakugou walked into the private room, he saw you sipping on a glass of wine and he felt himself getting hard. God are you hot.

So when you had put down the glass and told him to sit on your lap, he didn't hesitate. Usually he would but with your good looks and seemingly stoic demeanor, a voice in his head told him to not deny the offer of a good night. At least he's getting paid right?

He's kidding himself. He knows that he's a whore and would do the same exact thing for free if it's with you.

"are you usually like this for all your clients? A dumb slut?"

He shakes his head at you. Though he's telling the truth, it doesn't seem like it considering his job and where you two are currently. With a leg on both sides of your body, he feels something poking through your pants and to his ass. He has to force himself to not whine out loud.

"n-no... just for y-you"

It's for the money, he keeps telling himself. That that's why he's acting so bold. But he knows he's lying. Shit, he probably drank too much earlier. Yeah, that's why he's acting this way.

It's not like he's already addicted to you and your touches or anything.

He feels you put your hands on his bare thighs, giving them a squeeze before they travel to his ass (giving that a squeeze too) until they reach the part of his waist where his shirt had rode up previously, making him shiver from your rather cold hands. Or maybe it's just because his body is hot all over.

Doesn't matter. He loves it either way.

"then why are you already hard? Kinda hard to miss back there when you were up on stage." Bakugou flushes even more but decides to stay silent, his eyes darting down to your lips every couple seconds.

Its until one of your hands sneakily makes it way up to his neck and push his head down towards yours that he lets out a whimper, eyes closing shut. His lips are almost touching yours and he hopes you don't hear his loud heartbeat. The way you're pulling on the strands of hair on his neck doesn't help either. He has to hold back whines each time.

He can't help but grind down against your lap, slowly to test the waters. He holds back from letting out a whimper. But as he's about to do it for the second time, he feels your other hand that's still on his waist squeeze his side, making him halt him movements.

"well, how about you put on a show for me first and i'll decide what happens afterwards."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[melodic-haze]

I just want to bend Navia over and fuck her with my strap ^_^ her thighs are so tempting I can’t do this I need this woman right now

(also, can I be 🐿️ anon?)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Navia x dom!fem!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Strap-on use

☆ — NOTES: I shit you not I remember only logging in to get Navia and then stopped playing again when I got her. ALSO YES YOU CAN BE 🐿 ANON MY FIRST ONE HIIIII 🥰🥰🥰🥰 SORRY I'M GOING FOR SHORTER SHIT RN 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I NEED HER RIGHT THIS SECOND TOO OUGHHH I'm gonna indulge with you anon good god

The. The gap where. Her thighs are visible ughghhghg save me SAVE MEEEEE

You sit down together and you squeeze that part of Navia's thighs and she sits up in alert brfore fully debating on whether to keepy your hand there or to swat it away. It usually stays though 🤷‍♀️

Using her like some kinda fleshlight would be so fun lol

Bend her over and fuck her reaaaaally nice and hard 🫶🫶 have her absolutely SOBBING telling you to slow down but you don't bc really lol why would you??? Especially not when she grinds herself on your strap whenever you stop

DUDE fold her in half so that she can't move, or like hold her thighs down as you absolutely RAIL her to oblivion oh my god

Can I just say the ripple effect would go crazy though. LOL yes ugghhgh watch her thighs and her ass move and jiggle every time you bottom out inside of her

You felt her quaking from underneath you as Navia came for.. maybe the third or the fourth time so far. Her loud moans echoed through the room like a pleasant chime as your hips moved to carry her through her high, your eyes still utterly transfixed at the way her thighs ripple whenever your hips slam into yours.

When you think your lover's orgasm had mostly receded, you give her thigh a soft smack before squeezing it, the former action earning what sounded to be a cross between a yelp and another moan from her. She doesn't seem mad at the sudden impact though—in fact, she seems delighted in the way that she gives you a tired grin as she combs her blonde hair out of the way of her sapphire blue eyes.

Instead of continuing again, you decided to take a little break for a short while, though you don't really make the move to pull out. Instead, you keep the strap inside of her as you reach for the cup of water prepared on the nightstand with your other hand.

You lightly tapped your lover's beautiful thighs to gain her attention, "Can you drink on your own or do you want me to pass it to you?"

"Mmm... Think I can drink it on my own for now, thank you." She slowly sat up and took the glass, carefully making sure that you don't slip out from the movement, "I don't know how stable my motor skills will be when you continue with doing that, though."

"Oh? Not if, when?" You raised an eyebrow jokingly as she basically gulped down her drink, "You expected more from me? What if I wanted to stop here?"

She puts the glass back down once she's finished before leaning on her palms behind her, "Then we'll stop. But I really doubt you want to, considering this--" she nods her head down at the toy, "--is still inside of me."

"That your detective skills at work right now?"

"No, just that I know you intimately enough to know you haven't had enough of me."

"I mean, you're right." You buck your hips to make a point and she lets out a gasp, biting her lip as she drops to lean on her elbows instead, "I definitely could never have enough of you."

She gives you an impish smirk, "Then take all of me, ma douce."

Really, the most polite answer would be to do so.

I reckon she's a chronic biter yk. Like hold her close to you as you piston her and she'll bite whatever part of you she can

Don't just bend her over too guys make her ride you 🫶🫶🫶☺️☺️ she happily will!!!! Wielding a huge axe like that has GOT to do shit for your legs too not just your arms so she has the STAMINA go bounce on your cock like her life depends on it, giving you the fill view of you cunt practically consuming you whole like a woman starved. Oh my god I'm having such a fixation with them now that you've said it sorry LOL UM anyway yeah grab onto her thighs, dictate her pace or else she'll do what she wants and chase her release before you actually want her to :((((

Bonus points I think she'd be a size queen too :3 the bigger the better❗️❗️❗️ She swears she can handle it when she first asks you to use one that's Big but then you're in bed with her rn and she sobs out like "it's too much" or "I feel so full" but like just tell her to take it cuz realistically she put this on herself 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

When you're all done, have her clean you off ☺️☺️☺️☺️ she'll take it aaaaaallllllll the way down to the base without any complaints. Even if it's too big, she'll try her very best❗️❗️❗️ And after that, perhaps you could have her service you in return when you take the strap off :3333 it's only fair, and she wouldn't want to leave you unsatisfied after all you've done for her 🤷‍♀️

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with IV

NSFW elements, mainly fluff there might be a part two to everyone’s at this point. Or if you have any requests for HCs feel free to send me a request bc I had so many thoughts for this one and my adhd bird brain can’t keep up. Also I can proofread this 1947372 times and it still might not be as proofread as I thought lmao 🤭

The man that IV is… broody but so babygirl coded

Definitely let’s you wear his jacket, prefers you to actually

Especially since he doesn’t give overtly public displays of affection

It’s his silent claim as if everyone backstage didn’t already know who you were primarily there for. He even considers getting another one just for you to wear when you joined him on tour

Update: he gives it to you on your birthday, nearly identical to his in your size (oversized if you preferred your clothes that way). Maybe instead just wear the big read circle w the ‘iiii’ in it had your initials (solely just so he wouldn’t confuse the two articles)

Let’s you romp around in his mask before shows when the guys are putting their paint on (honestly I think all the guys would at one point or another w their S/o—ivy just gets a bigger kick out of it).

The mask would even find its way into your bedroom, his stage persona following and you ate that shit up

Being putty in his hands when he’d get rough with you when he wore it

Most definitely fucking you from behind in front of a mirror, him gripping your hair to pull your head back just to make you look at him in the mask, his blue eyes intensely staring back at you

Or when you’d be riding him, grabbing it from the night stand and slipping it on. He’d lose his mind, groaning at the sight—drilling up into you feral for more

He has tons of photos of you in his mask and jacket, Adam even taking photos of you with the other band members in the items

Poor IV listens to the guys joke you would be a much better replacement, always grumbling a fuck off as you blow him a kiss, but as he leaves playfully moping he’ll make a gesture of catching the air kiss and smashing it to his cheek or lips.

Don’t forget the few of you in just the mask and jacket he’s taken (100% has it printed in his wallet or hidden behind his phone case)

Despite his more broodier/reserved nature, he loves showing you how much he cares with acts of service and quality time

If he has to wake up earlier than you, there’s always your favorite beverage to wake up with and pastry on your bedside

After a crazy night out despite how fucked up he is, he makes sure you’re okay and settled first. He’ll make sure the makeup remover is close at hand, even helping to take it off if needed. Making sure you’ve had a snack, and have water with an aspirin before bed.

It’s even more endearing when you hardly drink, and in his most inebriated state clamoring all over your house or room trying to take care of you. Still refusing to let you fuss over him

Sometimes during shows, you get anxious or overstimulated to feel comfortable to grab from the snack table backstage. So he’ll notice and stop what he’s doing without complaint, grabbing an assortment of your favorite things without asking. Handing it to you pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of your head, “just for you, love.” Then returning to what he was doing

Always going above and beyond to plan days with just you and him. At home, on tour—doesn’t matter he loves just spending time with his favorite person

Whether it be a crazy excursions/cute dates at the city the band was stopped at or laying in bed watching movies and eating tons of food

Admittedly he loved the slower lazy days sometimes more since it felt like his lifestyle was always non stop. Especially if it just involved tagging along with you for your everyday errands and then coming home to cook dinner together

Then at the end of the night after you two had a couple of glasses of wine, he’d spend hours worshipping your body

Just something about the slow and simple routine, made him want to take his time on you. All his movements intentional with the love and care

Hips lazily thrusting into you, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “Fuck,” he would hiss as you clenched around him. “That’s right, I got you.” Pressing his forehead to yours

[nikosama13]

Captain's Orders! (New! Law x Reader)

Description: After attacking and cleaning out a marine ship you and the Heart Pirates stumbled across some good old fashion booze. But when Law by accidentally swapped his cup for yours things got a little out of hand..

Side Notes: Hello loves! This was lowkey rushed but I did my greatest! (My requests should be open + probably spelling mistakes) (づ￣ ³￣)づ

-Shanks Version Here-

Enjoy the read! <3

Consider following..?

~~~

It was a lively night on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were celebrating after attacking and clearing out a whole marine ship. You guys came across all kinds of supplies which you all of course took back with you to the ship. But one of the most important things you found was barrels and barrels of booze. Now, nor you or the rest of the crew drank to a great extent, however it was nice to let loose once in a while and today seemed like a great day to do just that. Law sat in the corner of the dining room reading away, struggling to focus on his new book. (Which he also probably stole from the marine’s ship) You and Heart pirates ignored his scrunched up and scowling face, continuing your loud dancing and games. Eventually, Law stood up to go get a glass of water and grabbed your cup instead. After he had inhaled the whole glass it hit him.. He basically just swallowed a load of booze. He wasn’t really bothered about what had just happened, however he knew that his booze tolerance wasn’t really that strong at all… So he sat back down and continued reading his book.. Forgetting the whole situation. You on the other hand.. didn’t notice that your drink was missing. The booze had already hit you hard and you thought that you just never refilled the cup. By the end of the night you were all worn out and plopped on your bed, wasted. But soon after, somebody interrupted your peace of mind.. Law just walked straight into your room, bold and without a care in the world. “Oi, y/n-ya you made a mess in the dining room, go clean it up, now.” He said, his voice had a hint of drunkness to it.

Not like your voice was any better.. “Ugh.. no, not right now.. leave.” you suggled further into your pillow, ignoring the captain's orders. Well that was.. until you felt two hands creep up on your waist. The next thing you knew was you were being picked up, swung over Law’s shoulder. You smacked his back with your hands and kicked your feet up and down. “Lawww!” you groaned, dizzy and unhappy. “Fine, I'll take you somewhere better..” his pace picked up and walked quicker to this ‘Better place’, all while carrying you. You were confused by the random change of heart. He was usually more strict about things, especially cleaning up.. But you weren’t complaining if he was going to get you out of it. The next thing you saw was the door frame of some room and the door shutting behind you two. After he gently placed you down on something soft like a bed.. When your vision unblurred you realized where you were. Law’s Room.. You gasped and sat straight up. “L-law what the hell are we doing here!?” you felt your cheeks burning up. “Well you didn’t wanna clean..” he walked closer to you.. “I-..” you were speechless and frozen. “Why so stiff darling..?” he mischievously smiled at you. Eventually your lips crashed together before you could do anything and in that moment you decided that maybe this situation wasn’t so bad after all.. Maybe this was a blessing to have Law act like this.. But out of all the people.. Law? You were just so shocked why he acted like this.. 

His lips slowly and gently pressed on your own. He wasn't rushing it, and took his time in trying not to hurt you in any way.

Law continued the kiss softly and slowly, gently moving his lips across your own before slowly picking up the pace. His arms slowly wrapped themselves around your back and pulled you even closer to him.

Let’s just say you two would have a long talk in the morning..

~~~

The End~

Thank you for reading! &lt;3

Consider following..?

[hexxedghost]

Another NikPrice threadfic crosspost that I think @nekrosmos wanted a tag for. It was supposed to be fluff, then got a dash of angst. there was a suggestion for non sexual intimacy and a few other things and this is what came out as a result.

Price couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone away for Christmas. Admittedly, for the last decade he’d spent it working, normally keeping Simon company with the black cloud of grief that hovered around him.

But the over the last few years, that darkness had faded, and the last two years he’d gone with Soap up to their place in Scotland. Laswell and her wife had gone on a cruise, Gaz had his entire extended family popping round. Which had left Price alone on base. 

He and Nikolai hadn’t made plans, the new relationship between them still feeling new and fragile. It had started as just a physical thing, a quick and filthy release when they could catch a spare moment. 

Until Nik had asked him if that was all he wanted. When Price had floundered, Nik had rescued him, a strong hand pulling him above water as Nik told him he wanted more. And Price couldn’t say no to him. 

But he always felt like his clumsy attempts would fracture what they had, terrified Nik would realise his mistake and want to return to just secret whispers in the dark and hot skin against skin. 

He was idly doodling on discarded paperwork, until Nikolai had leaned a hip against the door frame and asked if he wanted to get out of the office. 

He’d assumed he meant down the pub for a drink, maybe a meal, or back to the flat for a quick shag. Instead, he found himself over a snowy hillscape, small twinkling lights of houses in the distance as they land the heli. 

“Thought we were going for a drink.” Price murmurs, slamming the door closed and stuffing his hands under his arms for warmth. 

“I have drinks in house.” Nikolai says, grabbing the bags, seeming completely unaffected by the flurries of snow that had started falling. Price grumbles and trudges after him, hissing as he enters the house. It’s dark, but at least it blocks the wind. 

“I’ll get the fire going.” Nik calls, dumping the bags near the door. Price just shuffles in place, trying to get the feeling back in his feet. He can hear Nikolai clattering around before there’s a bright flare of a match and the soft crackling of kindling catching alight. 

“Drink?”

“Please.” Price chatters, huddling around the fire as it slowly grows. He feels the chill leave his skin, his shoulders stopping the constant shuddering that made his teeth rattle. 

There’s a clink of glass behind him and Nik’s pressing a whisky into his hand. He takes a sip, the burn a welcomed sensation that warms his chest. 

“Ta.” he smiles, feeling his eyes crinkle. Nik knocks his glass against his, taking a sip and giving a happy sigh before lumbering back into the dimly lit cabin. 

“I’ll put food on, warm up first.” his voice comes out of the darkness, seeming closer as Price’s eyes strained to make out more than dim shapes. 

Price sank into a chair nearby, it’s a bit dusty, but it’s surprisingly comfortable all things considered. Probably another hideout of Nik’s. He’s long given up asking, letting Nik keep his mysteries. The man himself appears to be happily bustling away in the kitchen, finally have turned a light on. The bulb bare and has that yellow tinge Price associates with old homes, a bright triangle on the floor that lets him look around. 

Nik’s humming and the wind tearing past outside make for a background noise that makes him feel drowsy. His eyelids grow heavy and his chest dips to rest on his chin. Just for a few seconds. 

“John?” there’s a hand at his shoulder that makes him jerk awake violently, glass tumbling away with a long ringing noise. The hand stays, instead squeezing gently. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Shuddup.” he grumbles, sitting up and rubbing at his eye. “‘Ow long was I ‘sleep?” Nik doesn’t respond and when Price blinks up at him, he’s just smiling at him gently. “Wha’?”

“I didn’t realise you snored.” Nik says, resting a knuckle against Price’s cheek, “Is cute.” 

Price shoves out of chair, face burning. “Sod off.” he grumbles, glaring at the loud laugh Nik gives. 

“Hungry?” he asks easily, after he’s done laughing, leaning on the back of the chair with his forearm. 

“Could eat.” Price says, pulling his hat down over his ears to hide how red they are. Judging by the cheeky wink Nikolai gives him, he hasn’t succeeded. 

Dinner is a simple enough affair, most of it might be canned, but the whisky is good and plentiful. There’s a pleasant buzzing warmth in Price’s veins as they laugh over old memories, bottle half empty between them.

“Didn’t think you wanted to do anything, for Christmas, I mean,” John murmurs, pushing his glass around the table and tracing the condensation in its wake. 

“Didn’t want you alone in that office.” Nikolai says, hooking a leg with his under the table. Price shifts awkwardly and Nik frowns a bit. “Did you want to be alone?”

“I. no. Just…worried about messing this up.” the drink has loosed his tongue, secrets spilling like across the table in a spreading pool. There’s a warm hand on his and when he looks up, Nik’s eyes are bright and warm, though there’s a crease between his brows. Worried. 

“Why do you think this?” he asks gently, curling their fingers together. Price doesn’t know how to answer that simply. 

“Haven’t got a good track record, do I?” he smiles sadly. “A failed marriage and a successful career.”

“I know this about you.” Nik says, tracing the crease of his palm, his finger where his wedding ring had been worn a lifetime ago. 

“I’m a grumpy old git,” Price says stubbornly. 

Nik smiles, “I like that about you.”  

“Doesn’t mean you want to deal with it.” John counters glumly. 

“I do. I want this. You…Do you? I…” Nikolai draws his hand back slightly. “If you’ve changed your mind…I understand, I was quite…insistent.” 

There’s a seizing in Price chest hearing that. Not the words, but the doubt in Nik’s voice. Doubt and hurt that he’s put there. He grabs Nik’s hand and presses it to his lips, murmuring against the warm skin. 

“I do want this. Want you. Just don’t know how to…how to do that.” he stares at the table, unable to meet Nik’s eyes, just pressing the words as deep into the skin as he can. “You’re always so good at this, like it’s easy. But—”

“But…” Nikolai prods, looking at him intently, seeing through him in a way nobody else does.

“Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” he admits softly. 

“Like what? “ Nik questions, stroking Price’s face with the back of his hand. 

“Like I’m worth loving.” The words punch out of him, spending so long being trapped in his ribs. It hurts to say, but it feels wrong to hide such a painful truth from Nik. 

Nik’s hand stops moving when he says it. Price waits for it to pull away, to hear the hurt or suggestion they should maintain professionalism, just go back to keeping it between the sheets. 

Instead, when he looks up, Nik is smiling, “You think I don’t already?”

There’s something terrifying in that. That Nik had already made himself vulnerable, that the broken sharp pieces of Price could already threaten soft and tender flesh readily offered. Nik shifts his hand, so it’s cradling Price’s face. 

“I do not say this, for a return. I say this because it is true. You revealed your truth. I wanted to reveal mine.” his thumb runs along Price’s jaw, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. 

“I’m not good at this, Nik.” he says to the dark behind his eyelids. 

“I don't need you to be good.” Nik voice is close, breath whispering against his lips, “I only ask that you be you.” 

There’s the taste of whisky, when Nikolai closes the gap and kisses him. It’s slow and sweet, and it feels like it’s breaking John apart from the inside. 

He twists his hands in Nik’s shirt and pulls him closer, scraping with teeth and fire, but Nik stays, gentle. No matter how much Price tries to put aggression into it, tries to pull them away from the soft and tender feelings in his chest that scare him. Price rests his head against Nik’s shoulder with a sigh, shivering as Nik dragged his teeth along his neck, punctuating each mark with a kiss. 

“Nik,” he sounds like he’s pleading, but he doesn’t know what for. His heart feels bruised, his eyes feel damp as he presses harder into Nikolai’s shoulder. 

“Let me take you to bed, John.” the words are deep and husky, breath hot against his skin. Price nods against his shoulder, throat too tight to form words anymore. 

Nik gathers him to his feet, mouth still pressing, biting, marking, pulling clothes aside for more skin. There’s a trail of clothes behind them by the time Nikolai presses him into the sheets. 

“Let me take care of you,” Nik asks, eyes dark and blown wide as he trails his mouth along Price’s hip. “Please.”

“Fuck, Nik.” Price groans, blood pooling low in his belly, the slow fire crawling up his spine.  

“No, no thinking. Only feeling.” it could sound teasing, but it doesn’t, there’s a warm curl around the words that make the weight of them settle gently. Price spends every day at his job, ignoring fear. This should be easy. 

Nikolai sucks a bruise into his hip, tongue laving over the purpled skin, before nosing at Price’s lower belly.  It’s heady, and addicting, and perfect. 

And his mind won’t shut up. Still dragging him back to that sharp shard of fear lodged deep in his heart that this will all fall to ruin. And Price doesn’t know if he can cobble together the pieces of himself again. 

He falls back with a sigh, covering his eyes with an arm. “Sorry, Nik.”

Nikolai shifts up on his knees, leaning forward and catching Price’s mouth with his. Price brings his arms up, tries to get with the program, hands dropping to Nik’s waistband. 

But instead, Nik takes his hands, entwining their fingers and pressing them into the mattress. And just kisses him, long and sweet. 

It’s…strange just kissing. Even in his head, that sounds daft. But it does. Normally they fall into bed, biting and panting into each other's mouth to reach an end goal, as a step, foreplay. It’s odd to just…enjoy it. 

There’s something knocked loose in his chest with it. As Nikolai nuzzles his throat, murmuring sweet words he can’t understand into his skin. Price pulls him back up, resting their foreheads together. 

“D’you want help with that?” he asks, nodding to where he can feel the hard length of Nik’s cock pressing into his thigh.

“No, I’m happy with just this.” Nik rumbles, dragging their mouths back together. 

-

Price doesn’t know when he fell asleep. He’s not used to waking up with someone else in the bed.  

Before the day Nikolai had asked for more, Price had always left after sex. Too skittish and nervous to let himself hope for more, too rattled at grappling with what it all meant. So there were things he’d never noticed. 

Nikolai…was a cuddler. More of a grappler really, in his sleep. Price shifts, but Nik’s hold is like iron, the sleeping man nuzzling into his neck and mumbling sleepily. Price rolls his eyes, but there’s a warmth in chest as he reaches up and tangles their fingers together. The fire had burned down sometime in the night, and as much as the blankets helped, Nik being a furnace was probably the only thing stopping him shivering. 

As he looks at the snow drifting past the window, he remembers the date. 

“It’s Christmas.” he murmurs. 

Nik mumbles into his neck. “Mhm?”

“I didn’t get you anything.” Price says, looking over his shoulder, Nik blinking at him. 

“You did.” he says, voice still soft with sleep. 

“No I bloody didn’t.” Price says, shifting up on his elbow to look down at him. Nik grins, and drags him down for a kiss, placing his hand over Price’s chest, where his heat skips a beat. 

“This.” he says softly “I only want this”

[bonny-kookoo]

The ilysib couple are so cute and secure in their relationship🤧🤧 I want, no I NEED him😭

Has the oc ever felt jealous/protective of jk when another woman tries to flirt with him?

"Here, let me help.." Jungkook tells you, reaching out to take the glass bottle of strawberry flavored ramune from your struggling hands, palms already an angry red from trying to push the glass marble in by yourself. He, on the other hand, doesn't even use his palm at all- a push from his thumb all that's needed for him as he quickly drinks the foam bubbling up from the bottle, before he gives it to you.

But before you can even say thank you, someone next to him giggles, her friend behind her equally as charmed by his actions it seems like as she leans on her hand, cleavage pushed forwards so much that you're wondering when her tits will finally spill out. "It's so cute seeing a guy take care of girls like that." The older girl says, looking at Jungkook, and you freeze up for a second. "My brother has to take care of his besties' sister sometimes too, I get it." She laughs, and you put down your drink at that.

What?

It's something that you've noticed happening quite a lot with Jungkook at your side. Maybe it's your girly outfits sometimes looking more cute than sexy just because you feel like wearing something more comfortable. Maybe it's the height difference between you and Jungkook. Maybe it's your rather round face that makes people think you're younger than you are, especially when you don't dress revealing and confident.

It's, after all, one of the reasons you do dress like that, most of the time. Because you're just not being taken seriously otherwise- and right now, you're just being proven right on that.

You don't want to cause a scene and put Jungkook on the spot however, knowing how uncomfortable things like that make him- so you just stand up, shrug off your partially see-through beach cover over your chair next to him, before you lean over to kiss his cheek. "I'll be going for a swim, alright?" You say, and he nods, a bit caught off guard- before he watches you walk off, towards the sea where you slowly walk further into the deeper water.

He's suspected that you have a distaste for things like that- being belittled by others especially.

He's noticed that you're a little sensitive about jokes made concerning your height or soft facial features, and it had taken you quite a long time to ask him for help for.. anything, really. And even now, you much rather break your neck and twist your limbs in order to reach a higher shelf in the grocery store than ask him who's more often than not right next to you.

He doesn't know what to do to help. Because while he knows that you hate being called that, you are simply.. cute to him.

"Would you join us for the beach party tonight?" The girl next to him asks, pulling him out of his thoughts- and he shrugs, before he takes your beach cover, folding the see-through fabric before he puts it in your bag that he zips up. "Aw, come on-"

"Gotta ask my girlfriend if she's up for it." He simply says, before he waves at you to come back- something you do, though your face still shows some discomfort.

"Oh- well, it was worth a try." The girl says, shrugging. "But considering she's not here right now, you can always call me up when you get tired of her-" She leans closer, when Jungkook stands up, not even looking at her. Instead, he wraps the pink beach towel over your shoulders so you can dry off, and picks up your bag for you.

"I wanna go somewhere less crowded.." He mumbles towards you, and you not quietly. "Hey." He says, catching your attention to look up at him, giving him a good angle to kiss you- something that definitely catches you off guard- before you can feel his hands adjusting your bathing suit to cover your chest a bit better. "Okay?" He asks you, and you're not sure what he's asking-

But you nod.

And so he holds your hand the entire way from the beach to his car, to drive to a more secluded spot like he said. And he also holds your hands in the back of his car, where he shows you just how much he loves your body just the way that it is, no matter how much you dislike it.

And while it doesn't cure your insecurities, his love and care does help you, little by little.

[cloverthebarbearian]

The Party

Rolan/GN Tav No smut (yet) just, angst? Fluff? And initial encounters. Tav is intentionally left as nonspecific as possible but in my mind palace they are a human fighter. Word Count: 3,195 (P.2 Alone Together)

Sharing a drink with the hero of the hour. His lips against the same cup theirs having embraced the entire evening. It suddenly left him feeling… sheepish? No, something else. Deeper. Warmer. Rolan swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. This was all just incredibly inappropriate, he thought. But instead of taking back their drink, Tav just smiled, and further held their cup out towards Rolan's lips. "It's alright," they said, "It's almost empty. We can finish it off together." He let the moment linger, weighing his circumstances. This is a party, after all. However unfamiliar an environment this is for him, it was clear to Rolan that everyone around them was here to relax and have fun. Fun, with his hero.

(This is my first ever fic if anyone is mean to me about it I WILL cry anyways pls enjoy!)

"Well?" Shadowheart's eyebrow raised as she swirled her wine around her chalice.

"'Well', what?" Tav returned, watching their rescued merry band of tieflings mingle and drink around the campsite. Just that morning, they stood together to defend the grove against this 'Absolute' worshiping goblin hoard. It set Tav's heart at ease to see them all safe. Relaxed. Happy. Even if they knew by morning, they'd be back on the road, facing any and every danger that lurked on their way to Baldur's Gate.

But tonight? Tonight was for celebrating.

"Well," Shadowheart continued, "I've noticed nearly everyone's been coupling off tonight. Those tiefling lovebirds have been cuddling by the water since they got here."

"And? They've been attached at the hip since we met them."

"And that cute bard girl's somehow gotten herself mixed up with little Miss Pony-tail," she raised her glass and smiled to Alfira and Lakrissa, who were not-so-subtly cuddling up by the fire.

Tav turned their drinking horn to their lips and smiled, "They are quite cute together."

"Karlach's been flirting with Dammon, I think? She keeps punching his arm, which I believe she thinks is flirting. Or maybe she's just drunk… Hells, I swear I even saw Astarion sneaking off with Lae'zel, of all people."

The wine nearly shot from Tav's nose at that, "You're kidding!"

Shadowheart laughed, shrugging her shoulders, "I know Astarion's quite the flirt. But I'd assumed Lae'zel had a bit more self respect."

Tav gasped with a smile, elbowing their companion as they both kept a steady watch over the party.

"My point being," Shadowheart continued, "The last few days have been exhausting. Who knows when we'll have another chance to relax like this."

Tav gingerly placed their hand over their heart, faux shock dripping from their voice. "My goodness, Ms. Lady of the Dark, are you attempting to court me?"

"Ha! I'm sure you'd like that," Shadowheart said with a teasing glance, "But I'm afraid the wine's already got me spoken for." With that, she gulped down the last of her chalice and sighed, "What I was suggesting," she side stepped to Tav's shoulder, matching their gaze into the crowd, "Was perhaps a certain wizard. One I've noticed you continue to observe. One bound for greatness under an apprenticeship in Baldur's Gate? Before he's become too famous to remember us great Saviors of the Grove." Her voice took on a playful tease as Tav's cheeks began to burn, a slight tingle reaching their ears. Hopefully, they could pass this off on the alcohol. Considering they'd never admit Shadowheart's intuition was spot-on.

"He seems quite busy putting on a show for his siblings, at the moment," Tav said, smiling, though a bit feeble.

"Don't tell me our big bad leader is shy!" Shadowheart teased once more, "Taking on a goblin cult, lead by a terrifying drow warrior, and they don't even bat an eye. But Gods forbid they speak to a handsome tiefling!" Shadowheart's voice was starting to rise. People's heads were turning, and Tav couldn't tell if she was intentionally trying to embarrass them, or if she was truly just a bit too drunk off the cheap booze.

"Shadowheart! By the Hells - Okay, if I go over there will you please just, maybe, be quiet? Go to bed and - Gods - have some water, perhaps?" Tav's cheeks were flushed in full now, well past a point of being able to blame the wine. Shadowheart laughed to herself again, clearly more composed than she was letting on.

"I'm a big girl, but thank you for caring," She smiled once more, picking up a canteen instead of another bottle, "And I will be going to rest. But you-" her finger gently poked into Tav's shoulder, "- are going to tell me all about it tomorrow."

Tav rolled their eyes, "Yes, I'm sure you'll be utterly enthralled as I regale you with some bardic novella of Master Lorroakan's greatest deeds, or something to that effect."

They began walking away from Shadowheart's tent, making their way back into the mingling crowd. After her outburst, Tav didn't want to walk straight up to Rolan, lest he somehow connect the conversation back to him. No, they couldn't risk it. Instead, they looked for their favorite camping companion - Scratch! Who was quickly found surrounded by tieflings. Mostly the children, but even Zevlor was standing near, smiling at the scene.

"Hey, Scratch!" Tav called out, waving his favorite ball in their hand, "Wanna fetch, boy?"

Scratch barked excitedly, play bowing, tail wagging. The children around him broke apart, giggling expectantly. Tav threw the ball as far as they could across the camp, and watched as Scratch made a break for it. Weaving through the crowds of party-goer's to retrieve his prize. He quickly returned with the slobbery toy in his jaws. But instead of rushing back to Tav, he trotted back into the group of children, all of whom were very excited to play a game with their new best friend.

So much for that out.

Tav took a moment to look around the camp. True to Shadowheart's observations, they saw Karlach laughing heavily, one hand slapping against Dammon's back, the other holding a spilling tankard. Though, by no means did Dammon seem uncomfortable. And to Tav's surprise, Lae'zel and Astarion were seemingly absent. Where could they have gone off too -

"Hey! Tav!"

Tav spun around to follow the voice calling for them, only to see Lia waving frantically, motioning them to come over. They smiled and waved in return, their stomach doing cartwheels. Of course this would become unavoidable. The Gods so love to tease me. They took a mighty sip of wine as they walked over.

"Tav, please tell our brother here that, if it weren't for you lot, we all would have been the main course in some sick goblin buffet!"

Rolan's eyes rolled and his teeth bared into a scoff, "Lia, please, that is not at all what I was implying."

"Really, now? Because it sounded like you seem to believe you could've fought off that whole hoard all on your own, for some bloody reason," she said with a smile, winking at Tav. It was very clear she was simply arguing for the sake of seeing her eldest brother get himself worked up. She turned her own tankard to her lips and pouted playfully, "What would you have even done? Cast 'Rolan's Shimmering Sparkles' and hope they'd be distracted long enough to make a run for it?"

Cal laughed, clearly a bit too drunk for Rolan's liking, "Heh, 'Rolan's Shimmering Sparkles'. I like that. Is that a real spell?" He turned to his brother in inebriated earnest. Rolan looked up into the sky. He was no devote worshiper of any Pantheon, but Mystra did bless him with access to the weave. He wondered if she were capable of divine intervention, striking him down with a lightning bolt in this very moment. A heavy, exhausted sigh escaped him.

"Lia, all I said was I wish I had gotten a chance to show those goblins some real magic," Rolan caught himself in the moment, casually glancing to see if Gale was somewhere within earshot. Tav couldn't help but smile at the thought of someone telling Gale, Mystra's ex-Lover, that his magic was sub-par. When Rolan realized the party's resident wizard was nowhere near, he cleared his throat, "And Cal, no. 'Shimmering Sparkles' is not a real spell," his glance caught Tav's eyes for a moment, "Although… I do have my own spin on Dancing Lights that I've been working on. If… If anyone were so inclined as to wish for a demonstration," he stated, puffing his chest out ever so slightly.

"I-" Tav was immediately interrupted by a very drunken Cal.

"Yes, brother! Rolan's Shimmering Sparkles!" He nearly fell off the boulder he was sat upon caught up in his excitement. Lia linked her slightly more sober arm into his to keep him balanced, encouraging Rolan further.

"Go on then. Let's see what makes your spell so special."

"Patience, you two," Rolan stretched out his arms, shaking his neck and shoulders loose, "Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues, Rolan?" Cal retorted in a cheeky mock-whisper.

Rolan rolled his eyes, "Oh, hush you," he replied, centering himself once again in preparation of his spell.

Most of Tav's familiarity with magic came from seeing Gale in combat. It was interesting to them - fascinating, really - seeing another wizard's process. Dancing lights wasn't a spell Gale used often. Yet they could tell right away, the way Rolan worked with the weave was different. Gale always acted like the weave was Mystra herself - to be revered and respected, always somewhat fearful of its fickle nature. And Gale treated the weave as he treated Mystra, as if he had to prove to himself that he was capable enough to work with her, for her. That he knew everything naturally and intimately enough that magic just came to him. Even if Tav always felt like that was a load of crap.

But Rolan? He treated it like a science. As though he were a craftsman, a Master of his trade. Its like he studied the weave to a perfect formula. There was a practiced structure to his movements. As if he could pinpoint where the exact aspect of the weave he needed was located, and then simply pull it from thin air itself. Something about it made Tav's heart race.

He brought his hands before his chest, right above his diaphragm.

"And… Behold!" His arms outstretched, and a rippling wave of lights, indigo and magenta, flowed from his body, carrying themselves up and out into the air. It were almost as if a portion of the Tears of Selûne itself had fallen from the skies and brought itself flowing through the campgrounds. Tav brought their hands together into an enthusiastic applause. Or as enthusiastic as one can be with a drinking horn of wine in their hands.

"Adoring applause?" Rolan cooed with a smile, dipping into a bow, "You're too kind."

"Remember when he could barely cast that?" Lia playfully chastised, gently elbowing her brother in the rib.

Cal chuckled, sighing like a proud father, "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Rolan smiled and shook his head. A genuine smile, Tav noted. Something they weren't sure they had ever seen from Rolan before.

"Never have I met such troglodytes," he commented, "Now, pass the wine."

Cal stood up to pass Rolan the bottle he had been milking, only to stumble over himself when trying to sit back down.

"Woah there, big fella! Easy now," Lia giggled, reaching up to help Cal find his balance, "I think we had better find you something to… eat? Drink? Or a quiet place to vomit, perhaps?"

Cal shook his head, waving a hand in the air, "You worry too much! I'm perfectly-" his words trailed off as he caught his stomach, "Actually, Lia, you may have a point," Lia rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Playing babysitter once again," she hooked her arm below Cal's shoulder, "I'm gonna get the lightweight somewhere decent to rest." She glanced to Tav, the back to Rolan with a smirk, "You two don't have too much fun without us."

Rolan's tail suddenly swished and thudded against the ground, almost frightening himself with the reaction. Lia and Cal both laughed as they walked off. Rolan gripped his wine bottle tightly, bringing a large gulp to his lips. He laughed. A tired laugh, shaking his head.

"Its a wonder why I love those two idiots," he said in a strained tone, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Isn't that the whole point of family?" Tav said quietly, trying to tease.

He choked on another sip of wine, Tav getting the idea perhaps Rolan had forgotten they were even still there for a moment. And Rolan suddenly realizing his vulnerability.

"Um. You won't… tell them I said that, will you? Surely it's the wine talking, but I'll also deny it if you do."

Tav laughed.

"Gods forbid you love your family," they teased.

Rolan smiled again, weakly, then hid it with a scoff, "Of course I love them, I just can't let them hear me say it. Lia would use it against me for the next three months. Minimum," he spat out. Perhaps a bit too harshly, he thought, turning the bottle to his lips once more. Only to find it empty.

"Oh, bother," he muttered to himself, tipping the bottle over, spilling one single drop of purple-red liquid into the dirt. Tav hesitated briefly, before offering their own drinking horn. Tav hadn't met many tieflings before stumbling upon these refugees, so they couldn't be certain, but they swore they saw Rolan's deep red cheeks flush a shade darker.

"I… N-No, it's fine. I've had quite enough to drink already," Rolan wavered, laughing awkwardly. Not an entire lie. He was surely feeling the muddling effects of the evenings festivities. But this hesitation was much more… personal. Sharing a drink with the hero of the hour. His lips against the same cup theirs having embraced the entire evening. It suddenly left him feeling… sheepish? No, something else. Deeper. Warmer. Rolan swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. This was all just incredibly inappropriate, he thought. But instead of taking back their drink, Tav just smiled, and further held their cup out towards Rolan's lips.

"It's alright," they said, "It's almost empty. We can finish it off together."

He let the moment linger, weighing his circumstances. This is a party, after all. However unfamiliar an environment this is for him, it was clear to Rolan that everyone around them was here to relax and have fun.

Fun, with his hero. He reached out, taking the cup from their hands, their fingers overlapping in the exchange.

"I, uh… I thank you, my friend," he smiled and gave a slight bow. Always so formal, Tav thought. They almost wished Cal or Lia would come back, just to see him act a bit more relaxed again.

Almost.

Rolan's sips were small, and slow. He wasn't sure how much to drink, how much to share. And the moment he put his lips against the rim of the horn, he was reminded of Tav's lips once again. Suddenly struck with an internal battle of wanting to keep his mouth here for as long as he could, and wanting to get the moment over with out of sheer, self imposed embarrassment. One small sip, and then another. Tav tried desperately not to stare at the way his throat bobbed every time he swallowed.

Once finished, he handed the cup back to Tav, who took a sip of their own, finishing the last of the drink off. They reached their fingers up to catch a small spill of wine from dripping around the corner of their mouth.

And suddenly, it was so very apparent that it was now just them. An awkward silence growing over the both of them. One which Tav broke first.

"So," their voice immediately cracked, leading them to clear their throat and laugh at the social blunder, "Um, you must be excited to finally get out of the grove, yeah?"

Rolan laughed in a tone that to an unfamiliar ear likely would've sounded mocking.

"By the Hells, yes. I am so incredibly happy to finally get out of this filthy quagmire. Once we reach Baldur's Gate, perhaps I can engage in a civilized conversation for the first time in weeks," once again, Rolan immediately felt himself bite back his words.

"That is… Not to say your company isn't more than engaging. I-I'm just so use to speaking with Cal and Lia. They've never had much interest in… learned topics. I mean, Cal likes to read, at least. But it's all adventure novels. The Illustrious Tales of Balduran or some similar drivel. Nothing with any merit," he glanced over at Tav, who was just staring at him. Their eyes wide, their mouth just barely parted. Rolan stiffened, feeling his cheeks flush once again, ever so slightly.

"Ah, I see I am rambling quite a bit and, uh, likely boring you," he said, trying to sound flippant. Tav blinked suddenly, locking back into his focus.

"What? No!" Their hand flew out and touched his arm, "I love listening to you speak about… well, anything, to be honest." They laughed to themselves, "Sorry if I seemed bored, I suppose. I just, um," suddenly, their face felt warm, their words catching in their throat.

Rolan's attention still set on them, on the feeling of their hand squeezing his forearm, "You…?" he continued their thought. Tav took a deep breath in, and smiled.

"You really… Light up. When you talk about your family," Tav finally let out, "Even to complain about them. It gets you talking. Like, really talking. And it just makes me happy, to see you happy," their voice trails off as they realize what they're saying. Then, they laugh again, releasing his arm, "I suppose now it's my turn to blame the wine. Speaking of which, maybe I should get us some more?"

Rolan smiled, almost reaching out to touch their wrist in response, but stopping himself, "I… yes. Um, well," he cleared his throat, "No offense to Zevlor, I know he did his best with the supplies, but, this wine is… ah, I think the word I heard your pale elven partner regard it as was 'piss' earlier, did I not?"

Tav laughed again.

"Yes, Astarion. I believe he did."

"Well," Rolan turned toward his companion for the evening, smoothing his hands across the front of his robes, "I actually have a lovely vintage of Arabellan Dry back in my belongings. I was going to save it for when we reach Baldur's Gate, to celebrate my apprenticeship. But, perhaps…?"

Tav's heart was suddenly racing, their stomach a bundle of nerves. A smile crept up their face as the flush built on their cheeks. They gingerly placed their hand over their heart, and spoke in a cool, coy manner.

"My goodness, Mr. Future Arch-Wizard of Baldur's Gate, are you… attempting to court me?"

Suddenly, Rolan's face went hot. Even with Tav's limited tiefling experience, it was wholly apparent. Immediately, Tav began laughing once more, nearly doubling over at the severity of his reaction.

"Sorry, sorry!" The reached out for his hand, "I'm only teasing, Rolan. Yes, we can go have a bottle of wine together. I'm starting to get tired of all this noise anyway," they waved a hand around, gesturing to the festivities around them.

Tav hooked their arm into Rolan's, looking up into his eyes. The burning yellow-gold and the hell's touched black vastness behind it. Rolan said a silent prayer to any God listening, thank the stars the likelihood of Tav hearing his heartbeat through his arm alone were slim. He felt as if his chest were on the brink of bursting. Still locked in his gaze, Tav smiled and tilted their head.

"Well? Lead the way, Mr. Wizard."

[talaok]

Hey, I have this huge exam next week, it’s the biggest exam of my life so far and I’m stressed af. I consider myself a chill person but I’m feeling beyond anxious all the time and I have never felt this stressed in my life. It’s so hard to take care of myself rn like I don’t feel like eating but I have to because I’m nauseous and then I can’t find anything I’d like to eat and it makes me more anxious IT’S A VICIOUS CYCLE I SWEAR AND APPARENTLY I HAVE TO EAT EVERY FOUR HOURS EVERY DAY BC I’M A HUMAN??

anyway, sorry for oversharing. I was gonna ask if you could write sth with pedro taking care of stressed reader, making sure she eats and is hydrated, filing up her coffee, cuddling with her when she has crying sessions wiping her tears and telling her everything’s gonna be okay and he’s gonna be there for her with every step no matter what. I literally crave comfort right now, and I’d be so grateful if you could write something 🥹

I love how caring and kind you are with asks, thank you so so so much for being here. Love you 💕💕💕💕

pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

a/n: Im so so sorry love, im one hundred percent sure youll do great, but in the meantime, i hope this will make you feel a little bit better, love you💗💗 (this ask did skip the line bc if i posted it two weeks from now it wouldn't have made any sense)

He didn't know how or when, but all of a sudden, all you did was study.

And at first, he didn't really think anything of it, you'd told him about the exam and about how important it was, so he understood, but what he didn't expect, was just how much you'd be studying.

You raised your head only to answer him, and even when you did, it was monosyllabic.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"no"

"did you drink any water today?"

"not really"

And no matter how many times he'd tell you how bad for you that was, the next time he asked, the answers were always the same. And that's exactly why by the second day, he had stopped asking and instead, started doing.

He had conceived a whole plan of attack.

For the days when he, unfortunately, had to go to work, he left two full water bottles and a glass on your desk, and an already cooked lunch in the fridge, so that all you needed to do was heat it up in the microwave.

But on the days when he didn't have to go to work, he took it upon himself to become your personal assistant, and your worst nightmare altogether.

No matter how much you complained, he forced you to take a break at least every two hours, he made sure you were drinking the water he poured into your glass, he made you coffee every time you asked, (always only after having reminded you that you didn't need more coffee but more sleep) and finally, he cooked or ordered all of your favorite foods in the hopes that it would make you feel more like eating (which never seemed to work).

Today, thankfully, he got to stay home, so for the thousand time, he walked into the studio to check in on you.

"hey there" he smiled, watching you half-heartedly wave at him before returning your full attention to your book "I brought you a snack," he said, placing the apple slices on your desk and making a soft laugh flee your mouth.

He had turned into a soccer mom, but god it felt good to hear you laugh again.

He got behind you to start gently massaging what he was sure must have been sore shoulders.

"how's it going?"

"bad" you grumbled, relaxing the tiniest bit at his touch

"I'm sorry" he murmured, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head "you wanna take a break?"

"It's not been two hours yet"

"I know, but I think it would be good for you" he explained "We could take a walk maybe"

You sighed, closing your eyes "I can't"

"sweetheart" he cooed, crouching down to be at your level and turning your chair towards him "you're gonna burn yourself out if you continue like this"

"I know but..." you glanced back at your notes "I can't fail this exam"

"and you're not gonna" he immediately reassured you

He watched something happen behind your eyes, 

"not if I keep taking breaks"

"baby-" he murmured, taking your hand in his and watching as your mouth curved downwards for the quickest moment 

"I just-I'm so anxious," you said, your voice breaking "I-I can't fail- I just can't"

"hey hey hey" he cooed, his eyes looking for yours "Sweetheart, it's ok"

And that was the moment you couldn't hold it anymore, all the stress and fear you'd been bottling up for days started spilling from your eyes.

"n-no it's not, I-I... I don't even know, I just..." you sobbed, and when you looked at him, he swore he heard his heart break " I feel like shit"

"sugar..." he murmured, wasting no time wrapping his arms around you "I'm so sorry baby," he spoke gently to your ear as his hands stroked your hair and back 

You hid your face in his chest as you cried all you had to cry.

"it's all gonna be alright sweetheart, I promise"

But at that, for some reason, you only started to cry harder.

"ok this is it, hold onto me"

And you had just the time to frown, before he had picked you up and walked out of the room and into the living room.

"w-what are you doing?"

"forcing you to take a break"

"I could have walked" A small smile appeared on your lips, and with it, a small wave of relief washed over Pedro's body.

"You've done enough today" he explained, sitting down on the couch with you, and in less than a moment, your whole body had clung to his.

Your left leg was draped over his, and your head was on his chest, as he held you close with both his arms.

"y/n, you're not gonna fail" he started gently "You're the smartest person I've ever met"

"That's not true" you muttered, your words muffled by his body

"yes it is" he insisted "And baby I promise you, that everything is gonna be alright" he swore, slowly running a hand through your hair "and that no matter what, I'm gonna be here for you, ok?"

It took a moment for you to respond, but after a few beats of silence, a muffled "ok" made its way to Pedro's ears.

"yeah?" he asked, again, encouraging you to meet his gaze.

"yeah" you sniffled, as you finally looked up

"Feeling better?"

"yes" you nodded "Thank you"

He tightened his hug, as he bent down, to ghost your mouth "I love you baby" he kissed you "Whatever you need, I'm always gonna be here for you"

[beauty-brains-braun]

Cravings

18+ *only* minors DNI

DUB-CON! Mind the TWs.

Wherein Sukuna gets tired of watching you dancing with another man and takes control from Yuji to let you know who you belong to.

Pairings: Sukuna/fem reader

Tags/TW:  Smut, Aged-Up Characters, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Face Slapping, Biting, Spanking, Dubious Consent, Hair-pulling, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Name-Calling, Creampie, Canon Divergence

You smirked across the table at your best friend as he took another shot. Yuji was getting his ass kicked in the drinking game the both of you had been playing all night. He was on shot number 9 to your 2. You felt nothing more than a slight buzz but he was having trouble focusing on anything.

“I think it’s time to name her the winner,” Megumi says with a grimace, sliding Yuji a glass of water while Nobara laughs.

Yuji groans, sliding the water away. “I don’t need water, I need pizza and for Sukuna to be quiet for two minutes.”

“Kunaaa” you sang teasingly, always a little more bold and a lot less smart when you were buzzed. Not that you’d ever been accused of making the best decisions in the first place.

A mouth appeared on Yuji’s cheek. “Don’t address me like that” Sukuna snaps.

“Somebody’s grumpy. Why are you bothering Yuji tonight? I’m trying to have a nice time.” You pout at him and he growls back at you.

Yuji slaps his hand over the mouth and gives you an exasperated look. “Stop talking to him, it makes him worse.”

“Maybe a shot would make him more fun” you say, holding a tequila shot out in the direction of the mouth that had appeared on Yuji’s hand.

“I’m being serious” Yuji takes the shot from you and downs it, looking miserable. “The shit he says about you…” he trails off.

You laugh waving him off. “Stop being so grumpy and lighten up, the both of you or I'm going to find better company to occupy my night.” Your eyes slid towards a man who’d already asked to buy you a drink at the bar earlier and your lips tilted up in a smirk when you found him still eying you.

Yuji groans again, resting his head on the table “Don't be so mean to me, the sky is singing and I can't handle it right now”

“That’s called music.” Nobara said, rolling her eyes.

“At least I still have you two” you smiled brightly, sliding a shot across to her and Megumi who grimaced and slid it away.

“Not for long, I've got to get to bed soon.”

You start to protest when the guy from earlier appears at your side again.

“Do you wanna dance?” He asked.

You glanced over at Yuji who still had his head down on the table. He was probably done for the night so why not have one little dance? Nobara was smirking at you when you met her eyes and gave you a little “go ahead” nod.

Decision made, you took the guy's hand and let him pull you onto the floor.

Five songs later and you were still dancing, the guy grinding against you and beginning to suggest you both get out of there. He was cute, but not that cute. You looked over at the table you'd been sitting at with your friends and found it vacant. They must have all gone home, leaving you to your fun.

You met the guy’s eyes, considering leaving with him but deciding against it, excusing yourself to the bathroom instead. You should probably get home yourself soon, you had to be up early for work and needed to get some rest. You had an assignment with Gojo and your former teacher would be exhausting enough without you adding an all-nighter to it.

The door opened behind you as you were washing your hands and you looked up, seeing Yuji in the mirror. He’d turned and was locking the door.

“What are you doing in the women’s bathroom, I thought you'd gone home?” Something about him was off. His energy seemed-

The realization hit you the same time the panic did, seconds before Sukuna turned and smiled at you.

“Sukuna, what did you do to Yuji?” You asked, backing up until you back pressed against the sink as he prowled closer.

“The boy can't hold his liquor. And I can't hold my temper. I’ve been watching you dance with that maggot all night like a slut.”

“Don’t call me a slut” you snapped, anger overtaking your common sense. Maybe you'd gotten too use to mouthing off to him, knowing he was trapped inside Yuji's body. Except right now he wasn't.

“Can’t handle the truth, my little monster?” Sukuna said the last part almost endearingly. He'd called you that before and it always sounded like he meant it to be some sort of compliment.

Fire heated your gaze as you glared at him, but he just chuckled, reaching out a hand to caress your face.

“I will have that fire that burns within you. I will have it wrapped around my cock.”

Your mouth gaped open at the words and you couldn’t stop the tremble of fear that shuddered through you as Sukuna stepped even closer, pressing you against the sink.

“I’ve watched you for years. Teasing, testing, always wanting a taste but never having a chance. Until now.” His gaze burned with desire and you swallowed hard, pretending that your nipples hadn’t hardened into peaks where his chest had pressed against your own in his nearness.

“Sukuna, please-” you started but he cut you off, bringing his mouth down to meet your own and you were on fire. The kiss felt like hell and heaven coming together as one and you felt yourself weaken against the King of Curses.

You didn’t protest when his lips left your own and began trailing down your throat, occasionally biting and sucking so hard you knew you’d have trouble explaining them tomorrow. You didn’t protest as his firm hand on your shoulder urged you to your knees and you wished you could say you didn’t open your mouth eagerly for him as he guided his cock into your warm, waiting mouth.

Your tongue searched for the head immediately and you savored the salty taste of his precum as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth, grunting softly whenever he hit the back of your throat. Your knees dug into the tile beneath you but you barely noticed, losing yourself in the sounds of Sukuna fucking your throat.

You flattened your tongue and relished the low growl he let loose as you let your tongue dance up and down the slit in his cock when he pulled back. He gripped your hair and pulled you to your feet by its roots, sending a shiver of need coursing through your body as you forced yourself to your feet and let him turn you around.

You felt his left hand grip your hip tight, bending you over the sink as his right pushed your dress up, leaving you exposed and bare to him.

Sukuna let out a growl of both desire and irritation. “You tell me not to call you a slut, but look at you. Coming here. Wearing that little slip of a dress with nothing underneath. Pretending that torturing us isn’t your favorite game.”

You opened your mouth to protest but what came out was a yelp when the King of Curses hit your ass hard enough to sting.

“Filthy little slut” he growled right in your ear, low and almost feral.

“Sukuna, please don’t do this.” You begged, trying to ignore how wet you were but sure he could see you glistening.

He spanked you again and your pussy pulsed with need. ”Shut your mouth, If I wanted to hear words come from it, I wouldn’t have filled it with my cock. Unless you want me to choke you on it?” He trailed off sounding thoughtful and you felt yourself clench at the idea, the salty taste of him still on your tongue.

“Stop pretending you don’t want this. That it isn’t what you dreamt about and wished for every time you goaded me.” He spanked you again and again until you were biting your tongue to hold in your moans.

Sukuna let out a harsh laugh and you jumped when you felt his finger running through your folds.

You looked down, avoiding his gaze in the mirror as you felt your face heat with shame. There was no hiding how wet you were. No hiding how much your body craved this even as your thoughts still raced with panic.

“You belong to us, my pretty monster. My pretty slut.” Sukuna said into your ear as he moved behind you and replaced the finger he’d been running through your folds with his cock. “Let me make sure you don’t forget that.” He plunged into you in one swift thrust and you cried out at the sudden fullness.

He was big, filling you up so thoroughly you almost couldn’t breathe. And that was before he began to move. Sukuna didn’t start slow. He fucked into you without mercy. Pleasure overroad every one of your senses, especially the common one, and you lost yourself in it. Your moans were so loud anyone standing outside the bathroom door was sure to hear but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. When your orgasm hit you, Sukuna chuckled low in your ear, grabbing you by the hair and forcing you to watch yourself fall apart for him in the mirror over the bathroom sink..

“Do you think you would have gotten this from that boy you were out there dry humping?” He asked derisively, somehow managing to make the word “boy” the most offensive sounding word to exist. “No, baby, you wouldn’t and just so we’re clear, I will rip the eyes of the next little weasel to look at you from his head and shove them down his throat. Understood?” You didn’t answer but your pussy clenched tight around him and he chuckled. “That right there is why I call you my little monster. You can’t help but be excited by my darkness. Drawn to it, even.”

You shuddered, protests dying on your lips as he pulled your hips back into him and the change in angle sent him even deeper. Something you wouldn’t have thought possible. The sink was digging into you and your ass stung every time his body thrust forward against you, but the pain felt so good.

You’d let your head drop again, eyes practically rolling back in your head from the pleasure, but Sukuna released your hip to grab to your throat, jerking you back up to meet his eyes in the mirror. “Eyes on me. I won’t let you forget who’s giving you this pleasure. Who’s ruining you for everyone else. Who this pussy was made for.” He squeezed your throat tightly and you felt another orgasm approaching.

He let out a small hiss of pleasure when your walls tightened around him. “That’s right. Cum on my cock, precious.” He released his grip on your throat so he could hear you cry out as you came, then brought his mouth to your neck and bit down hard, marking you.

“Fuck!” You shuddered again. Never before had anything felt good as this moment did. You should still be terrified. You should be fighting back. You shouldn’t be craving every thrust of his hips, craving every one of his burning touches that set your very soul on fire. You shouldn’t be pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts eagerly.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised. His voice sounded different. Less controlled and almost strained.

His breathing had become erratic as well and you kept your eyes on him, realizing how close he was to falling apart with you.

“So well.” He repeated, nibbling on your neck again. His thumb pressed into your clit suddenly and you heard a breathy whine come out of your mouth before you’d realized you even made the sound.

“You gonna cum one more time for me, my darling slut?” He asked, drawing circles on your clit with his thumb.

You whined again and shook your “I can’t. ‘S too much”.

He chuckled, low and dark right in your ear. “Come on. You can do better than that.” His other hand found your breast underneath your dress and you felt a mouth clamp down on your nipple. He’d added another mouth to his hand.

“Oh god,” you cried.

Sukuna let your breast go suddenly, grabbing your chin tight.

“My name.” He said angrily. “Only mine.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t think you could.

Sukuna released your chin to slap you. “My. Name.” He said, snapping his hips in time to the words.

“Sukuna” you breathed.

He snapped his hips again and you felt the pressure that had been growing in your snap.

“Sukuna” you said again, far louder this time, as you clamped down on his cock, your orgasm milking him until he was spilling inside you, filling you up. He kept thrusting into you until he had nothing left to spill, the bathroom falling silent except for the sound of both of your heavy breathing.

He was still inside you when reached for your chin again and turned your head to him. “You did so well” he told you, then his mouth met yours in a slow passionate kiss. You felt him pull out of you and his release sliding down your thighs. He pulled away to watch and repeated “so well” quietly to you. You couldn’t stop the somersault your stomach did at his words of praise and the self-satisfaction that covered his face.

Sukuna’s eyes left the mess between your thighs and he looked back in the mirror, smirking at his reflection. “Told you to make a move, brat.”

Your whole body was already aching as you watched Sukuna’s tattoos fade and you were left to have what was sure to be the most awkward conversation you'd ever had with your best friend.

So much for getting some rest.

[mareeyeahh]

Maybe it wasn't meant to be, unless?

Diluc x reader, reader implied as a female.

Trigger warning: mentions of alcohol and cheating

P. S. I'm not a writer. But let me know what you found inconsistent, confusing and just straight did not make sense.

Hope you like it ♡

The sickening scent of alcohol would drown the average person but for someone as wasted as you were, it wasn't a problem. Angel's Share on its peak hours was a can of sardines drenched in the forbidden liquid and you'd usually stay away from it but tonight was an exception.

You were one with the wine and sadness. Your friend and tonight's companion, Venti decided to whisk you away for the night to wash away your broken heart with drinks. At first, it seemed to work. A couple drinks in and you were singing with the famous bard that had everyone in the tavern clapping and singing along as well. But after a few more drinks, considering the lightweight that you are, you just started sobbing and cursing the man who broke your poor little heart.

Venti, being the culprit that he is for getting you into that state, tried to comfort you. But you told him you wanted some alone time and settled on to a corner in the tavern where no one would disturb you.

A chuckle filled with irony escaped your lips. You were ecstatic earlier as soon as you heard that there was a letter from your dearly beloved. He is one of the Knights of Favonius who was handpicked by the Grandmaster Varka himself to join him on an expedition to which had no end in sight. After months of not hearing from him, days when you were awaiting for his return and nights when you were sick with worry of not knowing his well being, a letter finally came. You knew that time was going to be the test to your love for the man. But you were willing to wait as he promised to marry you the time he comes back.

But the letter that you received that day did not convey words of love nor bear any gifts, neither did he mention when he would been coming back. You were taken aback by how formal the letter felt, cold and dead.

But the most shocking part of all, is that he says he had fallen in love with a female knight that was a part of the expedition crew and they were expecting a child. He and the woman withdrew from the expedition a few months ago and are settling somewhere in Natlan due to the circumstances. In the letter, he apologized and wished you well.

You didnt know how cruel the man you thought you loved could be. The pain in your heart felt as if you were struck by lightning over and over. He threw away the promise of marriage to you like it was nothing. All the time you spent wondering about his return, worrying about his safety made you feel stupid. All this time he was with someone in Natlan and potentially raising a family together whilst you were here waiting a word from him. The apology at the end of the letter was a band-aid to a stab wound. You never felt so little before.

Neither have you felt so drunk before. It was bad enough that you were miserable but drunk miserable is not a good combination. After all that drinking, singing and sobbing, your throat was as dry as the desert of Sumeru. You lifted your head to ask Charles for a glass of water but he was not in sight.

Instead, a man clad in black that only emphasized his fiery red locks sat where Charles usually was. You were no stranger to who he was. Despite being newly acquainted to wine, you knew the very man whose name is uttered across regions of Teyvat because of the wine industry. The very same business tycoon asking if you were alright and needed anything.

You snapped back to reality when you realized you were gawking.

"Miss?" Diluc's piercing red eyes glowed with concern.

"I-I'm sorry. Very sorry. Very much, yes." You composed your drunk self but your words slurred. "May I trouble you for a glass of water?"

"Coming right up." The gentleman shuffled around to fulfill your request. He came back with a pitcher of water on one hand and a glass on the other. He poured water onto the glass and gently placed it in front of you. You thanked him and drank it.

"Do you feel alright?" He asked.

"Oh yes, yes, yes, thanks to you." You wiped the tear stains from your cheeks. He gave you a small smile before attending to a couple of drunk customers, one whose right eye is covered with an eye patch.

The water seemed to sober you up a little bit and you realized the time. It must have already been past midnight as some of the patrons in the tavern headed home. Unfortunately, you're not sober enough to make it out of the door without stumbling. You got worried how you were going to get home but remembered that Venti might walk you back.

You stood up from your chair, gripping onto the bar counter for support or else you'll fall. You searched your surroundings for the bard, wondering if he ventured onto the upper floor of the tavern. But you saw his familiar turquoise cape laid on top of him like a blanket as he slept peacefully on a long wooden chair at the back of the tavern. You should've known better. Your only way home was asleep.

Unbeknowst to you, the man from earlier watched as you sigh in defeat when you saw the bard drifting off to dreamland, ignoring the responsibility of taking you home. Kaeya, the man beside Diluc nudged his shoulder with a smirk on his face. "It appears we have a damsel in distress on our hands."

"Don't phrase it like that." The woman beside him, Rosaria, chimed in. "You make it sound like she's some sort of prey."

"I implied none of the sort. I only thought that the streets of Mondstadt may be dangerous for an intoxicated woman to wander about." The one-eyed man spoke in a matter-of-fact tone before sipping wine from his glass. "I think it would be best if Master Diluc here walked her home."

Rosaria turned her head towards Kaeya in confusion, expecting an answer but Kaeya only gave her a knowing glance before looking back at Diluc who was already out of earshot. The drunken woman had reached for the door in an attempt to leave the tavern but almost spectacularly stumbled if not for Diluc catching her mid-fall.

Kaeya stifled a laugh seeing how cheesy the scene was. His brother, the embodiment of seriousness trapped in his arms a woman whose middle name must be clumsy, with their gazes locked upon each other to register each other's presence- he swears this must be something out of a novel. Kaeya simply shook his head in amusement as the two stepped outside and shut the door behind them.

You were almost out of the tavern when you reached for the door but failed to support your weight onto the wall and missed it by an inch. You braced for impact of the fall but instead you were embraced by two strong arms that stopped your momentum. You looked up to see who it was and it was Diluc. Your face heated up and must've been the same shade of his red hair from the embarrassment.

"Are you alright?"

"Alright, yes. Very alright. Thank you, M-Master Diluc." You finished, your words slurring from your mouth. He helped you stand up and stabilized your stance by putting your arm around his shoulder.

"Were you heading out? It's dangerous to go alone, especially when you're drunk."

"Oh yes, yes, yes." You repeat your words like a broken record. "Venti was the one who dragged me here. But he's..." You pause, finding the right words, "He's, he's out like a log? Light? Yes, light."

Diluc turned his head towards the familiar sight he'd rather not see and shook his head with an exasperated look on his face.

"Seeing as the bard, whom you came with, is asleep I think it's best that I walk you home."

It seems you were really that wasted for someone as important as Diluc to be escorting you home. You grew conscious of being a nuisance at the bar earlier with all that singing and now, bothering him to escort you. That weighed on your mind, even more so that his face was a few inches from you.

"Oh, oh, no, no, no. Master Diluc, I can't possibly impose on you. The- uhh, the Knights of Favo-"

"Just Diluc is fine," he cut you off. "And it's no trouble. It would bring me peace of mind if I escort you personally."

His grip on your body tightened a bit, conveying that he won't take no for an answer. He opened the door and let you walk slowly as he supported your balance. You mentally sighed in defeat. "If you insist."

The cool night breeze blew against the both of you the minute you were out of the tavern. It was refreshing at first but you didn't realize how cold the air could be at night.

"Here, sit down for a moment." Diluc gently sat you down on a chair not too far from outside the tavern. He stripped himself of his coat and placed it upon your shoulders. At this point you couldnt refuse as he wrapped it snuggly around you. It wasn't prominent but you caught a whiff of the scent his coat. It had a fragrance reminiscent of the grape vineyard at Dawn Winery that you pass by sometimes.

"Smells like grapes," You blurt out, louder than you anticipated.

"Why, thank you." The redhead didn't know if it was a compliment. It didn't sound offensive in anyway so maybe it was.

Diluc sensed the surroundings for anything or anyone suspicious. When he concluded that the vicinity was safe, he helped you up and supported your balance with your arm around his shoulder once more. The both of you started to walk slowly but steadily.

"Do, do you like grapes, Master Diluc?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"So you, you like alcohol as well, Master Diluc?"

"I do not."

"But you like grapes?" Diluc furrowed his eyebrows as he did not where this conversation was going.

"Yes, I do." He decided to humor you a little.

On the way, you argued that it was impossible for him to dislike wine because it was made from grapes. He thought you made a fair point but he also said he'd rather have grape juice than wine. Diluc had learned first hand with Kaeya that one will never win an argument against a drunk person. But surprisingly, you were more reasonable to argue with.

"I now know that you, Master Diluc, know how to handle a drunk person." You say, also tripping yourself up the stairs of your porch. "But you've never been drunk yourself."

"It's part of the job description. But i've dealt with more stubborn people. Your bard friend is certainly one of them."

You suddenly remember how rowdy the both of you were earlier in the tavern. "Ah, I apologize."

"Whatever for?" Diluc let go of your weight and had you hold the railings of your porvh for support.

"For," Your grip tightened as you feel your knees buckle a little, "causing trouble in the tavern."

"A noisy tavern is not unusual for me. I prefer it that way, if i'm being frank. But seeing you sing earlier is definitely a novelty."

"Me?"

"Yes." His eyes that glowed like embers in the dark stared right back at yours. "Like a nightingale amongst a murder of crows."

As if it wasn't already, your face grew hotter and you evaded his piercing gaze, embarrassed from the sudden flattery. "Thank you, Master-"

"You may call me Diluc. I'm sure I've told you that earlier."

"Thank you, Diluc. For the kind words." You shuffled on your feet, trying to find a way out of the silence. "Ah, my door! I'm home now. Thank you for going out of your way to walk me home." You grab hold of your door knob before saying, "I bid you... good night."

Just as you were about to step in and free yourself from the torment of awkwardness, "Before I depart, may I ask you something?"

You turned around, alert all of a sudden. "You may."

"If it's all right with you, do you want to..." He seemed to pause for a dramatic effect, "have lunch together if time allows it?"

You blinked, his words seemed far away that you couldn't understand. Your heart raced and the pit in your stomach is back. It wasn't giddiness. The most eligible bachelor in Mondstadt himself asked you to have lunch with him but all you felt was anxiety. Suddenly, all those memories that you have shared with your former lover and the pain finding out that he was with another woman now suddenly hit you like a sumpter beast. You have never wanted to be more drunk in this moment.

"I-I... Thank you, Master Diluc for inviting me to a meal together but I'm sorry. I can't."

"I see." Diluc seemed to have taken the refusal well. "It's alright. I'm glad you let me know."

"I'm sorry."

He gave you a soft smile. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Well, I'll be heading off. Good night, Y/N."

You watched as he lightly waved his hand and walked off, his red hair reflected the moonlight making visible even from afar.

****

Before you come at me, yes there'll be a part two. It's literally 12AM and i just wanted to finish this i hope my brain lets me sleep. I was tryna proofread but my eyes are like nope huhu