#maybe running *his* fingers through *your* hair

[ridingthatd]

❝ FUCKABLE! ❞

gojo and geto are assigned a significant task by their teacher, they have the duty of returning you to tokyo jujutsu high. but what would happen if they both find you fuckable?

warning : heavy smut, degrading, breeding, a lot of cum, phone sex, masturbating, three sum, anal sex, pussy talk, dirty, filthy, very kinky

fucking pervert. gojo spit out these harsh words out of his mouth, as he run his fingers through his wet hair. he's been in the shower for quiet awhile now, rethinking whatever he has done an hour ago, what happened to him? is he this desperate?- is he this desperate to fuck his cock with a thong who belongs to the girl he has to keep safe.

satoru thinks and thinks and thinks staring at his hard cock in the shower should he- no no he already did enough, but maybe if he just let it out maybe he will feel better? maybe if he beats his cock in the shower enough he will get tired of beating it, then he wouldn't have to worry about being hard anymore- well at least thats what he thought.

grunts and groans fills the shower, but it wasn't as loud as the water that was running down his body, satoru groans thighs shaking as he stroke his cock in away he never had- so fast, so hard he wouldn't be surprised if the skin of it tear off from how hard he's gripping it, head on the wall of the shower, water dripping down his face, he can't breath, he can't breath because of how suffocating it is to feel this hot- from the warm shower running and of course from the thoughts he's having right now.

having you here with him, bending you over pushing you into the shower wall, boobs squeezing into it, and head rolling back as you desperately give him a sloppy kiss sucking his tongue into your mouth- he looks at the shower wall it was covered with multiple cum spots- his cum, he had came 4 times fucking 4 times and this is about to be his 5th- he wishs you were the one who's covered with his cum shots instead of the cold wall of the shower, his eyes crossed as he imagine your ass- tits - face - thighs covered with his cum, and this seem to send him to the edge as he cums one more time with a long groan and shaky legs. he slides down the shower to shaky to even stand up.

"satoru~" you teasingly call out his name, looking for non other then your favorite sorcerer, you glance inside the kitchen and there he is- his back facing you as he seems to be putting something in the oven, rolling his eyes because he knows once you call his name this way- it means you're up to something annoying.

you sneakily snuck behind his back and warp your ice cold hands inside his shirt- in intention to freak him out, but your silly little action has started a fire- that will break open you.

gojo freezes, standing still, you start giggling thinking you finally caught him off guard, screaming a-

"gottcha that's what you get-" you weren't

able to continue your sentence because gojo is already on you, he was so fast that you let out a yelp as he painfully grabs your hips between his hand and pick you up pushing you toward the kitchen counter, pushing his forehead against yours- your warm breath is mixing with his from how close he was, nose bumping against each other-your breath hitch not understanding what's happening.

"gotcha" gojo whisper lowly against your lips as he stare at them, you can basically feel them faintly brushing against yours as he mutters those words out, you didn't reply- you couldn't, to busy staring at his lips, as he do the same.

satoru doesn't know what got into him- he surprised himself as much as he surprised you.

"satoru" you whisper against his lips, having no motive of pushing him off, so gojo get enough courage to slowly stroke his hand up your thighs, as he keep staring at your lips, he can feel your breath hitch as he squeeze your thighs, trailing his hand up and up till he reachs the skirt you were wearing- he fucking love your skirts, he adore the collection of your skirts, how it let him catch a glimpse of your peachy ass and your plumpy thighs, and most importantly he always think about how easy the access is, he could just bend you over, sliding your panties to the side and shove his cock in with no hesitation.

his hand hovers on your skirt, gojo lick his dry lips, as he look in your eyes asking for permission to slide his hand inside that little skirt of yours. as if you knew what he wants you slowly place your hands on top of his- pushing it inside your skirt placing it on your upper thighs, his fingers gazing against your panties.

he groans against your lips, pushing against you more- because you just gave him the permission he needed so he won't have to hold back anymore.

you let a whimper when gojo squeeze your thighs hard, "you like that yea?" he darkly questions as he knead them harshly.

you nod eagerly, pushing yourself against him, pressing your boobs into him- and gojo finally snaps, picking you up from the counter, squeezing your ass between his hands, as he finally take your pretty mouth against his- finally.

you moan in his mouth and he growls in yours- fuck it tastes so good so good, your tongue against his swirling around together, he pulls back, a string of spit connecting both of your tongues.

"satoru" you mummer staring at him with high eyes and he pull back into a kiss again, wet kissing noises filled the hallway as he makes his way into the living room with you in his arms.

he doesn't make it halfway because he push you against the wall instead, rocking you against his hard cock. you break the kiss, throwing your head back moaning at how good his cock feels- dry humping you.

gojo trails his nose against the side of your neck, huffing as he whisper harshly. "you needy baby? you needy for my cock?"

he pushs harder- it felt to good for you because you thankfully wore a skirt so he's directly stroking his closed cock against your panties, it felt to good because the feeling of the harsh fabric of his jeans rubbing against your clit takes you on cloud nine.

he grabs your hair and turn you around, pushing your face and whole body against the hallways cold walls, he immediately start grinding his hard on against your ass- but the only difference is that you no longer feel his pants- he's only wearing his boxers.

"look what you do to me y/n, you feel this hard cock hm?" he says as he grab your hair pushing your head back to look at him.

but you were to out of it to answer to busy focusing on the way you're so close to cumming, you only snap out of it when gojo pushes your panties down your legs, and shove his finger in without any warming, causing you to yell out.

"I asked you a fucking question didn't i?"

he says harshly as he scissors his fingers inside of you, groaning in your ear from how tight you felt around him.

"ple- please please" this is the only words that managed to come out of your mouth,as you rock against his fingers, mouth half open.

"aw you poor baby you wanna cum on my fingers hm? you wanna squirt on them?" he coo at you sucking on your neck, as he shove them into you faster.

"yes yes yes" your eyes roll, as you roll your hips into him matching his pace. only to whimper when you feel him removing his fingers and licking them clean moaning at your taste.

you were about to complain but gojo already picked you up, throwing you against his shoulder as he makes his way toward the living room throwing you on the couch, freeing his cock out of his boxer, it sprungs out hitting his abdomen. your mouth water out from how big he is- fuck he was so beautiful, pinkish red, veins, and a trimmed white hair. he strokes his cock looking at your wet pussy, he was about to do what he has been fantasizing about till- a ring sound fills the room.

it was your phone laying on the couch next to you, gojo was quick to grab it before you smirking at who's calling- geto.

your eyes goes wide as he click the answer button and put it on speaker placing it next to you. "hello sweetheart, where tf are you? I have been waiting for the past 30 mins" as your hands made their way towards it, gojo shoves his hard cock inside of you.

you moan out loud, he was so big so big, gojo eye rolls, he's shaking, he doesn't know why but he's shaking so bad, after all it was his first time fucking a pussy this tight and the feeling of your tight wet pussy clenching so hard around him has him overwhelmed, "y/n?" geto on the phone confusedly ask.

but you were to busy staring at satorus shivering body, as he leans in placing his forehead on yours, eyes clenched shut, mouth opened.

you completely forget about geto as you slowly flip him and get on top of him. he holds you by the waist gazing at you with adoration. you slowly sink on his cock, he groans fingers digging inside your hips, to your surprise he whimpers. and it turns you on so much that you fully go down. whimper after whimper leaves him.

"y/n" he chokes out, you lean in giving him a sloppy kiss that he returns, "yes baby I'm here" you say.

"please move or I might lose it" he breaths out harshly, you slowly start rocking your hips, to scared to do anything more then that- but what catch you off surprise is when gojo lift you up and push you down hard against his cock, both of you moaning at the same, he repeats it lifting you and tugging you down, you're basically jumping on his cock right now, eyes crossed from how harsh gojo is handling you- like you're nothing but a fuck toy.

"gonna cum inside of you, gonna fill you with my cum" gojo groans out, as he sit up and hug you into him, just to push up your shirt, taking your nipples into his mouth, biting them, and swirling his tongue around them, as he fucks up into you. bouncing you on his cock, oh how much he loves this view.

"fucking hell-" a moan comes out- but it's not from him or from you, it's from the phone, it was geto, he was still on the line clearly listening to what's happening, but that does nothing other then turn you on even more.

"satoru stretch her ass out for me, make sure her little tight ass is stretched out for me" geto speaks out his dirty words, you thought gojo will be made at his friend for ordering him around but to your surprise his eyes sparkle at the idea.

"mm y/n im gonna stretch your second pretty hole for geto yea? we can't be selfish can't we?" he spit this venom out as a smirk slowly creeps out on his face from your shocked expression. "what are you-" his fingers spread your cheeks apart, trailing circles on your hole.

"awe dont tell me you actually thought I would be jealous of my friend-tch i thought u were smarter then that sweetheart, how can I be jealous of my own fuck buddy" you couldn't even react to his words, because geto already shoved a finger up your tight ass- it was a new feeling for you, to overwhelming that it had you squirting on his dick creating an embarrassing wet sound.

"fuck- did she squirt" geto groan out from the phone. your body was drained out from the shockness of both- gojos confession and the new feeling.

but that didn't stop gojo as he pick you up and push you down his cock, bouncing your body on it.

he feels you clenching around his cock tighter "is geto hearing me fucking you turn you on? huh sweetheart" you moan loudly at his dirty words.

"does it turn you on to know that you're fucking his friend?" he says setting you and himself on the edge. " fuck fuck fuck im cumming fuck ima turn your insides white, fill you in, keep you warm and nice".

and that makes you cum again, clenching so tightly around him as you feel his hot cum spilling inside of you, he keep rocking his hips as he bring his mouth to yours, sucking on your tongue.

"never came this hard from masturbating before" geto moans out, indicating that he also came. satoru stare at your sleeping figure as he slowly brush your hair out of the way, he was lying about not being jealous of geto- because of course he is, but was he lying about the fuck buddies part- no he didn't.

[hanniebaeee]

Tease me

Hyunlix x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: Hyunjin is on a work trip, leaving you and Felix alone at home. And when he video calls, Felix is an absolute menace, and it leads to some fun over the call.

Hyunjin had been gone for two days. Two. Long. Days. And you and Felix were starting to feel it - life was just not the same without his constant dramatics and flopping around.

And now Felix was stretched out on the couch with you, scrolling through his phone while you absently ran your fingers through his soft dark hair.

“I miss him,” you sighed, letting your other hand flop to the side dramatically.

“Same,” Felix mumbled, but he quickly looked up at you, grinning. “But his whines are still echoing in my ears.”

“You love his whining. Admit it.” You laughed, poking him in the cheek.

“I do, but I love making him whine even more.” Felix said, and just then, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Oh finally, there it was - Hyunjin’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hehe I was waiting for this,” Felix murmured, sitting up and pulling you closer to him.

“Behave,” you warned, picking up the phone, knowing the kind of drama that was about to unfold.

But Felix was already wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck like the needy little devil he was. The video call connected, and Hyunjin’s beautiful face filled the screen.

“Baby!” he whined, his voice immediately breaking into that soft, needy tone that made your heart clench. “I miss you both so much - what are you doing?”

“Hi, Jinnie,” you said warmly, smiling as he ran his hand over his short hair. “We miss you too.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed suddenly as he noticed Felix’s smug face next to yours. Felix, who was now draped over you like a human blanket, had the audacity to smirk at the camera.

“Hi, Hyunie,” Felix purred, his voice deep and playful. “We miss you sooo much. But, I’m taking good care of our baby while you’re gone.”

“Felix, I don't remember asking you to do that! Get off of her!” Hyunjin bit out, his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, I don’t think she minds, do you, love?” Felix grinned wider, pressing a kiss to your temple just to rile him up more.

You snorted, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered to Felix, who winked at you.

“Yah! Don’t encourage him!” Hyunjin barked, his pout turning into a full-blown glare. “Felix, I swear to god, I’m coming home tomorrow, and I’m not leaving either of you alone for a second. You hear me?”

Felix leaned closer to the camera, filling the screen with his playful expression.

“Aww, you sound jealous, Hyunjinnie. Don’t worry, I’ll save some cuddles for you. Maybe.”

“You’re so annoying!” Hyunjin groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Then, his tone softened as he looked at you, his eyes literally begging. “Babyyy, tell him to stop hogging you.”

“I don’t know,” you teased, leaning back against Felix just a little more. “He’s being pretty sweet to me right now.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the headboard.

“This is torture. Absolute torture. I’m calling the airline to book an earlier flight.” he whined and Felix burst into laughter and he kissed your cheek obnoxiously loud for Hyunjin to hear.

“Fine. Enjoy your little Felix cuddle-fest while you can. Because when I get back, it’s my turn, and I’m not sharing.” Hyunjin glared at the two of you through the screen, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Felix quipped, smirking devilishly before his head dipped, and his lips landed on your neck.

“Felix, I’m going to murder you when I get home,” Hyunjin growled. “Baby, don’t let him do that to you. Tell him you’re mine!”

“Oh please,” Felix scoffed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss on the crook of your neck. “But right now, she’s all mine.”

“Don't do this to me!” Hyunjin said, his pitiful look going straight to your core.

“Jinnie, you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” you laughed, leaning into Felix’s chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m not cute!” Hyunjin shot back, his cheeks bright red. “I’m serious! When I get home, I’m keeping you both in bed for a week. No, two weeks!”

Felix chuckled, his hands slipping down to your thighs as he pressed his face into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses just to push Hyunjin a little more. “Sounds like someone’s desperate, huh, baby girl? Should we keep teasing him?”

“Felix, stop it!” Hyunjin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can't take it anymore!!”

“Good,” Felix said smugly, nipping at your earlobe. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice about leaving us alone for so long.”

Hyunjin peeked through his fingers, his dark eyes burning with frustration and longing.

“You’re both evil. When I get home, you’re not going to know what hit you.” he said, and you smiled at him, your heart aching and racing all at once.

“So, how was your day?” You asked, hoping to change the topic of discussion, while Felix was all over you like a lazy cat.

“Was fine. The meeting went really well - Felix, I’m serious!” Hyunjin’s voice cracked as he pointed at the camera, his tone caught between desperation and a growl. “If you don’t stop, I swear -”

“Oh?” Felix cut him off, smirking, his finger slipping down your chest.

His voice dropped into a sultry, teasing purr as his lips grazed your skin and said, “Like this?”

“Felix!” Hyunjin barked, slapping the table next to him. “I'm catching the next flight home!”

“Good.” Felix smiled, his freckles crinkling as he kissed your shoulder, his lips deliberately lingering. “Come home and stop me, Hyunie. I dare you.”

Your cheeks were hot, your head resting on Felix’s chest as you tried to contain your laughter. Hyunjin, however, had completely lost it. He leaned in closer to the camera, his pupils blown wide with possessiveness and lust.

“Baby,” he said, his tone pleading as he locked eyes with you. “Why are you letting him do this?”

Felix tsked, shaking his head. “Because she likes it, obviously.”

“Lix! I’m going to -” Hyunjin’s voice caught as Felix’s hand slid up your thigh, and disappeared under the little nightdress you were wearing.

“Oh, keep going,” Felix drawled, his eyes flicking to the screen. “What are you going to do, Hyun? Talk me to death?”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes fixed on Felix’s hand, which was definitely slipping into your panties now.

“I'm gonna kill you.” Hyunjin growled, feeling his own desire going straight down there.

Your gasped, heat rushing to your face as Felix only laughed, dark and deep. He was absolutely thriving on Hyunjin’s unhinged energy. And you gasped as his fingers slipped into your folds, dripping with arousal (no surprise there).

“Promises, promises,” Felix murmured, leaning down to kiss your jawline. “But for now, baby girl’s mine to play with. Isn’t that right, love?”

You let out a nervous laugh, caught between the intense tension between the boys.

“Hyunjin…” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low and commanding.

“Watch and learn.” Felix’s voice couldn't be any more smug, as his fingers rubbed small circles on your clit. “She's so wet, Hyunie.”

Hyunjin felt himself go harder by the second. He couldn't deny that this was one of the most delicious things he's ever witnessed - the two people he loved the most putting on a show for him.

“Are you just gonna keep touching her?” He whispered, and Felix's brows shot up before his eyes met you as if asking for permission. “You know what she likes-”

And you glanced between him and Hyunjin, who was now palming himself through his pants. You swallowed and gave Felix a little nod.

That's all it took for him to quickly pull your panties down and toss it aside. And with a grin thrown at Hyunjin, Felix was off the sofa, and on his knees on the floor in front of you.

He angled the camera perfectly for Hyunjin to be able to see what was happening. Seeing the look on Hyunjin’s face, Felix wasted no time. No build up.

He went straight to lick a long strip from your slit to your clit, and it had you shaking and shivering.

“Felix…” you whispered, your heart racing.

Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slipped into his pants and gripped at his length. He stroked himself as he watched Felix’s tongue glide through your folds lazily.

You could barely breathe as Felix closed his lips around your clit and sucked almost harshly. Your fingers slipped through his soft hair, pulling slightly as he continued to lick through your soft lips noisily. Your body quivered with the wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Hyunjin’s breathe came out raggedly as he watched Felix's tongue slipping into you, and the soft whimpers spilling out of your lips driving him insane.

“Felix,” you hissed, biting your lip to stifle a moan. “Baby I'm so close.”

“Good,” Felix whispered, his lips returning to your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. “You good Hyunie?”

“So close-” Hyunjin whispered, his eyes darkening.

“Let go for me, love,” Felix prompted, feeling your body tense. “Let go, Hyunnie.”

Hyunjin was unraveling before your eyes. Through the screen, you saw his pouty lips were parted, his breathing heavier now, his hand moving faster.

“Oh fuck,” He moaned, and your own orgasm came crashing down as Hyunjin came hard, spilling all over his stomach and hand. “Oh my God.”

You whined as Felix continued to lap up all your release, before sitting back and smiling at you like he's won the lottery.

“Oh my God, Lixie-” You mumbled, your head falling back. “I swear you two-”

Felix started to laugh and you couldn't help but join him. You both giggled so hard, Hyunjin had to join in. And it was absolutely a mess.

“Hyunjinnie,” you murmured softly, trying to breathe as your giggles subsided. “I miss you baby, come home already!”

“Taking the first flight back. I'm done here.” He said, grabbing some tissues to wipe his hands.

Felix chuckled, joining you on the couch again.

“You better sleep with one eye open, Lix. Gonna make you regret every single second of this. And baby girl?” Hyunjin said, before turning his gaze to you, his tone softening but no less intense. “I’m going to remind you what you really like.”

You giggled again and Felix grinned, clearly thrilled by Hyunjin’s reaction.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll be waiting for you, Hyun. But until then…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, letting his actions speak louder than his words as his lips captured yours in a kiss so deep and searing. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it just made everything more hot.

“You’re the worst, Felix,” Hyunjin groaned, though he was smiling. “I hate how much I love you right now.”

Felix laughed, winking at Hyunjin.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Felix, baby,” Hyunjin said, lifting his head to glare at the two of you through the screen. “You’re both dead when I get home.”

And from the heat in his voice, you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn't wait.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

[seungcheorry]

you feel vernon chuckle, but you suppose it's because he saw something funny on his phone. still, with his head resting on your stomach, you don't notice the way he's looking up at you, phone long forgotten by now.

you scroll through your own social media in your phone, the device in one hand as your other one mindlessly caresses his head, your palm being tickled by the short, sharpish ends of his hair.

"did you like it?", he asks, making you look down at him.

"hm?"

"did you like my new haircut?"

you smile, running your fingers through the lack of hair in his round head.

"i'm still getting used to it, but it's nice", you nod. "did you like it?"

vernon shrugs, shifting slowly so he can now rest on his back in the bed, legs hanging out of it.

"it's easier, and it's definitely not too hot", he comments. "i think i pulled it off just great."

"you did. but then again, you can shave your head, dye it red and still look good."

he shakes his head, staring at the ceiling as he thinks.

"of course not", he sounds too serious, and for a moment you're ready to scold him if he starts to talk badly about himself. "it's so hard to get the red out of your hair afterwards, jihoon hyung and myungho hyung all had a hard time doing it so, i couldn't do it. maybe a light tone of blue? or grey, grey would be nice."

you laugh, especially because there's such a hard thinking look in vernon's face - you could swear he was trying to solve some huge mathematic problem, and not just thinking about what color to dye his buzzcut.

he turns his head to look up at you again, an endearing shine in his eyes as his smiles grow bigger by the second, too invested in the sight of you laughing.

"please, babe, never change."

and vernon doesn't plan to - he doesn't plan to change a thing in his life right now, other than maybe his hair again.

a/n: i went absolutely feral over buzzcut vernon, i LOVED it. if he ever dyes his hair blue or grey now, it will be on me.

[jianwon]

touch ups and downs

sypnosis. the usual chaos fades away when se-mi, the captivating actress, steps into your makeup station. her playful teasing and effortless charm unravel your carefully built composure, leaving you flustered. an unexpected gesture makes you confront feelings you hadn’t anticipated, leaving you questioning if this connection could be more than fleeting, one that might change everything.

content— actress!se-mi x fem!makeupartist!reader. pure fluff. flirting and romantic tension. mentions of squid game characters.

disclaimer. story is entirely fictional and in no way reflects real events, individuals, or their relationships. characters mentioned are fictional representations based on their on-screen personas.

wordcount. 1.2k

the backstage area of the set was its own ecosystem, a controlled, buzzing chaos where the cast and crew functioned like cogs in a well-oiled, frenzied machine. green tracksuits were tossed onto racks, props were lost and found within minutes, and coffee cups piled up in forgotten corners. yet somehow, amidst the mess, you managed to carve out your own calm at your makeup station. it wasn’t much, just a small table cluttered with palettes, brushes, and bottles of setting spray.

your mornings were always the same, actors trickling in, each with their own quirks and complaints. today started with thanos, who planted himself in your chair with a dramatic groan.

“y/n-ah, you have no idea how much my body hurts,” he grumbled, stretching his arms as if he’d just run a marathon.

"maybe tone it down a bit and try not to act like such a daredevil." you teased, dipping your brush into some fake blood. "hey, i was trying to stay in character!” he protested, puffing his chest out like a proud schoolboy.

“your character dies in episode seven. what exactly were you preparing for?” nam-gyu chimed in from across the room, already in his disheveled tracksuit and inspecting himself in the mirror.

the two men launched into a mock argument while you worked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. the cast was like a dysfunctional family, always bickering, but never seriously. you’d become fond of their antics, even when they slowed you down.

when min-su walked in, grumbling about his hair as usual, the chaos only increased. "this look makes me look like i’m auditioning for a k-pop parody group,” he complained, plopping into the chair next to nam-gyu's.

myung-gi, who was already seated and scrolling on his phone, didn’t even look up before saying, “that’s an improvement from your regular look." the room erupted in laughter as min-su glared at him. “don’t make me mess up your makeup, hyung.”

“not before i do,” you muttered, adjusting his hair until it sat perfectly. “there. now you look less like a coconut.”

“gee, thanks,” min-su said with mock offense, though he grinned at you.

as the morning chaos gave way to quieter moments, you felt your heart do its usual nervous flip when se-mi entered the room. even amidst the energy of the set, se-mi had a presence that demanded attention. everything about her, her walk, her gaze, the effortless way she carried herself. they were magnetic.

“is it my turn yet, artist-nim?” she called with a playful nickname she’d teasingly given you, her voice cutting through the hum of activity like a soft melody. you swallowed hard and nodded, motioning to her chair. “y-yeah, come on over.”

"ready to work your magic and make me pretty?" she asks, settling into the chair with a grin. her fingers sweep through her short hair, brushing it back effortlessly. "pretty? you barely need me for that," you blurt out with a nervous snort, before immediately freezing, your cheeks heating up as the weight of your words sinks in.

"oh?" se-mi tilts her head back suddenly, her eyes locking onto yours. the unexpected movement makes you jump, nearly stumbling over your own feet.

"you're still nervous today," she observes, her voice light but her tone teasing. her gaze shifts to your reflection in the mirror, and her smirk deepens. "i can tell."

“i’m not nervous.” you lied, picking up a brush and focusing intently on your palette. she teased, leaning forward slightly. “then why are your hands shaking?”

your breath caught as you realized she was right. you forced yourself to steady your grip, determined not to let her fluster you any more than she already had. “just… stay still,” you managed, your voice quieter than usual.

as you leaned in to contour her cheekbones, se-mi tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening. “you’re really good at this, you know,” she said, her tone softer now. “but you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from blurting something stupid. “thanks..” you muttered, with a soft smile, focusing on blending the makeup perfectly.

for a moment, the usual backstage chaos seemed to blur into the background. the distant chatter and clatter of equipment faded, replaced by the steady, deafening drumbeat of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. it was just the two of you, the air thick with an unspoken tension that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

“you’re blushing” se-mi whispered, breaking the spell. you pulled back abruptly, your face burning. “am not!” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

se-mi chuckled, a low, melodic sound that made your stomach do flips. “cute..” she said under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

the day moved forward, and with each passing hour, you grew more aware of the fact that it was se-mi’s final scene. she was one of the last actors to wrap, and the air backstage felt bittersweet. the rest of the cast had taken turns congratulating her, but when it came to your turn, you found yourself hesitating.

you watched from the monitors as she delivered her final scene, her performance so raw and emotional that it left a lump in your throat. when the director called cut, applause erupted on set, and se-mi smiled, wiping away tears as the crew cheered.

you were waiting at your station when she walked back, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “you okay?” you asked softly, holding out a pack of makeup wipes.

“yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but steady. “it just… doesn't feel real, you know?”

you nodded, unsure of what to say. instead, you focused on helping her clean off the remnants of her makeup and splatters of fake blood on her face, your hands moving with practiced precision.

“you were incredible,” you said after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. se-mi looked at you, her gaze soft but intense. “thanks,” she said. “that means a lot coming from you.”

you hesitated, then blurted, “i’m really going to miss you.” her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but her smile quickly returned. “oh? gonna miss my face in your chair every day?”

“not just that,” you admitted, fiddling with the edge of the makeup wipe in your hand. “i’ll miss… you. it’s been nice having you around.”

se-mi studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, without a word, she reached over to the counter, grabbed a pen, and scribbled something on the edge of a makeup chart. she folded it neatly and handed it to you.

“what’s this?” you asked, your hands trembling slightly as you took it. “my number,” she said simply, her tone warm but teasing. “call me sometime, y/n. i think you’re cute.” your jaw dropped, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “but don’t tell anyone, okay? gotta keep my cool image intact.”

she winked and walked off before you could respond, leaving you frozen in place with the paper clutched tightly in your hand. the chaos of backstage continued around you, but all you could focus on was the faint scent of se-mi’s perfume lingering in the air and the fluttering in your chest.

a/n— just letting you all know that my requests are open ! feel free to send me anything :)

[woozinhos]

You mentioned drunk sex and I reaaaaaally want you to write that for every idol you write lol it’s my fave

So maybe we could start with yunho?😇

Thank you so much for your works, I love every letter of them😍

Notes: stop anon I’ll be counting on you to send them ahaha enjoy guys I love this one :D

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*

Yunho is already tipsy, laughing and stumbling as he tries to open the door to your shared apartment.

"Babe, I'm home," he calls out, finally managing to get inside.

You hear his voice and quickly run over to him, a big smile on your face.

"Yunho!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "You're drunk."

He stumbles a bit but catches himself, hugging you back tightly.

"Maybe I am," he says, his words slurring slightly. "But I missed you too much to care."

He leans down and kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your body.

"You smell so good," he murmurs against your lips, inhaling deeply. "And you look so damn sexy."

"You're not so bad yourself, handsome," you say, a smirk on your face. "Especially when you're drunk and horny." He grins, pulling you closer and biting your neck.

"I'm not just horny," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm needy." You let out a gasp as he bites down harder, leaving a mark.

"Need me, huh?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes darken with desire, his gaze fixated on you.

"Please, I need you to take care of me," he begs, his voice filled with desperation. "I need your touch, your body, everything."

“Maybe not tonight Yuyu you’re too drunk,” You say smiling at him in his state.

He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in a childish manner.

"But I've been good," he whines, his grip on you tightening. "Why not tonight?"

You laugh at his behavior, ruffling his hair.

"Because you're too drunk to handle it," you say, trying to reason with him. "You'll regret it in the morning if we do anything."

He groans, clearly frustrated.

"But I don't care about tomorrow," he whines again, burying his face in your neck. "I just want you now."

"You're acting like a spoiled child," you tease, stroking his back. "Stop being so impatient."

He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, giving you his best attempt at a cute expression.

"Please, let's go to bed," he says, his voice soft and sweet. "I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you."

You can't help but find him adorable like this, your heart melting at his words.

"Fine," you say, sighing in defeat. "Let's go to bed."

His face lights up with excitement, a huge smile spreading across it.

"Yes!" he exclaims, lifting you up in his arms bridal style. "I knew you'd give in."

He carries you to the bedroom, his movements still slightly clumsy due to his drunken state.

"Don't worry, I got this," he reassures you, even though he's clearly struggling to walk in a straight line. He almost trips multiple times, but manages to reach the bed and gently lay you down on it.

"See, I'm still capable," he says, trying to sound confident but still giggling.

He crawls onto the bed after you, hovering over you with a smirk.

"Now that I have you all to myself, I'm going to make sure you don't regret this." He boops your nose giggling.

You can't help but laugh along with him, finding his drunk boop cute.

"You're so adorable when you giggle like that," you say, booping his nose back.

He blushes, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Only for you," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You're the only one who gets to see me like this."

He struggles to take off his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons.

"Ugh, why won't these damn buttons cooperate?" he groans, growing more frustrated by the second.

You sit up, watching him struggle with a mixture of amusement and fondness.

"Need some help there, love?" you ask, trying to hide your laughter.

He huffs, giving up on his shirt and looking at you with a pout.

"Yes, please help me," he admits, crossing his arms over his chest like a child throwing a tantrum.

You smile at his attitude, reaching out to unbutton his shirt for him.

"You're such a baby when you drink," you tease, finally managing to undo all the buttons.

He leans into your touch as you finish undressing him, his body now fully exposed.

"I know, but I can't help it," he mumbles, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of lust and love.

He starts to leave sloppy kisses along your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he moans against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Please, ride me, ride me hard," he begs again, his voice filled with desperation and need. "I want to feel you on top of me, bouncing on my cock."

His words make you shiver with excitement, your body already responding to his pleas.

"You want me to control the pace, don't you?" you say, your voice low and sultry.

He nods vigorously, his eyes darkening with desire.

"I need you to take control and use me," he says, his breath hitching as he anticipates what's to come.

You slowly strip him completely, taking your time to admire his body. He watches you with heavy lidded eyes, biting his lip as you tease him. His cock is already hard and throbbing, standing at attention for you.

"Look at what you do to me," he groans, unable to keep his eyes off of your body as you strip in front of him.

His hair is messy from running his hands through it, and his eyes are glazed over from the alcohol and arousal. He looks completely debauched and needy, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. He knows he's hot, and he knows you know it too. He smirks at your expression, loving the way you look at him with hunger.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

"More than anything," you say, straddling his hips. He lets out a low growl as you settle on top of him, his hands instantly gripping your thighs.

He squeezes your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to keep himself from bucking up against you.

"Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," he says through gritted teeth, his cock twitching underneath you.

As you slowly sink down onto his cock, he throws his head back and lets out a loud moan, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he gasps, his grip on your thighs tightening even more as you take him deeper.

He's practically a mess beneath you, whimpering and moaning shamelessly as you start to move up and down.

"Please, harder, faster," he begs again, his voice breaking with each plea.

He's a whining mess of pleasure, completely lost in the feeling of your body riding him. His neck is exposed, veins visible as he continues to moan and whine your name.

"You're driving me insane," he pants, his eyes squeezed shut.

He looks up at you with those big, pleading doe eyes, his hair a complete disheveled mess from being pulled and tossed around. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are parted, letting out little needy sounds every time you roll your hips. He can't take it anymore, he's so close to losing control. He tries to buck his hips up into you, but you pin him down, keeping him still.

"Please, I need to cum, please let me cum," he cries out, desperation evident in his voice.

"Beg for it more," you say with a smirk, your movements becoming slower and more teasing.

It's hard to resist when he looks and sounds like that, but you have to keep yourself in check. He lets out a frustrated groan, his body trembling with need.

"Please, I'll do anything," he says, his voice cracking. "I'll be your good boy, just let me cum, I need your permission."

His words make you shiver once again, and you can feel your own arousal growing from the sight of him being so submissive.

"Good boys get rewards," you say, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "And I think you deserve a reward for being so obedient."

His eyes light up at the promise of a reward, his hips bucking up again in excitement.

"I'll be the best good boy for you," he says, his breathing heavy as he tries to maintain his composure. "Just please, please let me have my reward."

You smile at his eagerness and decide to finally give him what he wants. You begin to ride him faster and harder, angling your hips just right to hit his sweet spot.

"That's it, you're doing so good," you praise, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

He's panting and gasping for air, his eyes rolling back again as you hit his sweet spot repeatedly.

"Oh god, right there, right there!" he cries out, his nails digging into your skin as he clings to you.

You keep up the pace, riding him mercilessly, his moans growing louder and louder.

"I'm so close," he says through clenched teeth, his body starting to tense up. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fill you up so good."

He continues to babble and slur his words as he gets closer to his release, his sentences becoming incoherent.

"So beautiful, so perfect, mine," he says between moans, his eyes glazed over with lust and love.

He cums with a loud, guttural moan, his body arching off the bed as he spills inside you. His orgasm is intense, and he continues to spill for what feels like an eternity, filling you up completely. You ride him through his orgasm, milking every last drop out of him. He collapses back onto the bed, completely spent and breathing heavily.

"That was... incredible," he manages to say, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath.

You get off of him and he lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He watches you with tired eyes as you walk away to grab the cloth, still trying to come down from his high. You turn on the faucet in the bathroom, letting the cool water run over the cloth. You wring it out slightly before returning to the bedroom, where he is now laying there with his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

You chuckle softly as you notice him passed out, a small puddle of drool forming on the pillow next to him. You gently clean him up, being careful not to wake him up. You admire his sleeping form, feeling a mix of affection and amusement at how easily he fell asleep.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

a kiss between clothes

pairing: daddy!chan x princess reader

genre: fluff?

warnings: daddy / princess dynamics, soo many kisses, pet names, reader is called baby- princess- little one, reader is pretty “baby” in this one. this is your warning! if you don’t like this content, if you don’t like reader being babied, or acting like a baby, then pls just skip! i don’t need your negativity.

an: tomorrow is my birthday and ive had this idea in my drafts for a while. i’m having some pretty big feelings when it comes to my birthday this year, and i’m scared to post this but.. let’s be brave.

masterlist

“i know baby..” he frowned. “i don’t want to go but i have to. this is a really important schedule and i can’t miss it.”

you sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, bottom lip jutting out, staring at the floor.

“are you mad at daddy?” he asked, opening the closet door. he had just finished with his shower. he was wrapped in a towel, his hair freshly washed and dried, but he left it natural, which you liked.

“your hair is fluffy.” you giggled. the tips of his ears went hot.

“uh.. yeah.” he smiled, running his fingers through his curls. “they’re gonna do stuff to it at the shoot anyways.”

he grabbed a hanger and pulled it out, holding it up for your approval. it was a black hoodie with a teddy bear on the front. you smiled and nodded. “i like that one.”

he walked over and laid the hoodie on the bed next to you. “i thought you might.” he smiled, before walking back to the closet to grab some pants. some plain black jeans would do, though you knew he preferred sweats. he grabbed a black t shirt, some boxers, and some socks from one of his drawers and brought everything over to the bed, tossing it down next to you.

“you never answered my question.” he said, reaching for the boxers.

you still had your arms crossed, still pouting. you looked up at him, trying your hardest to put on your best angry face. but he just thought you were cute.

“are you mad at daddy?” he dropped his towel around his ankles. “for leaving you alone today?” he gracefully stepped into his boxers and pulled them up, but your face was already flushed. he leaned down, chuckling, and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“it’s just..” you started, trying to find the words. “today is special..” you frowned again, feeling truly sad that he was leaving you today. but you understood why. he had important schedules. the group was important. you never wanted to stand in the way of that.

he grabbed his jeans, stepping into them and pulling them up, buttoning them and securing the zipper. “i know baby..” he sounded sad. “i wish it was on any other day. but i have no control over it.” he leaned down again, placing another gentle kiss on your pouty lips. you knew what he was doing. he always did this when you were upset about him leaving. he would shower you with love, kissing you between each piece of clothing until he was fully dressed. he really hated leaving you alone.

“but it shouldn’t take all day.” he said, reaching for his shirt. “daddy will only be gone for a few hours.”

you looked at him, you knew he was lying.

he chuckled. “okay.. maybe like 5 or 6 hours.”

you made a noise of disappointment, going back to pouting.

“i know it’s your special day, princess. today is all about you and im sorry i have to leave.” you watched his muscles flex as he pulled his shirt over his head.

he looked down at you, smiling a sad smile. “you’re so pretty baby.” he brought his plush lips to yours. “daddy’s sorry.” he mumbled against them.

“i’m not mad..” you said, finally answering his question. “i know it’s important that you go. i’m just.. sad i guess.”

he pulled the teddy bear hoodie over his head, straightening it at his hips. “my poor baby..” he cooed, crouching down in front of you. he cupped your face in his palms. “i promise, when i get home, we will celebrate your birthday. okay, little one?” he quickly kissed your lips. “we’ll cuddle..” he quickly kissed your left cheek. “we’ll watch a movie..” he kissed your right cheek. “i was thinking.. despicable me. but we can watch whatever you want, princess.” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“can we watch Howl’s?” you asked, hopeful.

“of course we can.” he squished your cheeks in his hands, causing your face to scrunch up. “i’ll even do my Calcifer impression.” you giggled, grabbing at his hands to pull them away from your face.

he smiled up at you from his place on the floor, his dimple poking out, his eyes practically sparkling. “does that sound okay, princess?” he gently rubbed his thumb across your knee.

you nodded. “yeah. that sounds good, daddy.”

“thank you, baby.” he kissed your lips again. “daddy will make it up to you, i promise.” and with one more kiss to you lips, he stood.

he grabbed his socks and his favorite black beanie and headed for the door. you padded behind him in your slippered feet. he pulled his socks and shoes on and then reached for the door handle.

“i love you, baby.” he said. “i’ll be home before you know it, okay?”

you nodded, sadly. and he opened the door and then he was gone.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[exhaustedpirate]

interrupting the uninterruptable

i fully blame the tevan server for pulling this prompt out of me but au where tommy didn't have a shift to get to and well, buck needs some confirmations aka tevan making out in buck's kitchen

T rating | 1161 words

“So that was okay?”

“Better than fake mouth static.”

Tommy laughs shyly, ducking his head. The world has turned upside down.

Because okay didn’t even begin to describe the absolute infestation of winged insects in his stomach, or the possibly worrying rate of his heartbeat, or even the way he was still catching his breath despite the fact that it was the most chaste kiss he has ever participated in.

Okay? Understatement of the century.

Tommy looks back up at him, a playful curve to his lips. Buck zeroes in on them, on the little cupid’s bow, on the rosy tint to them. There is only one thought in his mind.

“Evan?”

Fuck chaste! 

Buck’s hands take hold of the back of Tommy’s head and he pulls him into a decidedly-not chaste kiss, swallowing a surprised moan from the other man’s mouth. Hmm.

Just as life-changing as the first.

Because, now that Tommy’s gotten over the shock and has firmly placed his hands on Buck’s hips and is kissing him back in earnest, he knows how perfectly their mouths fit against one another. He knows the way Tommy’s hands feel so warm against him even over his shirt. He knows how soft Tommy’s hair is from where his fingers have tangled in the short locks. 

Most importantly, he knows deep in his bones that he was made to kiss Tommy Kinard.

Maybe it’s too soon. 

Maybe they should take a breath and talk.

On the other hand, Buck feels like he might die if he stops kissing Tommy, so he keeps tasting the man’s lips, running his hand down his bicep, over his chest, enjoying the way Tommy’s arm wraps around his waist as their tongues join the kiss.

He might be flying, he might be falling. But thankfully, Tommy is a pilot and he’s got a good grip on him so maybe Buck can let himself feel instead of think.

Tommy is all-consuming and consumes him in the same second. Tommy is a door opening to a wider, more vivid world beyond and Buck is allowed to step inside, hand in hand with the man currently taking all his breaths away.

Buck’s pocket is vibrating. He lets out a hum in the same frequency, too focused on the way Tommy’s teeth rasp along his bottom lip.

His pocket vibrates again and it stops Tommy’s wandering hand from landing on his behind. It makes him want to throw away the weird vibration because he needs Tommy’s hands on him, all of him.

His pocket keeps vibrating and it does the most cruel thing ever - it makes Tommy stop kissing him. But all dark clouds have a silver lining because he doesn’t go far, their noses almost touching, his hands are still on his hips.

“Your phone, Evan,” Tommy’s voice is quiet, hoarse, hot and it takes him too long to process what was said. “Someone’s calling you.”

“Oh,” Buck forces himself to reach for his phone in his back pocket, keeping his free hand in a tight grip of Tommy’s shirt at his shoulder - anything to keep the man close. He keeps forcing himself away from the other man but only enough to look down at the screen of the still vibrating phone. “It’s Eddie.”

Tommy nods and for a terrifying moment, Buck thinks he will step back and his fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt. But he doesn’t, his fingers loop into his belt and his forehead presses against his. Buck can’t control the pleased sigh he lets loose.

“You should pick up,” Tommy usually has great ideas, this is not one. “He’s worried.” He repeats and Buck relents. 

Buck owes his best friend an explanation, even if it does interrupt his new-found desire to kiss Tommy for as long as he can. At least the other man doesn’t seem eager to move away.

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s voice is loud through the phone in the quiet of the loft. “Buck, finally, I was worried!”

“Worried?”

Buck’s attention is not on his best friend’s explanation, it’s on the way Tommy is still looking at him, his pupils blown only leaving a thin line of blue visible. 

“After the basketball game, I thought maybe you were mad at me or something-”

It’s on the way their chests graze against one another as they breathe.

“It’s not like I can really leave the house with the cast and-”

It’s on the way Tommy’s hand slides towards Buck’s back pocket and the other runs up his arm until it reaches his jaw.

“I asked Tommy to check up on you-”

It’s on the way the other man’s thumb runs along his jawline until it reaches Buck’s chin, sending shivers up and down his spine as he remembers the first world-changing of the night.

“I don’t know if he left already or not but-”

It’s on the way Tommy’s eyes turn to Buck’s parted lips and in the hunger in them, a hunger that he feels reflected on him.

“I just wanted to apologise, I never meant to exclude you or-”

It’s on the way Tommy ducks his head and runs his lips along Buck’s jawline causing a soft gasp to escape. 

“Buck?”

It’s on the way he feels Tommy’s lips curl up in a smirk as he moves his kisses down to Buck’s neck, where he is likely to feel his accelerated heart rate.

“Buck, you need to say something or-”

It’s on the way Buck can’t stop the hitch of his breath or the satisfied sigh when Tommy’s tongue soothes the soft bite he left on his pulse point.

“Did something happen, Buck? Do you need me to call someone?”

It’s on…Eddie on the phone.

“Oh, hmm, no, I’m fine,” Buck reassures his friend, his hand tangling once more on Tommy’s hair, while he contents himself with placing chaste - damn chaste - kisses on his neck. “We’re good.”

“O-Okay,” Eddie drawls out and Buck closes his eyes to the pleased hum against his skin. “Did Tommy talk to you? ‘Cause he was-”

“Y-Yeah, Tommy and I talked,” Buck shivers at the way Tommy chuckles against him while his hand grips the meat of his ass. That was different, in the best way. “We’re a-all good.”

“Are you sure? You sound weird.”

“Yeah, I’m j-just busy,” Buck gasps as Tommy’s hand leaves his chin to run down his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “Was that all?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Eddie sounds confused on the other side but Buck is trying to keep from moaning or grinding against Tommy at the way the man is working a bruise to the skin below his collarbone. “Is there someone with you?”

“Yes.” Tommy answers, loud enough that Eddie probably hears.

Buck doesn’t have time for subterfuge now. 

Not when Tommy takes the phone from his hand, his eyes pleading - promising.

“See you tomorrow, Eds.” 

Not when there’s a hot pilot whose mouth he’s not done exploring.

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

hiiiii !!! if ur taking super specific requests i’d KILL for a george clarke mutual pining roommates fic xx

(request aside super excited to read anything you put out love having more writers in this space !!!)

You had been living with Chris, Arthur, and George for a little over a month, and things had settled into a comfortable routine. The initial chaos of moving in, unpacking, and learning everyone’s quirks had given way to a strange sort of domestic harmony. Chris always made a mess in the kitchen, Arthur had a tendency to leave shoes everywhere, and George? Well, George had a quiet way of slipping into your day without you even noticing.

It started small. Sharing tea in the morning before the others woke up. Folding his laundry when you were taking yours off the drying rack. Helping you hang a picture in your room because you couldn’t quite reach. Little acts of care that seemed so innocent… until they weren’t.

It was the way George looked at you that had your heart racing. Long glances from across the living room, his hand lingering on yours when he passed you something, a certain softness in his smile that you hadn’t seen him give anyone else. It was almost impossible not to notice—and apparently, Chris and Arthur had noticed too.

“Mate, just marry her already,” Chris teased one afternoon when George made you a cup of tea without even asking how you liked it. He’d just… known.

Arthur smirked, lounging on the sofa with a packet of crisps. “Yeah, George, why don’t you just whip up a candlelit dinner while you’re at it? Maybe a little violin music? And a horse-drawn carriage? Go big or go home, mate.”

“You two are insufferable,” George muttered, his cheeks pink as he avoided your gaze. “I’m just being polite.”

“Sure,” Chris drawled, winking at you. “Polite. That’s exactly what I’d call it. You’ve practically turned into a Victorian butler. Shall we start calling you Jeeves?”

You pretended to laugh it off, but your chest felt tight every time something like this happened. And it happened a lot.

When George suggested filming a video together for his channel—“It could be fun, and my viewers love seeing you pop up”—you’d agreed, thinking it would be a good way to shake off the awkwardness. But as you sat together on the living room sofa, the camera rolling in front of you, you realized you had underestimated just how hard it would be.

“Alright,” George said, adjusting the camera, his voice casual but his hands slightly shaky. “Today we’re ranking the best and worst British snacks, and as the resident American”—he glanced at you with a teasing smirk—“you get to tell us why everything we love is terrible.”

“Only if you can handle the truth,” you shot back, grinning. The banter came easily, the tension easing slightly as the video went on. But it was still there, simmering beneath the surface. Every time George’s knee brushed yours, every time his laugh lingered a little too long, every time his eyes flicked to your lips when you weren’t speaking… you felt it.

And you couldn’t stop noticing him. The way his hoodie clung to his shoulders, the curve of his jaw when he laughed, the way his hair always seemed just a little messy in a way that made you want to run your fingers through it. God, you needed to get a grip. This was George. Your roommate. Your very off-limits, very kind, and… irritatingly attractive roommate.

At one point, you leaned over to grab a bag of crisps, and George instinctively reached out to steady you. His hand on your arm was warm, his touch lingering a beat too long. Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else fell away. You could feel your breath catch, the space between you charged with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss him or jump out the nearest window. Maybe both.

“Should we… uh, move on to the next one?” George asked, his voice breaking the silence. He pulled his hand back quickly, like he’d been burned.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Let’s do it.”

When the video finally wrapped, you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, that was… something.”

George rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. Thanks for doing this. I think it’ll turn out great.”

“Anytime,” you said, meaning it. Despite the tension, you couldn’t help but want more moments like this with him. Except maybe next time you wouldn’t have to fight the urge to crawl onto his lap and ruin everything.

That night, you found yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. George wandered in, barefoot and wearing a hoodie that was just a little too big on him. He leaned against the counter, watching you in silence for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. We can leave it for Chris tomorrow… payback for all the times he leaves us his dishes.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d rather not wake up to that disaster zone. Besides, it’s… relaxing.”

George stepped closer, taking the plate from your hand. “Let me help, then.”

The two of you worked in companionable silence, the sound of running water and clinking dishes filling the space between you. Every so often, your hands would brush, and every time, your heart skipped a beat. When you finished, George turned to you, his expression soft.

“You’ve really… settled in here,” he said. “It’s nice. Having you around, I mean.”

“It’s nice being here,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You wondered if he could see the chaos behind your eyes, the absurd fantasies you’d been indulging, like the two of you kissing under the glow of the open fridge or him lifting you onto the counter just because he could.

For a moment, it felt like he might say something more, but then Chris’s voice rang out from the living room. “Oi! Are you two coming back, or should we start the movie without you? Or better yet, just tell us when the wedding is! We’ll plan the stag do!”

George stepped back, the moment slipping away. “We’ll be right there,” he called, his voice steady.

As you followed him back to the sofa, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could dance around this feeling without it consuming you completely. Or worse, making you completely lose your mind.

[ch0llies]

KISS IT BETTER | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

oneshot - toxic!reader x toxic!chris

You and Chris have been trapped in a cycle for years. Fighting, breaking, making up, and doing it all over again. Every time you swear it’s the last, every time you tell yourself you’re done, he finds his way back to you and kisses it better.

story warnings: oral smut (fem receiving), fighting, pet names (ma, mama, baby), angst, toxic relationship (teetering on the edge of abusive), If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 5k

“Fuck you, Chris!”

The plate leaves your hand before you fully realize what you’re doing, shattering against the kitchen wall, ceramic shards exploding like fireworks. Your chest is heaving, your hands trembling, but it’s not fear that fuels you. It’s fury. It’s exhaustion. It’s the same goddamn argument, the same back-and-forth that neither of you knows how to stop.

Chris ducks just in time, eyes wild with rage. “Fucking leave then!” he yells, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the wasted words. “Get out! No one’s stopping you.”

The laugh that rips from your throat is sharp and humorless. “Me?” You throw your arms out, gesturing around the apartment, the place where every fight, every reconciliation, every tangled mess of love and hate has played out. “This is my fucking apartment. You get out. You miserable, useless piece of shit- get out!”

You reach for another plate, yanking it from the open dishwasher, but he’s faster this time. His hands close around your wrist, rough and unyielding. “You crazy bitch,” he growls, shaking your arm until the plate slips from your grip, clattering to the floor.

Your breath is ragged. His is worse. For a second, neither of you move.

His grip tightens for a beat too long before he lets go, shoving your wrist away like even touching you is infuriating. You rip your arm back, rubbing the spot where his fingers left their mark, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

Chris runs a hand through his hair, pacing the small kitchen like he’s trying to hold himself together. You can see it in the way his chest rises and falls, in the way his fingers flex like he wants to punch a hole in the wall. But he won’t. Not yet.

“You’re fucking insane,” he spits, shaking his head. “No wonder everyone leaves you.”

The words slice deep, but you don’t let them show. Instead, you smile. “Oh, everyone?” You tilt your head, voice saccharine. “Guess that makes you an idiot for still being here, huh?”

His eyes flash, and you know you’ve hit the mark. He hates when you do that. When you turn the knife back on him, make him feel like the fool for always coming back.

Because he does.

No matter how many times you fight, no matter how many times you scream and throw things and tell each other that this is it, that this is the last time, you know he’ll be back.

Even if he walks out that door right now, he’ll be back.

Maybe it’ll be tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be a week from now, when the silence becomes unbearable, when the ache of missing each other outweighs the resentment. Maybe it’ll be two in the morning, when you’re both drunk and angry and lonely, and he calls, and you answer, and suddenly you’re in your bed again, pretending you don’t know how it always ends.

You do know.

But knowing doesn’t stop you.

“Fuck this,” Chris mutters under his breath, storming past you, shoulder bumping yours as he moves toward the door.

And for some reason maybe out of spite, maybe out of habit, maybe just because you need him to hurt the way he hurts you, you push him again.

“That’s right, run away,” you taunt, voice dripping with mockery. “Just like you always do.”

He stops.

Slowly, he turns, and when his eyes meet yours, there’s something dangerous in them. Not physical. Chris has never hurt you like that. No, his violence is different. His is in the way he knows exactly what to say to tear you down.

“You act like I’m the only one who leaves,” he says, voice low, steady. “But tell me, where the fuck were you last week when I needed you?”

Your stomach clenches. “That’s different,” you snap.

Chris lets out a sharp laugh. “Right. Of course it is. Because when you do it, it’s different. When you disappear, it’s justified. But when I do it, I’m the fucking asshole.”

You cross your arms over your chest, jaw tight. “You are the fucking asshole.”

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Yeah? And what does that make you?”

You don’t answer. Because you know.

You’re just as bad as he is. Maybe worse. Because you’re the one who keeps letting him back in. You’re the one who keeps answering the phone, who keeps opening the door, who keeps pretending that this time, it’ll be different.

It never is.

Chris exhales, dragging a hand down his face. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something softer beneath all the anger.

But softness is dangerous. Softness means giving in.

So you glare at him, at his stupid freckled face, at the stupid bags under his blue eyes, at the stupid mess of his brown hair. You hate him. You love him. You don’t know where one feeling ends and the other begins.

“Don’t come back,” you say. It’s a lie. He knows it.

Chris studies you for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering across his expression. And then he turns, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your hands are shaking. Your pulse is racing.

You sink onto the kitchen floor, surrounded by shattered pieces of the life you swore you’d never let yourself fall into.

It’s no surprise that hours later as the sun is setting, and the world is going quiet that your phone buzzes. It was like clockwork.

You stare at it, the screen glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. You should ignore it.

But you don’t. You never do. You never have.

The first time you fought, it was over something stupid. It was years ago and you were drunk at a party, slurring your words as you accused him of something you don’t even remember now. Some girl. Some look he gave her. Something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter at all. But in the moment, it felt like the end of the world.

He had laughed, sharp and bitter, running a hand through his hair as he glared at you across the room. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

You had shoved him, not hard, just enough to make him stumble back a step.

You hated him then. You hated the way he could make you feel so small with just a few words. Hated the way his anger was never loud, never reckless. It was always just controlled enough to make you feel like you were the problem.

And yet, later that night, you ended up in his bed. Your arms around his neck, his lips on your throat, moaning each other's names, both of you desperate to take back every cruel word without actually saying sorry.

That was how it always went.

Your phone buzzes again.

You don’t pick it up right away. Instead, you stare at the shattered plate on the floor, at the tiny fractures in the tile where it hit. At the reflection of yourself in the broken pieces.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

With a shaky breath, you reach for the phone.

You answer, pressing it to your ear without a word.

His breathing is heavy on the other end.

“Open the door,” he says.

Your eyes flicker to the door. Your fingers tighten around the phone.

“No.”

Chris exhales sharply. “Ma.” His voice is softer now. Worn out. Tired. “Don’t do this.”

You swallow hard. “You slammed the door first.”

“You told me to.”

You don’t have a response to that.

Because you did tell him to. You tell him to leave every time. And every time, he comes back.a

Just like you knew he would.

The fights got worse as the years went on.

They stopped being about stupid things like parties and jealousy and miscommunication. They became bigger. Real.

Chris had walked into the apartment one night, the smell of whiskey clinging to his clothes, his knuckles split open. You were already waiting, sitting on the couch with your arms crossed over your chest.

“You were supposed to pick me up,” you said flatly.

He had exhaled, running a tired hand over his face. “I got caught up.”

You stood up, shaking your head. “You forgot.”

“It’s not a big fucking deal, Y/N.”

You had laughed then, cold and bitter. “Right. Not a big deal. Just like every other time you’ve blown me off.”

Chris had rubbed his temples, exasperated. “Jesus Christ, are we really doing this right now?”

You had shoved him then, harder than before, enough to make him stumble back. “Yes, we’re doing this right now. Because this keeps happening, and you never fucking care.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m here now.”

And that was what made you snap. “Yeah, and that’s the fucking problem. You only show up when it’s too late.”

He had left that night. Slamming the door so hard the walls shook. You told yourself you wouldn’t let him back in. You swore, this time, you meant it.

And yet, a day later, he was at your door, his pretty eyes wet and tired, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.”

And, like always, that was enough.

You unlock the door and go back to sitting down in the kitchen.

Chris doesn’t come in right away. He hesitates in the doorway, looking at you on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of your latest disaster.

He steps over the broken pieces and crouches in front of you.

His hands find your knees. “You okay?”

You huff out a laugh. “Are you fucking serious?”

Chris sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate this,” he mutters. “I hate fighting with you.”

You scoff. “Then stop.”

He looks at you. Like really looks at you, like he’s trying to find something in your expression that he lost a long time ago.

His fingers brush your cheek. “Where were you last week?”

Your stomach clenches.

You shake your head. “Chris…”

“No.” His jaw tightens. “I needed you. And you weren’t fucking there.”

You close your eyes. Because you know. You know.

You had ignored his calls, turned your phone on silent, locked yourself in your apartment and pretended you didn’t hear him knocking and banging and nearly kicking down the door.

Because you were exhausted. Because you were sick of being the one who always stayed. Because you wanted to know if he’d break without you. He did.

And when you finally answered, two days later, his voice was cold but so sad. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You remember the way your chest had ached at the sound of it. The way you had opened your mouth to apologize, but the words never came.

Now, he’s looking at you like that again. Like he’s still waiting for an answer.

You don’t have one.

Chris exhales, pressing his forehead against your knee. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

Something in your chest tightens. Because neither do you. But you both know you will.

So you let him pull you into his arms, let him kiss the top of your head, let him whisper all the things you need to hear.

It had been a month.

Somehow, against all odds, things had actually been good.

After that last fight, after the broken plates and slammed doors and the inevitable collapse into each other’s arms, you both seemed to tread more carefully. There were fewer arguments, fewer nights spent staring at the ceiling wondering when the next disaster would hit.

Chris started coming home earlier. He made dinner for you sometimes, even if it was just burnt pasta. You stopped ignoring his calls. You let yourself believe, just for a little while, that maybe things were different this time.

And then came Boston.

Chris had been excited to take you home, to visit his parents, to spend time with his brothers. “They love you and miss you so much,” he had said, fingers threading through yours. “I just want them to see how good we’re doing.”

And for the first few hours, you were good.

His mom hugged you tight. His dad cracked jokes that made you laugh. Matt and Nick filled the house with their usual chaos, and for a little while, you let yourself forget about the way things used to be.

Until she walked in.

Madisyn.

His ex from high school. The one you had never met, the one he never really talked about, but the one whose name had always felt like a ghost in the back of your mind.

She looked good. You hated that she looked good.

“Oh my god,” she said, smiling wide as she wrapped her arms around Chris like she still belonged there. “It’s been forever.”

You didn’t move.

Chris laughed, squeezing her back before stepping away. “Yeah, it feels like forever, hasn’t it?”

You stared at them.

You hated that he hadn’t told you she’d be here. You hated the way she said his name like she still knew him.

But you didn’t say anything.

You just went quiet.

Chris noticed.

At dinner, after Madisyn left, when everyone was laughing, when you were talking to his parents and brothers but barely even looking at him, he noticed.

“Ma,” he murmured under his breath at one point, nudging you. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Except it wasn’t nothing. Because when you talked to his mom, your voice was warm and full of life. When you joked with Nick and Matt, you were animated and laughing.

But with him?

Cold. Quiet. Distant.

And it was driving him crazy.

At one point, his hand found your thigh under the table, squeezing in warning. “Perk up,” he muttered. “You’re being weird.”

That made you seethe. You had every reason to be pissed, and he wanted you to just sit there and smile and pretend everything was fine?

So you ignored him. You smiled at his mom, at his dad, at his brothers. You talked to everyone but him.

And by the time you got in the car to drive home, the air was suffocating.

The second the doors shut, it exploded.

“What the fuck was that!?” Chris snapped, slamming his hands on the steering wheel before peeling out of the driveway way too fast.

You didn’t even look at him. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting.” His voice was sharp, furious. “You gave me the cold shoulder all fucking night, and for what?”

You scoffed, staring out the window. “Are you seriously that fucking dense?”

Chris let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. Are you jealous right now?”

That made you snap. “Oh, fuck you, Chris.”

He barked out another laugh, gripping the wheel tight. “No, seriously. You’re pissed because Madisyn was there? That’s insane.”

Your hands curled into fists. “I’m pissed because you knew she was gonna be there and didn’t fucking tell me. I’m pissed because you spent all night pretending like I was the one acting crazy instead of acknowledging that maybe just maybe you should’ve fucking prepared me for that.”

Chris gritted his teeth. “I didn’t know she was gonna be there.”

You turned, finally looking at him, eyes burning with rage. “You think I fucking believe that? You weren’t even surprised to see her? Have you been seeing her??”

Chris’s grip on the wheel tightened. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if you believe it or not. You embarrassed me tonight.”

Your mouth fell open. “I embarrassed you?”

“Yes! You were so fucking weird the entire night! My parents asked me if we were fighting. You made it so fucking obvious that something was wrong, and you just, what? You thought that was fine?”

You laughed, sharp and cruel. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t perform for you, Chris. I’m so sorry I wasn’t your perfect little girlfriend, smiling and nodding and pretending like everything was fine.”

Chris’s jaw locked. “You were being a fucking brat.”

That did it. Without thinking, without processing, your hand shot out, grabbing the wheel and yanking it to the right.

The car swerved, jerking hard toward the shoulder, and Chris yelled, his hands fighting for control as he slammed on the brakes.

The car skidded to a stop. Silence. You were both breathing hard. Your heart was pounding. You were lucky you were the only ones on the road.

Chris turned to you, furious. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?!”

You yanked at the door handle, trying to get out, trying to escape the fire burning between you. But it didn’t budge. You tried again. And again.

Chris had child-locked the doors.

You turned, eyes wild. “Unlock the fucking car.”

“No.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Not until you calm the fuck down.”

You pounded a fist against the window. “Chris, I swear to God-”

“No.” His voice was sharp, commanding. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Your vision blurred with rage. “And you’re a fucking liar.”

Chris laughed again, bitter and cruel. “This is why we don’t work. This is exactly why. Because no matter what I do, no matter how much I try, you always find a way to turn me into the fucking villain.”

You ripped at the seatbelt, breathing hard. “Unlock the car.”

Chris leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

And then he whispered, “I don’t even fucking like you anymore.”

It felt like a slap. Your whole body tensed.

Chris swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face, like he wanted to take it back, like he knew how much that would hurt.

But the damage was already done.

You turned away, staring out the window, blinking back tears.

Chris’s grip on the wheel tightened so hard you thought he might snap it in half. And then-

BANG.

His fist slammed against it with a force so violent that the entire car jolted. You flinched, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you. Just let out a sharp breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, jaw locked so tight you swore his teeth might break.

And then he sped off.

The tires screeched as he veered back onto the road, the speedometer climbing. The tension between you was suffocating, thick with regret, anger, and something else. Something even worse.

He had said it. He had fucking said it. “I don’t even fucking like you anymore.” And he hadn’t taken it back.

Neither of you spoke the whole drive home.

The only sounds were the engine, the wind against the windows, and the occasional sharp inhale from you, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

Chris never reached for your hand. Never tried to fix it.

The car pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, jerking to a stop.

Chris didn’t turn off the ignition right away. His hands stayed on the wheel, fingers gripping and flexing like he was still holding onto something he had already lost.

You stared straight ahead, your eyes burning, your hands clenched into fists in your lap.

Seconds passed.

And then-

Click.

He unlocked the doors.

The moment you heard it, you bolted.

The door flew open, and you were out, your sneakers pounding against the pavement as you sprinted toward the apartment entrance.

You knew what he had just done. You knew that saying those words out loud had fucking wrecked him, but you didn’t care about how he felt.

You didn’t care because he had let it happen. Because he had looked you in the eye and said something he could never take back.

And now, you were going to lock him out.

Just like you had that night last week. Just like you had done before, hoping and praying that maybe this time, he’d take the fucking hint and leave.

But Chris wasn’t stupid. He knew what you were about to do.

You heard his car door slam, the sound of his footsteps against the pavement as he chased after you.

You reached the door first, hands fumbling with the keys, but he was right there, his body closing in on yours as you shoved the key into the lock.

Just as you pushed the door shut, his hand slammed against it, shoving it back open.

You shoved with everything you had, every ounce of rage and heartbreak fueling you, but Chris was stronger.

You knew he was stronger.

And it fucking killed you.

He pushed forward, the door flying open as he stepped inside and slammed it behind him, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

You snapped. Your hands fisted in his shirt, and before you even realized what you were doing, you swung.

Your fists hit his chest, one after the other, a furious, broken rhythm of rage and despair.

“You! fucking! asshole!”

Chris just stood there.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t grab your wrists or shove you away.

He just took it.

Your punches weren’t hard enough to hurt him, but they were hard enough to shake through your whole body. Your vision blurred, your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps.

And then the tears came.

You hated him. You loved him. You hated that you loved him. You didn’t know where one feeling ended and the other began.

Chris swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you, to pull you into his chest, to fix this.

Your fists slowed, the fight draining out of you, leaving nothing but exhaustion and grief in its wake.

Your sobs were wrecked, broken, gasping for air between every sharp breath. “You can’t-” Your voice cracked. “You can’t just fucking say shit like that and then sit here and act like-”

You couldn’t even finish. The words got stuck in your throat, tangled with every time he had ever left, every time you had ever let him back in.

Your legs felt weak, unsteady beneath you, like the fight had taken too much, left you with nothing but trembling limbs and a heart that couldn’t take any more.

And then it happened.

Your body just gave in.

One second, you were standing, hitting, shaking with rage and crying.

The next, you were collapsing into him, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe.

Chris caught you instantly, arms wrapping around you without hesitation. His hold was tight, solid, like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

And maybe he was. Maybe he always had been.

Your hands fisted into his hoodie, your forehead pressing against his chest as the sobs wracked through you. “Take it back,” you whispered, voice shattered. “Take it the fuck back.”

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers pressing into your back, his grip almost desperate.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice rough, full of something wrecked, something you weren’t sure you wanted to name. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it.”

But it didn’t matter. Because he had said it.

And that meant, for at least one second, maybe longer, he had felt it.

You shook your head against his chest, gripping his hoodie tighter, like you could force him to undo it, to erase the moment completely.

“Just-” Your voice broke. “Just take it on back.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair. “I swear to god, I take it back.”

“Do what you gotta do,” you whispered against him, your voice barely there. “Just- just fucking fix this.”

Chris held you tighter, like he could pull you into his chest and keep you there forever. “I don’t know how.” His voice cracked, something rare, something raw. “Tell me how.”

You didn’t have an answer.

Because if there was a way to fix this, you would have found it by now.

All you could do was cling to him, feel his breath against your temple, his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He was just holding you, letting it happen, letting you sob against his chest like he knew he deserved it.

But it wasn’t enough. His arms around you weren’t enough, his whispered apologies weren’t enough, the way he was pressing his forehead to yours like he could will this all away wasn’t enough.

It still hurt. It hurt inside when you looked at him, when you saw the guilt in his eyes, when you knew that no matter how much you hated him for saying it, a part of you believed it.

That was the worst part. That little voice in the back of your head that whispered what if?

What if he meant it? What if he didn’t like you anymore? What if all of this, every fight, every bruise left on your hearts, every time you clawed your way back to each other was just stalling the inevitable?

Chris cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming, his eyes dark, desperate. “Baby,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

You let out a sharp, shaking breath, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. “What are you willing to do?”

His whole body tensed. He knew what you meant.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Because what was he willing to do?

Was he willing to stop fighting? Was he willing to fix this, to finally choose something that wasn’t self-destruction wrapped in a love story?

Or was he just willing to do the same thing you always did?

Fix it the only way you knew how.

Chris’s fingers traced down your jaw, then lower, ghosting over your throat, down to your collarbone. “Let me fix it,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

This was how it always went.

“Chris,” you whispered.

“I got you, ma,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your temple, then your cheek, then lower. “Let me kiss it better.”

It wasn’t real. You knew it wasn’t real. But fuck, you needed it.

You tilted your chin up, letting him press his lips to yours, slow at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Chris deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you flush against him. The tension between you hadn’t disappeared, it had just shifted, turning into something equally as dangerous, equally as intoxicating.

You were both still burning. But this time, you were burning together.

Chris hoisted you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you through the dark apartment.

Your lips never left his.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and then you were sinking down into it, pulling him with you, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

Within minutes his lips were everywhere.

On your mouth, your jaw, your throat. Pressing into every inch of skin like he could rewrite the last hour, like he could erase everything he had said and replace it with something softer, something sweeter.

His hands trembled as they slid over your body, gripping you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Like he was terrified of losing you.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered against your collarbone, voice rough, wrecked. “I swear to fucking God, mama, I didn’t mean it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him to keep going, to keep proving it. Because words meant nothing in this cycle you’d built.

But this. This you could believe in.

His lips moved lower, his hands slipping under your shirt, skimming over bare skin like it was something holy. “I like you,” he breathed, dragging his mouth back up to your jaw. “I fucking love you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face away. “Don’t.”

Chris pulled back slightly, his breath heavy, his forehead pressing into yours. “I do,” he insisted. “You know I do.”

And you did know. But it didn’t change the fact that he had said it. That he had looked you in the eye and let the words leave his mouth in the first place.

Chris kissed you again, harder this time, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress. “I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulders. “You always are.”

His lips dragged over your pulse point, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp. “And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

That was the problem. You did believe him. Every single time, you believed him.

And that was why you were still here, tangled in him, letting him worship you with his hands, with his mouth, with every breath he had left.

He knew exactly how to undo you.

His hands slipped lower, gripping your thighs, pressing kisses down your stomach. “My poor hurting baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he looked you in your eyes. “I know it hurts inside. I fucking feel it.”

You bit your lip, staring up at the ceiling, willing yourself to hold on to the anger, to the hurt. But Chris was so good at making it disappear. So good at making you forget.

His hands slid up your legs, slow, reverent, fingers brushing over every place he had ever touched before. Like he was trying to carve himself into your skin.

Chris kissed his way back up your body, mouth tracing over your ribcage, your throat, your jaw. “I’ll do anything,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “Tell me what you need, ma. I’ll fucking do it.”

You knew that wasn’t true.

You knew that in a few days, maybe a few weeks, you’d be back here again. Shattered, screaming, tearing each other apart just to put the pieces back together.

But right now, it felt true. Right now, it was enough.

So you pulled him closer, legs tightening around his waist, nails digging into his back.

Chris’s hands were shaking as they pulled at your shirt, his fingers desperate, reverent- like he wasn’t just undressing you, but unraveling you. Like peeling away the layers of fabric would somehow undo the damage he had done.

His lips followed every movement, trailing soft, worshipful kisses down your body, as if he could replace every bruise on your heart with the heat of his mouth when he took your pants.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with desperation. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wanted to tell him he was right.

You wanted to tell him that sorry wasn’t enough.

But then his mouth was lower, his hands pressing your thighs apart, and fuck, this was how he always did it. How he always made you forget.

He kissed the inside of your thighs like they were something sacred, his fingers gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear beneath him. “Let me make it better,” he breathed, lips dragging over every inch of bare skin he could find. “Please, mama.”

His voice cracked, raw with something wrecked before he showed you how sorry he really was.

His hands held you open, his mouth finding your core in the way he knew you needed. Like he was trying to earn back every ounce of your love, like he was starving for your forgiveness.

You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, your back arching as he devoured you.

Chris groaned into you, like this was the only thing keeping him alive, like he couldn’t breathe without you, without this. His hands tightened on your thighs, his tongue moving in the way he knew would undo you, like he wanted you to break, like he needed you to.

You tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him deeper, and he whimpered at the way you used him.

“Kiss me better,” you whispered, breathless, trembling.

Chris was on his knees for you, his mouth relentless, his hands gripping you tighter like he was afraid you’d take this from him. Like he needed to prove himself with every flick of his tongue, every desperate gasp against your skin.

The apologies didn’t stop.

“I love you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’ll never say that shit again.”

He was starving for you, for your forgiveness, for something that felt like redemption even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. His mouth moved over your clit, his hands trembling as they held your thighs apart even further, pressing his lips to the places he knew made you gasp, made you shudder, made you forget just who you both were outside of this.

You tugged at his hair, yanking him closer, and he whimpered against you.

Chris had never been like this with anyone else. Never been this desperate, this willing, this completely wrecked for someone.

But as soon as he heard you moan for the first time tonight, he knew he had you.

His hands gripped you tighter, holding you there, keeping you from escaping even though you had no intention of going anywhere. He was everywhere, tasting, kissing, worshipping like he had something to prove. Like every movement of his tongue was another apology, another please don’t leave me, another way to say I love you without words.

Your back arched, your head falling back against the pillow, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as moans left your pretty parted lips.

Every time you tugged at his hair, he groaned like it physically hurt him. Every time your body tensed beneath him, he whimpered like he was the one unraveling.

Like this wasn’t just for you. Like he needed this just as much.

“Fuck, mama,” he murmured between kisses, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his fingers tracing slow, dizzying patterns over your skin. “I’ll stay here all night. I don’t care- I don’t fucking care. Just- just let me make it better. Let me kiss it better.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers fisting into the sheets, your body trembling from the way he was pulling you under. “Chris…”

“I know,” he breathed, his voice completely and utterly wrecked. “I know, baby. I got you.”

And God, he did. You couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t remember why you had ever been angry, why you had ever thought you could walk away from this. Walk away from him.

Instead of apologizing with words, he was apologizing like this. With his hands gripping your hips, with his tongue moving in ways that made you gasp his name, with the soft, desperate I love yous pressed into your skin between every kiss.

Your body was on fire, your mind spinning, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he was.

Because you knew love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But you didn’t know anything else. You wanted it. You needed it.

And so you let him worship you.

You let him kiss it better.



for @mattsobvimyfav 🧡

[notaboypossiblyagenius]

Wow, Homemade Cookies? — E. Prentiss

content: not proofread, inspired by 2x17, fluff, established relationship, no use of yn, talks of elizabeth prentiss’ a+ parenting, so a little angsty? but not really. sorta healing to emily’s inner child (which she never got to be!!!!)

wc: 1.5k

an: mind you, this was supposed to be 600 words long.

The scent of something sweet wafted through the air and immediately enveloped Emily in a warmth she hadn’t experienced since she’d left for a case last week. Since she’d left you. She instinctively inhaled as she set her go-bag down, trying to identify the source of the smell that seemed to take over her apartment.

She could hear you in the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and shutting. The sink running. Cooking? At this hour? She thought to herself as she checked her watch. It was past ten, and although it was comical, it wasn’t unusual. On the days you knew she’d be returning home, you’d stay up a little longer, wanting to welcome her with open arms and a warm meal. But, it didn’t smell like dinner. No, this was distinct, sweet and warm. It felt like a kiss to the forehead, a squeeze of the hand—It was comfort made tangible. It was as though the smell had caressed her very soul and soothed the ache that had lingered from the case.

You hadn’t heard her come in, nor had you heard her boots clicking against the linoleum floor of the brownstone. Her arms were a surprise as they wrapped around your waist, pulling a startled sound from you as you dropped the spatula you’d been holding. It clattered against the counter, nearly falling before Emily caught it, steadying it with a soft laugh that caressed your neck like a loving hand.

“Hey! You scared me.” Your protest died on your lips as Emily’s nose grazed your neck, her hair tickling your cheek.

“Did I?” She asked, and even though her voice was muffled by the proximity, the lilt in her voice was clear. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck.

Letting out a content hum at the sensation, you turned your head, looking at her over your shoulder. In doing so, you quickly noticed that her apology was far from genuine, seeing as mirth swam in the deep pools of her eyes as she met your gaze.

Your eyes trailed along her face, picking up on all of the other signs that betrayed her. The upward quirk of her lips accompanied by a dimple, her heavy gaze as she looked down at your lips.

“Yeah, right.” You huffed, turning in her arms, faces now mere inches away. She was even prettier up close, each time you thought you’d memorized her, you noticed something else. Something entirely new that made you swoon. You’d never understood the whole ‘honeymoon phase’ thing. It suggested that two people were only enamored momentarily, that they were only capable of loving so intensely for a short period of time before everything went downhill.

The idea seemed unfathomable to you, it always had. Especially now with Emily standing in front of you. Tired eyes—carrying the weight of cruelties you couldn’t even begin to imagine—looking at you like you’d personally come to save her, and maybe you had.

Your hands moved up to cup her cheeks, your thumbs running over the lines set deep under her eyes. Her eyes immediately fluttered closed, long eyelashes tickling the tip of your fingers. She looked like peace incarnate. Taking advantage of her current state, you leaned forward, your lips meeting the supple heart-shaped flesh of hers—a silent ‘welcome home’.

Emily, pleasantly surprised, let out a sigh, her grip on your waist tightening as she kissed you back. The squeeze forced laugh from you as you pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, earning the scrunching of her face in response.

“Hi,” You said, “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.” She smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, once more savoring the seemingly calming effect you had on her tired bones. As soon as she pulled back, she re-registered the smell she’d seemingly forgotten about. Her brows knitted together and she finally asked the question that had been prying at her since she’d walked in. “What’s that smell? What’re you burning this time?” She grinned.

“I’m not burning anything.” You defended with a shove to her shoulder before turning back to the task you’d abandoned in favor of Emily, who was now leaning her hip against the counter, arms crossed. She looked a little skeptical, the edge or her lip drawn in between her teeth as she watched you with raised brows.

“I baked cookies!” You beamed, ignoring the look she was giving you as you pointed towards the tray of cookies you’d left to cool on the counter.

Her eyes immediately shined with interest and her mouth fell open with a smile, “Wow, homemade cookies?” She said, pushing off the counter and standing next to you as she looked down at the tray, the corners of her lips pulled up in what could only be described as childlike-wonder, her eyes crinkled at the edges. But, her hair fell from where it was tucked behind her ears, obstructing your view.

Persevering, you tucked it back into place, cursing gravity for its lack of consideration. “Mhm.” You hummed, watching as she picked one up and broke it in two pieces. She looked at it for a moment before a distant look washed over her features, her eyes became unfocused and her smile lost its playful edge.

“Hey.” You said, squeezing her bicep softly, trying to bring her back from whatever place she’d just gone to. She blinked, looking from the cookie to your face, then back at the cookie. “Where’d you go there?” You asked quietly, hand still on her arm.

“Sorry, I just—” She began, biting the corner of her lip as she tended to do. Emily let out a soft exhale, flitting her eyes from your face to the ceiling and then back. “I’ve never had an actual homemade cookie.”

Your brows furrowed together, finding yourself at a loss for words. “Really?” You managed with a soft laugh, your eyes moving to the tray of cookies.

Emily nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “Yeah..My mom was never around to make them..Too busy with politics.” She confessed quietly under the buzzing light of your shared kitchen.

That hit you like a brick…

Something you’d thought to be mundane and routine—Something you’d at one point grown bored of, she had never experienced. Your eyes softened, and your grip on her arm faltered slightly as it registered. She’d never experienced home. Not in the way a child should anyway.

“It’s… Whatever, they’re just cookies.” She huffed before you could even speak, trying to downplay her vulnerability. It was so characteristically her, but it didn’t mean it didn’t make you wanna kick her.

“But, it’s not just about the cookies, is it?” You asked, softly. She faltered, the walls she’d instinctively throw up every time she revealed a little too much were useless when it came to you. You knew your way through them. You knew your way through her.

You tugged her closer using the hand you’d kept on her arm. And now face to face, it was easier to see all the little signs of vulnerability that were imperceptible in the warm light. The small crease in her brow, the set of her jaw, the slight gap of her lips. It was like she was to dismiss any apologies, to argue against any attempt at pity. But instead, you took the pieces of the cookie from her hand, holding one up to her mouth.

Her brows furrowed and she smiled, half-heartedly.

“Try it.” You grinned, because you knew no amount of ‘I’m sorries’ or ‘you deserved better’ would fix the damage that Elizabeth Prentiss had inflicted on the defenseless version of the now unstoppable woman.

She laughed, unsurprised at your ability to read her. At the way you seamlessly navigated your way through the ugliest parts of her heart. You waved the cookie in front of her lips again, looking at her expectantly.

She opened her mouth with a roll of her eyes and bit into the piece, her eyes widening slightly. Emily seemed to melt as soon as the taste registered. Her eyes fluttering closed and her brows furrowing together as a soft hum flowed from the back of her throat, like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She opened her eyes and took the other piece from your hand, eliciting a laugh from you.

“I thought I burnt them.” You teased, watching as she placed it in her mouth.

“A little overcooked, yeah.” She lied, her lips pulled into a pretty smile accentuated by a smudge of chocolate. “Clearly, you’re not very well versed in the art of homemade cookies.” She added, reaching for another cookie.

You rolled your eyes, wiping the smudge off with your thumb before taking a bite out of the cookie she had grabbed, earning a protest from her. “We’ll make ‘em together next time, then.” You countered.

“Deal.” She smiled.

You were determined to show Emily that home was so much more than four walls and a desk. It was this—homemade cookies and forehead kisses, it was comfort made tangible.

[grudgecollector]

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part three

Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 1.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon divergence, Thanos lives, fluff, suggestive themes (no smut), implied smoking weed

A/N: This man has taken a over my whole BRAIN HELP ME

Also thank you guys for all the support on these past two parts because holy shit... YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY, so glad to know there's so many other Nam-gyu truthers amongst us.

This man is really getting me through whatever sickness shit I'm going through right now

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

There was a slight chance of snowfall today, it made you happy to know you wouldn’t have to return back to work for another day. Able to enjoy the chilly weather inside, cuddled up against Nam-gyu on his couch. 

Your fingers mindlessly playing with one of his blankets thrown over the both of you. Listening to him and Su-bong playfully argue over what couple was going to last throughout the entire show. 

“But they’re so annoying…” Your boyfriend commented, pointing at the screen a little as the two coupled contestants talked to each other on screen. 

Nam-gyu groaned, running a hand over his face as Su-bong paused the show for what seemed like the fifth time. He stood up from his chair, putting his finger right over the female contestants face, a small smirk on his lips. 

“You see that?” Su-bong said, pointing back and forth between the two people on screen.

“What are we looking at, dumbass?” Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, throwing his arm back over your shoulder as you leaned into him a little more. His fingers squeezed your bicep softly. 

“Passion.” Su-bong whispered, “Look at the way she’s looking at him, she wants him sooo bad, bro.” 

“They barely know each other!” 

Days like these quickly became your favorite over the last eight months. Peaceful nights spent in the comfort of Nam-gyu and Su-bong’s apartment.

At first you worried that you were invading their personal space. 

In the beginning it was clear that you were still not used to being with someone like this after your last, less than savory, relationship. 

But Nam-gyu has been so sweet to you throughout your relationship, passionate words whispered in the darkness of his bedroom, leaving gentle kisses pressed on your knuckles before pulling you closer. 

“What do you think?” Su-bong asked, directing his eyes to you, “Don’t they just seem so passionately in love to you?” He threads his fingers together in front of his chest, patiently awaiting your answer. 

You laughed, “Honestly? No-” 

“Wrong!” Su-bong interrupted, raising his hand, “You guys are so blind, come on!” 

Nam-gyu and you laughed at Su-bong’s dramatics. 

“You guys are useless. And that’s the truth.” The man standing in front of the tv ran a hand through his blue hair, letting out an exaggerated sigh before shaking his head. 

Nam-gyu’s hand slipped from your bicep to your back, blunt nails scratching softly against your shirt. His head leaned against the back of the couch, listening to his friend continue to ramble on some more, occasionally unpausing the show to further attempt to prove his point. 

“Dude… Just sit your ass down and watch the show already.” Nam-gyu sighed finally. 

You softly push against his chest, “Hey he’s just really passionate about his reality tv couples.” 

“Yeah, fuck you Nam-gyu.” Su-bong flipped him the bird playfully, earning one back from your boyfriend. 

“Fuck you too Thanos.” Nam-gyu teased. 

~~~

Nam-gyu bites his lip softly, smoothing over the weighted blanket before glancing over at his door. He felt so cold, his hands shaking a little from the bite of chilly air.

Maybe I smoked a little bit too much... He thought to himself

He brought his shaky hands up to tuck his hair behind his ears, moving to take his socks off. 

Arms wound themselves around Nam-gyu’s waist, making him let out a little sigh. One hand securing itself on your forearm. A warmth spread through Nam-gyu’s chest, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. This truly had to be a dream. 

He turned around slowly, hands finding their way to your cheeks, thumbs softly brushing against your skin, watching you blink up at him. He was sure that if it was possible he would have hearts in his eyes. 

He was so hopelessly, and pathetically in love. This is real passion… Nam-gyu thought to himself. 

Never in his life did Nam-gyu think he would feel such a way about someone. In the past his feelings were always so fleeting, leaving him within weeks, the stress of relationships straining his patience.

He was honestly scared to make things official at first, scared that things would end up being the same. 

But after getting to know you as deeply as he has, he couldn’t see himself wanting to be with anyone else. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered so softly, his eyes taking in every part of your face as he held you close. 

Your fingers tightened around the waist of his hoodie, a small tearful smile coming to your lips. 

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laugh, bringing a hand to rub away a stray tear. 

Nam-gyu knew all about your past relationship, the hardships you went through. It was a difficult time in your life, and you found it so hard to put yourself back out there afterwards. Sinking back into the shadows, hoping nobody looked twice in your direction. 

You had been utterly terrified to get into another relationship when Nam-gyu proposed the idea. Simply asking for a date, a night together at some semi-fancy restaurant. He could feel how hard your hands shook when you grasped onto his that night, a nervous sweat forming on your palms which you quickly apologized for. 

Selfishly, Nam-gyu was happy that you were just as scared as him. 

Maybe it wasn’t for the same reason, but diving into something like this shook the man to his core. Terrified that at any second his happiness could be ripped from under him. Terrified that you would somehow find out about the horrible things he’s done. 

But every time he looked into your beautiful eyes, those thoughts melted away. You made him forget how suffocating his life was.

His fingers smoothed away the teary trails, a smile spreading across his face. 

“You’re just so beautiful too.” He continued, laughing softly at the small sob that fell from your lips, “So perfect…” 

“Nam-gyu…” You whispered quietly, a small laugh coming from you as well, “Shut up.” 

He cupped his hands back around your jaw, bringing you in for a soft kiss. He wasn’t bothered by the occasional tear that would slide against his skin.

Instead he brought you closer, pouring all of his unsaid words into you. One hand fell to your waist, pressing you flush against his body. 

Both of your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as your lips slotted together so perfectly. Soft sighs leaving the both of you. 

Nam-gyu felt like he could kiss you for the rest of his life, your lips were so soft, teeth biting against his bottom lip forcing a small moan from his mouth.

You were going to be the death of him, he knew it. 

His hand tightened itself on your waist, brows drawing together as he felt his whole body begin to heat up under your touch. He disconnected your lips, trailing kisses from your cheek to your jaw, nipping every now and then as he got closer to your neck. 

You tilted your head back a little, allowing him better access as he left open mouthed kisses against your warm skin. His thumb caressed your throat gently as he bit down a little harder near your the collar of your shirt, forcing a small whimper from your parted lips. 

“Nam-gyu…” You sighed out his name, making his heart flutter in his chest. 

He lifted his head, staring at you with lidded eyes and a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “So… you sure you still want to go to sleep?” He teased, thumb trailing along your bottom lip. 

“Get on the bed already, dick.” 

~~~

“Morning, lovebirds.” Su-bong winked as he made his way into the kitchen, going up to the fridge and grabbing the carton of orange juice. 

You looked up from your phone, readjusting your feet under Nam-gyu’s thigh. The both of you were sitting next to each other at the small dining table, enjoying the snowy morning together, quietly scrolling through your phones. 

“Morning.” Nam-gyu yawned, bringing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth absentmindedly. 

Su-bong turned around, looking up from his cup of orange juice, “So what’s going on to- Holy fuck!” He cut himself off. 

He rushed over to his friend, forcing Nam-gyu’s head to the side, and jabbing a finger into one of the prominent bruises you left just above his collarbone by accident. Oops… you thought to yourself, laughing a little. 

“Was she trying to suck the life out of you, bro?” Su-bong looked between the two of you with wide eyes. 

Nam-gyu slapped his hand away, a small chuckle coming from him. “That’s nothing, you should see the one I left on her-” You slapped his shoulder, making him laugh harder. 

“You guys are nasty as fuck.” Su-bong scolded, shaking his head in disappointment. 

You knew better than to take his jabs seriously. Su-bong brought home a new girl every other week, if not more.

Sometimes you were unfortunate enough to be in the apartment when those moments would occur. Making it so you and Nam-gyu have to turn the volume to his TV up a lot louder than you liked. Just so you could drown out the god awful sounds that float through the horribly thin walls of his apartment. 

“Oh please, like you can say anything.” Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, “You’re like a fucking horny dog sometimes.” 

“What can I say? I can’t keep the girls off of me, man.” Su-bong plopped himself down in the seat across from Nam-gyu. “Anyway, what I was going to say… What’s going on today?”

[blood-smiles]

𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐎 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀࣪ ִֶָ☾✴︎˚｡⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 - MDNI TW!! suggestive thoughts and actions coming from yandere . yandere character . defo unprofessional behavior from reader . TO BE CONTINUED!!

╰┈➤ the white flashing of your camera lit up the room, capturing a perfect moment in time inside your device.

Scrolling through the pictures with your thumb, you nodded wordlessly at the various pictures. Perfect and beautiful.

Just how you liked it.

Packing up your gear, you decided it was time you went home, you were tired. Really tired from taking so many pictures, you felt a migraine coming from a mile away.

The soft patter of rain met your eardrums, letting you know it was drizzling and would probably last for a while.

You walked slowly, umbrella in hand, staring at the moon above while rubbing the sides of your head. The soft crashing of the waves hitting the rocks nearby.

Plugging in your headphones and playing some soft music while you walked to your house.

You counted the stars in the sky as you walked along the beach.

“ ♪ Luna quieres ser madre?.. y no encuentras querer que te haga mujer, dime Luna de plata.. Que pretendes hacer con un niño de piel.. ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah.. Hijo de la luna.. ♪ “

You came to a stop, seeing a taller (wo)man (?) leaning against the railing, strange that they were out so late. It was so dark already, what could they possibly be doing out here, in the rain of all places?

Their heterochromatic eyes gazed up at the sky too. Their face solemn and distracted, the rain pouring down over their head and back, their light blue—almost white, wavy hair dampened and forming beautiful coils.

They were so pretty, looking like an angel under the moonlight.. Were your spidey senses tingling right now? You just felt like you should approach them.

“Excuse me.” You interrupted softly, holding out your umbrella over their head, stopping the rain from dampening them even more.

“..What?” Oh, they had a deep voice.. you were caught off guard, they had very feminine traits and flowing long hair, so you just kind of assumed..

“Here.” You handed him your umbrella, which he accepted hesitantly, his hand shaking as he held the handle of the umbrella.

His eyes snapped towards your face, looking deeply into your eyes, looking for a sign of deceit or malice, but only finding kindness and genuine empathy.

His cheeks flushed a little, his ears turning red as he admired your features… how would it feel like if he ran his tongue along your cheek?—What. What was he thinking?!

His fingers slightly grazed your own, sending shivers down his vertebrae and sending his heart into overdrive. 

Snatching the umbrella, holding it close to his chest as he stepped back a little.

“You know, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy but, you’re stunning— You should try modeling! Who knows, maybe one day I’ll photograph you.” 

You joked lightly, putting your hands above your head to shield yourself from the water.

His free hand shakily lifted to cover the bottom portion of his mouth, pupils blown wide as he stumbled back a little. 

..That was the cutest interaction he had ever had up to this point in his entire life. That bashful smile— The twinkle in your (e/c) eyes— everything about you had him in a trance!

“G-Get lost!” He yelled, tightening his hold around the umbrella and running away, his heart beating in his ears, heart swelling and feeling the wings of a swarm of butterflies nicking his guts.

You were left standing under the rain, rethinking your wording and kicking yourself in the stomach  internally for scaring off a potential client.

And… that was the last time you saw him, or so you thought.

Oblivious to you, he just ran off because his heart was in over drive and might have exploded from a cuteness attack.

He glanced down at your umbrella, his eyes zeroing in on the small writing on the handle, ‘Y/n L/n’? That was the name of the cute idiot he met?

Looking up the name all results showed up, your face everywhere! He shakily touched your “face”,  staring into your eyes for an alarming amount of time.

A famous photographer, huh?.. He thought about what you said.. A model? Him? Well, wouldn’t hurt to try.

3 years later…──★ ˙📷 ̟ !!

You had been hired, a big shot model was coming to your studio to get some magazine pictures done.

You opened the models portfolio, checking out some news about him too, he had gone viral lately. 

“Son of the moon’? Huh, interesting.” You mumbled, taking in the model’s proportions, his face rung a bell in your brain. But as hard as you tried to get your synapses to connect, you just couldn’t form a coherent memory..

‘Mikhail White’ …

You chalked it up to seeing him in magazines or social media.

Putting the portfolio aside, your feet pushed you on your own feet, walking over to your setup and making minor tweaks to your studio.

“(Y/n), they’re here.” The voice of your assistant interrupted your movement, nodding your head you put your hands over your professional camera and looped it over your neck.

You stepped back, letting the makeup artist enter with their big box of makeup supplies, then came in the manager of the model, eyes sharp and analytical as she clasped her clipboard in her arm.

And finally, the model entered. The star of the show, Mikhail, A pretty average sized person, for a model, that is. He stopped in front of you, staring you down with those uniquely colored eyes.

You got that feeling again, was it Deja vu, perhaps? Their eyes hit a chord in you, yeah. You had seen them before.. Just where?

“Welcome, thank you for hiring me.” You smiled warmly, turning your gaze to the manager, extending your hand out for a friendly handshake.

The woman scoffed softly, shaking her head “No thank you, I don’t do handshakes.” The tall woman gently replied, although it sounded more like a mother scolding her child.

“O…Okay.” You laughed nervously, letting your hand begin to drop to your side.

“Thank you for having me here, (Y/n).” The model suddenly spoke, gently taking your hand and shaking it before it could totally fall.

“Oh, um. Yeah, for sure!” Taken off guard you reciprocated the hand shake before letting go, his hand not letting go completely.

You pulled your hand free with a soft tug, turning to sit down on your chair as you wait for the makeup artist to doll up the male.

You stared at him from a distance, you felt like he had curly hair, but instead were met with silky, straight hair running down his back.

Mikhail was shaking, his hands quivering on his lap as he looked through the mirror on the vanity. He stared at your form through the reflective surface, watching how you scrolled through your phone or opened the portfolio with his pictures.

Did you think he was attractive? Did you like his hair? He decided to try something new for you, he hoped it caught your eye…

He gently bit down on his bottom lip, looking down to let the artist work on his eyeshadow, he wanted to physically recoil from the person’s hands, wishing it was yours instead.

He had worked up to this point for three whole years, all just to be photographed by you, one of the best photographers in the whole industry.

Ever since that night, under the pouring rain, he couldn’t wipe you off his brain, you were like a drug,the image of you gnawing at his sanity. It hurt so good though, so good he couldn’t stop and soon found himself addicted.

You indirectly changed his life, he went from being a pathetic nobody to one of the most popular and influential models of his time, and honestly.. It was all thanks to you, even if you don’t remember him.

Mikhail dressed in a lacy attire, showing off part of his stomach and most of his thighs, his hair decorated with small silver clips and silk bows, beautiful diamond earrings hanging off his ear lobes.

His face sparkled with glitter, long white eyelashes fluttering, his visage was that of perfection. Comparable to an arctic fox nestled in silks and diamonds, you could see why the media called him the ‘son of the moon’ more clearly now.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You complimented, leading him to the middle of the shot, he looked up at you, not saying anything, however the flush of his ears said different.

Now, if you remembered correctly, the theme was ‘wedding after-party’ although you didn’t know it was going to be this suggestive..? You did agree to it so no backing out anymore, you suppose.

You had something in your mind already so you just ran with it, the manager agreed with your idea too, you expected her to spit in your face and tell you no in all honestly..

He gazed at the camera with a sultry gaze, imagining it was you he was looking at, he did as you asked, allowing you to brush some of his hair or to position his soft strands as you wished.

He peered up at you through his eyelashes, looking almost desperate, leaning into your touch subconsciously. This had been a fantasy of his for a long time, a real wet dream for him.

In fact, he had pressed for the theme to be more suggestive, wanting you to see him in a more intimate scenario.

In the last shots of the session, everyone came to an agreement to put some false cake frosting pieces over Mikhail, leaning more into the wedding cake aspect.

You dipped your hand in the substance, grabbing some in your hands and leaning down to smudge some over his face, dropping some here and there strategically.

You took your camera back in your hands, positioning it perfectly for it to capture the scene’s beauty and allure.

The ice blue haired man bent and arched his body any and all ways you desired, placing his hands on his lap as he took some of the frosting on his finger and brought it up to his mouth, licking it, sending you the most loving and passionate gaze he could muster. 

Wordlessly hinting with just his sharp eyes how much he wanted something other than a few pictures, something that was spelled with four letters, D-A-T-E.

That..wasn’t scripted, but you just went with it and snapped a few pictures. You leaned back in your chair, stretching out the knots in your back and listening to the pops in your spine.

That was the last of the shots, all you need to do now was transfer the pictures to his manager and get a sweet sweet wad of cash back.

You smiled at the thought, sighing pleasantly.

You bid the trio of workers goodbye, although the rosy cheeked model stayed back, approaching you and putting a small piece of paper in your hand shyly.

Right before you were about to say something he shut you up by pecking your cheek gently.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, his voice soft and heartfelt, it was more…intimate, more meaningful than a simple ‘thanks for taking my pic’, he made it sound like you had just swooped in like Superman and saved his life.

He clasped his hand over yours, making sure you kept the paper in your hand as he began leaving hastily, not lingering for a moment more or less.

‘Go out on a date with me..? XXX-XXX-XXXX ♡’

Well shit. Things just got a whole lot interesting.

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱

⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱

The days flew by in a blur after that night. You and Drew spent every spare moment together, slipping away from the chaos of the set to steal kisses in quiet corners, sharing secrets under the stars, and dreaming aloud about what the future might hold.

But as the end of the production drew closer, so did reality. You were going back to New York. Drew had a packed schedule of press tours and auditions lined up. Neither of you wanted to bring it up, but the question hung over you like a storm cloud: What happens next?

One evening, after a long day on set, Drew called you over to his trailer. When you arrived, he was sitting on the small couch, his head in his hands. He looked up when you walked in, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your chest ache.

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, his usual smile absent.

You sat beside him, your knee brushing his. “What’s wrong?”

Drew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

“Ruin what?” you asked, though you already knew.

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “Us. I finally have you back, and now we’re about to be thousands of miles apart again. What if—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “Drew, stop. We’re not the same people we were back then. We’ve both grown, and we both know what we want now.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “And what I want is you. Every day. Not just when it’s convenient or when we happen to be in the same place. I want to be the guy who’s there for you—no matter what.”

You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, his words cutting straight to your heart. “I want that too, Drew. I don’t care about the distance or the logistics. We’ll figure it out, because you’re worth it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Drew pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he buried his face in your neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“I think I do,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours before he kissed you. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, filled with every unspoken promise between you. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he were afraid to let go.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said, his voice barely audible as his forehead rested against yours.

You nodded, unable to find the words, your heart too full.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. Drew held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his touch reverent and his kisses endless. Every moment felt sacred, like a piece of the puzzle you’d both been missing for years had finally fallen into place.

As the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds, you found yourself curled against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm.

“You know,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep, “I’ve been thinking about taking some time off after this project. Maybe spend a few months in New York.”

You lifted your head, your eyes widening. “Are you serious?”

Drew nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I want to see what it’s like—being with you every day, not just in stolen moments. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a project there. But even if I don’t, I just… I need to be where you are.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you leaned down to kiss him. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just say yes,” he murmured, his hand sliding into your hair.

“Yes,” you whispered against his lips.

And in that moment, as Drew held you close, you knew this wasn’t just a second chance. It was the beginning of something even better—a love strong enough to weather any storm.

⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱⋰∴⋱

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43

[cheynovak]

Fevered Confessions part 2

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N got hurt during a mission with Soldier boy, Ben feels guilty and tries to take care of her. But the fever makes her believe she is imagining it.

Warnings: Mentioning of fever/wounds/ Memory loss/... -> 18+ later on in the series.

English isn't my first language.

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

**Y/N’s POV**

Pain lanced through my side when I shifted, drawing a groan from my lips. The light above was too bright, forcing my eyes closed again as I tried to adjust. Slowly, the faintest beeping became clearer—a heart monitor, steady and reassuring in the otherwise sterile silence.

Opening my eyes again, I turned my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck. My arm was connected to an IV line, a bag of fluid dripping slowly beside me.

A hospital.

My stomach sank as I tried to remember how I got here, but the details were hazy—like pieces of a puzzle scattered too far apart to assemble. The ache in my head made focusing impossible.

And then I saw him.

Crammed awkwardly into a chair that looked about two sizes too small for his broad frame. His head was slumped forward, his arms crossed over his chest like he’d just given up fighting the uncomfortable position. The exhaustion on his face was evident, even as he slept—dark circles under his eyes, a faint furrow in his brow.

I noticed how gorgeous he was. Sharp jaw, scruffy beard, hair slightly mussed as though he’d been running his hand through it endlessly.

Why was he even here? Who was he?

Before I could ask—or even get my own thoughts straight—a bubbly voice interrupted my daze.

“Well, look who’s awake!”

I blinked as an overly cheerful nurse entered the room, practically bouncing. She adjusted the machines near the bed, glancing at me with a wide smile.

“Mrs Jacobs, how are you feeling?”

Jacobs? My brow furrowed. That wasn’t my name, was it? I turned my confused gaze to the man, who was already stirring, woken by the nurse’s voice.

She caught the shift between us and smiled knowingly. “Your husband here hasn’t left your side. Slept for days in that chair, even though we told him he could go home for a bit. We’ve got you covered, honey.” She winked. “He’s a keeper.”

Husband? Home?

I stared at the man, my mind reeling. The nurse noticed my confusion, her cheerful expression softening.

“Oh, you don’t remember yet?” she asked gently. I shook my head slowly, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

He stood up then, rubbing the back of his neck before crossing the room to stand beside me. His hand brushed against mine on the bed, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Despite the questions piling up in my mind, despite every ounce of confusion I felt, his touch sent a wave of warmth through me. My cheeks flushed instantly, the traitorous blush rising as I met his tired gaze.

“Hi,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, offering a shy smile.

The nurse watched us for a moment, grinning like she’d just witnessed something out of a romance novel. “I’ll give you two some time,” she said, before bustling out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Silence lingered as his thumb brushed faintly against the back of my hand. My heart thudded harder than it should have, and I didn’t know what to say. I was in a hospital, my body was in shambles, but all I could focus on was him.

**Ben’s POV**

"Who are you?"

Her soft scared voice lingered in my mind, didn't she remember anything?

"I'm... Ben."

Her gaze locked on to mine, she had no memory of me... Fuck.

"Maybe I should let you be for a while." I turned towards the door.

The way she grabbed my hand stopped me in my tracks. Her fingers, weak but insistent, curled around mine, and my heart hammered so hard it was almost embarrassing.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling that damn smile again—the one that sent my brain into a tailspin every time. “For being here...”

If she only knew. Knew how much I had done, how much guilt was clawing at me every second, and how I hated myself for almost getting her killed in the first place.

She shifted, trying to push herself upright. I was at her side in an instant, helping her sit even before she could ask for it.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my usual sharp tone cutting through. Irritation had always been my safety net around her; it was practically second nature now.

She looked at me her eyes wide, clearly a little upset of my tone, but her voice was light when she replied. “I want to clean myself up. I feel like I’ve been in this bed for a week.”

“Well…” I started, my lips tugging into a faint smirk I didn’t mean, “actually, it’s been a month.”

Her eyes went wide. “A month?”

I nodded. “A month here in the hospital, almost two if you count the motel.”

She was quiet as I helped her stand, her movements slow and careful. I grabbed the IV stand and kept it steady as we made our way toward the bathroom. She didn’t say anything, but I caught the subtle way her hand brushed against mine as she walked, and I tried not to let it drive me crazy.

When she reached the sink, she fumbled for the toothbrush, but I was already handing it to her. She started brushing her teeth, her focus on the task as I stood behind her, unable to keep myself from reaching for her hair.

I didn’t even think about it—it was a habit now. I brushed her hair every day while she was out, gently undoing the tangles, keeping it soft and smooth. It had relaxed me more times than I cared to admit, grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

She didn’t pull away, just kept brushing her teeth as though it were the most normal thing in the world. And when she was finished, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing, I put the brush aside.

That’s when it happened.

At first, I thought she stumbled. I reached out to catch her, steadying her against me. But she wasn’t falling. She leaned back, her body soft against my chest.

I froze.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror, searching, soft and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. She was looking at me.

And then, her free hand—the one not tied up with the IV—lifted slowly, her fingers brushing against my neck as if testing the moment, her touch as light as a whisper.

**Y/N’s POV**

When 'Ben' started brushing my hair, I thought I must still be dreaming. The sensation was too gentle, too soothing, and too intimate for a stranger.

But it wasn’t a dream.

I couldn’t help myself—it felt too good, too real, and the warmth of his presence behind me only made it harder to think straight. My mind was still foggy.

The rush of heat spreading through me when I looked at him. Must mean we are connected in a way. What did that nurse say... Your husband. Was I married? I didn't see a ring on his or my finger.

Maybe he was my boyfriend? That would explain the sudden need for him. Or was it t just because of how devastatingly handsome he was?

My ovaries had made their decision the moment I saw him cramped up in that stupid hospital chair. And now, with his hand steady in my hair, I had no chance of resisting him.

Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers moved almost on their own. They slid into the hair at the base of his neck, tangling slightly as my palm rested on the side of his neck. His skin was warm under my touch, and I could feel the subtle twitch of tension there.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch his reaction, to see his expression. My heart thudded harder when I saw him already looking down at me—right at my lips.

There was hesitation in his eyes, like he was fighting something. And maybe I should’ve given him time, maybe I should’ve let him sort through whatever mess was going on in his head. But I didn’t.

I tugged him closer, guiding him toward me as my lips met his. Soft, warm, and completely addictive.

For a moment, he didn’t move, frozen as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. Panic shot through me. Had I just ruined everything? But then he groaned, low and deep in his chest, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

He closed his eyes, his hesitation melting as he kissed me back. Firm, slow, and thorough, his lips answered mine like they’d been waiting for this.

**Ben’s POV**

Her lips brushed against mine, and for a second, I swore this was a dream. Everything about her overwhelmed my senses—her warmth, her intoxicating scent, the softness of her lips that tasted sweeter than I ever imagined.

Heaven.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I spun her around so I could properly touch her, hold her as she kissed me again. The second I did, she hissed softly, her face twisting in pain.

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing I’d pressed against her injured side. My hands froze, hovering near her, afraid I’d hurt her even more. “You okay?”

She nodded faintly, her expression forgiving, but we still stood too close—her face inches from mine, her breaths brushing against my skin—when the sound of the door creaking open yanked us both back to reality.

“Mrs. Jacobs?”

The overly cheerful nurse from earlier. She stopped in her tracks, her cheeks pink as she noticed us standing in the small bathroom, and immediately backed away. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but I need to take her for some tests.”

Y/N turned her gaze back to me, and it hit me harder than I expected. Her eyes were softer than I’d ever seen, a quiet smile playing on her lips as she nodded to the nurse.

“Okay,” she murmured. Her voice was still weak, but there was something steady in it, something different.

As she turned away, I couldn’t help but follow her with my eyes, watching as the nurse led her carefully toward the hallway. My chest felt tight, and not in the way it usually did when I was angry or irritated.

No, this was something else entirely, something far more dangerous.

**Y/N’s POV**

I couldn’t believe I’d kissed him. I had just woken up out of what seemed a coma.

But then, I hadn’t really been in control—my body had acted on its own, and the heat still simmering through my veins was proof enough of that.

The way he kissed me back, though… the way his hands had grasped me so carefully, as though I might break, while still pulling me impossibly close? That wasn’t a mistake, not some spur-of-the-moment impulse. That kiss meant something, didn’t it?

But there was so much I still didn’t know.

Were we really married? I couldn’t remember. Where did we live? What did we do? How did I get here? Every detail of my life felt like a blur, just out of reach, and the hole it left was unbearable.

The doctor tried to reassure me, claiming my memory would return over time. “It’s not uncommon, you had blood poisoning, and your fever started to cook you from the inside out, ” she said with an easy smile, as though forgetting your life wasn’t the worst thing imaginable. “It had been a while but just take it easy, one step at a time. You’re clear to go home.”

Home.

The word echoed in my mind as they wheeled me out toward discharge. Where was home? What did it even look like? My gut said it was with Ben—but why? Because of the kiss? Or was it something more?

All I knew for sure was that my life before waking up in this hospital felt like a blank page.

And somehow, the only thing I felt certain about was Ben.

--

Ben’s arm steadied me as he helped me out of the car, his grip strong yet careful. My stomach churned with anxiety as we drove through the countryside, the house we arrived at looking weathered and abandoned, like no one had lived here in years.

“Is this… home?” I asked hesitantly, still unsure what to expect.

Before Ben could answer, the door to the house flew open, and four people rushed out, their faces filled with relief, concern, or something in between. I froze, still seated in the car, eyeing them with caution.

“Who… who are they?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

Ben sighed, clearly anticipating this moment. “That’s Annie and Hughie, M.M. and Kimiko,” he said.

I nodded, trying to commit their names to memory, but it was clear from their faces I should’ve already known them. Something about their familiarity hurt, like a puzzle piece I couldn’t quite fit. Ben had told me I’d lost my memories, but seeing their expressions brought the weight of that reality crashing down.

***Ben’s POV**

She nodded like she understood, but I could see the confusion behind her eyes. She didn’t know who they were, couldn’t place the faces that should’ve meant something.

I’d warned them. I told the group that she’d lost her memories. Frankly, it was a relief Y/N didn’t remember. She didn’t need to remember the blood, the chaos, or the constant fear. She thought she was just an ordinary girl—and for now, I’d let her believe that.

When I helped her out of the car, she clung to me instinctively, one hand wrapped tightly around mine and the other on my biceps for support. I kept her close, letting her lean on me as I guided her toward the makeshift living room.

The others noticed. I could see it on their faces—the way they exchanged glances at how closely she stuck to me.

“M.M. here will come everyday to take care of your wound,” I told her once inside. “He’ll help with anything while it’s still healing.”

She nodded quietly, trusting me in a way that made my chest ache. It was a fragile kind of trust, like I was her anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

M.M. stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor softening even further as he spoke to her gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ll keep it private, alright?”

She looked up at me, searching for reassurance, and I gave her a small nod. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “He’s good at this.”

Reluctantly, she released my arm and allowed M.M. to guide her to the bathroom.

The second she was out of sight, Annie’s voice pierced through the air.

“What did you do to her?” she snapped, her tone sharp with accusation. I turned toward her, frowning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s clinging to you, Ben!” Annie fired back, her brows furrowed with suspicion. “What did you do?”

I rolled my eyes, my patience wearing thin. Annie always thought she was in charge, the righteous little hero in every scenario. She made it really hard to ignore her.

**Y/N’s POV**

M.M. was kind, handling me with the sort of care you’d give a glass figurine. He spoke a little as he tended to my wound, his voice calm and measured, like he was trying not to scare me.

“This must be weird for you,” I said, breaking the silence. “Acting like you don’t know me, but… we were friends, right?”

His hands stilled for a second, and he let out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, we were.”

The heaviness in his voice told me there was a lot more to it than that, but he kept his eyes on my wound, his careful movements never faltering.

I tilted my head, curiosity tugging at me. “You said you were a medic in the army?” He nodded. “For years. I’ve seen a lot of trauma, memory loss… things like this. But I’m not here to push you, okay? We’ll take it slow.”

The way he said it reassured me, though it didn’t quell the gnawing ache of not remembering who I used to be. My brow furrowed as I thought about it. “Was I in the army? Is that how we met?”

That made him laugh, a genuine, short chuckle that somehow put me at ease. “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “We met through Butcher. He, uh… let’s just say he recruited you for his private security gig.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip, turning his words over in my mind. “That’s also how I met Ben?”

“Yeah,” M.M. said, his tone guarded now. I nodded slowly. “Ben…” I echoed, the sound of his name rolling off my tongue feeling natural, instinctive.

“He’s… a nice guy?” The words came out like a tentative declaration, the image of Ben brushing my hair flashing in my mind.

M.M. didn’t agree. His expression didn’t shift much, but I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. If he disagreed, though, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he worked quietly for another moment before straightening up, giving me a small, reassuring smile.

“Alright,” he said, his voice kind. “That should hold you for a bit. Let me know if it feels off, yeah?”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely, even as my mind wandered back to Ben. Something about him felt so important, like he was the missing piece in all of this. But if even M.M. had reservations… who was Ben really? And why did my body trust him so instinctively when my mind couldn’t remember?

“There she is,” Hughie said with a cheerful smile as I walked out of the kitchen.

My steps were tentative, still unsure how I fit into this puzzle of strangers who supposedly knew me so well. Before I could respond, Ben was there, standing quickly and rushing to my side, his presence steadying me without a word.

“Do you need anything?” Annie asked, her tone warm but laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Food, a drink?”

“Uh, no, thanks,” I said quietly. I wasn’t hungry; everything still felt too strange. I glanced at Ben, my hand instinctively resting on his arm as if that connection grounded me somehow.

“I’d like to sleep a little,” I murmured, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion settle back over me.

Ben nodded immediately. “Of course,” he said, his voice lower, softer. Guiding me gently toward one of the bedrooms, he moved with surprising care for someone as rough around the edges as he appeared.

“Take your time,” he added when we reached the room. There was a slight pause, and his expression shifted as if he were deciding something important.

“I’ll get the others out of the house. If you need me tonight…” He hesitated, his voice faltering before he finished. “My room is down the hall.”

I frowned at that, the subtle emphasis in his words sparking a thought I hadn’t dared explore until now.

As he turned to leave, I stared after him, my hand lingering on the doorway. “So… we’re not married,” I whispered under my breath, the realization hitting me like a jolt.

Everything—the nurse’s earlier assumption, the kiss in the bathroom, the way Ben looked at me like I was the most fragile thing in the world—had me questioning everything I thought I knew.

If we weren’t married, then what were we?

--

Taglist:

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[meracyn]

i saw loser isagi so how about........... loverboy reo🙏

thinking about his money luscious, short amethyst locks. running your fingers through the soft strands in awe at how silky and shiny his hair is. what a dream indeed...

loverboy! reo would be absolutely down bad. you can bet he will do anything in his power to earn your love. there’s nothing the reo mikage can’t get. he’s got the looks, smarts, money— what else would a person want in a partner?

well, reo had to find out the hard way that his crush—more like future lover—wasn’t going to magically have their eyes set on him. it’s fine, he reassures himself, he’s got the brilliant idea to make a plan on how to court you as you deserve, you’ll see.

and so, here he was, with his eyes glued to the glowing screen of the computer resting on his lap, fingers frantically tapping across the keyboard as question after question regarding his dilemma filled the search bar.

he skimmed through countless articles online and watched those “10 ways to get your crush to like you back” videos, finally having an idea of what to do. by that same morning, the purple haired male was determined to get you to notice how great of a guy he is—and maybe (you will) even fall for him in the process.

loverboy! reo would pay more attention to his appearance. his hair? combed flawlessly, also applied a special hair gel chigiri recommended. clothes? ironed. skin? started a skincare routine a few hours ago. your attention? not yet.

he’s walking in the hallway, trying to dodge conversations from his classmates who swarm around him as soon as he appears at the school entrance. but his goal is clear— spotting you. that’s the sole reason why he woke up earlier than usual after all.

if he fails this mission, he already knows he’s going to be sulking that night..

so reo is legit praying to find you.

once he does, he tries to keep his cool as he simply nods towards your direction in acknowledgement, even though he isn’t really slick when he obviously straightens his posture and struggles to keep his expression neutral. he may fool you into thinking he’s the same old reo, but on the inside, he’s fighting off the urge to fangirl upon successfully earning your attention.

they noticed me. they actually noticed me! stay cool. stay—

when he saw you smile at him back, reo felt his stomach doing backflips, knees practically becoming weak as his face started to grow hot. thankfully he looked away before you could notice. or so he thought— because the tips of his ears were clearly red, too.

at least you noticed him, that’s what matters. your attention?

earned.

[woozinhos]

heyy maybe its going to be fluff, but what will the svt members do for the aftercare? thanks love 🫶

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*

Seungcheol:

Seungcheol is very gentle and attentive after sex. He'll help you clean up, making sure to get every spot and make you comfortable. He'll also give you a massage to help ease any soreness or pain you might be feeling.

Jeonghan

Jeonghan is playful and cuddly after sex. He'll pull you close to him and shower you with kisses and compliments, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are. He'll also tease you a bit, making you giggle and forget about any discomfort.

Joshua:

Joshua is a mix of caring and dominant. He'll make sure you're completely taken care of, checking in with you and asking if you need anything. However, he'll also take charge and make sure you're laying down and resting properly. He'll stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he loves you.

Jun:

Jun is sweet and attentive as well, but in a different way. He'll give you a warm bath and wash you himself, taking extra care to make sure you're relaxed. He'll then wrap you up in a fluffy towel and carry you back to bed, placing you gently on the sheets. He'll join you and hold you close, giving you gentle kisses on your forehead as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Hoshi:

Hoshi is energetic and affectionate, which is no surprise. He'll jump right into aftercare mode and pamper you with all the cuddles and affection you could ever want. He'll hold you tightly, rubbing your back and nuzzling his face into your neck. He'll also playfully tickle you, trying to make you laugh and forget about any pain.

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is quiet and reserved, but he still shows his affection through actions. He'll lay next to you in bed and watch over you, making sure you're comfortable and warm. He'll hold your hand or play with your hair, silently showing that he's there for you. If you need anything, he'll get it for you without a word.

Woozi:

Woozi is a little awkward, but he tries his best to take care of you. He'll sit by your side and make sure you're hydrated, offering you water or juice. He'll also occasionally compliment you and tell you how good you were, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he does so.

Minghao:

Minghao is very nurturing and caring, almost like a mother figure. He'll help you drink some water and then gently massage your muscles, easing any tension or soreness. He'll also give you a warm smile and tell you how proud he is of you for taking it so well.

Mingyu:

Mingyu is a big cuddle bear and loves to cuddle you after sex. He'll wrap his arms around you and pull you close to his chest, burying his face in your hair. He'll pepper your face with kisses and shower you with compliments, telling you how amazing you are and how much he loves you.

Dokyeom:

Dokyeom is a mix of teasing and comforting. He'll tease you a little, making jokes about how worn out you are, but he'll also comfort you with his soothing voice. He'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear and playfully bite your earlobe, all while rubbing your stomach in a circular motion.

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is clingy and needy, clinging onto you like a koala bear. He'll whine and pout if you try to get up or leave his side, wanting to keep you all to himself. He'll cuddle up to you, nuzzling his face against your chest and whimpering for attention.

Vernon:

Vernon is laid-back and relaxed, often taking a nap after sex. He'll stretch out on the bed next to you and fall asleep almost instantly, his arms still wrapped around you. He'll snore softly and snuggle into you, occasionally mumbling in his sleep.

Dino:

Chan is a little shy and reserved, but he still enjoys cuddling with you after sex. He'll hold you close and whisper soft praises in your ear, his face turning red as he does so. He'll try to hide his embarrassment by burying his face in your shoulder, but you can feel his smile against your skin.