#one person remembers. plans something or asks to plan something or mentions a present | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisymbin · 7 days ago

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for lovers who hesitate - choi seungcheol

warnings: cheating ex, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), shotgun marriage (not reader), some curse words, mentions of blood (seungcheol in a fight), some angst (mostly on seungcheol's part, some of reader's towards the end) + this is a long fic so I'm sure I missed out stuff, my apologies. please let me know what I missed out so I can add them in!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: fake dating, resurface of old feelings (reader) & a down bad choi seungcheol

wc: 13k (not sure what happened i was aiming 3500-5000 but oh well.)

a/n: 13k words...my longest fic on here yet..... this took quite awhile, even proofreading was a challenge, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one! but fr, I early respect and admire authors who always belt out 30k word fics, it's really not easy i don't even wanna think about it. it's one thing to get a long fic done and another to proofreading it all oof. ... and no writer really only proofreads it once

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“you've got mail~” seokmin sings down the hallway of your shared apartment, “it looks like a wedding invite…” his voice trails off, “are any of our friends getting married? why didn't I receive one?”

seokmin's question was reasonable, you did both have the same friend group, you grew up together, having tons and tons of mutual friends, you went almost everywhere together. he's like the brother you never had. but now he's got your interest piqued as well. who could it be?

on your hand sits a wedding invitation, beautifully adorned with gold accents, pink flowers litter the edges of the invite, a bright pop of colour in contrast to the plain white.

seokmin snatches the invite out of your hand, opening the invite as he reads, “you are cordially invited to celebrate the joy of han- what the fuck? is this a joke?” seokmin shuts the invite close and crumples it, “what the hell does that guy want?”

“han minjun?” you asked as curiosity plagues your mind. seokmin’s reaction only amplifies your own confusion, and you reach out to grab the crumpled invitation from his hands, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. his name stares back at you, a name you had once thought you’d never have to see or hear again. but here it is, boldly printed, like a ghost from the past come to haunt you.

“han minjun…” you murmur, your voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of disbelief and absurdity. the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave, each one hitting you harder than the last. you remember the good days first, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. but those sweet memories are soon overshadowed by the darker ones, the ones you had worked so hard to forget.

you remember the way he’d become distant, how the warmth in his eyes had faded, and the excuses he’d given whenever you asked what was wrong. you remember the pit in your stomach when he’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was swamped with work, even though you could hear the laughter of friends in the background whenever he called.

then there was that one night, the night everything shattered. you had gone to his apartment, unannounced, carrying takeout and hoping to surprise him. the sight that greeted you instead was something you’d never forget. minjun had been in his living room, his hand tugging on another girl’s hair, the other on her waist as they makeout heavily. their light giggles echoing through the walls you thought you knew so well. you’d dropped the food in shock, the containers spilling onto the floor, and the way minjun’s face had paled when he saw you… it was a moment forever etched into your heart.

“its not what it looks like,” he’d said, scrambling for an explanation, but all you felt was betrayal, the heartache, the realization that the person you’d trusted had broken you in a way you never thought possible.

you come back to the present as seokmin's voice pulls you back, “oh i dropped a post it, ‘hope to see you there - kim hanna’ who the hell is kim hanna?” seokmin reaches for the invite again, his eyes scanning the words imprinted on the paper, “kim hanna…isnt she the girl he cheated on you with? that little bi- how dare she send this invi- SHE'S MARRYING HIM?” seokmin's mouth ran faster than body allowed, never finishing his sentence, but you heard and understood every word.

you snatch the invite back. the wedding is in 2 weeks.

are you hurt? no. heartbroken? no. sad? no. upset? just a little bit. angry? oh yes, yes you were. all the anger still simmering beneath the surface as you grip the wedding invite tightly. seokmin watches you with concern, his earlier frustration shifting into worry as he notices the way anger starts to consume you.

“you okay?” he asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

you softened, “yeah i just… i can’t believe he’s getting married after everything he did.”

seokmin’s grip tightens, his protective brother instincts kicking in. “you don’t have to go,” he says firmly. “and if you decide to, you won’t go alone. i’ll be right there with you, you know the boys will be too. whatever you need.”

his words bring a small sense of comfort, but the invitation still feels like a dagger, reopening wounds you thought had finally healed. “oh I'm definitely going,”

“why?”

“just because. & I need a date-”

“I can be your date.”

“no you can't.”

“why not?”

“because i need my date to be my fake boyfriend. i cant show up all single to an ex's wedding & everyone knows we grow up together. we're practically siblings we would never ever date each other! that's disgusting."

seokmin's fake dramatic gasp only leaves your laughing, the anger that once resided is now long forgotten. “how can you say that?” he continues, “don't you watch movies? don't you read books? or even better, fanfiction? that's like a really popular trope and it's popular for a reason! why? because it's real, it happens. what if I'm in love with you and you just don't know it? then what? you could have seriously hurt my feelings!”

“yeah could have, that means I didn't. and don't think I forgot about the time we all played truth or dare and chan dared you to kiss me and you literally threw up from how repulsed you were by me. how could you possibly be in love with me? unless...you puked because you were nervous.." you said as you wiggled your eyebrows disturbingly. “also what hell fanfiction do you read? why didnt i know about that?”

“EW!!!" he screams as he steps away from you, "AS IF YOU COULD EVER MAKE ME NERVOUS!"

“& the fanfiction? what do you read? come on, spill!”

“that's none of your business.”

“seok-”

“beyonce x reader.” it was almost as if he was dying to tell you.

the laugh you burst out only brings relief to seokmin, now he knows you're really okay. you've moved on, just angry at the audacity of them. “please beyonce would never pick you.” you joked as you got up from the sofa. “come on, be serious, this is serious stuff. I need a fake boyfriend.”

“ask seungcheol.” seokmin answers easily without missing a beat, as if the answer was obvious.

“why seungcheol?” you heart raced at the mere idea of seungcheol being your date for the night, let alone boyfriend.

“because…he never says no to you. like ever,” he gives a brief, small smile before he turns to walk away. “oh and also, don't you think he'd fit the role perfectly?”

[—]

but that's what happens when seokmin plants the idea in your head, because you now find yourself in seungcheol's apartment.

you sit in seungcheol’s living room, heart pounding as you try to muster the courage to speak. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest, looking at you with his usual gentle, patient expression. but somehow, today, that patience makes your nerves worse. you’re not sure why you’re suddenly so embarrassed; maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to search your face for any hint of what’s coming.

“so… what did you want to ask me?” he prompts, his voice warm and inviting, though there’s a hint of curiosity lurking beneath it.

you swallow, your palms damp. “you can totally say no if you want to, there’s no pressure at all but um-”

seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow at your hesitation, “you’re making me nervous,” he jokes, though there’s a genuine note of concern in his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you inhale deeply, avoiding his gaze as you force the words out. “so, i got this wedding invite. from…my ex.” you don’t have to elaborate for seungcheol to know which ex you mean. his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something dark passing over his expression before he smooths it out.

“han minjun,” he says, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. his hands uncross, one clenching the back of a chair as he leans into it. “are you… are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, “i’m okay, really. just…it's in two weeks, and he’s marrying the girl he—” you stop yourself before the floodgate of bad memories start flowing. you look up at seungcheol, feeling your face grow warm. “anyway, that’s not the point. the point is…i need a date.”

seungcheol’s eyes soften, his tension melting away just a bit. “oh,” he says, and a smile tugs at his lips in realization, “you want me to be your date?”

“yes. i mean-” you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “only if you’re okay with it. you don’t have to-”

“of course,” he interrupts, his answer immediate, his voice firm. “if it’s for that, there’s no way i’d say no.” his protective instincts flare up at the mere thought of you facing your ex alone, and he wants to be there for you, to shield you from any pain that might resurface.

you feel relief wash over you, but then the real request lodges itself in your throat. you take a deep breath. “but… not just as a date,” you say quietly. “i need… i need a fake boyfriend. i can’t just show up to his wedding…single.”

seungcheol blinks, and for a moment, he thinks you’re joking. you watch as his expression shifts, surprise giving way to something more complicated. his smile falters, and his eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation, or a joke even. any indication that you might realize what this could mean for him.

a fake boyfriend. the words echo in his mind, and his heart aches, even as he tries to keep his face neutral. he’s spent the past 3 years hiding his feelings, protecting your friendship, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. and now, here you are, asking him to pretend.

“a fake boyfriend,” he repeats, and his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something broken underneath. he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to hold your hand, to smile at you, to pretend to be the one who gets to loves you openly…only to have it all stripped away when the charade is over. he knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but how can he say no to you? how could he ever refuse you when you look at him like that?

“cheol?” you ask hesitantly, noticing his pause. “is that… is that too much to ask? i’m sorry, it’s just-”

he shakes his head quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “no, it’s not too much,” he says softly. “if that’s what you need, then… i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up with hope, and he wishes he could bottle up the way you look at him, keep it forever.

“really,” he confirms, even though his heart is already starting to fracture. he pushes down the longing, the desperate yearning to be more than just a fake. because he knows this is all he’ll get—a bittersweet taste of something he can’t truly have. but for now, he’ll take what he can get. even if it means breaking his own heart for the chance to be close to you.

[—]

“rules. we need rules. oh and boundaries. just to be safe, you know? not make it weird.” you informed as you pick up a piece of blank paper & pen from your desk before jumping onto bed.

seungcheol lies on his stomach on your bed as he waits for you, “what kind of rules and boundaries do you have in mind?” he asks.

“well for one, no falling in love. like, we both have to promise that this stays strictly pretend. we can’t let it mess with our friendship.”

for a moment, silence fills the room. when you glance at seungcheol, his expression is unreadable. “no falling in love,” he repeats quietly, his voice almost too steady. you don’t notice the way his jaw tightens, the way he clenches his fist against the sheets.

you give him a nervous smile. “exactly. we both need to agree to that.”

“right,” he says, his voice softer now. “no falling in love.” he repeats louder this time, his heart aches at the irony, because if only you knew how deeply he’s already fallen. but he forces himself to nod, to play along, to act like he isn’t breaking the very first rule you laid out just by being here. “any other rules?”

“um, yeah,” you continue, scribbling your next point onto the paper. “okay,” you say, oblivious to the turmoil in his chest. “it has to be believable. like, no half-assing it. if we’re going to do this, we have to commit. but, uh, within reason, of course.”

seungcheol chuckles at that, the sound breaking through the tension. “within reason?” he echoes, his smile genuine this time.

“yeah, nothing too….much,”

“& what exactly is too much?”

“kisses,” you answer without missing a beat.

seungcheol smiles, "so, i can’t kiss you, even if it’s just for an act?"

you pause, thinking over his question. the way he says it, so casual yet so heavy, sends a shiver down your spine. “i mean… kisses are too intimate. that crosses the line.” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how nervous the thought of kissing him makes you.

seungcheol watches you closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “too intimate?” he repeats, almost teasingly, but there’s something more in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but aren’t we supposed to look like we’re really together? won’t people think it’s suspicious if we… don’t at least pretend that we’re comfortable with that?”

“no one’s expecting a porno of us making out,” you argue, your cheeks warming at the implication. what a poor choice of words. “hand-holding, hugs, maybe a forehead or a cheek kiss if we’re feeling bold. but anything beyond that…” you trail off, your mind spinning and butterflies threatening to invade your tummy at the thought of seungcheol’s lips anywhere near yours.

he hums thoughtfully, propping his chin on his hand. “so, kisses are off the table. got it,” he says, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that you dont pick up. “any other rules?”

“that's all i can think of for now, what about you? anything you dont want me to do? anything to add?” you ask.

“no, I'll do whatever you want me to.” he says, a mixture of fondness and longing swirling in his chest.

“okay, i guess we're really doing this huh?” you ask as you feel some tension leave your body.

“yeah,” he murmurs, even as his heart screams at the unfairness of it all. if only you knew just how real it already was for him.

[—]

“did you actually really ask seungcheol to be your fake boyfriend?” seungkwan questions, taking another sip from his iced americano, his eyes narrowing at you suspiciously.

you sigh, pressing your palms to your face. “how did you even find out about that?”

“seokmin told me. now answer me! did you actually?” seungkwan presses, his tone both exasperated and concerned. he’s your best friend. he knows every secret, every late-night confession, and every tear you’ve ever shed over seungcheol.

you glance away, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “yeah... i did,” you admit softly.

seungkwan lets out a small groan, leaning back in his seat. he’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his judgment hanging between you. but there’s something else there, too. something heavier, deeper. regret, maybe.

four years ago, you were a helpless mess, pinning after seungcheol like a lovesick fool. seungkwan remembered the way you’d light up whenever seungcheol was around, the way your laughter sounded a little brighter, your smile a little wider. and he remembered the way seungcheol seemed oblivious, never showing a sign of returning your feelings.

seungkwan had wanted to help you. he’d been desperate to see you happy, to save you from the heartache that came from unrequited love. so he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time: he’d set you up with someone else.

“do you remember when i introduced you to minjun?” seungkwan asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more somber.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “of course i do,” you reply. how could you forget? you’d been resistant at first, clinging to the faint hope that seungcheol would notice you one day. but seungkwan had been insistent. he’d told you that minjun was a good guy, someone who could make you happy, someone who could help you move on.

“you were so against it,” seungkwan recalls, his lips curving into a wistful smile. “but you finally agreed, and... well, you actually hit it off.”

a small laugh escapes your lips, though it lacks any real humor. “yeah. we did.”

for a while, dating han minjun had felt like a breath of fresh air. he was charming, thoughtful, and everything you thought you needed. for a moment, you’d even believed you’d moved on from seungcheol. but now, years later, here you were again, tangled up in your feelings for him, pretending to date him, no less.

seungkwan’s expression softens as he looks at you. “you know, i really did think minjun was a good guy back then. i just... i didn’t want to see you hurt anymore.” his voice wavers, and you can tell he feels guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault that things turned out this way.

“i know,” you murmur. “you were just trying to help.”

seungkwan sighs, setting his juice box down. “but now you’re back to seungcheol, except this time it’s... fake. and that worries me.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know how to explain that being with seungcheol, even if it’s just for show, feels better than being with anyone else. even if it hurts a little. or maybe a lot.

“it’s complicated,” you whisper, but seungkwan isn’t satisfied. his eyes bore into yours, filled with worry and protectiveness, like he’s already bracing for the heartbreak he’s sure is coming.

[—]

“do you think we should pick something that matches or just, you know, kind of goes together?” you ask, sifting through rows of dresses, your fingers brushing over various shades of fabric.

seungcheol tries to focus on the suits in front of him, but he’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your voice lilts at the end of your question. “hm?” he clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice how he’s completely lost his train of thought. “yeah, matching is… good.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “that didn’t answer my question, cheol.”

he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry. what was it again?”

“do you want our outfits to match?” you repeat, holding up a dress. it’s a deep, elegant navy blue, and seungcheol’s heart does a weird little flip. “like this one? it’s the same color as that suit you’re holding.”

seungcheol swallows hard, imagining the two of you side by side, perfectly coordinated, like a couple in a fairytale. he tries to shake the thought away. “yeah, that’s… perfect,” he says, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you seem satisfied with his answer, disappearing into the dressing room to try it on. seungcheol stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, heart pounding for no reason he can justify. he’s known you for years, been by your side for countless moments, but something about this—the idea of the two of you dressed up together, the way you trusted his opinion—feels different, it makes his heart race.

“cheol?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, his breath catching in his throat as you step out of the dressing room.

he’s not prepared for the sight. you look… breathtaking, the dress fitting you in a way that leaves him momentarily stunned. his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.

you tilt your head, concern flickering in your eyes. “is it bad?”

“no!” he blurts out, voice cracking embarrassingly. he clears his throat again; surprised at his own voice, his cheeks burning. “no, you look—” he stammers, searching for the right words, his mind a complete mess. but then, he smiles his boyish smile, his dimples dipping more than they usually do & says “god, you look… beautiful. really beautiful.”

you blink, taken aback, and seungcheol swears he sees your cheeks flush a little. he’s painfully aware of how warm his own face feels, how his hands are suddenly clammy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. you look at him, eyes wide and earnest, and seungcheol can’t handle it. he has to look away, but not before he sees the small smile spreading across your face.

he fiddles with the cuff of his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “you… you really think this is the one?” he asks, his voice cracking again. he winces.

you nod, your smile growing. “i think it’s perfect. but… what about your suit?”

he’s still trying to recover from seeing you in that dress, but he manages to nod. “right, my suit,” he says, forcing himself to focus. “i’ll go try it on.”

you sit down on a bench, and seungcheol practically sprints to the fitting room, his heart pounding. he stares at his reflection as he pulls on the navy suit jacket, trying to breathe. he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up from how many times he’s run his hands through it, his face still red.

“come on, cheol,” he mutters to himself. “get it together.”

when he finally steps out, he catches the way your eyes light up, the way you look him over and nod approvingly. “that’s perfect,” you say, and his heart does that stupid flip again. “we’ll look great together.”

he laughs, but it’s a weak attempt to hide how fast his heart is racing. “yeah. we will.” the words come out before he can stop them; even he knows he sounds completely & irrevocably smitten but he can’t help it, not when you’re looking at him like that.

[—]

“so, did you say yes to being her date?” seokmin asked casually, thumbs tapping furiously at the controller in his hands as he and seungcheol tried to hold their ground in the game. “you know, her fake boyfriend and all that?”

seungcheol’s fingers faltered on the buttons for a split second, and he shot seokmin a glare. “yah, focus on the game, we can't lose,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up. but, of course, seokmin had to bring it up now.

“wait, what?” wonwoo’s attention snapped away from the screen, his character on the verge of getting attacked. he gawked at seungcheol. “when did this happen? and why didn’t you tell us?”

soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his character in the game momentarily stood still. “hold on, hold on,” he said, nearly dropping his controller in shock. “hyung, you’re telling us you agreed to be her date and fake boyfriend, and we’re only hearing about this now?”

“can we not talk about this?” seungcheol muttered, trying to refocus on the game, but his heart was racing. the way his stomach twisted at the mention of you and the fake dating arrangement wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—especially not with his friends teasing him about it.

“absolutely not,” soonyoung protested, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. “this is big news, hyung! you have to spill.”

“yeah, seungcheol,” wonwoo added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “why didn’t you tell us? don’t act like it’s not a huge deal.”

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders tensing as he kept his eyes on the screen. “because it’s not a big deal, its only for a day anyway,” he insisted, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“you’re so full of it,” wonwoo said, barely holding back a laugh. “you've been in love with her for god knows how long, now you agreed to be her date and pretend to be her boyfriend. how is that not a big deal?”

unfortunately, soonyoung & wonwoo, have possession over seungcheol's not so secret, secret. but really, everyone knows, it's only a secret to you, seungkwan & seokmin although seokmin has been starting to catch on for the past few months. everyone else has miraculously managed to somehow keep their mouth shut around seokmin and seungkwan for 3 years; knowing how close you are with the two of them. I guess in a way you could say the boys are loyal to him? anyways.

seungcheol’s grip on his controller tightened. “can we just focus on winning?” he pleaded, desperate to change the subject, but his friends’ curiosity was palpable.

“fine,” soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “but we’re coming back to this later.”

just as seungcheol was about to let out a breath of relief, the sound of the front door opening made his heart stutter, and he turned his head, unable to help himself. you stepped into the apartment, bags in hand, looking slightly windswept but effortlessly beautiful.

“hey, i’m home!” you greeted, smiling at everyone.

seungcheol’s mind blanked, his focus slipping away entirely as he took you in. he barely registered seokmin’s frantic warning—“hyung, watch out!”—before his character was obliterated in the game.

“yes!” soonyoung cheered, throwing his hands in the air. “we won, wonwoo!”

wonwoo leaned back with a smug smile, “thank you,” he said, looking over at you.

you blinked, confused. “me? what did i do?”

wonwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “it’s nothing you need to know… yet,” he replied, his voice teasing, and he shot you a knowing smile. “but thank you anyway.”

you tilted your head, clearly still confused, but you shrugged it off. “okay, if you say so,” you said, heading down the hall. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

seungcheol watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how badly he’d let himself get distracted. he could feel the heat rising to his face, embarrassment and longing twisting in his chest.

seungcheol couldn't let it show. or at least, he thought he didn’t. he tried to play it cool, act normal around you, and pretend that his heart didn’t stutter every time you called his name. but apparently, seokmin noticed.

“you’ve got that look again,” seokmin pointed out, a teasing lilt in his voice.

seungcheol turned to find seokmin leaning against the backrest of the sofa, a grin spreading across his face. he blinked, feigning ignorance. “what look?”

“you know,” seokmin drawled, pushing himself off the backrest to lean closer to seungcheol “that look you get when she’s around.”

seungcheol felt his pulse skip, an uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck. he avoided seokmin’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping his voice sounded steady.

“sure you don’t.” seokmin plopped down beside him, elbow nudging his ribs. “c’mon, hyung. you’re not exactly subtle.”

seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake. “it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

seokmin raised an eyebrow. “really?” he asked, voice softening. “because the way you look at her…you look at her like you'd burn down the whole world for her.”

seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together, finally meeting seokmin’s gaze. there was no judgment there, only curiosity and a quiet sort of understanding.

“i didn’t mean to,” seungcheol admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “it just… happened.”

seokmin’s smile was gentle now, the teasing gone. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

seungcheol’s hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, a sense of helplessness washing over him. “nothing,” he said, bitterness seeping into the word. “she’s too important. if i mess this up… i can’t lose her.”

seokmin studied him for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “but what if you don’t lose her?” he said quietly. “what if she feels the same way?”

seungcheol’s heart twisted painfully. the thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he always pushed it away, too afraid to hope. “and what if she doesn’t?” he countered, his voice breaking. “i’d rather be close to her like this than lose everything.”

seokmin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “i get it,” he murmured. “but you can’t live your whole life being afraid. sometimes, you’ve got to take the risk.”

seungcheol let out a humorless laugh. “easy for you to say,” he mumbled, but his chest felt a little lighter, the weight of his secret shared, even if just for a moment.

seokmin’s smile returned, playful once more. “hey, i’m rooting for you,” he said, clapping a hand on seungcheol’s shoulder. “but seriously, the way you look at her… it’s gonna give you away one day.”

seungcheol swallowed, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “maybe,” he whispered. “but not today.”

seokmin grinned, standing up and offering a hand to pull seungcheol to his feet. “well, just know i’ll be there to say ‘i told you so’ when it happens.”

seungcheol took his hand, rising to his feet. “yeah, yeah,” he said, but his heart felt a little less heavy & a lot more hopeful.

[—]

seungcheol stood outside your bedroom door with seokmin, heart pounding as he took a steadying breath. it wasn’t the first time he was picking you up, but today felt different. maybe it was the gravity of the wedding you were attending, or maybe it was the fact that this arrangement had slowly become more real for him than he ever dared admit.

“hyung, you okay?” seokmin asked, glancing at him curiously.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “yeah,” he lied, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt. “let’s just…get this over with.” he lied, it hasn't even started yet but he doesnt want it to end.

seokmin gave him a sorry look but said nothing, and before seungcheol could dwell on it, you opened the door to your room. his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. you stood there, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, hair styled perfectly, eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation.

he was so down bad for you, it was almost pathetic.

he couldn't help the boyish smile that adorned his face, “you look… beautiful.” he didn’t trust himself to say more, afraid that if he did, the truth would come spilling out.

a faint blush dusted your cheeks, and you smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was doing somersaults. “thanks, cheol,” you said shyly, adjusting your dress. “you clean up pretty well yourself.

he let out a laugh, hoping it masked the way his pulse was racing. “you ready?” he asked, extending his hand to you. “our grand entrance awaits.”

you hesitated for the briefest moment, but then you slipped your hand into his, and he had to fight the urge to hold on tighter, to pull you closer and never let go. he couldn’t, of course. this was all an act. just a performance to keep up appearances, to help you save face in front of your ex and everyone else.

but god, how he wished it were real.

[—]

the car ride was quiet at first, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio. seungcheol couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, noting the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress. he knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety, and his chest tightened.

“hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand in his. your eyes widened in surprise, but you dont pull away. instead, you stared at your intertwined fingers, and he wondered if you could feel his heart pounding.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more careful. “if you’re not, we can turn around. we don’t have to go.”

you shook your head, a small, determined smile forming on your lips. “i’m fine,” you whispered. “it’s just… weird, you know? seeing him get married.”

seungcheol swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. he hated that minjun hurt you and how he couldn’t do anything but hold your hand and hope it was enough.

“if you want to leave at any point,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “just say the word. i’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like he was being laid bare under your gaze, your eyes boring into his. “thank you, cheol,” you murmured, and your voice cracked just a little. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his chest ached, a mix of longing and fear swirling inside him. he wanted to tell you that he’d always be there, that he’d never leave, but he didn’t. instead, he settled for rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping you couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling.

the silence in the car was comfortable, but electric, charged with something unspoken. the way your shoulders relaxed under his touch, the way your breathing evened out as he held your hand—it was almost enough to make him believe that you felt the same way.

but that was dangerous territory, and seungcheol knew better than to get his hopes up.

“you know,” he said lightly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the ache in his chest, “you’re kind of incredible. not everyone could handle a situation like this with so much grace.”

you laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “i don’t know about that or this grace you speak of,” you said. “i’m still trying to convince myself not to run away.”

“if you run,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll run with you. we can both escape and go somewhere far away. just the two of us.”

the joke made you laugh, but there was a wistful note to it, and seungcheol had to look away to keep himself from saying something stupid. his heart was a mess, pounding wildly with every word, every touch, every second he spent in your presence.

“thanks, cheol,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “really. i’m so lucky to have you.”

seungcheol drove on, your hand still in his, hoping that this moment would last a little longer.

[—]

the wedding had gone off without a hitch, at least on the surface. the vows had been exchanged, laughter and applause filling the air, and now the reception was in full swing. seungcheol had been trying his best to stay close to you, to keep you from feeling the weight of the memories this day might bring. but as he returned with your drinks, he froze.

there you were, standing stiffly, looking more tense than he’d seen you all night. and, of course, minjun was in front of you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he leaned in, saying something seungcheol couldn’t quite hear. your polite smile was brittle, your shoulders tense, and anger flared in his chest.

he forced himself to take a calming breath before approaching, setting your drinks down on a nearby table and stepping in between you & minjun, “hey,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “everything okay here?”

your eyes darted to him, a flicker of relief crossing your face. you tried to smile, but it wavered. “yeah,” you said, your voice a little too tight. “we were just… talking.”

minjun glanced at seungcheol, an eyebrow arching. “seungcheol?” he asked, a smug smile playing on his lips. “fancy seeing you here, i dont remember including you in the invite?” he quirked an eyebrow.

you opened your mouth, your voice coming out steadier this time. “actually, he's my plus one, since we're dating.”

“dating? as in, he's your boyfriend?” minjun asked as he sneaked a glance at seungcheol.

“yes, actually.” your words sent your stomach doing flips.

the disbelief on minjun’s face was palpable. he snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of you as if you’d just told a joke. “boyfriend? really?” he smirked, clearly unconvinced. “come on. that’s a little desperate, don’t you think?” minjun tries to reach for your hand.

before you could react, seungcheol stepped forward, his hand moving to reach for yours protectively; staking his claim. “i don’t think your wife,” he said, emphasizing the word with a hint of sarcasm, “would appreciate you making my girlfriend uncomfortable.”

minjun’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “prove it,” he challenged, crossing his arms. “you really expect me to believe this… whatever this is?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “we don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “& you certainly don't have the right to ask for anything, much less a proof, not after all the shit you’ve done.”

minjun’s expression soured, but before he could respond, seungcheol turned to you, his eyes softening. “come on, pretty,” he murmured, his voice gentle and eyes earnest,. “dance with me?”

you stomach did somersaults, seungcheol watches you intently, he watches the way your expression melts into a grateful smile. you leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you whispered, so quietly he barely heard it.

his heart stuttered in his chest, warmth flooding through him. but he forced himself to push the feeling away, to remind himself that this was all for show. you were only doing this because minjun was watching, because you needed to keep up the pretense. there was no way you actually meant that kiss, no way you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he did.

but he couldn’t help the way his heart betrayed him, the way his entire body seemed to light up at the simple touch of your lips on his skin. he swallowed, hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks flushed, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go,” you said, taking his hand, your smile genuine and warm.

the music had shifted to a slow song, and seungcheol led you onto the dance floor, his fingers still intertwined with yours. his heart was pounding, his mind racing, but he tried to focus on you, on the way you were looking at him now, your eyes so full of trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“thank you,” you said again, your voice a little steadier this time.

he gave you a small smile, trying to keep his emotions in check. “i’ll always be here for you,” he said, his voice soft. “you know that, right?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your waist. “i do,” you whispered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something more in your eyes. something he desperately wanted to believe in.

seungcheol tried to ignore the way your body fit so perfectly against his, the way your smile sent his heart racing. he couldn’t let himself read too much into the way you were looking at him.

but it was so, so hard.

“cheol,” you said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “can i ask you something?”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “of course.”

“why did you say yes?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “to being my date and… pretending to be my boyfriend?”

his breath caught in his throat. he hadn’t expected that question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving himself away. “because you needed me to,” he said finally, and it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. “and i’d do anything for you.”

your eyes softened, and he wondered if you could see right through him, if you knew just how badly he was hurting, just how desperately he wanted this to be real.

“you’re too good to me,” you whispered.

he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said. “i’m just… selfish.”

you tilted your head, confused. “selfish?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t ruin this. “never mind,” he said, forcing a laugh. “just… ignore me.”

but you didn’t. your gaze lingered on him, searching, and he had to look away before he did something stupid, like confess right then and there.

“cheol,” you said, your voice so soft it made his heart ache. “what are you hiding?”

“nothing,” he lied, pulling you a little closer, trying to focus on the music instead of the way your eyes were looking right into his soul. “i’m not hiding anything.”

but he was. he was hiding everything. the way he loved you, the way he wanted you, the way he’d give anything to be more than…this.

“okay,” you said finally, but he could hear the doubt in your voice. “if you say so.”

“you know,” he said as he let out a small sigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “you didn’t have to kiss my cheek just now. not for minjun’s sake, anyway.”

you tilted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i didn’t do it for him,” you said quietly as seungcheol watches your eyes sparkle and dilate, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“then… why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

your gaze searching his face. “just because.. i wanted to.”

seungcheol’s mind went blank, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sudden, overwhelming rush of hope that filled his chest.

“should we call it a night?” you asked, your voice gentle as you turned to seungcheol, who still seemed lost in thought. you weren’t sure if it was because of the way you had kissed his cheek earlier or if he was still worried about you, but his expression had been hard to read.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “let’s head home. but, uh, let me hit the bathroom real quick first?”

you nodded, offering him a small smile. “i’ll wait by the entrance.”

he nodded back, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he turned and made his way to the restroom. as he walked, he felt his heart racing, the memory of your soft kiss on his cheek replaying in his mind. you’d said it was just because you wanted to, but that couldn’t mean anything... right?

seungcheol washed his hands, letting the cool water calm him down. he took a deep breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. he doesn't really want this night to end, he's not ready for that yet.

but that’s when he heard it: voices coming from one of the stalls, low but loud enough to catch his attention.

“man, i still can’t believe you're actually married,” one voice said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “and only because you got her pregnant. how the hell did you screw up that bad?”

what the hell? seungcheol’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet, listening.

“don’t remind me,” minjun’s familiar voice replied. “i know, okay? it’s not like i love her or anything. but i couldn’t just bail, you know? had to do the right thing, i guess.”

the right thing? seungcheol thinks to himself, yet cheating on you is okay?

the friend laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “still, hanna’s nothing compared to your ex. that girl is so much hotter than your wife. you should’ve stayed with her.”

seungcheol’s grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles going white.

“hey, i made a mistake,” minjun grumbled, clearly defensive. “she really is hot. i was just thinking with my other head back then, okay?”

“yeah, well,” his friend drawled, “i would’ve made a move on her tonight if she hadn’t walked in with that new boyfriend of hers. what’s his name again? seungcheol or something?”

“yeah, well, i tried to,” minjun admitted, and seungcheol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “but he showed up before i could.”

“did you see the dress she was wearing?” minjun laughed as he added, “she's got such a killer body…bet I could make her cheat on that boyfriend of hers, what do you say? 50 bucks? bet on it?”

that was it. the final straw. anger flared hot and fierce in seungcheol’s chest, and before he knew it, he was storming over to the stall. he yanked the door open, and the look of shock on both men’s faces did nothing to quell his rage.

“what the fuck did you say? you think you can talk about her like that?” seungcheol growled, his voice low and dangerous. “after everything you’ve done?”

minjun barely had time to react before seungcheol’s fist connected with his jaw. the fight was quick, brutal, and messy, with fists flying and the sound of grunts echoing off the bathroom walls. seungcheol didn’t care about the pain in his knuckles or the way his cheek throbbed from a poorly blocked punch. all he cared about was defending your honor, protecting you from these men who had no right to even think about you, let alone look in your direction.

when seungcheol finally left the bathroom, his heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. his cheeks were slightly bloodied and his knuckles were bruised.

but before he could reach the entrance to get to you, someone grabbed his arm. he turned, only to see hanna, minjun’s wife, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “oh my god,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “what happened to you?”

at first, she seemed genuinely worried, but then her eyes raked over him, and her concern twisted into something more flirtatious. she reached out, her hands brushing against his arms. “you look so hot like this with all the bruises,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his biceps.

seungcheol stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. “don't,” he held a hand up, “i have a girlfriend,” he said firmly, stepping back. he glanced around, hoping you hadn’t seen any of this.

but you had. your eyes had caught sight of the scene, the way hanna's hands lingered on seungcheol’s arms, and your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see it, why your heart felt heavy and your chest ached. this was seungcheol, your good friend. you’d moved on from this heartbreak years ago... right?

you tore your gaze away, your mind spinning. you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him with someone else, but it made no sense. seungcheol was just your friend. nothing more.

when seungcheol finally made his way over to you, unaware that you saw him & hanna, was careful not to mention it or the fight that happened. instead, he focused on the gossip he’d overheard in the bathroom. “hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “did you know?”

you barely registered his words, your mind still replaying the image of hanna's hands on his arms. your chest felt tight, and you couldn’t explain why.

“apparently,” seungcheol continued, “this whole wedding is a shotgun marriage. she’s pregnant, and that’s why they’re doing all this.” he paused, searching your face for any reaction, but you weren’t really hearing him.

“huh?” you finally said, blinking as you came back to the present. your eyes widened when you took in his bruised knuckles and the cut on his cheek. “oh my god, seungcheol. what happened to you?”

“did you hear anything of what i just said?” he asked, a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice.

you glared at him, your concern overshadowing everything else. “no, but i’m sure it’s nowhere near as important as this,” you snapped, gesturing to his bruised face and bloodied hands.

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders slumping. “it’s nothing,” he insisted, but he knew you wouldn’t let it go. not when you looked at him with so much worry, so much care, and it made his heart ache.

“nothing?” the depth of your furrowed brows going deeper, “you're bleeding, cheol.” your tone angry. “come on,” you said, your voice softening. “i’m taking you back to my place. i need to take care of those wounds.”

he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t hear it. “please, cheol,” you whispered, and the way you said his name made his heart stutter. he wanted so badly to believe that you cared, that this wasn’t just about him being your friend.

“fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper. “but only because you’re so stubborn.”

you gave him a small, relieved smile, and he felt his resolve weaken even more.

back at your apartment, you lead seungcheol to the bathroom, rummaging through the first aid kit with a determined focus. he sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you with a mixture of awe and longing. it’s overwhelming how gentle you are with him, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you gather supplies to tend to his wounds. he wants to believe this moment means something more than simple concern for a friend, that the tenderness in your gaze holds feelings he’s been longing to hear you speak out loud.

“does it hurt?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on his cheek, your touch feather-light.

“no,” he says, his gaze never wavering from your face. the sting is nothing compared to the ache of wanting you. his heart pounds relentlessly, each beat echoing the longing he’s kept hidden for so long.

you move to bandage his knuckles, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. “you’re so reckless,” you murmur, but your tone is soft, carrying nothing but worry.

he swallows, throat tight. “i couldn’t stand hearing them talk about you like that,” he admits, the words escaping before he can second-guess them.

your hands freeze. you look up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he hesitates, regret mingling with vulnerability, wanting to tell you everything but afraid of what might come next. “just... they were saying things they shouldn’t,” he settles on, the explanation falling flat compared to the storm raging inside him. “i couldn’t let it go.”

the bathroom feels smaller, the air thicker. you lean in closer, a wrinkle of worry creasing your forehead. “seungcheol…”

his hand lifts before he can stop it, and his fingers brush your cheek, gentle and unsure. “i just want to keep you safe,” he whispers, voice cracking, heart lodged in his throat. “even if it means getting a little bruised up.”

you’re so close now that your breath mingles with his, warm and intoxicating. your chest tightens, and something inside you shifts. you can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in his voice or the way his eyes seem to hold a secret you’ve always yearned to know. you feel your pulse spike, your mind racing. all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury come rushing back with an intensity that scares you.

you kneel in front of him, biting back the realization that you never really moved on, that you never truly stopped loving him. your feelings have been buried, but they resurface now, raw and undeniable, and you can’t pretend anymore.

“tonight was...a lot,” seungcheol says quietly, breaking the heavy silence. his eyes search yours, trying to make sense of the tension thick in the room.

you nod, hands trembling slightly as you pull back, though not far enough to break the spell. “yeah,” you manage, voice unsteady. “it was.”

seungcheol watches you with a gaze so full of longing that it makes your heart ache. he’s proud of you, he’s always been proud of you, but the way he’s looking at you now is different. “you were amazing,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your breath catch. “the way you handled everything… i’m so proud of you.”

his words break something inside of you, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the distance. it’s an impulse, a mistake, but you just couldn't help yourself. your lips brush against his, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

seungcheol freezes in shock, but then he responds. his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, and he kisses you back with a fervor that leaves you breathless. the tension snaps like a taut wire, replaced by a burst of passion, and everything you’ve both kept buried pours out.

his fingers tighten around your waist, your hands finding their way into his hair, and you lose yourself in him. the way he tastes, the way he holds you, feels like a dream you don’t want to wake from. your heart races as the kiss deepens, desperate and all-consuming.

but then reality crashes over you like a tidal wave. you pull back abruptly, breaking away, your eyes wide with shock and horror. seungcheol looks dazed, lips parted, hair slightly mussed from your hands, and the sight of him so undone because of you only makes the guilt worse.

“i-” you stammer, voice cracking as you scramble to your feet. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.”

“wait-” he begins, but you’re already moving, stumbling backward, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “i shouldn’t have… we promised we wouldn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice gentle yet laced with desperation. he stands, reaching for you, but you take another step back, your emotions spiraling.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, overwhelmed and terrified by the feelings that won’t stop crashing over you. “i ruined everything.”

you feel tears prick your eyes, your chest aching with regret and confusion. the kiss shattered the fragile balance between you, and you don’t know how to piece it back together. “you should go,” you manage, voice cracking. “its getting late,” your head starts feeling dizzy, “I'll call you tomorrow.”

before seungcheol can argue, before he can make sense of the whirlwind between you, you’re gone. you rush out of the bathroom, heart hammering, not sure where to go but needing to escape. the apartment feels suffocating, your feelings too much to handle, and you slam your bedroom door behind you.

you lean against it, sliding down until you’re curled up on the floor, tears spilling down your cheeks. what have you done? you kissed seungcheol, and now everything is a mess. the love you never let yourself acknowledge burns bright, and it terrifies you.

in the bathroom, seungcheol stands frozen, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips. he’s never felt more hopeless, more in love, and more afraid that he’s lost you forever. the echo of your apology rings in his ears, and he clenches his fists, wishing he could take away the hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

he tells himself he’ll wait for you to call, but he’s terrified that this time, waiting might not be enough.

but still, seungcheol waits.

the days stretched on, each one feeling heavier than the last. it had been a week since the wedding, a week since that kiss had turned his world upside down, and still, there was no call from you. you had promised, but the days passed in silence. he wanted so bad to be the one reaching out, but he knows you well enough to know that it wouldnt end well, and that you needed your own time to process things. but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between you. each morning he woke up with a sliver of hope, a quiet, desperate wish that today would be the day you would reach out. but by every nightfall, the silence was all he had. the silence, and the ache that gnawed at him constantly.

he kept replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the feel of your lips on his, the way your eyes had searched his face afterward. the hope, the confusion, the raw vulnerability—it haunted him, leaving him restless and on edge. there was something about the way you pulled away from him, your apology spilling out in a rush, that made his heart ache. his own feelings were a mess, tangled up in things he hadn’t fully understood until that kiss, much less you, right?

he tried to keep busy, to drown the thoughts that plagued him. the gym became his sanctuary, his second home, a place to work out the frustration, the ache in his chest. he lifted weights until his body screamed for rest, hoping that physical exhaustion would bring some peace. but no matter how much he tried to tire himself out, the ache remained, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments when it all came rushing back.

work was just a blur, the hours blending together as he went through the motions. he found himself distracted, staring at his phone more often than usual, his thumb hovering over your contact, only to put it down before he could hit send. what would he even say? what if you weren't ready yet & him reaching out only made things worse? what if you didn’t even want to hear from him? what if his feelings were just a one-sided mess that he’d have to live with forever?

the days bled into one another, each one more unbearable than the last. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he missed you—how much he longed to hear your voice, to see you again, to figure out what all of this meant. so he kept it all inside, bottled up, carrying the weight of his emotions on his own. there were moments when he could feel it, the weight of his longing pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. he had tried to be patient, to give you space, but with each passing day, that patience was wearing thin.

he wondered if he’d done something wrong. had he misread the situation? had he pushed too far when he kissed you back? maybe you only kissed him because of the atmosphere or adrenaline or whatever? every time he thought about it, he felt sick. maybe you didn’t feel the same way. maybe he had crossed a line, and now he was paying the price for it. the thought of you slipping further away from him was unbearable.

his phone sat on the coffee table, screen blank, mocking him with its silence. he had told himself he’d wait, that you’d reach out when you were ready, but the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to believe that. he wanted to hear your voice, to know that you weren’t angry with him, to know that the kiss hadn’t ruined everything between you. but instead, he sat in his apartment, surrounded by the deafening quiet.

& seungkwan? seungkwan had been on you about it for days.

"seriously, you’re just going to leave things like this?" seungkwan had said one morning, his eyes narrowing at you over his cup of coffee. "you kissed him. you kissed seungcheol hyung. and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen. you think he’s not waiting for you to come around?"

you hadn’t responded at first, unsure of how to even begin to process it. all you could think about was the kiss, and how everything felt so wrong and so right in that moment, and how now, in the aftermath, everything was a mess.

"you’ve been so quiet about this. and it’s obvious to everyone. you’re both miserable. don’t you get it?" seungkwan continued, his voice growing more insistent. "you can’t just let it go, not after that. you owe it to yourself & especially to him to figure out what this is. what he is to you."

you had shaken your head, turning away, not wanting to face the truth. "i don’t even know what it is. i don’t know if i—"

"you’re making it worse by not doing anything," he cut you off, his eyes narrowing. "stop running from it. just talk to him, okay? if you don’t, you’re going to regret it."

you sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. you had never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it came to feelings. but something in seungkwan’s words made you pause. the last thing you wanted was to regret anything.

"i don’t know if i can," you murmured. "i don’t know if he’ll even want to talk to me after everything."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "stop thinking like that. he doesn’t know what to do either, so you’re both stuck, waiting for the other to make a move. just go to him. get your act together."

before you could respond, the door to your apartment unlocks, interrupting your conversation, and there stood seokmin, looking far too cheerful for the somber mood that had settled over you.

"hey, what’s going on in here?" he asked, stepping inside with his usual bright smile.

you shrugged, feeling the weight of seungkwan’s words pressing on your chest. "nothing much. just… thinking."

seungkwan immediately jumped in, as if he couldn’t help himself. "you need to go talk to seungcheol. i’m so done waiting for this mess to sort itself out."

seokmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. "ah," he crossed his arms, settling into the couch. "you’re still haven't called huh?"

"no," you admitted, your voice small. "i don’t know what to say to him."

"yeah, well, you’re not the only one," seokmin said with a sigh, his tone softening. "but running away from it won’t solve anything. look, and you know what cheol's like. if you tell him you need space & time & that you'll call him, he's gonna listen & wait for you. he’s not going to make the first move until you do so go talk to him, okay? figure it out. or at least to put that guy out of his misery."

you nodded slowly, trying to take in his words. it wasn’t that simple. it never was. but seokmin had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like maybe, you could take that first step.

seungkwan was still persistent, though. "seriously, i’m not letting you off the hook. you still love him after all these years, don’t you?"

"i don’t know," you said, your voice cracking. "i think i do, but i don’t even know how to deal with even coming to terms that i like him. everything’s so messed up. i kissed him, and now i… i don’t know what to do with all of it."

seokmin looked at you with an almost knowing smile. "sometimes, things don’t have to be figured out all at once. it’s okay to just… see what happens. go to him and talk. take it one step at a time."

seungkwan nodded eagerly, as if the suggestion had finally gotten through to you. "exactly. just go. trust me, you’re both miserable. just fix it."

the decision was made. somehow, someway, you had to go to him. you didn’t know what you were going to say, or how you were going to fix everything that had gone wrong, but you knew you had to try. the thought of never knowing how he felt, or whether you had a chance, was unbearable.

it had been days since you last saw him. days since everything had spiraled. and now here you were, on the verge of either fixing things or making them worse. you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. your hands trembled slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely out of control.

you knocked softly, but the sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway. a few moments later, you heard the shuffle of footsteps from the other side, and your heart skipped a beat.

the door swung open, and seungcheol stood there, looking absolutely stunned to see you standing there. his eyes widened in confusion, and for a brief second, you both just stared at each other in silence.

he seemed to take a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "you… you’re here," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "are you… okay?"

you didn’t know how to respond. you wanted to say so many things, but words felt like too much. you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. the silence stretched, and then he spoke again, his voice breaking the tension.

"come in," he said softly, stepping aside to let you in, but you didn’t move. "did i… did i do something wrong? if i upset you, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. i really didn’t." his voice was strained, as if he was holding back something. "i know we agreed on the whole fake dating thing for just 1 night, and maybe i crossed a line. but i didn’t mean to. i didn’t mean to make things complicated. I.. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he sounded so genuinely sorry, and that was the moment it hit you—seungcheol was just as lost as you were.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to step over the threshold. you walked inside, every part of you feeling as though you were making a decision you couldn’t take back. the door clicked shut behind you, and you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say next.

he gestured toward the couch, but neither of you sat. there was a tension hanging between you two, something unsaid but felt in the air. you stayed there, frozen, trying to process your thoughts while he watched you, waiting for something.

he cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. "come sit, please," he said. "talk to me, please. is it something i did? i… i can't fix it if i dont know what i did wrong."

you shook your head slowly, still unable to find your words. you felt like a mess, and you could tell by his expression that he felt the same. the weight of everything that had happened—the kiss, the awkward distance between you two after—was hanging over you both.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "it’s not your fault."

"what do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, a mix of hope and worry in his gaze. "what’s not my fault?"

"i kissed you," you muttered, the words coming out rushed, almost in a panic. "it was me. i shouldn’t have done it. and i’m sorry."

he seemed taken aback, a flash of guilt crossing his face. "but… why? why did you kiss me?”

you bit your lip, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "i don’t know why," you admitted, the confession escaping before you could stop it. "i wasn't thinking…i just… i was jealous. i saw hanna with you, and i couldn’t stand it. i… i kissed you because of that, but now, i’m not sure if it was jealousy or because i like you."

seungcheol’s face softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. "you were jealous?" his voice was barely audible, as if the question itself was too much to bear. his eyes were glossy, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice breaking as he spoke. "you… you like me?"

you took in a deep breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "i think so, i don’t know..I'm not sure but i don’t want to lose you over a stupid kiss."

seungcheol exhaled shakily as his heart falters to the pit of his stomach. he felt a mixture of anger, bitterness and heartbreak flare in his chest, his fingers threading through his hair as he took a moment to gather himself. "a stupid kiss," he repeated, “you dont know if you like me?” and there was a bitterness to his voice that made your chest tighten. he looked at you, his eyes shining with something raw, something that made your heart splinter.

"it's not just a stupid kiss to me," he whispered, and your breath caught. "do you know how long i’ve been in love with you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve tried to hold back these feelings because i was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same?"

your eyes widened, your knees nearly giving out at his words. "you… you're in love with me?" you whispered, barely able to believe it.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound cracking in the air between you. "yeah," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "i’m in love with you. it’s been hell, watching you, waiting for the right moment, praying that maybe, one day, you'd feel the same. and then you kissed me, and god, for a second, i thought it was real. i thought maybe you felt it too."

your hands shook as you tried to process his confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you, leaving you breathless. "cheol…" you started, but he held up a hand, his gaze turning away from you.

"don't," he whispered, pain etched in every line of his face. "if you're not sure, if you don't know what you want, please… don't say anything. because this? this hurts too much."

your chest ached, your heart breaking at the sight of him, of the way he was barely holding himself together. "i’m sorry," you choked out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. "i didn’t know. i never realized—"

"that’s the thing," he interrupted, his voice strained. "i've always been here, and you never realized." he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his own tears. "i can’t… i can’t keep doing this if you don't feel the same,”

seungcheol softens as he took in a deep breath, “I can accept, no–I can understand if you don’t love me back,” he says, his voice breaking, “but i need you to at least be sure you like me. if you can’t even be sure you like me, then i don’t think i can do this.” his hands curl into fists on his knees, the weight of his words pressing into the air between you.

the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as everything you’ve been holding back crashes over you. “cheol,” you begin to confess, voice trembling, “i was in love with you four years ago. back then, before everything. before my ex.” your confession hangs heavy, and you can see the shock and pain in his eyes.

“four years ago?” he chokes out. he’s crying too, his tears slipping silently down his face. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you wipe at your face, trying to catch your breath. “because i thought it was over. i thought my feelings had become platonic, that they’d evolved into this safe, distant affection. but seeing you... seeing hanna flirt with you... it hurt. it hurt because i realized i never really let you go. i still love you, cheol. and it’s not just this soft, easy love. it’s the kind that makes me want you even when it hurts.”

his sob catches in his throat, and he reaches for you, his hands trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “i tried to hide it. i tried to hold it back, but i couldn’t. you’ve always been the one, even when i knew i shouldn’t feel that way.”

the two of you sit there, crying together, the years of longing, misunderstandings, and suppressed emotions finally crashing down. he cups your face, thumb brushing away your tears. “so now what?” you ask, voice small and broken.

seungcheol pulls back slightly, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes, but there's something vulnerable there too. he smiles as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "now... now i ask you out on a date," he says, his voice softer, but his tone filled with so much emotion. “but—” he pauses, his smile fading slowly as his gaze turns serious now, “i’ll give you…five dates.”

“what? what do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

seungcheol's smile returns as he takes in your pouty face before clearing his throat, “i'll let you decide if you still want me after that. no pressure. in case you change your mind.” his hand goes to reach for a stray hair near your cheek and tucks it behind your ear as he gives you a soft smile, still holding a certain sadness and uncertainty to it.

you smile softly, shaking your head. “i don’t need five dates to know my answer, cheol. i'm not changing my mind.” bold adrenaline suddenly pumps through your blood, and you hastily pull seungcheol closer to you in a quick motion, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then you place a quick kiss on his lips. it's nothing romantic by any means, neither was it movie-scene-worthy. it's nothing like that, but it is more than enough to soothe your soaring heart, and it's definitely more than enough to send your message across to seungcheol.

seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as you pull away. "you’re…sure.” this time, it wasn't a question.

"i'm sure," you repeat anyway for him, stepping into his arms as your heart flutters at the feeling of him finally pulling you in, his embrace as warm as you'd imagined.

his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and desperation that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like everything you've both been holding back for so long is coming unraveled, like this embrace is the start of something fragile but real. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, heavy and uneven, as he holds on like he's afraid to let go.

"i've waited so long to hear you say that," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. His words are shaky, the tremble betraying the vulnerability he’s still trying to hide. "i’ve wanted this for so long, but i never imagined it would feel this terrifying."

your hand finds his back, holding him just as tightly. "it’s terrifying for me too," you admit softly, your voice trembling. "but... i’m tired of being afraid.”

he pulls back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes search your face. “let’s give this a real chance, even if it scares us. even if it’s hard." he whispers, a hint of a smile breaking through the sorrow that had clouded his expression.

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i want to," you say, feeling a fragile hope bloom in your chest. "i want us."

a soft, relieved laugh escapes his lips, and he pulls you into a real kiss this time—gentle, slow, and full of everything unspoken. It’s not perfect, but it feels like a promise, like a beginning you both desperately needed. you lose yourself in the moment, your heart pounding as the weight of everything finally starts to lift.

when you both pull away, breathless but smiling, seungcheol rests his forehead against yours. "so, about those five dates, even though you say you dont need them," he teases, his voice a little lighter now, a spark of his usual playful demeanor coming back. "should we count this one, or start fresh?"

you laugh, the sound bringing color back into the space between you. "maybe we should count this one," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full. "but only if it means you have to try extra hard to make the next four unforgettable."

his smile widens, the warmth in his eyes chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. "deal," he says, his hands still resting on your waist. "i’ll make every single one worth remembering, just you wait."

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 months ago

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Name Day Gifts - Team Green

prompt: my friend's birthday as coming up and she asked if I would do some headcanons for what the Team Green boys would get their partner for their birthday/name day.💚 --------------------------------------------

Aegon

As the King, Aegon had the right call any number of feasts & tourneys to order, for whatever reason he chooses. What better reason than your Name Day? He would be extremely involved in the planning. From the music, to the entertainment, to even having your favorite foods catered for the event. He even has a dress made, embroidered with his own personal dragon sigil, as a gift for the party. All of this is for you, and he is happy to see you enjoying yourself. But there is a part of Aegon, later in the evening and after too much wine, that he is jealous over all the attention you are giving others. The needy King will eventually spirit you away all for himself.

Aemond

Aemond is not one for celebrating Name Days. Any idiot can be born. It is true achievement that should be praised. But, he is neither cold hearted enough nor foolish enough to realize not everyone feels this way. He would give you your gift in private. Handing it to you like any other prize, with no more flourish than “for another year older”. He would have the royal jeweler craft a sapphire pendant for you, suspended on a white gold chain, with facets as intricate as a dragon’s egg. “To act as my eye when I am not around.” He would tell you. To watch over you. To protect you. The promise is the real gift, the necklace is just flare.

Gwayne

Gwayne is terrible at picking gifts. Completely hopeless, if one were being honest. His heart is in the right place, as he often gets things based on some innate fact of trivia his partner has given him. Example? You once mentioned you liked persimmons, so he procured a whole crate for you, by which you could never finish them all before they rot. He leans on his sister for advice, which are all practical and traditional gifts for a Name Day. In the end, however, he gets them a horse. As Alicent mentioned something they could do together and he thought ‘I like riding’, so Gwayne presented them with the most beautiful white mare he could find so they could go riding together.

Criston

He of course cannot let their relationship be known, due to his oath, but he remembers all the same. With the power of his position, Criston would sneak into your chambers and leave a small parcel on your bed or dresser for you to find. A small trinket of a golden spear cloak pin. Seemingly innocent, but the meaning is clean. Gold for his cloak. A spear as the symbol of his Dornish heritage. And finally, a cloak pin so you can wear it over your heart. Though he can never say it, Criston swells with pride every time he sees you wear it; which is almost daily after your Name Day.

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loving-barnes · 10 months ago

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LOGAN HOWLETT - 'HELL'

A/N: And here I am, still writing and I am here for it. I am actually trying a lot here.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: mentions of blood and torture

Summary: Y/N shares how she escaped 'hell'.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story includes mentions of abuse.

Words: 4300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter One

LOGAN HOWLETT - 'HELL'

Y/N was lying on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight rays. Her right hand was in the air as she tried to make the force come out in a ball-shaped form. She finally made some progress.

Charles helped her train in his office. He aimed to teach her to make a protective shield around another person. Two weeks in, she made some progress. But the goal was still far away. On the other hand, she did learn something new.

The ball-shaped forcefields were bewitching. Y/N could admire her power up close. It was a thin blue layer of radiant energy with a hint of silver sparkles. Beautiful. She hoped to get better and become useful. Now, she had the chance after all those years. It brought tears to her eyes for many reasons.

If only I could get you out.

The nightmares appeared every night. They changed, playing twisted games in her sleep. It was hard to close her eyes. Her past, her present, it all got mixed. They were suffocating her. And his face kept coming back to her.

“How’s it going with her training?” Hank asked the Professor. He was standing at the window, watching Y/N in the distance from the office.

Some of the teachers, the X-Men, were present, discussing the newest addition. The last one who entered the conversation was Logan, smoking his cigar. One look from the Professor, and he extinguished it against his palm. He gritted his teeth when he felt the burning sensation on his palm.

“She’s making progress,” said Charles with a smile. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

Storm walked to a window, watching the kids enjoy the sunny afternoon outside. And there, far away, she noticed Y/N practising her little forcefields. “Her ability is convenient, powerful. She would be great on missions.”

“That is the plan. I want Y/N to be able to protect other people, too. She can create the forcefield around herself and in smaller forms. It might take us more time before she reaches her goal,” said Charles.

“I don’t like her,” Scott confessed to them. “There’s something off about her.” Everyone’s eyes were on him.

“What, that she doesn’t want to let anyone in because she doesn’t trust easily?” Storm glared at her friend.

“She’s not telling us something.”

“Would you tell your life story to a group of strangers you know for two weeks?” Kitty added. “If there is something off about her, the Professor would tell us.”

Charles sighed and turned to his friends. “There is something I need you all to know.”

“He, there it is,” Scott grinned.

That single sentence got everyone’s attention. Charles wheeled into the middle of the room, eyes looking at every person present. Logan frowned. Storm was intrigued, and others kept their faces neutral.

“Years ago, when I had been searching for more mutants, I managed to find Y/N. At that time, she was a teen who happened to discover her mutation. The plan was to bring her here. I wanted to send Hank to get her.”

“Why didn’t you?” Logan asked.

The Professor sighed. “She kept slipping off.”

“What do you mean?” Jean asked, confused.

“When I wanted to find her location, she was nowhere to be found. Not as a mutant or a human,” Charles explained. “I thought she died. And then, months later, I stumbled upon her again. As I tried to reach her, she slipped again.”

“Oh, right,” Hank said. “I remember you thought there was something wrong with Cerebro.”

“The Cerebro was fine. Until this day, I have no idea how it kept happening.”

“So, she’s a telepath?” Bobby asked.

Charles shook his head. “There was a time when I believed she was. It would make perfect sense. Only strong telepaths can shut their minds. That would explain why I couldn’t reach her.”

“So, when you saw her the first time since Logan brought her, you knew who she was. You didn’t need to read her mind?” Storm chimed in. Her eyes kept staring at the Professor.

“That is true. However,” Charles turned to face Logan. “The fact that you found her was a mere coincidence. You two happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

He didn’t comment on it, only shook his head in disbelief. “Is that all, Charles? Or is there more to this story?” He suspected that the Professor wasn’t telling them the whole truth.

“This is all you need to know, now.”

Groans echoed around the office. That answer didn’t bring enough satisfaction. What was he not telling them? Logan was ready to push his buttons. He needed to know more. Everyone deserved the truth. With a sigh, he stood back. “Why so mysterious?”

“I will tell you more once I have more answers,” said Charles calmly. “For now, all we need to do is to help her train. She wants to be better. She suffered enough, and she wants to turn her life upside down.”

“She asked you not to read her mind,” Jean raised a brow.

“I don’t need to read her mind. We talk a lot when I teach her. I promised not to look in. When I met her, it all came screaming at me. All you need to know is I trust her.”

Scott scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “That’s it?”

The meeting ended shortly after that. Everyone dispersed around the school. Logan’s legs brought him outside, his eyes quickly finding the young woman far away, resting on the grass.

For the last two weeks, he didn’t talk to her much or see her for that matter. He observed from afar. Logan noticed how she started to open up to some of his friends. She tried to get to know each member of the school. Storm, Kitty and Rogue spent most of their time with her. With them, she was able to laugh freely and smile. Damn, that smile. He wanted to see it more.

He frowned. Why did he think that?

He saved her ass, and now she felt like a magnet. He tried to resist, but it was hard. Would it be that bad to know her more? He brought her here, where he promised she’d be safe. And from what he had learnt, Charles knew about her existence for a long time.

Sighing, he moved forward. He took out the cigar that he hadn’t finished and smoked on his way to her. His eyes lingered on her body, eyeing her from head to toe. Compared to their first unexpected meeting, she seemed relaxed and happy. The bruises were gone. Only faint scratch marks remained.

Her hand was still in the air, creating small forcefields. The need to talk to her got stronger. As if she were a water that would extinguish Logan’s thirst. Fuck, he wanted to know her more.

“Hey, kid. How’s the trainin’ going?” he asked when he was close enough for her to hear him.

Y/N turned her head to the side, eyes locking with his. “It’s fine, I guess,” she said with a fleeting smile. “I am trying to figure out how to make a forcefield around another person,” she explained.

“Any luck?” he leaned against the nearest tree. He held the cigar with his fingers.

“No,” she sat up. “I got better at creating it in the shape of a ball. It still does glitch. But it’s a step forward. If only I knew how to project it around another person.”

“It cannot be that hard,” he raised a brow. “It looks so easy.”

She laughed at that. “If only. It requires a lot of concentration and energy. I can protect a person if they are next to me. I can wrap us into the forcefield. That’s about it.”

A gentle smile appeared on Logan’s face. “Like you did when I took you out of that dive bar.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh yeah,” she nodded. “I forgot about that. It was wild. I remember fragments of that day. Shit, the last days before you brought me here are kind of hazy.” She stood up from the grass and wiped off her lower back and ass.

Logan’s eyes followed her every move. “Wanna walk with me?” the question was out before he could think about it. Even he was surprised he had asked that.

“Sure,” she nodded. “I wanted to explore the estate a little more.”

Side by side, they walked away from the school and the noise. The estate reminded her of a gigantic park filled with trees, surrounded by nature and peace. She noticed there were well-trodden pathways. The students must have walked around the place many times.

“How did you get to that bar anyway?” he had to ask.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I kept walking until my feet brought me there. All I knew was to get as far away as possible.”

He took a deep breath. “What happened to you?”

Y/N bit her lower lip and looked somewhere away. “Um,” she hesitated. Was it wise to share it already? “I escaped a lab. I was a guinea pig for five years,” she admitted.

“What?” It was hard to believe what she said. Why was he so surprised? He had his suspicion about this before.

“Yeah,” her eyes were focused on the ground, ashamed of the story. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill me. Five years to keep a mutant for an experiment is a long time. Before you ask, I have no idea how I managed to survive the torture and imprisonment for that long. Those years are a blur.”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Sounds like a hell of a life.”

Y/N lifted her head, scanning Logan’s face. “The Professor didn’t say anything to you?” When he shook his head, she was impressed. “And here I thought you would already know about everything.”

“It’s your story to tell, Y/N. It’s up to you if you want to share it with us,” said Logan.

Out of nowhere, she started to giggle. Logan didn’t understand what was funny. “You know, you don’t seem that kind of a guy who does this a lot. But it’s nice.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. He took another drag of the cigar. And Y/N laughed a little more. “When did you discover your mutation?”

The smile disappeared. “I was around fifteen when it happened,” Y/N replied. “And it started a life full of misery and darkness.” One of her hands reached for a tree, mapping its texture with her fingertips. After all those years locked up in a lab, she never thought she would feel nature under her hands again.

Logan didn’t question further. He noticed it was a heavy topic for her. She wasn’t ready to give him the details. Somehow, Logan felt he was the only person, except Charles, who got information about her past.

“What is your mutation?” It was her turn to ask questions. She wanted to know more about Logan. Even though his rough exterior told the story of a withdrawn, grumpy man, he had the softest eyes. Were they green? They seemed like it.

They stopped walking. Logan turned to her and brought his hand to his chest. When he closed it, three metal blades slid out of his skin.

Y/N’s mouth opened. “Shit,” she cursed. “Does it hurt?”

“Every time. I’m used to it by now,” Logan said. “They are made of adamantium.”

“Adamantium?”

“One of the strongest metals on Earth.”

Her fingers reached to the claws. Logan’s eyes followed her moves. She wanted to touch them. Before she could, she put her hand away. “Sorry, it’s just fascinating.”

Logan’s heart skipped a beat. “Well, that’s a first,” he commented. “No one said anything like that before.”

“I’m sorry,” she took a step back. “I didn’t want to overstep. Never had much opportunity to admire other mutations.”

“It’s fine.” The claws retracted into his skin. Y/N’s eyes noticed the wounds instantly close and disappear. Her hands quickly reached for his hand, fingers caressing the spots where the lesions would be.

Logan couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. It’s been a while since he felt such a gentle touch on his skin. Her hands were soft and delicate. He cleared his throat. “I heal quickly. In a matter of seconds,” he explained before she could ask.

Her eyes lingered on his hand until she realised what she was doing. “Oh, sorry,” she let him go and hid her hands behind her back. “That was rude. I am so sorry.”

She made him feel things he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It made him flustered. “That’s okay, kid.”

The intense moment ended, and they moved forward. Y/N’s face was burning hot, embarrassed by what she did. Her mind focused on the trees and the pleasant weather around them. The air was warm even though it was autumn. The leaves were sparkling with a range of colours, coming from green to yellow. Some of them were red. It was her favourite season of the year.

“I’ve heard you save mutant children,” she changed the topic as they approached the school grounds.

“Charles finds them, and some of us would collect them,” he explained. “I was on a mission to get a child that needed our help. Unfortunately, it was a failure. The facility was a trap. I was glad I got out. Later that night, I stumbled upon you.”

Y/N pressed a hand against her chest. “What facility?”

“The one hidden in Salem,” he replied. “Why?”

Y/N felt as if her soul left her body. All colour drained from her face. “Oh god,” she brushed her fingers into her hair. “It’s my fault,” and then she hid her face in her palms.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he turned his body to her. “What are you sayin’ there, kid?”

It took her three deep breaths to look him in the eye. He wasn’t angry. It looked like he was concerned. “I was locked there, in the lab, for some time. I escaped a few days before we met.” Panic bubbled inside of her. “I know who you were looking for. I know the kid.”

That night, that moment, it all came rushing back. It was like a movie, reflecting in front of her eyes. She felt it all: the pain, the horror happening in front of her eyes. She knew the child. He helped her escape. And she couldn’t take him with her. His screams echoed inside her mind.

Logan gripped her shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He said her name for the first time. That did the trick, and she looked up, eyes meeting his. “There you go. Take a deep breath.” He could see she was listening.

“I have to tell you what happened,” she whispered. “You need to know. It’s my fault you went to a trap.”

Logan brought her inside the school. His hands rested on her shoulders as he walked with her through the hallway. When something happened, all the teachers would gather around immediately. Professor X would call them to his office.

He helped Y/N take a seat on an armchair. A bottle of water appeared in front of her. It was levitating in the air. It was Jean’s doing.

“What’s going on?” Hank was the last one coming inside, closing the door behind him. He had a white lab coat on him, and his glasses were on the tip of his nose.

“This better be good,” Scott scoffed. His hands were wrapped around Jean’s shoulders, holding her close.

“Stop being a dick, dude,” Remy scowled. “Keep your mind shut.”

Y/N glared at Scott. He was the only person who didn’t sit right with her. That’s why, most of the time, she would ignore him. Luckily, he was sweet to Jean.

She grabbed the floating water bottle and took a sip. “Logan told me about the failed mission,” Y/N started to talk. Her voice was low and timid. “He told me he went there to get out a child. He went to a facility that was in Salem - the same place where they held me.”

Charles tilted his head, listening carefully. His face remained neutral. No one could read what he thought.

“I know the kid,” she told them. “His whole body can stretch as he wishes.”

“Elasticity,” Hank stated.

“How did you escape?” Kitty’s voice interrupted the stream of Y/N’s thoughts.

“There were five of us locked in that lab. We were in cells designed to suppress our mutations. It made sure we wouldn’t harm anyone or try to escape. That changed when they brought in JJ.”

“JJ?” Logan questioned that name.

“Jerome Junior,” she explained. “For an eleven-year-old, he was cunning. Because he was the youngest, he had the most energy. The rest of us were barely holding on.

“Never underestimate a child. That’s the greatest advice I’ve learnt in there. I don’t know what happened or how he did it, but the doors to our cells opened. Somehow, he was able to get us out. That’s when hell on Earth started. To get out, we destroyed the place.”

Y/N could feel the smell of chemicals and fire around her. As if she was back there, trying to get out of prison.

The pain in her body was excruciating. After all those years of experiments and torture, she was almost free.

There were bodies on the floor - killed guards and scientists as well as two other mutants who shared the hell with her. They got them before she could put a forcefield out to protect them. So much blood was on her hands and face. When she looked down, there were red puddles. The smell was nauseating.

“Let’s go,” one of the mutants shouted. The man was bleeding from his thigh and arm.

“Where’s JJ?” Y/N asked, looking for the kid. She lost him during the fight. “I’m not leaving him here.”

“We don’t have time to get the kid. They’ll kill us if we don’t leave!”

She was turning around, trying to find a way to get to him. “I said I am not leaving!”

“Fuck this, I’m out,” said the mutant and fled the scene without anyone else.

Limping, Y/N ran out of the destroyed lab and walked through the hallways until she found a swarm of guards holding the child. Guns pressed against the boy’s head as they put a collar on his neck. It beeped once, and a tiny light turned green.

JJ’s eyes found Y/N standing on the other side of the room. He did one last thing before they packed him into a truck - he shook his head. It was a sign for her to leave. Her vision blurred as tears hit her eyes. The boy got them out, and she couldn’t save him.

“I tried to get him, save him, but they took him away,” her voice broke. She let the tears fall. “He was eleven, for fuck’s sake. He somehow got us out. I wanted to do the same thing for him, and I couldn’t.”

“How do you know it was him?” Jean asked.

Y/N thought back, trying to get to the point when she realised he opened the cells. “I remember him stretching his fingers. He must have found a trigger on the table that opened the doors.”

Ororo reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You did your best. You tried.”

“It’s not enough,” she shook her head. “Even now, I feel like a traitor.” The story was not over. “When I left the building, I wandered for a few days,” she continued. “I got some old clothes and hid everywhere - in the woods, old buildings. Without energy, I happened to injure myself more. I even took a fall before I found the dive bar. My body was in pain, my head a mess, and I don’t remember much when Logan got me out.”

Silence spread around them. They all let the information sink in.

“When I came to the facility,” Logan started to talk. The attention was on him. “Many soldiers were guarding the place like their own eyes. They were ready to kill anyone who approached the building. I managed to get in but never got far away,” said Logan. “The place was a mess. As if a bomb exploded inside.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Kitty spoke up. “Why would they keep the place highly secured if it got damaged and took the child away? Think about it. Maybe they’ll use it as a cover-up. No one would think that the lab was still active.”

“Kitty’s right,” said Bobby. “In the end, there are only two options. Either they did take him away, or he’s there, well hidden from the world.”

“They did it to evoke confusion,” Jean added to the conversation.

“Scott, Jean, try to find as much information as possible about the facility in Salem. We’ll be better prepared to take him out of there,” Charles gave instructions.

Y/N jumped on her feet, letting the water bottle drop on the floor. “I’ll go with you.” All eyes were back on her.”I have to get him out.”

“You need to train more,” said Scott strictly. His hands fell off Jean. “You’ve been here for what two weeks? Forget about it. You’re not going on this mission.”

“Mind your tone, Scotty,” Logan warned him with a snarl.

“She doesn’t know how to fight or use her ability. She’s a newbie, a trainee. I will not put anyone’s life in danger because of her,” he pushed himself from Jean and approached Y/N. “If we go to get the boy, she’s staying here. Period.”

Logan was close behind Y/N, ready to step in. But she stood her ground, not afraid of the Cyclops.

Jean reached for Scott’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Scott.”

Y/N approached Scott with one long step, glaring at him. “I survived a lot of things in my life. You don’t know what I am capable of, so don’t underestimate me, Cyclops. And don’t be a dick. I’ve never been rude to you, never did anything to you. So don’t raise your voice at me. I am not afraid of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged her. “You better start talking about your past life then. We know nothing about you.”

Her fists clenched hard until her knuckles were white. There was a lot of anger building inside of her. And it showed. The forcefield started to glitch around her.

“You can’t even control your power, Y/N,” Scott mocked her. “Look what you are doing.”

“Y/N, please, calm down,” said Charles calmly. “Same goes for you, Scott.”

She closed her eyes and took a step back, relaxing her posture. She knew better than to get riled up. When her blood pressure lowered, she looked at Scott again, shaking her head in disbelief. What a dick!

Turning on her heel, Y/N left the office without another word. Her walk was brisk, taking long steps to be outside as soon as possible. Of course, there would be a person who would make her freedom difficult.

I will get you out.

She wrapped her arms around herself and walked through the driveway to the estate’s main gate. She didn’t want to leave. She needed to walk and think.

Y/N wanted to get little JJ out of that hellhole before it was too late. Fear crawled through her back, tapping on her head. What if they kill him before they get there? He saved her life. He helped her escape. It’s her turn to return the favour and secure him a better life here in a school for mutants.

There was another thing that drove her to save the boy. But she didn’t want to open that door. After all those years, it was painful to think about it.

Fucking bitch! How could you?! Cries were echoing in her mind. Psycho! Murderer!

“Y/N,” she heard Logan’s voice behind her. That made her halt and sigh. “You okay?”

She pressed the bridge of her nose. “Yes,” she said.

“You are full of shit, ya know that?” he laughed. “Just admit that you are pissed.”

She spun around. Her eyes could kill. “I’ll get JJ with or without help. I don’t give a shit what you say. I will be the one who will get him out of that place.”

“I know,” Logan nodded, understanding. “I won’t be the one who’ll stop you. If I were you, I’d do the same thing. And I would punch Scott in the face.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “You have your way with words, Logan.”

“I was thinking about becoming a motivational speaker,” he shrugged and smiled at her when he made her laugh again. “Bobby was right. We only have two options, and we must prepare before we leave to get the kid. I was there. I saw how many guards were securing the facility. One or two people won’t do it. We need a strategy.”

“All I want is to help, get him out of there so he can have a better life than I ever had. I don’t want him to experience that much torture. I need…” she started to choke on words. “I need…” Tears escaped her eyes as she felt the pain inside her soul. Was this a panic attack? Her heart was beating fast. The world was crumbling down.

Logan was quick enough to close the distance. His hands found her shoulders. “We will get him out. You hear me, bub? I can’t tell you when. We must prepare for the mission and gather information. We won’t make it far without a strategy.”

She gripped his flannel shirt tightly, holding for dear life. “I worry he’ll be dead.”

He shook his head. “You said he was cunning. He’ll find a way to survive.” Without thinking, he pressed her body against his, holding her. “While we are planning, you’ll be training your power and how to fight.”

She closed her teary eyes. As much as the hug was unexpected, it was comforting. “Promise me I’ll go with you.”

Logan nodded twice. “I promise.”

#Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female mutant reader #A touch of hope #Marvel fanfiction #Wolverine fanfiction

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second.

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?”

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare.

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!”

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.”

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around.

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all.

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?”

“Most recent ones or oldies?”

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her.

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it.

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!”

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it.

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants.

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression.

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion.

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel.

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone.

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips.

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

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keij0h · 5 months ago

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⌗ BAD IDEA, RIGHT? ┆ the8

After finding out about your cheating boyfriend, your pettiness leads you to ask another one of your exes for a favor. The ex in question: Minghao.

CAUTION : profanities. college au. ex!minghao. afab reader. a bit suggestive. cheating. (Minghao’s not involved with it.)

tap to listen !

No way. No fucking way.

Phone in hand, you stared intently at the pile of screenshots you just opened, trying your hardest to not pop a vessel and break every single thing near you as you stormed down the dorm halls.

It was a known rule to not leave your dorms once 10 pm strikes, yet that wasn’t refraining you from banging on a certain door, evidence right in your hand that apparently, your boyfriend has been sleeping around, and was stupid enough to post pictures of him doing it. So you figured that was worth being caught and suspended for, if it meant you could strangle him.

“it’s not as bad as you think, if you could just—“

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it.” you snarled, pushing past him as you stormed inside his dorm, barging his closet open, gathering a few of your clothes that you left in his dorm.

“Should’ve left you when that goddamn counselor told me to.” you muttered, shoving the pieces of clothing into a pile, simultaneously knocking a few of his things as you could hear his retorts from behind.

It wasn’t all the time that you felt rage like this. It just so happens that you managed to get so unlucky that your fate lands on a total douche, and you just refuse to muster up the fact that you endured a whole year with someone like him.

So when you finally slam his door closed, you’ve solemnly swear to not look back. But of course, you also weren’t leaving without a proper comeback.

And what better way to do that than to ask another person you’ve dated for assistance.

You had no idea what came to you that night, but you just found yourself back in the men’s dormitory, face to face with the “easiest” person you can reach out of everyone you’ve ever dated. Xu Minghao. At least, that’s what you thought.

“So, what do you say?” you hummed, still catching your breath with the amount of explaining you just said.

But even after all that, you were still met with that all too familiar, bitter: “No.”

The remaining hope you had on your face suddenly faltered, now replaced with a stoic glare. “I thought you said you’d be there for me even if we’re through? Huh? What happened to that?”

Minghao huffed, letting his shoulders slightly slump down as you recalled the same exact words he said two years ago when you broke up.

It was rather a weird way to remember, especially now that you’ve presented him your plan. The plan being simple: the same thing your (now ex) boyfriend did, make out, take pictures of it happening, and spread it around campus, then boom. Done.

“This is quite far from what I meant.” he pointed out, never breaking eye contact with your dejected state.

You could only click your tongue at this, not having a clue that this would be harder than you pictured it to be. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you meant? It’s not like you specified anything..”

For the record, he never did mentioned anything against something like this when he made the vow. But shit, it wasn’t like Minghao expected you to remember his words so easily, let alone recite it right in his face.

“Don’t even start acting like you don’t want this—“

“I really don’t.” he interferes, watching as the frown on your lips suddenly turns upwards as you tilt your head to the side.

“Oh, really?” you spurred, folding your arms to your chest. “Well, rumor has it..” you trail off, lowering your voice as you slightly lean towards him, enough to hear you mumble. “..you haven’t moved on from me.”

Truth be told, you weren’t so certain that it is a rumor, as you’ve only heard it from one of Minghao’s friends: who all still tend to tease him about you despite already calling it quits. Though he never seemed to have much of a response to it, which sucked to you.

He scoffs, rubbing a hand on his temple. “Did Jun tell you that?”

“Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“Then he’s full of shit.” he nods, smirking as he sees your expression shift back to a frown.

“Look, if you came here to just pester me and use my own words against me, then you’re free to go.” he shifts, pushing the door to close it on you, but failed as you slipped a foot right in the crack of it.

“Hate to say it, but this would’ve been so much easier if you would just agree.” you coo sarcastically, clasping both of your hands together. “You wouldn't even realize this ever happened, I swear.”

Minghao looks at you as you said that, this time, actually considering. It’s not like you want to make out with him, it’s just a petty little move to get back on your ex. Right? Whatever it was, it suddenly made him shiver.

With one final sigh, he spoke. “Three minutes. And that’s it. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you furiously nodded, letting yourself in before he could even do that himself.

Oh, boy.

“What are you even..” you sigh out loud. Not even a minute in, you were already having complications on making it seem.. real.

You were now situated on his lap, while he sat up with his back on the headboard. You tried your best to ignore the awkward tension, knowingly convinced yourself that it’ll all be worth it. It just had to be

As for Hao.. he just didn’t know where to put his hands.

“Can’t you make it more natural?” you scolded, grabbing a hold of both of his arms.

“Don’t expect me to be good at this, it’s been a while since I’ve touched you like this for fucks sake..” he argued, mumbling the last part as he looked down to his arms. All the while, your stomach churned at what he said, blinking away to stop yourself from thinking further.

“Just- just do it the way you normally did..” you sigh, now feeling his arms wrap around your figure, simultaneously feeling the tips of your ears heat up.

“This alright?” he muttered huskily, looking up at you. You heaved a breath, briefly staring right into him before nodding. “Mhm. It’s fine.”

The way his dorm room smelt, how warm he felt, it was all familiar, and you’d be caught dead if you said it didn’t calm you down. You struggled to reach for your phone beside you as you attempted to angle it down to a natural level. It was mostly focused on Minghao, while your face was a bit hidden, but enough to recognize who it was.

You cleared your throat, signaling that you should, well, start. You took a moment to observe him more, eyes gazing from his cheeks to his lips, until he pulled you out of your trance.

“Hey,” he called out. “Time’s ticking.”

Shit, right.

Your free hand found its way to the back of his neck, finally pressing your lips against his. You felt that certain shockwave as soon as you felt him kissing back, hand trailing through your cheek as you blindly snapped the pictures in your shaking hands.

“Hao, wait–”

You gasped into his mouth, Minghao purposely swatting your phone away, letting it fall somewhere on the bed.

You could feel your throat beating as he pulled you further to deepen the kiss, his plump lips moving so rhythmically with yours. You’ve missed this, more than you’ll ever admit. He’s always been such a skilled kisser, and you never understood that. All you knew was it felt too good, the sensation alone enough to drive you crazy.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his hand slip under your cotton shirt, gently caressing the soft skin of your back, accidentally letting out a hitched moan through the kiss, lighting a surge of pride on Minghao as his lips twitched into a smirk.

The three minutes you both agreed on was already over, yet he kept his grip firm, refusing to let go just yet.

Just as his hands reached the hem of your shirt, the loud tone of your phone going off filled your senses, making you abruptly pull away from Minghao, breathless as you got off his lap, hastily fumbling through his sheets in search of your phone.

A hint of panic suddenly washed over you, the contact name of your roommate right on the screen. You looked over your shoulder, catching a glance of Minghao’s slight weary state, not missing the subtle kiss marks you left all over his face as his lips parted, his eyes motioning you to go ahead.

Shaken a bit, you swiped the answer button, placing it right in your ear.

“Hey–”

“Where are you?? You never told me you were going out..” the alarmed tone on your roommate’s voice loomed over you, making you silently hiss.

“I, uh, I fell asleep..” you looked at the Minghao as you said that, causing another smirk from him, mocking your stupid excuse as you glared at him before turning away. “..in the library.”

“Oh, do you need me to get you there, or–

“No!” you exclaimed, sheepishly clearing your throat as you realized how forward it sounded. “Sorry, it's just that.. I'm already on my way back.”

Liar. Minghao thought, softly shaking his head in disbelief, biting back an amused smile.

A breath of relief left your lips as you ended the call, shoving your phone back in the pockets of your sweatpants.

“That wasn't three minutes, by the way.” you remarked plainly, standing up to pat down on your shirt, getting ready to leave.

“You didn't pull away either.” Minghao added in a matter-of-fact tone. All the while you rolled your eyes at him. God, him and his sly remarks, you kinda hoped that he got rid of that trait by now.

“Hey,” he suddenly called out before you could reach the door, cautiously making you look back. “Yeah?”

You watched as he faltered, somehow hesitant to just say it as you waited. With a sigh, he spoke up.

“Would it bother you if I said that Jun was telling the truth?” A slight reference to what you said earlier. The scary part was that he seemed a bit too serious, but anyway, you saw it coming from miles away.

You snorted, shaking your head simultaneously. “I never believed you anyway.”

Honestly, Minghao agrees that your presence can be infuriating at times. Though he can never say that he didn't miss it, and was willing to see more of it. That is, if you'd let him.

Considering that all of this was for some idiotic, and needless to say, petty comeback, you couldn't lie, you'd do it again.

“Goodnight, Hao. I'll see you.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you will.”

a/n : this took so long for what smh. also I'm obsessed with the Guts album rn, so hereee!

#— kira’s !#seventeen x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x reader #xu minghao #xu minghao x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt smut #the8 fluff

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osleeplessflowero · 4 months ago

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it's currently my birthday so here's some headcanons as to how i think skeletons would act/what they would do on YOUR birthday! (featuring a TON of au characters! :D)

Sans

Might be the one to push your face into your cake. It's a gamble with him. If it's not that, he'll definitely prank you somehow during the day (something lighthearted and fun, of course.) He wants to make sure you have a blast. I could see him getting you something funny, like a shirt with a funny phrase on it you could wear over and over.

Papyrus

He'd be the type to set up the party games, especially something like a Pinata to hit! He might hit it a liiiiittle too hard..but it's okay. Just means you get candy faster! He'd want to make your day something super fun to remember. He's dead set on changing things up each year to make each day memorable.

Red

WILL push your face into your cake, no questions asked. Provided you blew out your candles first (if you have any). He'd definitely want to take you somewhere fun for your birthday, messing with you from time to time to get a laugh. Definitely would want to get you something you could use a lot, or something you've mentioned wanting before. He keeps tabs on these things!

Edge

If he likes you a lot, he'll get you something really nice and insist you keep it taken care of, letting you know he cares in his own ways. Although he might not be as energetic as his brother might be on your special day, he still stays close by and ensures you're having plenty of fun. He's also one of the more rational members of the skeleton group, keeping the others in line so nothing goes wrong.

Blue

INSISTS on being the person to wake you up. He wants to be the first person to tell you but deep down he knows someone else beat him to it during the night, but that won't stop him from enthusiastically singing the Happy Birthday song anyway! He's probably the one to prepare you for an exciting day of fun, planned out with your best interests in mind. (His brother helped out of course by slapping some fun stickers on the schedule.) He might be one of the first people to give you his presents, letting you open it earlier in the day with him present.

Stretch & Rus

These two pretty much share a braincell, so naturally they'd race to be the first to send birthday wishes right at midnight. Funnily enough there's never an exact victor, they always send their messages at the exact same time. During the daylight hours, they stick together to cause plenty of chaos to get smiles and laughter out of you. They might pull a few pranks to tease you, but nothing too far of course. Rus would make some really cool art as a gift for you, anything you could possibly want him to draw or paint. As for Stretch, he'd work with Blue to get something you'd be able to have plenty of fun with (and of course, to use together).

Black

Oh does this man SPOIL you. He'll take you anywhere you want to go, no matter the cost, ensuring you he'll handle everything for your special day. You name anything, he'll get it for you right away. Also one of the men in charge of keeping the others in line so nothing goes too crazy. At least, until alcohol's brought out..then he leaves it up to Edge. ;)

Mars & Jupiter

The Horror bros are a bit less energetic when it comes to your birthday, opting to do something more personal for you. They'd give you their gifts alone so only they get to see your reactions. Jupiter would probably be the one to bake your cake in the first place, shooing everyone else out of the kitchen so he can perfect it. (Soo much spoon smacking..) They'd definitely steal you away a few times during the day to have some relaxing time together. Mars doesn't really like crowds..but he'd be willing to stay in a room with everyone for you.

[Berry is on his best behavior..just for today.]

Stepping out of the Neighborhood AU and into the Multiverse...

Dream, Ink, and Blue(again)!

Dream is SUPER excited for your birthday! He made sure to figure out all your favorite things so there's plenty of joy and positivity. Ink made sure to set up a really nice area for the three of you to celebrate, and maaaaybe set up some sort of water/paint balloon fights for some fun. Blue is in charge of activities and making sure Ink's chaos doesn't get too out of hand!

The Bad Sanses

Killer makes sure to be the first one to wake you up, singing the happy birthday song enthusiastically to embarrass you. Dust and Horror will be a bit more calm than he is, messing up your hair and giving you little affectionate/friendly gestures. Nightmare sets up a grand party for you, decorating the castle to the very best of his ability. He'll do his best to make things absolutely perfect for one of his favorite group members (don't tell the others, especially not Killer!). They all made sure to pitch in and get you some things that you'd thoroughly enjoy (just don't ask WHERE they got them from, okay?)

Error

He might have kidnapped you. But you're usually cool with it so it's okay. He's not particularly crazy about the idea of a big extravagant birthday party, so he sets up a day where you can spend time together watching your favorite shows in the Anti Void. As for his gift? Well, I could see him making some little puppets for you to have, maybe one of himself so when you hug it you'll think about him. (And since he's still adapting to physical touch himself.)

Cross

Cross wants to spend as much time with you as he can on your birthday. He's not one for big, extravagant things, but he would do something personal and sweet for you to make you happy, just content to spend time making you feel special. He might take you stargazing or something similar, a fun thing for both of you to do.

Bonus!

Fresh! (i will write about him at least once i swear. platonic fresh enjoyers this is for you)

You already KNOW Fresh is on top of things when it comes to his best bud's birthday! He'd definitely bring you somewhere where you both would have plenty of room to mess around and cause some chaos. No where is safe! I could see him dragging you to something like a skate park or to go spray paint some stuff. Or maybe to go see a movie together you can both laugh at. If he can't hang out with you alone, he'll show up at the Star Sanses' party to surprise you there.

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

Text

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled.

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder.

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.”

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.”

Partner.

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself.

And then he met you and the definition changed again.

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why.

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days.

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions.

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts.

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed.

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here.

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all.

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.”

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime.

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath.

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee.

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold.

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.”

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee.

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets.

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night.

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids.

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it.

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since.

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks.

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair.

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation.

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay.

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold.

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love.

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants.

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare.

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him.

“Baby–,”

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall.

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer.

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in.

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut.

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars.

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day.

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is.

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head.

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful.

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you.

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you.

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees.

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now.

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it.

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch.

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart.

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips.

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs.

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes.

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it.

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford.

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair.

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.”

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole.

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair.

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh.

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty.

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible.

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean.

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face.

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine.

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point.

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now.

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level.

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls.

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest.

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table.

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock.

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?”

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich.

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.”

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.”

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist.

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain.

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.”

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.”

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it.

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done.

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.”

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow.

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy.

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire.

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust.

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again.

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm.

“B-baby, please–,”

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer.

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.”

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.”

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him.

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name.

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep.

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again.

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more.

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst.

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs.

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet.

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling.

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor.

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull.

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face.

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.”

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest.

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.”

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips.

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all.

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed.

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you.

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.”

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach.

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.”

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

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eyesxxyou · 1 year ago

Text

Backstage Show Pt.3

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.5k

synopsis. hobie invites you to hang with him and his band for your birthday. They have the birthday present planned for you

hobie lets his band have their way with you

🍒・．❕warnings. the sexual tension is palpable, lots of group teasing, group is just different versions of Hobie's concept art, voyeurism (sex in front of hobie), clothed sex, ass eating (f receiving), fingering, praise, three on one, kinda foursome, titty play, making out with multiple people, hobie has a bit of a god/ superiority complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr

backstage show pt.1 | backstage show pt.2

Hobie had you on a leash. Metaphorically of course but you'd be more than happy to make it physical if he so desired. From that first night, you were hooked, waiting on every beck and call, obsessed was too light of a word to describe it. Fanatic maybe, in dire need of therapy is another option because you'd let him do whatever he wanted to you and he knew it.

Hobie took advantage of it in minor ways, asking you if you might send him pictures knowing that you would without so much as a second thought. He could ruin your life with pictures like that in his possession, your fingers in your wet pussy just like he instructed, so down bad that your own self preservation for any future endeavors was thrown out the window. But he had proved that he at least cared somewhat for you reputation and not getting you fired from your job by hiding your face from the tabloids when the two of you were caught fucking in an alley.

You were madly in love. Any fan would be if they were regularly fucking the person they idolized, the parasocial feelings you had suddenly becoming actualized and recognized by the one on the receiving end of it.

Never once did you try to place a label on things and Hobie appreciated it, you could tell. So often people will want to rush into trying him down to something he never really agreed to. You never tried to call yourself his girlfriend or claim him as your boyfriend because you were just happy to have him in any way he would allow. Maybe that’s why he was so comfortable letting you stick around, because you knew your place and didn’t infringe on those boundaries.

You were thinking about the long game, really. Not just the momentary gratification.

Hobie texted you after nearly a week of radio silence. For a moment, you feared he might be done with you even after the two of you stayed up texting into the early mornings about music and life, and all sorts of things. You ran through your messages time and time again trying to decipher if he had given any signs that he was upset with you. None were apparent. You told yourself that he was just busy to soothe your nerves and when you received his text, he didn’t address his absence. However, he did address something else of import.

Happy birthday, luv. You wanna come over?

Something you had offhandedly mentioned, something as important as you birthday, he took the time to remember. Even when you, who was too busy worrying about him to even remember, didn't.

It was hardly even a question you had to consider. You had tossed on a nice outfit as quickly as possible, did your hair and makeup. You grabbed your bag and left the house for the subway while asking him for the address. So quickly you had forgotten about him ignoring your text because you knew that in some way he was thinking about you and you were just lucky to even be acknowledged by him.

That’s how you got here, at this little building that was rundown but cozy, just how you liked it. The entrance was round the side and the door was left unlocked for you. You pulled open the rusting metal door gate before walking inside. You could hear the music from upstairs as well as the laughter emanating from the men and followed it up to their studio.

“There she is." Hobie's lead guitarist, Mace motioned to you as you entered the room. “Told ya she’s the punctual type.” He nudged Hobie who sat beside him with a joint. Their studio was a dim place, layered in a perpetual haze of smoke only illuminated by a red LED light in the corner. There were posters and decorations all over the wall, some spray painted art on the East wall. The boys were lounging around, listening to music while either drinking or smoking.

They were all beautiful and you’d have your pick of any of them, or rather, all of them if you could. Mace, the lead guitarist with his long locs he usually kept in a half up, half own style decorated in gold cuffs. He was cool, occasionally playful, and spent most of his time while you were around teasing. Cass, the rhythm guitar and backup singer, kept his locs in a ponytail with the font out and down his face. He was the quieter type, didn’t talk much, but he was kind when he did talk.Then there was Eli, the drummer, loud, eccentric with hair to match in streaks of white and red. He had the prettiest eyes, one blue and one brown. He was the one who brazenly flirted with you in front of Hobie.

But there was a way they all looked at you. It’s not surprising seeing as your very first interaction with them was getting fucked in front of them while they jerk off to it. Sexual tension was implied with an interaction like that.

Hobie smiled at you as you entered. “There’s ma girl. Com’ere, luv.” He motioned you to him with two fingers and you came. You slid into place beside him and he kissed you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip and his fingers tracing the curve of your delicate jaw. He kissed you like he knew you were in love with him, always kissing with just enough passion to keep you on the hook but never enough to make you believe that you’re entitled to claim him in any sort of way. "Happy birthday, baby."

“Aw, I don’ get to have a kiss, doll?” Eli came over, placing his hands on the back of the couch on their side of your head as he leaned in close to you. You hesitated, your eyes widening as you look at Hobie for what to do. He doesn’t give you any reassurance nor does he show any sign that he’s upset about the question. He just takes a drag from his joint while the other two see what you’ll do.

On the other side of the room, Cass sat strumming to the melody of the song playing over the hidden speakers on his guitar. “Don’ look so fuckin’ terrified. He’s jus’ pullin’ ya leg, dove.” He scratched behind his gauged ears, his upper lip pierced with fanged angel bites pulling into a lopsided grin. "Happy birthday by the way."

Eli sighed and fell onto the couch beside you, tossing his arm over your shoulder. You were wedged between him and Hobie, both of them with an arm around you as Hobie passed his joint to Eli. Oh the things you thought about. All the ways they could manhandle you into any position they so desired. They could pass you around like that joint they have and you’d have absolutely no qualms with it.

“Nice shirt. You make it ya’self?” Mace leaned over Hobie’s lap to get a good look at your crop top with the band’s signature and “The Mary Janes” written in bleached letters. You nodded. “Took me forever to figure out what kind of design I wanted to do but yeah.” You find that he's looking hard. Your shirt is tight, leaves nothing to the imagination though it's not like they haven't seen you in various positions. He's checking you out hard. They all are in their own way and it's nothing new but it flusters you every time.

"Stop starin' at 'er tits, pervert." Hobie jabs him in the chest with his elbow and earns himself a tug at one of his wicks in return. They squabble like siblings, bickering between themselves while Hobie moved his hand to your thigh subconsciously. You're wearing a low-waisted black maxi skirt with platform boots. A simple outfit your haphazardly tossed together in the moment to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

Eli places the joint in front of you as it sits between his long, slender fingers. "You eva smoked before, doll?" He asked in a hushed whisper beside your ear. You look up at him. “Once when I was younger. I didn’t like it all that much… but I’d be willing to try it again.” He huffs out a laugh at this and hands you the joint to take a drag of it. The smoke immediately makes you cough and your face twist up, nose scrunching in slight disdain. Cass laughs at you lightheartedly from across the room. “Maybe smokin’s jus’ not for ‘er.”

You hand it back to Eli who laughs as well, placing the joint back between his lips. “Mmh,” He hummed softly, “tha’ strawberry?” He could taste your lipgloss on the tip, savored it a little before taking a drag. “Like ma girl’s with a lil’ flavor.”

“I’m not your girl though, am I?” You say this still while leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him with the smallest hint of a smile. Sometimes you took it upon yourself to flirt with the others. It’s not like you an Hobie are an official thing, you two are free to flirt with whoever you so please (though you’re sure if he were to give the attention he gave to you to someone else, you’d lose your shit).

“Sure ‘Obes wouldn’t mind sharin’, would ya ‘obie?”

Hobie stopped his wrestling with Mace to look at his sporadic drummer then at you. “Don’ usually like sharin’ ma tings… but I also don’t believe in consistency.” He glances at you, something mischievous brimming on his lips as he leans in and kisses you, his hand comes to cradle your neck, his thumb rubbing over your throat. “She’ll always know who she belongs to at the end of the day, won’t you?” You look him in the eyes and nod.

"Das ma good girl." Hobie hummed softly and pecked you one more time. "My bes' girl. I gotta surprise fo ma favorite." Your chest swelled at his praise and the thought that he thought enough about you enough to gift you a surprise.

Hobie got up from the couch, leaving a dip in the cushion from not moving for so long. "Since it's your birthday and you must be tired just fuckin' with me all the time–" He made his way over to a recording panel, plopping himself down in a spinning chair. He was joking knowing you could never get tired of him. "So, the boys offered themselves up. Let them make you feel good, birthday girl, if you'd like. No fucking or blowjobs in return."

You never thought you'd be in a position like this, surrounded by the most beautiful men in the world and they were offering themselves up to you for your pleasure. For your birthday.

"I-I don't know…are you okay with it?" You wanted to, you wanted their hands all over you, wanted their mouths in any way you could have them but you had a creeping suspicion that this was all some elaborate test to see if you really were loyal to him. Hobie didn't like sharing his things. He already made it every clear.

"Baby, that's up to you. I only agreed as long as I was there to watch." Hobie looked at you for a moment, the way you sit squeezed between the large, warm bodies of Mace and Eli. Cass had put down his guitar and stood up. “You said ya good wit’ us sharin’ ya girl here?” He made his way slowly over to the table and around it.

"No but how could I deny my girl on her birthday?"

It was like their minds ran in parallel with each other because they all had that same look on their faces. Mace and Eli turned in to you and you felt even more trapped between the two of them and Cass standing right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk ghosting over his lips.

It was intimidating to be trapped between three men so beautiful you felt you might pass out and they all looked about ready to devour you. What a dream it would be to be splayed open, let them pass you round, take their turns with you until you’re all dumb and fucked out. Then you want Hobie to hold you, tell you you did an amazing job while he cleans you up.

It was Mace who kissed you first. Softly at first to ease you into it. You panicked a little admittedly when he pulled back, immediately looked to Hobie for some kind of approval of the situation but he completely left it up to you to decide that for yourself. Fuck you how and who you’d like, at the end of the day the two of you had no commitment to each other. He took another drag and crossed his legs, waiting. Plus, he wanted you to accept his gift to you.

You turned back to Mace, everyone waiting to see what you might choose, all willing to back off if you gave any indication you didn’t want any of this. It takes you a second that in the moment, you have all the power and if feels fucking amazing. You kiss Mace again and that give the signal for all of them to attack.

So many hands are on you at once, tugging at your clothes, grasping at your skin, removing as much as they could to expand their access to you. It’s almost overwhelming how quickly they leave you exposed and whimpering. Cass is on his knees, his large hands grasping your thighs while Mace and Eli trade places. Eli's much rougher when he kisses, his tongue demanding absolute submission from yours, his teeth sinking into the supple flesh of your lips. Mace busied himself with those pretty breasts of yours, his long fingers playing with the pebbled peak of your nipple while his lips latch onto the nipple of your other.

"Be gentle. Don't like ma tings broken, mates." Hobie makes eye contact with you and smirks. "Go on an' slut 'er out. She's a stupid cockwhore anyway. You-" he finally speaks to you like you aren't just an accessory in the room. "don' you dare take ya eyes off me, got it?"

Your only confirmation was obedience. Your eyes remained on Hobie even as Cass's lips kissed the lips of your pussy and his tongue dipped to test the waters. Even as Mace tortured your sensitive buds with his own tongue and fingers, pinching and nipping and teasing to no end. Eli’s lips teased at your neck, feasting on the way your breathing hitched at every overstimulating touch.

Hobie was relaxed, not threatened in the least by the way you could hardly handle the sensation of all of them on you. Cass’s head was slotted between your thighs. He took his time to explore, spit on your pretty little pussy like he intended to claim it. Eli helped him out, his fingers playing in Cass’s mess, teasing at your clit while his mate's tongue went back and forth between your little cunt and the taut ring of muscle of your ass. Cass kept your legs pried open despite how your muscles fought to cover your modesty and hide from the overbearing nature of their stimulation. Together, they had your pussy trembling.

Mace fondled your breasts in his hands obsessively. You wonder how many times in all of this he's thought about tit-fucking you. Maybe from the moment Hobie first brought you around. He left red marks against the brown of your skin, all destined to blossom into roses of blue and purple.

"H-Hobie." You moaned his name like he was the one with his tongue in your cunt and his fingers playing your swollen clit like a fiddle. It seemed he was enjoying the show from where he was sitting. "What is it, ma pretty girl? You enjoyin' yaself?"

Enjoying yourself was an understatement. They were making your pussy sing, playing you like a fiddle. Mace was teasing your nipples raw and you were sure you'd simply combust at any moment. You could only whine in response, looking at Hobie as he smiled and continued to talk you through your pleasure. "They've all been wannin' to fuck you for a while now, you know tha'? All they talk 'bout afta ya leave."

You could feel Cass chuckle against your clit while his tongue swirls between Eli's soaked fingers. "Have 3 holes 'n a nice pair of tits fo a reason." He spits on your clit again, making a mess of his bandmate's fingers and your pussy before dribbling down the underside of your pretty little asshole.

"Oh the ways we've thought 'bout usin' you, lovely." Mace added on with a rumbling chuckle of his own as he kissed down your diaphragm. "How we talked 'bout takin' turns fuckin' this magical cunt Hobie was goin' crazy ova."

"I talk high praise ova ma girl." Hobie murmured from the side as he took another drag. "Bes' pussy this side of the Atlantic."

"Tas'e like heaven." Cass murmured against your saliva-coated pussy while Eli continued to pinch and flick at your clit. Your pussy is pulsating, you moans growing in volume and cadence. Mace's lips are on yours again, his tongue exploring yours and savoring your taste, his long, skilled fingers teasing their buds of your nipples.

There was a thin line that separated Heaven from Hell, blissful pleasure from soul-crushing pain and you walked that line like a tightrope, wobbling a little into each from time to time but never fully surrendering to one or the other. All those hands, all those tongues, Hobie’s piercing gaze as he watched them have their way with your body. Cass’ tongue soothed the ache of Eli’s aggressive fingers, Eli’s lips kissed the bites Mace left on your body, Mace cooed at how well you were for them all while Cass went places only Hobie has ever known.

And Hobie— he was there to watch you fall apart completely and utterly. He took a drag from this joint before leaning forward to tap off the ashes as he stood. Your eyes were trained on him, muscles quivering from the onslaught of pleasure seizing them but you’d such a good girl that you never take your gaze from his pretty, slander frame.

He stood before you, partially over Cass who ate your pussy like a starved dog, lips wet with your slick ad saliva. Mace moves his hot mouth from yours and focuses more on your abused tits, littered in hickeys and bruises, nipples erect and slightly swollen from stimulation. Eli slipped his fingers down your smutty pussy and teased at the entrance of your cunt accompanied by Cass’ tongue. He used the heel of his palm to rub your clit as he sled his two long digits into your dripping pussy causing you to gasp sharply.

Hobie reached out, taking the opportunity to slide his thumb onto the wet pad of your tongue. “Close.” And you closed your lips around his thumb, suckling softly as you moaned in pleasure. You were so close to that high you sought everytime you were with Hobie. You looked up at his with those large eyes of yours, your body spasming as your tongue rolled against his thumb.

“You gonna cum, doll?” Hobie murmured at you, taking another drag as he pussed his thumb further into your mouth and down your throat until you gagged, your throat constricting. You nodded vigorously, your hips bucking uncontrollably against Cass’ face and Eli’s hand. Your hands were in Mace’s hair as he reached down and replaced Eli’s palm with his fingers now testing your clit. Your pussy jolted, throbbed with the beginnings of a climax as you moaned against his tongue. You drooled, Cass hands push your legs apart as you attempt to close them around the many fingers and single tongue against your cunt.

“Go ahead. I know they’re dying for it. They want my pretty, birthday girl to feel her best.”

Tears pricked the ducts of your eyes as your orgasm crashed down on you. Your cries were muffled by Hobie’s thumb as he weighed the pad of it down against your tongue. Your muscles spasmed, back arching off the couch as you shook. You kept looking at Hobie under the red LEDs and through the smoke from his mouth like a good girl, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on yours.

When he pulled his thumb from your lips, a string of saliva connecting you, he ran the pad of his thumb across your southern lip and cooed at you. “My girl.” You feel back against the couch, fucked out and sleepy while they one by one retracted themselves from you, starting with Cass, then Eli, then Mace.

“You’ve ou’done yaselves, boys.” Hobie came and sat beside you, pulling you into his lap while you trembled against him. His fingers ran circles along your inner thing, growing nearer to your swollen, used heat until his fingers her dragging through the cum and saliva Cass left behind. “Ain’t this the bes’ birthday eva?” Hobie whispered into your ear and with your arms wrapped around his neck, you nod against his cheek with your lips pressed into his cheek.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #spider punk #backstage show #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown my love #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader

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jesswritesthat · 14 days ago

Text

Sakusa Kiyoomi: Part of the Plan

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.8k, fluff

• You didn’t think helping a friend would ever lead you to be in demand from elite athlete Sakusa Kiyoomi, yet here you are.

Warnings: Post time skip spoilers.

>>>>——————————>

It was a soothing walk home you'd taken that evening, enjoying the fresh fragrance of the season when a brief interaction outside your apartment building caused you tilt your head and slow you pace.

"Oh here they are now!"

Your neighbour giddily shouted, pointing in your direction as evidence to the tall man beside her who then turned around. You recognised the athlete immediately, even without his signature teams' clothing draping his toned form.

"You made this meal plan?" It was direct, straight to the point, with recognisable scribbles held out before you.

It was apart of the plan you'd tailored for Atsumu, covering various nutritional aspects to help maintain energy and physique during the upcoming volleyball season. That damn blonde must've left it lying around at practice. You’ll get him back next time you hang out together but right now you held the prickly attention of his teammate.

"Oh yeah, I thought I was missing a page." Gratefully, you accepted the parchment with a polite smile whilst Sakusa shoved his hands in his pockets and spoke observantly through his mask.

"It's detailed, you know what you're doing."

"It's nothing overly professional but it does the job."

"It does more than that, I remember you always used to help out the volleyball team in middle school." He'd offhandedly mentioned, tilting his head slightly as if reminiscing - he was right, you were a year below and had volunteered to help the sports clubs when you could but you didn't think it'd be memorable.

Let alone to someone as antisocial and incredible as him, a top 5 Ace of the nation in Itachiyama.

"You recognise me?"

"You used a Hello Kitty plaster for my graze when first aid had run out of proper ones." This was said with what you assumed to be a disgruntled look since you couldn't see beyond his mask.

"It was a proper plaster. Just with more personality." You quipped back rather proudly, the player furrowing his brows slightly and responding with a hint of bemusement (you'd hoped).

"You said something similar back then, and I still disagree."

It was a slightly palpable silence that remained after that, unsure of how to react to Sakusa as a person rather than someone you'd considered out of reach quite yet. Thus he continued with an awkward clearing of his throat.

"Anyway, I was looking for you."

"To return my meal plan?" You instantly questioned, as if trying to aid the situation but he only shook his head before elaborating.

"To ask if you'd personalise one for me."

"Don't you have professionals for that?"

As a MSBY Black Jackals player, you’d expected them to have every amenity available to them in order to maximise performance - so for him to request such expertise from you was rather perplexing.

"I'm a picky eater." It wasn't as forward as answers you'd previously received, suggesting he was a little embarrassed about this disclosure.

"You're really gonna make this easy for me if I accept, aren’t you?" You retorted sarcastically, a raised brow sent his way but he remained unphased.

"I thought you may be looking to do this as a career, become a sport nutritionist?"

"Well I hadn't really thought that far ahead..."

Sakusa studied you thoughtfully, as if you were a new concept to his world that he didn’t understand yet, but he certainly wanted to try.

"Well as I progress, people will be interested in what I'm doing unfortunately. But it'll bring business your way."

It was considerate of him (even if he was repulsed by the idea of attention) to think about how the arrangement would benefit you also, it is an aspiring nutritions dream offer after all. Yet he presented no pressure, waiting patiently even if your casual shrug and acknowledgment wasn’t a conclusive decision.

"I mean as a Division 1 player, you're quite popular already."

"Think about it. Here's my number, give me a call if you change your mind." Sakusa gave you a slip with his contact information, burying his hands deep in his pockets once more and diverted his gaze away from you. "Or even if you don't."

"Thank you Sakusa, it was nice talking to you again."

The Spiker didn't respond verbally, instead nodding softly accompanied by a wave of his hand when walking away.

Your neighbour rejoined your side from where she’d retreated to, previously leaning against the building entrance steps with a joyous skip toward you and girly squeal to match.

"Did you just get Sakusa Kiyoomis' number?!"

"Yeah. For work."

"He came looking for you, he literally asked Miya-san for your address to return your plan himself. Then MSBYs' top spiker Sakusa Kiyoomi gave you his personal number." She reiterated again, adding emphasis and dramatics to the statement as if you'd failed to realise the weight of it.

"..." You glared discreetly, your neighbour far too enthused by such a thing, which was translated through your deadpan tone. "You're too excited about this."

"I don't think you're excited enough about this."

You ran your thumb over his elegant writing as you looked at the slip once again, a gentle smile subconsciously working its way to your lips at the thought.

“Maybe you’re right…”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

A/N: I have more… if you want…?

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa imagines #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu sakusa #anime x reader #anime imagine

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luffyvace · 8 months ago

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Akutagawa as your boyfriend ☀︎

Umm happy late b day Aku…😭 I’m totally super late for this I KNOW. But! I’m doing it anyway! >:3 late or not :P Plus I Just wanted to write for him since I really like this dude (〃ω〃) (Light blood, death and killing mentions but not in detail)

Akutagawa b day hcs first >;}

planning everything out and hiding it from him is kind of a task. 😅 the guy’s pretty stealthy himself so ya gotta make sure he doesn’t sneak up on you while your prepping things.

Buuut with the help of everyone from the port mafia (except Mori- joking! he does help but Elise does 90% of the work) you planned a mini party <3

Gin got the food! (Figs and tea enters chat)

Higuchi got the decorations! (streamers, balloons, tables, chairs)

Hirotsu keeps akutagawa busy (tea and chatting LOL)

Elise makes the banners (hints poorly drawn dead versions of everyone—extra blood for aku<3)

Kajii makes (lemon shaped) confetti poppers!!

Koyo hosted/recorded it all 💗

Chuuya brought wine and the cake (both were really expensive and tasty good job Chuuya)

Q brought lots of presents!! :3

Annnnd Tachihara! Brought some ~port mafia style~ party games (you played mafia LOL)

now general relationship things 😚

He treats you like how he does Gin, there is peace between the two of you and you have friendly interactions. (Romantic as well, for you) he will even go as far as to do favors for you but we’ll dabble in that more later ☆)

acts of service is his #1 love language. There’s no convincing me otherwise. When I say ‘he will do anything for you’ besides killing this is what I mean. You really don’t have to ask either. I talk about this some more later but, examples: done with your plate? He’ll take it. He remembers you said you needed xyz, he got it for you. You said you wanted to ____ but you fell asleep, so he did it.

hope you get along with Gin because to continue a relationship with him past 2 minutes, you need to. He will never choose friends over family. I stand on that.

honest man.

Its canon, of course this would apply to a relationship too :)

you never have to worry about him lying, thankfullly. the bad news is…this guy isn’t just honest..he’s brutally honest 😀

which he’s not dumb, but he’s also not one to pacify feelings. So say you created something and you’ve been working on this piece for a while now, (whether your an artist, writer, sculptor, something else—whatever), he takes a look at it and singlehandedly points out all the flaws 🧍‍♀️

not in a rude way-

just genuinely telling your mistakes. Which- I know can hurt because you spent a lot of time on it…..but as lest you can fix it now..? 🤷‍♀️

He respects you. Of course he does! How could you love someone you don’t respect?!

why I’m mentioning this then?? Because to him, respect is very important. There’s few that he respects personally and not because of his job.

like Dazai (sorta bc of his job but shh), Gin or Atsushi (somewhat)

And just to clear it up those he has respect for because of his job would be mori or hirotsu

so the fact that you have his respect is a mile stone!! 👯‍♀️💃💃

He’s loyal but it ain’t a fault 😋🤪

seriously tho this dude is still chasing Dazai even after he “disgraced the mafia’s name” and left to the ada

So for you?? This is simply proof that he ain’t neva leavin you, and you ain’t neva leavin him 😙 (I don’t make the rules)

even If he disagrees with your actions/opinions he will talk it out with you 😱

now he might sound a bit upset, and if your acting absolute bonkers rn and need some sense smacked into you- he might yell too. But that’s mostly if it’s for your well being.

other than that, yes the hotheaded Ryuu will calm down for you (that kinda rhymes ☝️🤓)

Bonus!:

living with the Akutagawa’s! ( ✌︎'ω')✌︎

going more into acts of service, you and Gin hardly ever have to worry about chores or errands

he doesn’t really do it for the purpose of your validation, and genuinely doesn’t expect a thank you either

”hm? Oh…it’s nothing.”

Is his response when you try to thank him

he does it because he’s responsible not for praise

although I will say, seeing as though he has a lot of respect for you, as I said earlier, you may get a semi flustered/shocked facial expression

not necessarily blushing, just a expression that shows it caught him off guard ;P

Its not uncommon to see him cleaning around the house and asking if you have any laundry

housewife Ryuunosuke LOL 😂

When goes out to get groceries he asks you and Gin if there’s anything specific you want him to buy and if yes, he’ll get it for you

just like in the anime with Gin, he doesn’t mind doing favors for you as well <3

if you decide you wanna clean up or go to the store yourself he won’t stop you and be like ‘nonono I got it you sit down 🥺’. I don’t mean this in a bad way but he’s not a gentleman on purpose

I feel he’s the type of guy to do things that you consider gentlemanly but he just considers it being polite

oh it’s fine he’s got the groceries 👌

got a order for pick up? Oh well he was going out anyway, he’ll get it 🤷

he’s got the door 👍

don’t worry about the bill he’ll pay it (restaurant or house bill 😉)

another thing…! ♡

sometimes when you and Gin wanna watch a movie but Ryuu’s still doing the dishes….

Rashomon!

do the dishes :3 (while he watches the movie with you guys)

I wasn’t gonna write these at first but I’m real glad I did! I love these and finally wrote for our guy Ryuunosuke!!

WHEN I TYPED DAZAI’S NAME IT AUTOCORRECTED FO DASANI AT FIRST HAHAHHAHA

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year ago

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Another realisation about Solomon post? Yes.

But First!

Let's talk about MC and Mammon's friendship (like I haven't spoken about it enough)

(platonically) general MC is probably the closest with Mammon:

• Beel mentions this in early S1 - saying that MC frequently seeks Mammon out to talk with him

• Levi mentions this in both S2 and Nightbringer

• Belphie briefly implies it in a chat

• Mammon has spoken about it multiple times

• Mammon & MC have been sharing a room frequently enough for him to leave his toothbrush and phone charger in their room from early S1 all the way up to S4

• His birthday is the only one they took charge and planned on their own, starting the gift giving a whole week before the actual date

• He's the only person in the circus event that they instantly remembered without having to talk with him first

• He's the first one in Nightbringer to fully accept them and start bringing them into the family shenanigans

• There are dialogue options like this, that aren't really options at all

• He's always their first - their first friend in every timeline and alternate universe

Okay so, now to the actual point of the post:

Solomon (in Nightbringer) asks MC if they've made any progress towards making the new pacts and MC says they're working on Mammon.

We know, obviously, why MC picks Mammon:

• He's their first. Not only does it seem like the right thing, they know him enough to know he'll throw a huge tantrum if he wasn't their first

• He's the safest and easiest option (I speak about this in more detail here) but basically he's the most settled after the Fall, the least likely to react badly or in anger, the least likely to accidentally hurt them and an extremely loyal ally (post here)

• Most importantly, he's their friend and they genuinely just like spending time with him

Solomon however, says something along the lines of picking Mammon being a smart choice because Mammon seems lonely.

Solomon's first thought was to see MC and Mammon's relationship from a strategic point of view. He saw a weakness (a true weakness btw, I actually have half a fic written from a year ago about Mammon being lonely in the Celestial Realm and I really need to complete it) and he exploited it to get what he wanted - similar to how he made a pact with Asmo in the present day timeline.

Solomon saying/doing this isn't really a bad thing, but I think it really adds to his character and shows his differences when compared to MC. It also really adds weight to the whole:

• locked away in a basement and hidden from the world during his childhood

• had one childhood friendship which is implied to have ended badly

• spent thousands of years without any real friends despite the fact that he had at least three people (Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen) who genuinely cared for him

• admitted to not seeing the demons he made pacts with as friends until either s3 or 4, despite the fact that, even pre-series, Solomon is one of the people Asmo genuinely likes, cares about, values the opinion of, wants to impress and initially feels nervous around because of this

I just...

I love it when they give you a smiley and chill, kinda goofy, character whose past is a little mysterious and then you figure out oh he's got a tragic past and also his world view and thought processes are very messed up but also a product of his past

10/10 character actually

Relevant Posts:

• Solomon's World View and Thought Processes

• How Solomon's Past Shaped Him

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camilaxmartin · 8 months ago

Note

Sorry to send another request! But this one is for Carmilla instead of Rosie. Maybe Zestial could introduce his friend or sister to Carmilla and she sticks around after meetings to chat/flirt with her? You can make as many changes as you like! I hope you're well x

beautiful?

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: literally the request beside the fact i made it only about one of their meetings, zestial!friend!reader

warnings: make out session, cursing but i’m not so sure abt it

notes: I WAS SO SCARWS ABOUT THIS ONE BUT EVENTUALLY I LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT!! hope you don’t mind i made them like this already on the first meeting but it just kinda happened:)

requests: open!!

you were a good friend of zestial for… as long as you can remember honestly. you two were always understanding each other and literally wherever he went, you went as well. when hell started gaining more and more overlords you two became sort of friends with alastor and always looked forward to meeting up with that strange deer man. the only person you haven’t actually met was carmilla carmine, zestial wanted you to meet her many times already but fate wanted it that you always had something else planned while he was meeting with her. at some point he started wondering if you just didn’t want to meet her but you reassured him that when another meeting with all the overlords will be thrown, you’ll go with him and finally meet her.

and there we were.

the day of the meeting.

you were running through the darkness of the cave looking for something to wear feeling your anxiety rising up more than it has usually. you groaned finding an old and dirty dress throwing it away and running to another hall of the cave in a search for something at least acceptably good. zestial appeared from the shadows next to you scaring you to your second death as he slowly tilted his head watching you.

“i’ve told you a milion times not to do that!” you groaned punching his legs as it was the only thing of his body that you could reach. his smiled widened at you as he looked around noticing the mess you’ve made in both of yours house. you knew each other so long there wasn’t a reason for you to split into separate homes when this cave was big enough for more than you two. zestial didn’t even flinch at your punch and his eyes started glowing more.

“what’s the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?” he asked as his smile widened even more like he already knew the answer. you groaned again and shook your head.

“i don’t have anything presentable to wear. i don’t want to be overdressed but also underdressed. it’s an overlords meeting after all. it’s been a while since i’ve been to one” you explained and groaned once more as zestial gently put one of his hands onto your shoulder.

“don’t thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing” he said softly and squeezed your shoulder gently, smiling down at you. you grabbed his hand with yours and smiled to him as well. zestial then narrowed his four eyes slightly and his smile turned into more of a smirk. “and t won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of thee” he added and you pushed his hand away noticing his implication.

“oh stop! i don’t want to impress her i just… you’ve told me so many amazing things about her what she is and what not and i don’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of her… or anyone! for that matter” you mumbled and zestial laughed softly at your words shaking his head as he walked over to a huge wardrobe in the room you two were talking in.

“you’ll beest fine. if 't be true you’ll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day.” he said taking out one of your dresses that was more on the comfortable side than the presentable one. “carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism” he added and smiled at the mention of his friend. you rolled your eyes at him and grabbed the dress out of his hand looking at it while tilting your head.

“you really think i should choose this one?” you asked and he just nodded his head disappearing into the shadows again to give you some privacy to change. you groaned but decided to go with his choice, picking out some accessories for it, to try and make it look less plain.

you sighed looking at your reflection on the cave’s wall as it was made from clear quartz. you smiled to yourself and chuckled actually enjoying how you finally looked. zestial appeared behind you and smiled at your sight as well looking you up and down.

“thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee” he said and took out his hand for you to hold as you needed to leave the cave now not to be late. with a wide smile, you took his hand and let him lead you out of the cave, grabbing some jacket on your way out so you wouldn’t get cold later.

you two met up with alastor on your way to the carmine’s property. alastor greeted you both with a wide smile (as usual) and complimented your outfit stating that he’s surprised you’d even dress up for something like this. maybe it wasn’t a full compliment after all, but you decided not to worry about him, after all he’s always been like that. as you reached the top floor, you were met with other overlords gathering for the meeting as well. rosie almost immediately walked over to alastor as she gave you a soft smile.

you smiled back and walked with zestial to the room in which the meeting was about to take place. zestial sat down in a chair close to the projector and you sat down next to him, alastor being on your other side. you started fidgeting with your fingers a bit waiting for the meeting to start and zestial put one of his hands onto yours trying to keep you calm.

as the meeting finally began you saw a demoness walking into the room with two smaller ones on both of her sides. your eyes immediately noticed her huge horns which only after starring at them for a while looked more like hair than actual horns. one of the girls that walked with her tilted her head noticing you sitting where you had, but she just shrugged it off and sat down next to the other one without making a scene about it. you almost didn’t catch it as you were still starring at the beautiful demoness in front of you. she had a stoic expression on her face as her eyes scanned the room and noticed you and zestial. her head tilted slightly yet her expression changed into a more pleasant one as she walked over to zestial.

“glad you’re here” she said to him with a smile as he gave her one back. you tried to stay calm.

“always a pleasure, carmilla” he responded and her smile widened even more. her eyes then moved onto you and literally read you off of your face yet she didn’t utter a word to you. her face went back to that stoic peace as she started the meeting explaining why she gathered all of you together and what were her new plans for hell.

when the meeting was finally done all of the overlords started leaving the room, leaving only you, zestial, carmilla and her daughters in it. carmilla was gathering all her notes from the table while her daughters were turning off the projector when zestial stood up and signalled for you to do the same. you quickly stood up and fixed your dress a bit as he smiled at you and then slowly walked over to carmilla’s side. you just watched him, standing behind the chair you were previously sitting in.

“carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth” he said and she immediately left her notes alone as her head turned to you with w soft smile on her face. “y/n, carmilla. carmilla, y/n” he said and moved away a bit so she could walk to you.

carmilla almost immediately walked towards you and stood before you taking out her hand for you to shake. which you immediately did praying to whoever was listening you that your palm wasn’t sweaty. “a pleasure to finally meet you dear” she said while shaking your hand and smiling to you wider than she’s before. you smiled back trying not to look too excited as you squeezed her hand softly in the handshake.

“the pleasures all mine, after all i should’ve met you long time ago” you said with a soft chuckle and she nodded with a remaining smile. her daughters watched the interaction with curiosity while zestial started smiling at the two demons noticing their curious gaze.

“better late than never” she chuckled and finally let go of your hand as she looked over to her daughter’s signalling that they’re free to go. the pair smiled to her and left in a hurry definitely having something planned for their time already. zestial caught your gaze and smiled softly to you, in a way that was supposed to show you he was right about not needing to stress about the outfit. you rolled your eyes at him yet carmilla was the first to catch it, as she chuckled softly and then looked over to zestial.

“do you two want to stay a while? we can do some catching up” she said mostly having zestial in her mind. you shrugged at her words and nodded not having anything else planned for the evening and expected zestial to do the same, but you were so wrong.

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting.” liar. you knew he didn’t have any plans for tonight. you eyed him up and down but he chose to ignore your gaze. “but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” he added and nodded to carmilla as a goodbye while walking over to the door.

carmilla frowned a bit not knowing about what exactly was she supposed to be talking with you while her friend wasn’t there but she definitely wasn’t going to throw you out as you’ve already agreed to stay with her. zestial smirked to you while he was leaving and you swore, you’d kill him when you get back home later tonight.

“we can get to know each other” carmilla said with a forced smile as she sighed and gathered her notes again. you started fidgeting with your fingers again.

“it’s okay if you want me to go, i understand you meant mostly for zestial to stay with you” you said as you looked at her and started noticing more and more of the details of her face the more you were staring at her. she sighed at your words but shook her head no, taking all the notes into her huge hands.

“there’s no need” she said waving one of her hands as the other kept all the notes from falling out of her grab. “i’m sure we can think something out as i’ve already asked you too to stay” she said and walked over to one of the door turning her head back to you waiting for you to follow her.

you almost immediately followed her and she hummed opening the door to her office and keeping it open for you to come in as well. you gave her a quick ‘thank you’ as you walked in, and she nodded her head closing the door behind you. carmilla walked over to her desk and dropped all the papers onto her desk as she walked over to her chair next and sat down in it with a loud grunt from her throat, closing her eyes. after a second she opened them to notice you still standing next to the door as she moved her hand pointing to the chairs in front of her desk, telling you that you can have a sit. you smiled to her and immediately went to sit down as well.

carmilla closed her eyes again and moved one of her hands to stroke her forehead as if her head was burning. you tilted you head slightly.

“are you stressed?” you asked out of the blue and carmilla opened her eyes softly, looking at you halfy confused and intrigued with why would you ask her that.

“a bit” she responded and sighed, not keeping her profesional posture anymore as she got more comfortable in her seat. you smiled uncontrollably seeing her being comfortable around you enough to let herself loosen the straight up persona.

“what is bothering you?” you asked and carmilla scoffed waving her other hand in the air and rolling her eyes as she whispered something in spanish under her breath. you bit your lip looking at her trying to figure out if you should let her be or dig a bit deeper. “i know a few ways to relax” you said and carmilla chuckled at your words as she looked at your rather playfully. only after a moment you realised how your sentence sounded and chuckled as well, rolling your eyes in a more of a relaxed manner.

“and what would they be?” carmilla asked as she took her hand away from her forehead and continued looking at you, gently rising one of her eyebrows now as she fixed her composure and the way she was sitting. you decided to shoot your shot, it was hell after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

“you know, some people relax while having a massage, other prefer partying out their worries” you said as you moved your hands with your words, carmilla’s eyes noticing every small move of them. “and there’s people who say pleasure is also a good way to take away the stress” you added with a small smirk and carmilla started laughing as she put her hands on the desk for some support.

“you’re a bold one” she said still laughing and you just shrugged trying to keep the confidence but also wanting to see if this situation can turn into something more.

after she stopped laughing she took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. “it seems having a good laugh helps as well” she said grinning and watching your whole figure sitting in the chair. you smiled to her uncontrollably and started playing with your fingers again. carmilla’s eyes immediately went down to your hands as she narrowed her brows and she now started to slightly lean over her desk. “don’t do that” she said looking at your hands and it took you a second to realise what she was referring to.

“oh, don’t worry about it” you said a bit nervously as you chuckled, yet carmilla’s gaze wasn’t getting any softer.

“i’m serious” she said and looked up onto your face again “don’t ruin your pretty hands with something as stupid as being nervous” she added and stopped leaning over her desk, leaning her back against her chair. you couldn’t help but catch her words and started smiling to yourself a bit.

“so i have pretty hands?” you asked and carmilla’s eyebrow went up at your question yet her expression stayed stoic. you smirked to her as you noticed her raised eyebrow and waited for her response. yet carmilla didn’t seem to be planning on saying something as she just looked down at all the papers on her desk, suddenly looking for something only with her eyes. you chuckled to yourself as you felt like you’ve stroke a jackpot.

“aren’t you going to respond?” you asked with a soft chuckle as you got up from your seat and walked over closer to her chair. her eyes were on you the whole time like they were always looking for some danger. you smiled more as you noticed her gaze and as you finally walked over to her enough to be standing right next to her chair. carmilla was looking at you a bit suspiciously but some curiosity was dancing in her gaze as well.

“what are you planning on doing now?” she asked as she turned her chair a bit so she was facing you fully now. you giggled and shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. lies, she saw better than that.

“i’m planning on waiting for you response” you chuckle as you put your hands on your hips looking down at her face. “and offering you a scalp massage” you added with a smile and carmilla’s eyes went wide.

“a scalp massage?” she asked a bit confused while narrowing her eyes at you. you chuckled and nodded your head.

“yes, it helps with headaches and stress” you explained and made another step into her direction closing the space between you more and more. “can i?” you asked looking at her pinned up hair.

carmilla bit her lip looking away from you as she closed her eyes and sighed, nodding her head. “yes, yes you can” she said softly and moved one of her hands to her ‘hair’, pulling at the ribbon that was keeping her hair up, pulling it out completely and letting her hair fall down.

you literally felt how your hands started shaking at the sight of her with her hair down and you couldn’t stop staring at her. your eyes roamed her up and down yet mostly they focused on her face and how beautifully the hair was capturing it. she cleared her throat feeling a bit uneasy under your gaze but in a nervous way, not an uncomfortable one. the sound took you down to hell as you smiled dumbly feeling your cheeks blush.

“sorry” you said as you moved your hands onto her head and started slowly slipping your fingers through her hair not even massaging her scull yet. “you just… i just wasn’t prepared to see you like this” you said and chuckled a bit at your own words. carmilla chuckled as well but decided to push her luck.

“like this? what do you mean?” she asked leaning back in her chair a bit more so that you’d need to take another step closer to her. you haven’t noticed she did it on purpose as you made that step closer now standing right between her legs. you looked down at her legs on both sides of yours and your face flushed even more, as you brought your eyes up again looking at the top of her head. carmilla hummed seeing your reaction and her eyes immediately went up to your face.

“you know…” you started as you remembered she’s asked you a question. your hands started to massage her scull finally and she grunted a bit at the feeling making your pink cheeks turn red now. “this… beautiful” you shrugged saying it as nothing else was coming into your mind. carmilla blinked at your words still looking up at your face but with a slight of surprise on her face as well.

“beautiful? you find me beautiful?” she asked sounding generous yet a hint of tease could be heard in her voice. you bit your lip and rolled your eyes making your fingers scratch her scalp a bit now.

“i do” you said nodding your head softly. “when i saw you entering that meeting i couldn’t take my eyes off of you, but when you let your hair down-“ you chuckled and heard her grunting again when your fingers pressed down harder. “i think beautiful is an understatement at this point” you added and laughed as carmilla felt her cheeks blush this time. she covered it up with a chuckle from her as well yet your eyes were able catch her rosy cheeks.

you started massaging her scull more now putting more pressure into it and trying to focus on it rather than on the fact how close you were to her and that she literally had you in her grip. carmilla closed her eyes at some point enjoying the massage and letting out many sounds showing how much she enjoyed your massage. you tried your best not to let them affect you yet your red cheeks were speaking for themselves.

you slipped your fingers through her hair more and more getting to more parts of her scull as carmilla was just sitting there enjoying it. at some point her hands moved from her armrests to your hips to keep you close and mostly, to keep her stable as she needed some grounding. you chuckled at the feeling and continued your ministrations actually enjoying the feeling of her hands on your hips.

suddenly, your fingers got stuck in her hair and you tried to get them out, gently pulling at her hair. you didn’t expect the hair to get so tangled around your finger but something you didn’t expect even more was the moan that left carmilla when you pulled at her hair. her hands gripped your hips a bit as the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard left her mouth. making both of your cheeks flush, making yours turn from red to maroon. carmilla opened her eyes immediately and looked up at you as her hands were still holding you still at your hips. you looked down at her as well, making eye contact and not controlling the smirk that creeped up onto your face.

“you liked that, huh?” you asked and carmilla looked away her cheeks blushing even more. you chuckled and pulled at her hair again, on purpose this time. she didn’t expect it again and let out a high-pitched groan, bitting down on her lip almost immediately to keep her sounds in.

you smirked wider and made it your mission to pull more of that sounds out from her. carmilla looked up at you again and noticed your smirk knowing well that you were planning something. her hands gripped your hips tighter and you bit your lip as well, fingers dipping into her hair more. carmilla smirked seeing your reaction and closed her legs a bit so that they’d keep you in place, as well as right between them.

she moved her head a bit so she was more looking up at you know, but you were still able to massage her scalp. she looked at you with a smirk and some kind of lazy eyes as the moves of your fingers were playing with her a bit. you chuckled looking down into her eyes and enjoying the feeling of her legs squeezing yours.

“i’m thinking of letting you give me an actual massage” she chuckled and you looked away from her chuckling nervously as well. carmilla licked her lips and gripped your hips tighter her huge hands covering most of your waist.

“if you want it, i’m down” you replied and went back to scratching at her scull. she chuckled but then it turned into a moan when you found another good spot on her head, yet this time she wasn’t hiding the sound anymore. she bit her lip again but continued on softly moaning when your hands kept on massaging her scalp.

after a moment of silence between you two, one of her hand started to slowly move up your body touching your stomach, then your ribs, just so softly tracing the underside of your boob and then going to rest on your shoulder. you bit your lip at the feel of her hand and tried to keep a straight face as you continued on massaging her. carmilla chuckled seeing your reaction as her other hand gripped your hip again. you let out a groan at the feeling and she chuckled, her legs squeezing you once again.

“are you alright?” she asked suddenly and your eyes immediately went to hers. “you look a bit… red” she added with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes playfully at her but when her finger started gently stroking your collarbone you let out a sigh.

“said the one who’s just as red as i am” you replied right back and she smirked enjoying the confidence you were giving her.

“you’re bold, mi cariño” she said and you felt your legs going weak at the spanish nickname. she noticed as well and licked her lips, enjoying her affect on you.

“you seem to like me being bold” you said pushing your fingers a bit harder as she groaned and nodded her head softly, her fingers still tracing your collarbone.

“you have no idea how much” she replied as her hand on your hip started to stroke your body there. you bit your lip again and started to grow more and more impatient. as was she, but you couldn’t have known that.

you softly moved your hands from her hair down to her face and cupped her cheeks looking into her eyes like searching for permission. she smirked seeing your gaze as her hand gripped your hip harder this time, as did her legs.

“what?” she asked knowing exactly what you were asking for not using your words. you rolled your eyes at her question and leaned down a bit your nose almost touching hers now.

“can i kiss you, beautiful?” you asked and carmilla felt her cheeks blush again at the end. she took a deep breath in looking deep into her eyes and stayed silent for a moment just enjoying how the question hang in the air while her hands were touching your body and yours were touching her face.

her gaze softened after a second and she nodded her head. “yes, yes you can” she said and you smiled at her, the smile being the most generous one she’s ever seen in hell.

you moved her face up a bit, touching her nose with yours and you giggled, carmilla closing her eyes at the sound and smiling wide herself. after a second you moved your head down not even by an inch and finally touched her lips with yours.

when your lips finally connected both of her hands gripped your body keeping you close to her as if she was afraid you’d run away. you smiled into the kiss and tried to make it more of a soft one yet the way she was gripping you and the way her legs were squeezing your figure have shown you that she wasn’t in a mood for a soft kiss.

before you could even react her hand on your shoulder moved to your neck and pulled you even more into her, deepening the kiss as she swiftly slipped her tongue into your mouth. you moaned into the kiss and she just smiled fighting with you for dominance which after a while you lost. carmilla moaned as well feeling you finally submissive to her and her hand left your neck going back to your shoulder again.

you moaned again and as you were about to pull away she moved her lips from yours down to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving trails and trails of wet and sloppy kisses there, literally marking you with her black lipstick. you kept on moaning softly, as your hands went back into her hair pulling at it slightly, showing how badly you were enjoying yourself.

carmilla smirked at your reaction as her hand on your hips gripped you again. her mouth suddenly sucked a hickey on your neck and you yelped slightly tugging at her hair more. she moaned at the feeling and started softly nibbling on your neck pulling more and more sounds out of you.

when you two were going at it you haven’t heard the door to her office open, at least not until you heard a thud of something falling down onto the ground. you two immediately opened your eyes and leaned away looking towards the door. you saw both of her daughters standing there and noticed the small pile of papers on the ground as the blonde one must’ve been the one to drop it.

carmilla looked at them sheepishly and chuckled uncomfortably, tying her hair back and trying to act as professional as she could. the two girls shared a look and one of them bent down to grab the papers. after that they both rolled their eyes, one of them more annoyed while the other more amused.

“we will come back later, mom” the blonde one shot as they both walked out of the office shutting the door after them with a rather loud thud.

carmilla started laughing when they left but it was more of an uncomfortable and uncontrollable laugh yet it didn’t stop you from laughing with her as well. her two daughters just caught her sucking your skin off in her office yet for some reason laughing was calming you two down.

after this, you knew that anytime zestial would be meeting with carmilla now you’d definitely come along and maybe… probably… surely you will be meeting up with her now even without your shared friend.

translations:

"what's the problem lief? wherefore art thee in such a sweaty haste?" - “what’s the problem my friend? why are you in such a hurry?”

"don't thee w'rry, whatev'r thee weareth shall beest fine. nay one actually pays attention to what we're wearing" - “don’t worry, whatever you wear will be fine. no one actually pays attention to what we’re wearing”

"and t won't affect carmilla's first impression of thee" - “and it won’t affect carmilla’s first impression of you”

"you'll beest fine. if 't be true you'll alloweth me i wouldst chooseth this f'r the present day." - “you’ll be fine. if you let me, i would choose this for today”

"carmilla shall appreciateth thy professionalism" - “carmilla will appreciate your professionalism”

"thee behold ravishing, the lady shall loveth to meeteth thee" - “you look ravishing, she will love to meet you”

"carmilla, this is the lady i did want thee to meeteth f'r so longeth" - “carmilla this is the friend i wanted you to meet for so long”

“sadly i can’t carmilla. ive did promise alast'r id seeth that gent aft'r the meeting. but y/n already did agree so thee won’t beest b'r'd” - sadly i can’t carmilla. ive promised alastor id see him after the meeting. but y/n already agreed so you won’t be bored

all translations from here!

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