#so I feel like i didn’t study as much this time???

[kitimeq]

✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you showed up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapong around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched, his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it, he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the most sexy, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extend of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, as he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you to shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spend in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have went kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was loosing his composure and he was loosing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the build up straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him, it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words, a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lift you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress, his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one figer inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep, your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily, the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it, you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It���s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were loosing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he send you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sign of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[bewaryofpity]

fluff 19 withe luke hughes pls✨✨

thank you for requesting ! 🩶

19. “I think my family/friends really liked you. Maybe more than they like me.”

.

Luke didn’t necessarily hide you from his friends and family, he just wasn’t the type of guy to flaunt his relationship in front of everyone. He was reserved and private, so when he was met with his parents and brothers at the front door he felt like panicking.

He stood still, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and it took you bumping into his back completely unaware of what was going on for him to get himself together. And when you finally followed his gaze, you mirrored his pose. You wanted to hide behind him, but the way his mom’s eyes immediately flickered between the two of you made it clear you had been caught. 

“Why are you all here?” Luke asked.

“Dude, we play the Canucks tomorrow night. And I told you I was gonna pick up mom, dad and Quinn from the airport.” Jack grumbled, his brows raising before a slow smirk spread across his face. “Wait, who are you?”

Luke sighed, shifting awkwardly. “Y/N, my… girlfriend.” He whispered.

Quinn looked amused, his arms crossed as he studied the two of you. “And you just weren’t gonna tell us?”

“I mean, I was gonna tell you eventually.” Luke groaned. 

Ellen though ignored her sons' teasing, stepping in front of you with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart.” She gave Luke a playful teasing look, “I wish we’d known sooner.”

You laughed, feeling a little more at ease already. “I think Luke just likes keeping me all to himself.”

“Sounds about right,” Jack muttered. “I live with you dude, why the fuck— ow!”

Ellen rolled her eyes at him, gently snaking the back of his head. Jim gave you a firm handshake and a friendly nod before they ushered inside to get comfortable.

The first few minutes were filled with little moments of teasing, mostly from Jack, but it didn’t take long for the conversation to settle and turn into something more natural. You found it easy talking with his parents, they instantly brushed off that Luke kept you a secret for months. Ellen was the first to tell you that she had a feeling that something, or rather someone, was making her son more at ease, more comfortable with himself now.

It wasn't long before dinner started and the conversation shifted away from you with Ellen talking about the kids growing up, sharing wholesome and fun memories, and you could tell how close Luke was to his family just by the way he listened, a small, content smile on his face, not complaining much about the embarrassing stories his mom was telling you.

He was quiet for the most part, just taking in how you fit so well with his family, yet he couldn’t help but still send you small glances, making sure you were okay. You laughed at their jokes, told your own stories about your childhood, answered any question that came your way about you and Luke. 

“So, he asked for your number after he spilled his drink all over you, didn’t even ask for your name first?” Jack asked, leaning forward with interest, a boyish grin on his lips.

Luke shot him a glare. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing this.” Quinn said, smirking.

“Yes, but that wasn’t so bad. I’ll tell you, on our first date…” You grinned while Luke groaned, dropping his head into his hands as the rest of the family eagerly listened.

By the time the night wound down, everyone was exhausted from the long day. As you and Luke retreated to his room, he closed the door and leaned against it with a dramatic sigh.

“That was exhausting,” he mumbled.

You chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

He lifted his head, opening one of his eyes to give you a pointed look. “You know, I think my family really liked you. Maybe more than they like me.”

You smirked, motioning for him to join you on the bed. “Can you blame them?”

He groaned, letting his full body weight rest on top of you. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry, Lu. You’re still my favorite Hughes.”

He huffed, but you felt him relax against you, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. And after a while, between getting ready and finally settling underneath the covers,  Luke pulled you to him, holding you close, the warmth of the day still lingering between you.

[humanjarvis]

i learned from you

synopsis: while talking with your colleague, you realize caleb is the closest thing you have to a mother figure. 

pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc tags: light angst, comfort, fluff, reader had a rough childhood, reader has a period, reader and caleb's relationship is ambiguous but he kisses her head once, reader questions existence, reader is kind of a crybaby, grandma josephine implied to be a bum in this no shade to her word count: 1.3k

a/n: i hope this doesn't read weird #imnotintothat i just keep thinking about how caleb fulfills like 6 different roles in mc's life. he is so gender studies to me

“What do you mean you don’t know how to straighten your hair? Didn’t your mom ever teach you?” Tara asks in genuine confusion. 

With your sandwich halfway to your lips, you freeze. Although you were close with your colleagues, you weren’t all that open about your upbringing, for obvious reasons. Before now, everyone had always accepted your reticence on the topic. They’d never been people to overstep, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“I don't remember much about my parents,” you respond carefully. “My memory from before the Wanderers came is a little blurry, sorry.” 

Tara’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as her cheeks turn scarlet. “I didn’t mean to—” she starts. “I wasn’t trying to—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

You knew she didn’t know. That was kind of the point. Your whole thing was to move through life ignoring your early childhood, pretending you’d simply spawned into Linkon as a tween. But you couldn’t tell Tara that—she was sweet, it was an honest mistake, and she didn’t need your baggage at noon on a Friday.

Scrambling for something to break the tension, you blurt out, “I think she did teach me how to dry it, though!”

The peace offering is bland—to most people, drying hair is nothing special—but it works. Tara jumps back into the conversation, tactfully choosing to talk about her childhood so you could keep yours locked away in the depths of your mind. Crisis averted, you think. 

Except as the minutes tick by and Tara drones on, you realize the crisis is very much not averted. You’d brought up your “mom” teaching you to dry your hair to save you both from an awkward lunch, but when the lie left your mouth, it wasn’t your mother you were thinking of. It wasn’t Grandma Josephine. It was Caleb. 

Caleb had taught you how to dry your hair. It’d happened when you were twelve; a rowdy classmate had snuck up behind you and pushed you into the pool, leaving your hair a tangled, matted mess. When Caleb had found out your teachers were letting you go home early, he’d skipped his last two classes to be right by your side, running a shower for you while you sulked by the bathroom door. After you’d dried off and changed into the pajamas he’d left on the counter, Caleb came in from the hallway, carrying the same towel he’d used to dry your hair countless times before. Section by section, he’d squeezed the water from your hair, showing you how to without frizzing it up. “Not saying that ‘wet cat’ is a bad look on you, but I get the feeling you don’t want to look like that all the time,” he’d quipped. 

Caleb had been there for you for as long as you could remember, you realize. As you walk back to the Hunters Association, halfheartedly entertaining Tara’s chattering, the memories flood your brain: Caleb teaching you math. Caleb nursing you back to health when you had the flu. Caleb packing your lunchbox, Caleb doing your laundry, Caleb holding you through your first period. For all your firsts, all your milestones, and even the dull moments, he had been there. Your head spins as you stare at your desk, not even remembering sitting down. All your life, has Caleb been your only mother figure? 

You go home lost in thought. 

You stay that way for the whole afternoon, nearly forgetting about the movie night you’d planned for that evening with—you guessed it—Caleb. As you float around your apartment on autopilot, tidying up your living room and throwing on comfier clothes, the doorbell rings. He’s right on time. 

“Hey, pipsqueak,” he greets as you welcome him in. “I hope you’re hungry—I brought your favorite snacks.” 

You thank him with a smile, hoping his observant eyes can’t spot the way it wavers. Just two hours, you think. Two hours and then you’ll be free to question your existence all weekend.

The movie plays as normal. It’s easy to escape the worries on your mind with a fantasy blockbuster stealing your attention. It’s only when Caleb offers to make you a late dinner that the weight of your day falls back down to your shoulders. 

“No, that’s okay. I can just order something after you’re gone,” you refuse shyly. Having returned to your earlier haze of overthinking, you make a mistake. As Caleb moves to ruffle your hair, you flinch, dodging under his hand. The ensuing beats of awkward silence are all it takes for him to register that something is off.  

“...You just pulled away from me. You never do that unless you’re upset. Talk to me, pips—did I do something wrong?” He pauses. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you rush, throwing your hands out in front of you. “No, it’s just…”

When you trail off, he steps closer. “It’s just…what? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” he presses. 

“It’ll sound silly. And weird,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. 

“Nothing about you is silly, pipsqueak. Except when you’re actin’ cute for my attention,” he adds, gently poking your nose.  

You reward his efforts to put you at ease with a shaky giggle, finally finding the will to talk. “Earlier, Tara just asked me about my parents—wondering if my mom had ever taught me to do something.” 

Caleb grimaces. 

“And with Gran so busy all the time…and with her…gone…now… I just realized the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother figure is you,” you breathe, your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

Caleb’s unreadable gaze makes the tears arrive faster. “It’s just…you’re everything to me, Caleb. You’ve been with me through everything,” you sniffle. “Every role in my life you could possibly play, you play it, and I didn't even notice until now. You’ve spent over half your life guiding me through mine, and I just feel so helpless. I don’t even know if I'd be alive without you, and—”

Your tears constrict your throat, forcing you to pause if you want to breathe properly.

Even though he knows now is a bad time to dote on you, given the circumstances, Caleb would rather eat glass than turn a blind eye to your tears. He quickly shushes you, letting you cry into his sweater, and the more you relax in his embrace, the more you hate yourself. You really can’t do anything without him.

Settling you both on the loveseat, Caleb rocks you for a few moments before he begins. “I didn't know you felt that way, but it seems like you didn't either. Look, pipsqueak,” he sighs, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Don't ever feel bad about how you were brought up. I won’t let you keep stressing yourself out over something that was never in your control.” He pauses, as if weighing the consequences of his next words. “And if it means anything, which I hope it does, I thank the stars every day that the universe was kind enough to let me take care of you. To see you grow,” he murmurs, pressing a long kiss to your temple. “Any way you'll have me in your life, I'll be there. Never feel ashamed for that.” 

With your heart pounding, you peek up at him, hesitant awe on your still-teary face. He meets your gaze with a soft smile, softly stroking your back, and you wonder what heroic deeds you accomplished in your past life to deserve him. “I’m sorry for pulling away from you earlier,” you whisper, nestling your head into his shoulder. 

You don’t know how long you stay there curled beside him, but the moon is high in the sky when he next speaks.

“So…mother figure, huh?” he asks, voice mischievous now that your tears have dried. “Better me than anyone else. You might have liked her more than me—can’t have that.” 

Lifting your head, you swat his chest. “Caleb!” you groan.  

[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ late night confessions

synopsis: after confessing how you've never had any of your firsts, frat boy!caleb is there to listen (and help  ¬ᴗ¬) but he also has something to confess aswell?

tw: MDNI +18, p in v (use protection), virginity loss, fingering, cummin inside, oral, squirting, teases a bit, caleb is a bit of a groaner, your pleasure comes first!!

author's note: hihi lovelies! so sorry i took awhile to post, life has been busy. i wanted to make something extra long because i will continue to be busy these next few weeks so i dont know when i'll be able to post but thank you so much for the love on held close, it was my best work and i wanted to capture the essence on how caleb is hehe. happy reading!

the party was still going strong downstairs. music thumping, drunken laughter spilling out onto the front lawn of the frat house, but up here, in caleb’s dorm, everything was quiet. you sat cross-legged on his bed, picking at the frayed hem of your hoodie while he lounged back against the headboard, one arm slung lazily behind his head.

this wasn’t unusual. you and caleb always ended up like this after nights out. he might be the life of the party, but he never let you walk home alone. not when he could just let you crash here, giving the two of you privacy while his roommate was away.

he took a sip from his water bottle, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “you looked miserable down there,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “don’t tell me you’re finally admitting frat parties aren’t your thing.”

you rolled your eyes. “they never were.” you take a sip from your water bottle that caleb handed to you.

he chuckled, setting the bottle on the nightstand. “then why’d you come? you know i wouldn’t have invited you if it meant you would feel terrible.”

you hesitated, tracing patterns on his blanket. “i dunno. just figured…well it’s college. i should probably try to enjoy it like everyone else.”

caleb hummed like he didn’t quite believe you. “uhuh and did you?”

you shot him a dry look. “i spent half the night dodging drunk guys who couldn’t take a hint, so what do you think?”

his smirk faded. “who?”

“relax, nothing happened,” you said quickly. “but that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

caleb frowned, pushing himself up so he was properly sitting. “what do you mean?”

you let out a slow breath, you looked down at the floor. “i just… i feel like i’m behind.”

“behind what?”

“everything,” you admitted. “i’ve never had a real boyfriend. never had my first kiss, never-” you paused, suddenly regretting saying anything at all. “never mind. it’s stupid.” you dismiss your comment with a slight chuckle.

caleb was quiet for a moment. when you finally glanced up at him, you expected teasing, maybe some cocky remark about how he could “fix that” if you wanted.

but he just looked… thoughtful.

“that’s not stupid pipsqueak” he said finally. his voice was quieter now, more serious.

you sighed. “come on, caleb. you..you’ve lived. you’ve had hookups, flings, relationships or whatever you call them and i’ve had nothing.”

he gets closer and sits next to you on his bed, keeping his gaze. “and? why does that matter?”

“because,” you huffed, frustrated. “people expect you to have certain experiences by a certain age, and i just… haven’t.”

caleb’s brows furrowed. “who the hell cares what ‘people’ expect?”

you bit your lip, shrugging. “it’s just embarrassing sometimes. i feel like i’m missing out.”

he was watching you closely now, something unreadable in his gaze. “you’re not missing out on anything, pipsqueak,” he murmured.

your stomach flipped at the nickname, but you ignored it. “easy for you to say. you’ve had all your firsts.”

caleb froze but leaned closer, something like a smirk tugging at his lips, but it wasn’t cocky this time. he cups your cheek. “yeah? and you wanna know something?”

you hesitated before nodding.

“they were forgettable.”

that caught you off guard. “what?”

he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “i mean… there were moments. but i could never look them in the eye. i just couldn’t..” his fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, gaze flickering away. i always made sure i wasn’t facing them, like if i did, it’d make it real and something in me would just freeze.” 

he let out a short, almost self-deprecating laugh. “like some part of me knew it wasn’t supposed to be with them or other times i would call them the wrong name.. and it would be the same name every. single. time” his jaw tightens, now his gaze never left yours. 

your stomach twisted. “caleb…”

he shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he ruffles your hair. “you’re not behind, pipsqueak. you’re just waiting for it to actually matter.”

your breath caught. “you’ve never…?”

he shook his head once, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “not in the way you think.”

the room felt smaller somehow, the space between you charged with something unsaid.

“you don’t regret that?” you asked quietly.

he hesitated, he huffs. “i think i’d regret it more if i gave my firsts to someone who actually meant something… and they didn’t feel the same.”

your heart stuttered in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you. but before you could say anything, caleb just gave you a lazy, lopsided smile, like he hadn’t just dropped a big piece of his life on you. he grazed your cheek, his touch lingering for just a second too long.

“don’t stress about it, okay?” he murmured. “your firsts should be with someone you want them with. not just someone convenient.”

a heavy silence settled between you, but your mind was spinning now, turning over every moment, every lingering touch, every look he had given you that you never understood, until now.

“all those girls,” you said hesitantly, your voice quieter now. “the ones you’ve been with… did none of them ever mean anything?”

caleb stiffened, his jaw tightening. he looked away, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was debating whether to tell you the truth.

then he muttered, almost too low for you to hear. “none of them were you.” he finally admitted.

you felt your cheeks heat up by the sudden change in tone. 

he scoffed at himself, scratching the back of his head. “it’s silly, huh? i’d go out, find someone who-” he let out a humorless laugh. “someone who looked just enough like you if i squinted. your hair and that same kind of smile that i adore too much. sometimes they even smelled like your vanilla perfume.”

you stared at him, your heart beating against your ribs.

he shook his head, laughing bitterly. “and for a while, it worked. i’d close my eyes and pretend it was you. just for a little bit.” his voice dropped lower, ashamed. “but then it’d be over, and i’d wake up, and it wasn’t. and i’d hate myself for it.”

you swallowed hard. “caleb…”

his eyes met yours again, and for once, there was no smirk, no teasing glint. just raw honesty.

“but that didn’t stop me,” he admitted. “because i thought..heh i convinced myself..i’d never actually have you. and if I couldn’t, then what was the harm in pretending?”

a heavy silence settled between you. your chest ached, not just for him, but for yourself, for all the moments you never realized he was looking at you like that. the only thing that echoed now was the faint music from the speakers coming from the party downstairs.

“…and now?” you whispered.

caleb exhaled, something almost resigned in his expression. “and now i don’t even wanna pretend anymore.”

“you don’t…have too..” you whispered as both of your faces were mere inches from each other. a quiet breath came first followed by caleb looking down at your lips before he traced his hand down your chin. then, caleb kissed you.

he was slow at first but hesitant, as if he was still trying to convince himself this was real. his hand slid to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper. he places your back on his bed, the weight of him settling over you while fighting for dominance with his tongue. 

he kissed you like he was making up for every stolen glance, every moment spent pretending. his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing, claiming, demanding in a way that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

then he slowed, breathing heavy as he pulled back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours. his thumb traced your jaw, his voice barely above a whisper.

"tell me to stop," he said, but his voice wavered, like he was terrified of what he’d do if you actually did.

you swallowed hard, your hands turned to knuckles."i don’t want you to."

a sharp exhale, like he had been holding his breath. his lips ghosted over yours, his grip tightening ever so slightly. his breath hot over your lips "then tell me…" his voice was desperate. "tell me that whatever happens next, you won’t regret it." he grabs your hand to kiss it before looking into your eyes once more awaiting your answer. “i want to be your first.” his puppy eyes now settling upon you. 

you lifted that same hand, brushing your fingers through his hair. “caleb,” you whispered, soft but certain. “i could never regret you. i want this more than you could ever know.”

with a warm smile, he kissed you again, harder this time, more sure of himself. his hand slid down your waist, grounding himself in the feeling of you beneath him.

his hand traced the curve of your cheek before trailing lower, his lips followed.

he dove into your neck, attacking you with nibbles. what started as slow, lingering kisses turned into teasing bites that sent a shiver down your spine. his teeth grazed over your skin before his tongue followed, soothing the marks he was leaving behind. your clear skin was now painted with his touch, evidence of his undying love for you. he thought, what could be just a one-night fling to you, felt like more than everything to him. if what was happening now was just for one night, he was determined to make this into a memory that will keep him going. 

he trails a free hand to the base of your skirt, tugging on the zipper while his lips stay latched on your neck. with a sudden “zzzip” filling the room, he continues his path, guiding his hand lower and successfully reaching inside your underwear. you felt shivers down your spine as caleb rolls circles on your clit, sending a gasp out of you. 

you grip at his shoulder, feeling the fabric of his jacket wrinkle under your grasp. you didn’t know how to comprehend the amount of pleasure he was giving you. moans started to escape your lips as caleb continued to caress your clit, his every touch left you almost breathless but wanting more. your body started to tense up, an unknown feeling that only escalated your arousal. 

caleb let out a low chuckle before trailing a series of soft, lingering kisses along your lips. just as you try to keep up with your breath, he captured your mouth again, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his touch both teasing and possessive. his tongue slipped past your parted lips, prying your mouth open as he explored you further, muffling your shaky moans with an intense and consuming kiss.

“this feels s-so good..” you managed to whisper in between kisses, your body responding to every relentless touch. caleb still not losing his rhythm on your clit, his lips never leaving yours as he pulled back just enough to smile.

"i'm glad..because I won’t be stopping anytime soon," he said, his voice low and teasing.

his words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and anticipation pooling in your stomach. the more he kept playing with your clit, the more this..unknown sensation was rising inside you and he didn’t want him to stop. 

pulling his fingers away, you immediately missed the feeling, a whimper catching in your throat. before you could make a fuss on the loss, caleb dipped his head down, his breath warm against your skirt, nearing your cunt. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. your eyes, heavy-lidded and hazy with pleasure, flickered to the window. the stars had never looked so bright, distant, shimmering, and endless, just like the party still going on downstairs.

his hands found your hips, thumbs pressing into your hip bones in a slow, soothing motion before he hooked his fingers into your skirt. with a smooth tug, he slid it down, taking your underwear along with it, leaving you bare beneath him. caleb glanced up, his eyes smoldering as he murmured, "after tonight, i promise..this is all you'll ever think about."  

before you could even form a response, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, keeping you open for him. then, without warning, his mouth descended on your exposed pussy.  

the first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor you, to let the taste of you settle on his tongue. but that restraint didn't last long. his groan vibrated against your core, low and needy, like he was already losing himself. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, fingers pressing into your flesh like he needed something to ground himself. but even then, he was slipping, unraveling with every lick, every sound you made.  

his tongue moved with an eager desperation, tracing over your folds, as if he was memorizing the way you felt against his tongue. he devoured you like a man starved, each groan growing rougher, throatier, as his self-control decreased. his movements became sloppier, greedier. his lips sealing around you, sucking just to hear you gasp, his tongue lapping up every drop like he couldn’t get enough.  

when he pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening, his breath ragged, his pupils were blown wide, almost black with hunger.

 "fuck..." he exhaled, his voice rawly thick. his grip on your thighs tightened for just a second before he dove back in, dragging another long, almost desperate lick through your folds, like he had lost all sense of anything else but you. 

your fingers tangled in his mullet without thinking, pulling him closer as your hips rocked against his tongue, chasing every wave of pleasure he gave you. the heat pooling in your stomach burned hotter with each flick of his tongue, each hungry suck that left you trembling beneath him.  

"caleb—" his name slipped out in a breathless moan before you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sounds spilling from your lips. "that feels… s-so good," you mumbled against your palm, your voice barely holding together.  

but caleb wasn’t having that.  

still buried between your thighs, he hummed against you, a deep, satisfied sound that sent vibrations straight through your core. without pausing, he reached up, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your lips. he laced his fingers with yours, his grip firm, grounding.  

his lips curled into a smirk against you before he murmured, voice thick with want, "you don’t have to hold back. be as loud as you want… i’m right here."

he pushes you back, pinning you against the bed with ease, his face still hovering over your pussy.  

"caleb, i…ah!"  

a sharp cry cuts off your words as his fingers sink into you, stretching you open inch by inch. the sudden fullness sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your body arch into his touch. before you can even catch your breath, his tongue joins the mix, dragging along your folds with a slow, deliberate lick that has your thighs trembling.  

"you taste so sweet…" he groans against you, his voice dripping with hunger. "i could do this all night..all day even", he chuckles. 

your slick coats his fingers as he pumps them in and out, the pace teasingly slow, as if he’s memorizing every reaction, every little sound you make. your whimpers fuel him, a spark igniting in his chest as he watches you come undone beneath him.  

then, he curls his fingers just right-  

your back lifts off the bed, a choked moan escaping your lips as your body tenses. his smirk deepens, dark and knowing. he’s found it.  

"there it is," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. he doesn’t waste a second. his fingers pick up speed, thrusting deeper, pressing against that same spot over and over again. every movement is deliberate, every stroke meant to unravel you. the room fills with the slick sounds of his fingers working inside you, the wet heat of his mouth still teasing your clit, and the way your moans spill out, growing louder with every calculated thrust.  

caleb hums against you, his own pleasure building just from watching you come apart. "that’s it… let me hear you."

your grip on his hand tightened, fingers trembling as your body squirmed beneath him. a desperate whimper escaped your lips.

“c-caleb… i—ah… i think i’m close,” you gasped, your voice breathless, barely above a whisper.

his response was immediate, “come for me, princess… i’m right here.”

a shiver ran down your spine as his words alone sent you teetering on the edge. your back arched, muscles tensing as pleasure coiled tight in your core. caleb didn’t stop, his touch was relentless, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, dragging you through wave after wave of ecstasy.

your release crashed over you, sending you spiraling. a gasp came from your throat as warm liquid flooded through you, coating his face and fingers soon part of the liquid dripped down to the bed. caleb groaned against you, savoring every moment, every sound, every taste. he pulled away only to lick his lips, eyes dark with satisfaction as his thumb traced soft circles on your inner thigh.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with praise, a smirk tugging at his lips. even now, with your body spent and breath uneven, the hunger in his gaze told you..he wasn’t done with you yet.

he wastes no time before hovering over you, caging you beneath him. his fingers fumble slightly as he works at the buttons of your top, eager yet unsteady. one by one, they come undone, revealing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. his pupils darken, widening with sheer desperation. he had imagined this moment countless times, but nothing compared to the reality of seeing you like this.  

“you’re even more stunning than i imagined,” he breathes, voice thick with longing. the last of the buttons popped off and you help him as he gently swifts it off your shoulders, putting it to the side. there’s no hesitation in his movements as he expertly unclasps your bra with a single hand, discarding it just as quickly. 

for a moment, he simply stares, enamored, breath hitching as if he doesn’t know where to begin. but desire overtakes him, and he dips his head, capturing one of your sensitive buds between his lips. the moment his mouth latches on, he sucks greedily, the same feeling he had between your thighs now channeled into worshipping every inch of you. he makes sure to give the other breast the same attention, his fingers kneading your soft flesh while his mouth continues its worship. caleb was always the type to ensure you were taken care of, and this was no different. his touch was deliberate, yet dripping with desire.  

your whimpers slip past your lips, each sound fueling him further as he overwhelms you with sensation after sensation. his tongue flicks and rolls, alternating between slow, teasing swirls and desperate, heated sucks, never giving you a moment to recover. every movement was a silent promise. he wasn’t stopping until you were completely undone beneath him.

eventually pulling his lips away from your breasts, his breaths were ragged, heavy with restraint as his fingers made quick work of his belt. “you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, the sharp clink of metal echoed in the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper being dragged down. 

his hands trembled slightly, whether from excitement or the sheer need to feel you, you weren’t sure. but the moment his pants hit the floor, he wasted no time. he leaned back over you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin as he traced a hand along your thigh, his touch very  worshipping. he releases his erection from his boxers and he was big. his tip glistened with pre-cum. he guided his cock before your pussy. 

“i’ll go slow, i promise” he breathed out, using your slick to coat himself. he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with the tip before slowly pushing in, letting you take him inch by inch.

a groan ripped from his throat as your walls wrapped around him, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to steady himself. his head fell forward, his breath hot against your shoulder. "fuck," he rasped, voice shaking. "you're—you're squeezing me so tight." he shakily pumps in you slowly.

"c-caleb," you whimpered, voice breaking as you tried to adjust. "you're so… big—"

his grip on you tightened, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants. "god… you feel too good," he nearly whimpered, his voice filled with desperation. his body trembled, pressing his forehead against yours as he fought for control. 

“if you keep squeezing me like that,” he murmured, his voice husky and uneven, “i don’t think i can go slow.”

you swallowed hard, your walls fluttering around him at his words. “please… don’t,” you whispered, meeting his half-lidded gaze with your own. "i want to feel all of you." you tugged at his jacket, it being the only clothing left on between the two of you. you slipped your hands beneath the fabric, pushing his jacket off his shoulders before sliding it down his arms, letting it fall carelessly to the floor along with your clothes. you guided your hands on his chest, feeling every muscle he had. you were used to seeing caleb shirtless but tonight, it was in a different light that only increased your arousal. 

once he was halfway in, his breathing started to become heavy as he studied your face for any sign of discomfort. “alright..” he hums, his thumb stroked gentle circles on your hip. “but tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered.

your nails dug into his shoulders, your body desperate for more despite the slow burn. “keep going,” you urged, your voice breathless and cheeks flushed.

caleb let out a shuddered exhale before pushing deeper, groaning as he finally bottomed out inside you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, overwhelmed by the warmth embracing him so perfectly. his body trembled to move at a pace that wouldn’t break you, despite the way your walls clenched around him. 

your moans became louder as caleb continues to fill you, his hair becoming a bird's nest under your fingers. “c-caleb..more” you bit your lip, scratch marks forming on his back the more you cling onto him. “hhhg…i need more” you pleaded. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his restraint finally snapping as he began to move in a quicker pace, rocking into you with deep, measured thrusts that left you gasping.

caleb groaned against your lips before pulling away, his hands gripping your thighs as he adjusted his position, sliding his hands under your legs before lifting them onto his shoulders. the shift made you gasp, the deeper angle sending a shiver through your entire body. the perfect angle he knows to get you into a mess. he leaned forward, pressing your knees closer to your chest, trapping you beneath him. 

"c-caleb—" you choked out as he pushed back in, deeper than before, the sensation overwhelming his grip on your thighs tightened as he adjusted, his thrusts being so deep, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with precision. every roll of his hips that kissed your g-spot sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, your moans growing louder with each push and pull. 

caleb’s breathing was ragged, his control unraveling as he watched you writhe beneath him. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with admiration. "so beautiful like this..so perfect for me." he places a kiss on your calf. 

you reached for him, hands on his chest to gesture him to slow down. something was building up in your core. sounds of skin slapping filled the room. "i’m-..so cl..close caleb.." 

"i know," he cut in, voice strained as he instead quickened his pace, wanting your release to fall through for him and by him. "give it to me... please let me feel you.." 

with a final, deep thrust, he angled himself just right, sending you over the edge with a cry, your body tightening around him as a warm liquid gushed out of you. the liquid coated on caleb’s cock and inner thighs. witnessing this, caleb groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he came completely undone by the way you pulsed around him. his movements grew more erratic as he felt your walls clamp down around him. the grip on your thighs tightened, as he tried to hold himself together.

"good girl.." he panted, his mind still onto the sounds and the expressions of you coming undone before him. he continued thrusting, now chasing his high. after a while, caleb announces “i’m ugg.. gonna..” his body comes to a stop as he releases his seed inside of you, coating your walls.

the world around you both seemed to have stopped, nothing but the feeling of him filled your mind. caleb's weight sank into you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

a small smile curled at your lips as you traced your fingers through his damp hair, feeling his body twitch slightly against yours. "that was…" you trailed off, still breathless, your mind hazy from the intensity of it all.

caleb let out a weak chuckle, pressing a soft kiss against your collarbone before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his purple-pinkish eyes, still heavy with satisfaction, softened as he took you in. "yeah," he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. "it was."

he slowly pulled out of you, making sure to be gentle as he settled beside you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. his hands roamed over your bare skin, his eyes full of adoration. caleb reached for the blanket, pulling it over you both, carefully covering you up as if protecting the moment, his moment. he held you close, his breathing still getting adjusted for his body to fit around yours. 

you cleared your throat, lifting your head to face him.

“hey,” you started softly, your voice a little unsure. “earlier… when i said i felt like i was behind, that I hadn’t had any of those firsts… i still feel that way sometimes. even now.”

caleb’s gaze softened, and he shifted, lifting his head to look down at you. his hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a quiet gesture. “you’re not behind, pipsqueak,” he murmured, tender now. “everyone’s timeline is different. and whatever you haven’t experienced yet? i’m not going anywhere. i’ll be right here, whenever you’re ready for all of it.”

a smile tugged at your lips, his words comforting you. “i know. i guess i just needed to hear that.”

caleb’s smile was soft, his eyes full of warmth. he pulled you closer, holding you a little tighter. “it’s not about what everyone else does or what they think. it’s about what feels right for you. don’t ever feel like you’re missing out, because with me… you’ll always have all the time you need.”

you let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his chest. “thanks caleb,” you whispered. “i’m glad i have you here.”

he kissed the top of your head, his voice with reassurance. “i’ll always be here, pipsqueak.” you begun to doze off, leaving the memory of the night you and caleb in your head. he was right, this is all you’ll ever think about. “goodnight, pipsqueak,” caleb whispered softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. you didn’t have the energy to respond, the last of your thoughts dissolving into peaceful sleep.

caleb smiled down at you, his heart swelling with affection. his hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his gaze lingering on you with a tenderness that he had always felt for you before. you looked so peaceful, so content, and he could hardly believe you were in his arms, trusting and letting him help with one of your doubts could easily fill him for the rest of his life.

he watched you for a while, tracing the outline of your face with his eyes as you slept, aware of the way his heart beat faster with each passing second. with each second having him fall more and more in love with you. caleb smirked to himself, imagining the questions that would come once gideon finds you sleeping in caleb’s bed. he let out a contented sigh, looking down at your sleeping form. “let him ask. i won’t let out a peep” he muttered.

not that gideon would believe any excuse, anyway. caleb could say you had a nightmare, that you tripped and conveniently landed in his bed, or that aliens abducted every other available sleeping surface but gideon would just wag his eyebrows and call it bluffing.

whatever. let him talk. let him annoy the hell out of him. caleb didn’t care.

all that mattered was the pretty girl curled up in his arms, fast asleep because for the first time in a long time, caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. and nothing else mattered.

[sunshineangel0]

loving you, flaws and all (hyung line)

pairing- stray kids ot8 x reader summary- Your skin has never been perfect, and sometimes, the insecurities weigh you down. But each member of Stray Kids loves you in their own way, showing you that beauty isn’t just about clear skin—it’s about who you are. Through soft moments of reassurance, warmth, and genuine love, they remind you that your acne and scars don’t define you. genre- romance, slice of life, comfort, fluff word count- 1,7k (300-500 words each) warnings- mentions of acne, insecurities, self doubt, protective and affectionate stray kids members, pure wholesome content 🥰 an- i was feeling insecure today because of a little flare up so i wrote this. i hope it helps whoever it may need, too. remember, you are perfect no matter how much you brain tells you on insecure days that youre not. maknae line

bang chan

You sat at your vanity mirror, frowning as you traced a fingertip over the red blemishes dotting your skin. No matter how much care you put into your routine, your acne still flared up, leaving you feeling small and frustrated.

The door creaked open, and a familiar warmth wrapped around you from behind. “Why are you looking so sad?” Bang Chan’s deep voice murmured into your ear, his arms tightening around your waist.

You sighed, staring at his reflection instead of your own. “It’s just… my skin is so bad today.”

Chan frowned, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You say that like it matters,” he said softly. He turned you around in his hold, his warm hands cupping your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You tried, but your gaze dropped. He didn’t let you. Gently, he lifted your chin with his fingers, his brown eyes scanning your face like he was committing it to memory. “I love every part of you,” he murmured, his thumbs grazing over your cheeks. “Your skin, your scars, all of it. None of that changes how beautiful you are.”

Tears pricked at your eyes at the sincerity in his voice. He always knew what to say, always made you feel loved in ways words alone couldn’t.

Chan suddenly tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, if we’re talking about bad features, my nose isn’t exactly winning any beauty contests either.”

You gasped, swatting his arm. “Christopher Bang, don’t you dare insult my favorite nose!”

He laughed, crinkling said ‘bad’ nose as he grinned at you. “See? That’s what I’m saying. You love my nose, and I love your skin. We don’t get to insult the things we love.”

You huffed, but the fight had already left you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he said smugly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then another along your jaw. “Now, how about we do some face masks? Not because you need them, but because I need an excuse to pamper you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Only if you wear a head band.”

Chan chuckled, already reaching for them. “Deal.”

lee know

“Stop touching your face,” Minho’s voice cut through the silence, sharp but not unkind. You barely had time to pull your hand away before his cat-like eyes flicked up from his book, catching you mid-scratch.

You groaned, flopping down onto the couch beside him. “I can’t help it. It itches.”

Minho let out a small sigh, dog-earing the page of his book before setting it aside. “And you’re going to make it worse,” he said matter-of-factly. Then, softer, “Come here.”

You hesitated, but curiosity won out. Scooting closer, you watched as he reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, barely grazing your cheek.

“I notice you do this when you’re anxious,” he murmured, studying your face like a puzzle he had already solved. “And when you’re frustrated.”

Your cheeks warmed. “You… notice that?”

Minho scoffed, giving you a pointed look. “I notice everything about you.”

Your stomach flipped, but before you could react, he reached for a bottle of moisturizer sitting on the coffee table. Unscrewing the cap, he squeezed a bit onto his fingertips before looking at you expectantly. “Let me.”

You blinked. “You’re seriously going to—”

“Do you want dry skin or not?” he interrupted, arching a brow.

You sighed, relenting as he gently smoothed the cool cream over your cheeks, his touch light, careful. He worked in silence, fingers tracing over each blemish and scar without a hint of hesitation or discomfort. It wasn’t rushed or forced—it was Minho in his quiet way, paying attention, showing care without making a big deal out of it.

“There,” he said after a moment, satisfied. “Now you don’t have to touch it.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering unexpectedly. He was already reaching for his book again, like he hadn’t just made you completely unravel with a simple gesture.

“Minho…” you whispered.

He glanced at you, smirking just a little. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You shook your head instead, exhaling softly. “Nothing. Just… thank you.”

Minho hummed, nudging your knee with his before flipping a page. “Anytime. Just don’t make me do this every day. I charge for my services.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Oh yeah? And what’s your rate?”

Minho smirked, finally looking up from his book. “One kiss per session. Non-refundable.”

Your breath hitched, and Minho, smug as ever, simply went back to reading like he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive.

changbin

You and Changbin had been close for years, but lately, things felt… different. He lingered when he looked at you, spoke to you with a tenderness that hadn’t always been there. You noticed the way he’d absentmindedly brush his fingers over your wrist when you sat next to each other, the way he never let you walk on the outer side of the street, the way his gaze softened when you laughed.

But despite the shift, despite the warmth he always offered, you couldn’t help but doubt what he saw in you.

Especially today.

The two of you were sitting at a café, your drinks resting between you, when you heard it. A group of girls at a nearby table whispering, their eyes flicking toward you. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but some words slipped through—remarks about your skin, quiet giggles muffled behind their hands.

Your stomach twisted.

You stared down at your cup, suddenly too aware of the way your acne stood out under the café’s bright lighting. Gosh. How you hated being in supermarket isles and stores because of that. Its like theyre doing it on purpose.

Changbin noticed. Of course he did.

He turned toward the girls, his jaw tightening. “What did you just say?”

The café noise didn’t seem to drown out his voice, low and sharp like a warning. The laughter stopped instantly.

One of the girls blinked, clearly startled. “Uh, nothing—”

“No, I think you did,” Changbin said, standing up from his seat. “If you have something to say about my girl, say it to my face.”

Your breath hitched. My girl.

The girls stiffened, their embarrassment evident. “We didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did,” Changbin cut in, eyes dark and unreadable. “But here’s the thing—you don’t know anything about her. You don’t know how kind she is, how smart she is, how funny she is. You don’t know that when she smiles, it makes my whole day better.” His voice softened slightly as he looked at you, but the intensity didn’t waver. “So unless you have something respectful to say, keep your mouths shut.”

The girls mumbled apologies before quickly gathering their things and leaving.

Changbin let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair as he sat back down next to you. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath.

You stared at him, still processing what just happened. “Binnie…”

He turned toward you, the hard edges of his expression softening. “Don’t listen to them,” he murmured. “They don’t get to decide how beautiful you are.”

You swallowed. “You really mean all that?”

Changbin scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you seriously not know?”

Your heart pounded. “Know what?”

“That I’m in love with you,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest truth in the world. “And nothing anyone says will ever change that.”

You blinked at him, completely speechless.

Changbin sighed, reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a squeeze. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Guess I just needed an excuse to finally say it.”

You looked down at your joined hands, warmth blooming in your chest, chasing away the doubt. Slowly, you squeezed back.

“I think… I’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

Changbin grinned, leaning in just a little, his voice teasing but full of something real. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna shut up about it anytime soon.”

hyunjin

Hyunjin had been acting weird all day.

You’d caught him staring at you more than once, his lower lip caught between his teeth like he was holding something back (but gosh looked it hot). He was fidgety, more than usual—playing with the rings on his fingers, running a hand through his hair, tapping his foot against the floor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of stolen glances and unspoken words, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward his art studio.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his grip warm but insistent.

You let him pull you inside, watching as he took a deep breath before sitting you down in front of an easel, a canvas covered with a cloth. His fingers twitched as he hovered near the edge, nervous energy rolling off him in waves.

“I need to show you something,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Your brow furrowed. “Did you paint something?”

He nodded, still not looking at you. “Yeah. But… I don’t know if you’ll like it.” His voice softened, barely above a whisper. “Just—don’t get mad, okay?”

You blinked. “Why would I get mad?”

Hyunjin hesitated, then inhaled deeply, bracing himself. With one swift motion, he pulled the cloth away.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was you.

Every detail—the curve of your lips, the light in your eyes, the way your hair fell around your face. The imperfections you always saw in yourself, the acne scars you had spent so long resenting… they were all there, painted with such care, such softness, it made your chest ache.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Hyune…”

His hands trembled slightly as he stepped closer, his gaze flickering between you and the painting. “I just… I wanted to show you how I see you,” he murmured. “You always look at yourself so critically, but to me…” His voice wavered, his fingers brushing along your cheek, just like in the painting. “To me, you’re breathtaking.”

A shaky breath left your lips. “I don’t know what to say…”

He smiled, small but sincere, his thumb ghosting over your skin. “Then don’t say anything.” His voice was gentle, but there was something firm in the way he looked at you, like he was memorizing the moment. “Just let me love you the way you deserve.”

Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest.

And in that moment, as he gazed at you like you were his greatest masterpiece, you knew—he already did.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general tags: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

[bu3ck3r]

wrapped in you

paige bueckers x reader

summary: you’re having an off day and paige is the sweetest and cheers you up

You weren’t sure when the heaviness settled in your chest, but it had been there all day—pressing down, making everything feel dull and overwhelming. It wasn’t one specific thing, but a mix of small disappointments, stress, and exhaustion stacking up until it felt like you were sinking.

And no matter how much you tried to hide it, Paige noticed.

She always did.

It started in the morning when she caught you staring off into space at breakfast, your spoon lazily stirring your cereal until it went soggy. Then at lunch, when you barely touched your food, only offering a half-hearted smile when she asked if you were okay.

By the time you were curled up on the couch in the afternoon, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, she had seen enough.

Paige plopped down next to you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Alright, what’s up?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Paige poked your side gently. “You’ve been in a funk all day. Talk to me.”

You sighed, shrugging. “It’s nothing.”

Paige wasn’t buying it. “Baby, you can’t fool me.”

You chewed your lip, debating whether to just brush it off again. But the way Paige was looking at you—soft but serious, like she wasn’t going to let this go—made it hard to keep up the act.

“I just feel… off,” you admitted finally. “Like everything is too much, and I don’t even know why.”

Paige was quiet for a moment before shifting closer, putting your legs on her thighs. She reached for your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles in slow, comforting strokes.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to explain it if you don’t know how. But you don’t have to deal with it alone either.”

Something in your chest loosened slightly. Paige always had a way of making you feel understood, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

But the heaviness was still there, lingering like a storm cloud.

Paige studied you for a beat before standing up abruptly.

“Okay, we’re fixing this,” she declared.

You frowned, confused. “Fixing what?”

“Your mood,” she said matter-of-factly. “Stay right there. I have a plan.”

Before you could protest, she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you sitting there, bewildered. A few minutes later, she returned, her arms full—blankets, her hoodie, a bag of your favorite snacks, and even her laptop balanced precariously on top.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “What are you doing?”

“I want to cheer up my favorite person ,” she announced proudly. She draped the hoodie over your lap first. “Put this on.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped the oversized hoodie over your head anyway. It smelled like her—like fresh laundry and vanilla, warm and familiar.

Paige grinned when she saw you relax slightly. She threw a blanket over both of you, pulling you close so you were practically in her lap. “No escaping. You’re officially trapped.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at making you feel better? Yeah, I know,” she said smugly.

You rolled your eyes, but Paige caught the way your lips twitched into the tiniest smile.

She handed you a bag of your favorite chips before opening her laptop. “We can watch a movie, or I can show you funny TikToks, or we can talk about something completely random. Your choice.”

You hesitated before murmuring, “Can we just stay like this for a bit?”

Paige’s expression softened. “Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as you rested your head against her shoulder. She didn’t try to force you to talk or pretend everything was fine. She just stayed there, warm and steady, letting you take whatever comfort you needed.

After a few minutes, she started absentmindedly running her fingers through your hair. “You know,” she mused, “whenever I have a bad day—like when my shots aren’t falling, or I feel like I’m not doing enough—I try to remind myself of the good things. The little things that make everything worth it.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious. “Like what?”

Paige smiled, her fingers still tracing soothing patterns in your hair. “Like how my dad always texts me before every game. Or how the team hypes each other up even on our worst days. Or…” She paused, her smile turning softer. “Or how you always wait up for me, even when you’re tired. And how you steal my hoodies but somehow make them look better than I do.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Paige nudged you playfully. “See? Smiling already. My plan is working.”

“You’re something else i swear” you murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said dramatically. Then, in a softer voice, “But seriously… I love you. And I’m always gonna be here, even when you’re feeling off.”

Your throat tightened—not with sadness this time, but with gratitude. Paige didn’t need grand gestures or fancy words to make you feel loved. She just knew you. Understood you. And that was enough.

You squeezed her hand. “I love you too.”

Paige grinned. “I know.”

You groaned, nudging her. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before turning her laptop screen toward you. “Alright, since you didn’t pick a distraction, I’m putting on a rom-com, and you have to deal with it.”

You shook your head but didn’t protest. Paige hit play, and soon enough, the movie was filling the room with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top romance.

But your focus wasn’t on the screen. It was on Paige—the way she absentmindedly played with your fingers, the way she laughed at all the dumb jokes, the way she kept sneaking glances at you like she was making sure you were okay.

And somehow, without you even realizing it, the heaviness that had weighed you down all day didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It didn’t fix everything. But sitting there, wrapped up in Paige’s warmth, her heartbeat steady against your ear, you realized something important.

Even on the hardest days, you weren’t alone.

And that was enough.

@melpthatsme hope u like it!

[harrypotterfuryroad]

“There is no evidence that one’s postnatal social environment plays a crucial role in gender identity or sexual orientation.” in the abstract, so i feel fine disregarding whatever else they have to say, but let’s keep going

“From the age of 3–8 months, girls were found to choose dolls over the toy-cars and balls that boys prefer [2]” oh wow, stereotypes treated as fact, awesome

“It is thus logical to propose that the sex differences in playing behavior originated in evolution before the hominids, and are imprinted under the influence of testosterone during our intrauterine development.” okay maybe, but that’s not what you’re trying to prove here

“A similar sex difference is seen in children’s spontaneous drawings. Girls of 5–6 years old tend to draw women, flowers and butterflies in bright colors, while boys prefer to draw more technical objects – soldiers and fighting, and means of transportation, in bird’s-eye view compositions and using darker colors.” as we all know, societal influence doesn’t actually start influencing people socially until age 7

“Atypical toy preference does, however, not necessarily prognosticate a gender-identity disorder in adulthood.” oops!

“According to Money, this child developed as a normal female. However, it later ensued that Reimer never identified as female, and that he in fact resumed his life as a male when he was 14 years old [36].” we are skipping over a looooot of what made john money’s work harmful but sure

“The most extreme gender-identity disorder is transsexuality.” ok truscum

“There is no indication of postnatal social factors being responsible for this disorder. On the other hand, only 23% of childhood gender problem cases will lead to transsexuality in adulthood [31].” rogd isn’t real unless it is, got it

“Abnormal hormone levels during early development may also play a role, as girls with CAH run an increased risk of becoming transsexual.” this is completely backwards, and ignores sociological factors. like of course girls who get seen as not girly enough will feel like they’re not girly enough, and trans identity is a one-step solution to that discomfort

anyway this whole study is based around finding a correlative biomarker, not a predictive one. they didn’t have a blinded study that tried to differentiate between a male brain, a female brain, and a trans identifying male brain (and they also didn’t mention if the trans people they included in the study were on hrt, how long they had been identifying as trans, or any number of other things that would be important to know here). like if they reran their analyses treating all the males as male, what would they see? this is basic data handling

and they also never touch on functional differences between male and female brains in the context of gender identity, they only highlight anatomical ones (which, as I’ve said numerous times, gives people a really easy way to check who’s “faking it” and is the progressive reinvention of genital checks)

“In addition, men are more likely to show physical aggression. They commit 89% of all murders and 99% of all sexual crimes [114],” thanks, keeping that ref in my pocket next time mras start crying at me

sorry but i’m just not interested in taking anyone seriously who tries the whole forced-teaming of sexual orientation and gender identity

(also try the condescending shtick somewhere else, i’ve published work in much better journals than frontiers in neuroendocrinology (including a voxel-based neuroanatomy study!))

do brain sex people ever apply that argument to other organs

like has anyone ever claimed to be a female left kidney trapped in a male body

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PLEASE I WANT A PART 2 OF THE STORY WHERE JAMES CHEATS ON READER, IT'S SO GOOOD.

A/n: I AM SO HAPPY PEOPLE LIKED THE FIRST ONE BECAUSE I LOVED IT also I started writing this in class and almost started crying

It shouldn't be too confusing I don't think but it might be trying to read it idk it made sense in my head

Warnings: Angst, reader is in a coma, James cheats on reader, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

James watched you bash your face into the asphalt, the blood pooled around you but you wouldn’t stop, even as he clawed at you, screaming and begging for you to stop, and he knew he was the reason for it.

Eventually you stopped and James laid over you, eyes filled with tears that streamed down his cheeks and soaked into your shirt. He wrapped himself around you, feeling as your warmth slipped from you in the cold of the night.

Unable to take it anymore he got you into his truck, the passenger seat where you always sat when he took you on late night drives. He went around to the drivers side and got in, taking your hand and turning the truck around to get to the closest hospital. Of course he lived outside of town and it was a long drive, he refused to look at you, not even a single glance. He wanted the last image of you in his mind to be your beauty, how happy…

It had been too long since he’d seen you happy, he could barely picture it now. The last time he remembered seeing you happy was a picture you’d taken alone. James was on tour, you were left home alone while he was picking up groupies here and there, and Kirk showed him a picture you’d sent him where you went for a hike. He saw that smile and a little part of him -he wanted to say it lit up but it didn’t, it made him furious seeing you happy. James saw that picture of you and wanted to tell you to leave. He loved you so deeply and knew he wasn’t good enough, he hoped seeing how happy you were without him would make you leave. He wanted you gone.

He squeezed your hand tighter as he drove, sniffling softly while babbling apology after apology, telling you how much he loved, how bad he fucked up. He kept driving, knowing this was goodbye. He wouldn’t look at you, he wanted his last sight of you to be alive. He wasn’t driving to save you, he was getting a declaration. Your hand was cold but you didn’t tremble or huddle up to him like you always did, even when he tried to make you hate him, you’d crawl in bed next to him, find him in his little ‘study’, craving his touch, attention, whatever you could get. Even though he was just yelling at you, it was attention.

He carried you in, he wasn’t moving with determination or speed, you’d be dead either way and he was broken and tired. You’d be dead if he ran and you’d be dead if he stood still. Yet your head rested on his chest, over his heart, listening to it beat. He was alive after everything.

James’s mind was a mess when he reached the doors to the trauma centre, he calmly asked someone for help and you were rushed away. It was his first glance at what you had left of a face; skin would be left torn on the road back home, your blood drying sticky around it. Your hair was matted and muddy, everything was covered in blood, including him, and he just stood there until someone got him onto a bed where they gave him a quick check-up and a change of clothes.

“She’s dead.” He muttered, the resident looking over him gave a wry look.

“Who’s dead?” She asked, looking over his chart.

“My girlfriend.” He said, looking up at the woman. “She’s dead, right?”

She stared at him for a while, trying to come up with anything to say. “We, uh, we can’t share patients' medical information with anyone who isn’t a legal family member.” She said, setting his chart down on the table beside the bed.

“I am her family, we live together, we tour together… her family’s not here, she’s coming home with me, she’s dead, right?” He said. He hadn’t meant to say you were coming home with him, because you weren’t, you were dead and you’d be sitting in the basement until your parents came and he’d have to tell them what happened and why you did it.

The woman looked behind her to another room, James didn’t know what it was and there was only a small window that didn’t show much of who or what was inside. The woman slipped away for a second and peeked her head into the room. The noise was muddled with beeping and people walking around. Everything moved slowly and nothing felt real anymore. James was floating in his mind, watching everything happen behind a screen. He laid his head back on the pillow and could almost feel you under him, thighs holding his head and hands holding his face while you smiled down at him.

The resident came back and lowered her voice to speak. “She’s critical…” She kept speaking but James tuned it out. Critical wasn’t good, but it meant not dead. You weren’t dead.

He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again, his breathing got heavy and he clutched the thin sheets tight in his fists. “She’s alive…” He muttered, repeating it over and over. The resident got a mask and held it over his mouth, he wasn’t injured but he needed a break, a reprise from this hell of being awake while you were dying in the next room over, where he could do nothing. The door to the room across the hall opened and a gurney was wheeled out right as James’s eyes closed.

“Jamie~” A voice purred. It was echoey and strange, calling to him from afar. “Jamie.” It repeated, clearer now. Your relationship passed his mind like flashcards, your smile, how shy you used to be and how warm you were, the meals you used to make together, how perfect you looked when you were sleeping in his arms. They quickly got darker, the night drives stopped, the face you made when he first started yelling at you -brows knit together and lips parted slightly, tears welling in your eyes as you fidgeted nervously with your hands- and the face you made when you got used to it -empty and expectant, you looked up at him because he got mad when you lowered your head, your shoulders slumped.

"Jamie." The voice came a last time. James finally opened his eyes and found himself in a white nothing, emptiness everywhere. His head was in your lap where it belonged, your fingers running through his hair while you smiled down at him. Even now he was crying, and he couldn't make it stop, he just stared at you, wetness rolling down his cheeks in cascades. "You're not supposed to be here."

James was quiet a moment. You were fine, and here, with him. "Where are we?" He asked, it wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to ask if you were ok, say he loved you, anything.

You looked around at the nothingness and shrugged. "Somewhere." James nodded but stayed in your lap, still crying but it didn't come through in his words, his voice and breathing were fine, he just kept crying. "You're not supposed to be here." You repeated, looking back down at James and wiping away his tears.

James reached up and held your hand to his face, feeling the warmth of your palm on his cheek for a moment. "Are you supposed to be here?" He asked hesitantly, waiting for your nod. He remembered what it looked like when you bashed your face into the concrete, how he reached to stop you to no avail. "You're not supposed to be here." He said, voice wavering slightly and he shook his head. "You-you're supposed to come home with me, alright? I'll take you home." He began to sit up but you pushed him back down, not with much force but it really didn't take much right now.

"I don't think I get to go home, James." Your own voice started to break now, lip quivering slightly. James shook his head again and sat up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight to him, holding your head to his chest.

"No, yes! Yes, you do. You will come home and be my baby, you're my baby!" He cried, using everything he could to hold onto you, every ounce of will and strength in his being. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, slowly losing himself in you. "I love you! You need to know that, I-I have to show you and you have to give me the chance!"

"James." Another voice called. There was a pressure on his shoulder, someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes and it was all gone, every bit of it ruined. You weren't in his arms anymore, instead it was a pillow he held tight, a tear rolling down his cheek and soaking into it again. "James, you're doing it again."

"Sleeping?" He grumbled, shooting a look over his shoulder.

It was a woman sitting on the other side of the bed. Your bed where you'd spent so many nights alone and crying for him while he was out. Out with her. "You scream in your sleep, if I'd known that I never would've agreed to live here." He never told her about you, about what happened and that you were in a coma.

James stared at her a moment longer before getting out of bed, tossing the pillow aside, and went to the closet where your clothes still were. "Do I get to hang my clothes up soon?" She asked, stretching in bed.

"No." He said. "Don't touch anything."

The woman watched him now as he changed, wondering why he'd changed so much. He used to be so fun, going on all night and buying her flowers, chocolates, whatever she wanted, now she was a cage in what was supposed to be her own house. "Why would you move me in here?"

James turned around, having gotten his clothes on now. He looked her up and down, seeing she was still naked from the night before. "You wanted to be my girlfriend, you wanted to live here, this is what it's like." He grumbled as he made his way to the door.

"I'm sure your ex would disagree, she got to hang up her stuff, at least." James stopped for a moment, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll ask her for you." He bit, swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind him. She had no idea what had happened to you, how your face looked, how James cried, how he visited you every day to make sure you were alright. Today was the day, he would come see you, he would talk to you, and he would beg and beg to anyone and everyone that was willing to listen you'd wake up, and if you didn't -he refused to say when- you would be taken off life support and he'd lose you forever.

[slutforwoo]

☆5. for fucks sakes☆

previous| masterlist|next

☆ written part below!! ☆

Walking into the library, you scan around looking for the most empty space. Just wanting to be alone after what happened in class. people around you took in the way you slam ur bag onto the round and slouch in the comfortable beanbag in the corner. Pulling out your laptop and chemistry book. Taking your headphones from around your neck and turning them on. Scrolling through your playlist you ended up playing ‘The Summoning by Sleep Token’

You feel the way the tears prick at your eyes. this wasn’t the first time this had happened but this time professor jin just took it too far. god you didn’t wanna cry. it’s such a stupid reason to but with the way everything has been you just couldn’t help it as u start to sob silently into your arms. you recalled what happened in ur head.

“Y/n do you want to not have a future or what?” professor jin stated as he stopped mid lecture to stare at your tattoo on ur arm that was showing due to your sweater riding up.

“I’m sorry sir what?”you stated in confusion as you were just taking notes on the lecture.

“That ridiculous thing on your arm. Your parents must be so disappointed to have a child that would throw away their future like that” he snarled at you eyeing you up and down

“My parents know about my tattoos. They paid for my first one” you said calmly trying to not get upset.

“Well then they’re failures at parenting. Just look at you. I’d disown you if you were my child” he said

and that’s when you lost it. you knew better than to say what u wanted to. which was to tell him he was an egoistic prick who clearly needs to be laid to get the stick out his ass. so you packed your things and simply walked out hearing him snicker as u did.

you shake ur head as you force yourself to read the book, memorizing every word through your blurry gaze. humming along to the song, focusing on what u were reading. reminding yourself to review what you read every couple paragraphs and writing summaries in ur notebook. it was a study trick yunho had taught you that actually worked. getting lost in ur studying, you didn’t hear yunho when he sat next to you

he let his gaze wonder you, seeing how puffy and swollen your eyes were. you were crying? why did the thought of it upset him so much. finally after just a couple more seconds of admiring you, he tapped your shoulder. the sudden touch made you jump and hit his shoulder as a reflex. and when you look up to see it’s him your eyes go huge.

“Oh my god Yunho i’m sorry you just scared the shit out of me”you pant lightning taking your headphones off and turned to face him completely.

“I didn’t realize you were that lost in the book Y/n” he chuckled lightly

“Well I was believe it or not, I could definitely take a pop quiz on thermodynamics believe it or not”you smiled at him

“Have you been using my study tips?” he asked raising an eyebrow at you.

“I actually have, see” you say rolling your eyes, handing him your notebook. he smiles as he sees the color coded paragraphs and titles, along with page cited examples.

“You know maybe you don’t need me. You're definitely smarter then you lead on y/n” he says handing you back your notes

“No I need you or I will not be surviving the rest of this year after exams. I will actually hunt you down if you stop.” You said whisper-yelling at the brunette across from you. “I’ll pay you extra if I need to, you just actually are really good at explaining things to me without getting frustrated. and you don't make me feel stupid when I don't understand.” you state looking him dead in the eye offering a small smile

yunho was a bit stunned by the appreciation you have for him. he feels a heat rise to his cheeks, laughing it off he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to pay me extra y/n, truly you don’t need to pay me at all, i’m just helping a friend”He said before continuing “Now lets study stoichiometry, I over heard prof talking about a quiz on it tomorrow”

you take him in, yea you guys were definitely friends. I mean your friend groups all know each other, so it's obvious right?

“okay okay, lets get this over with”

p☆rnst☆r tag list:

@roxhanah @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18  @kookieswithjung   @kcharlyy  @bloomyroses  @jiminssluttyminx  @fairy-jojo  @oceanside-view97 @domfikeluva @mountquokka  @frecklypotato

[asterafroditis]

Hello!

I’d like to request the octrio with an asexual reader. I’m not too picky, so whatever you see fit! Although preferably more on the romantic side please! (I don’t want reader to get rejected ghgjgk)

I get this may be a bit of an awkward ask, so please don’t feel pressured to do it! ❤️

𐔌 . ⋮ love beyond touch .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Azul, Jade, & Floyd x asexual gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 726 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

I'm actually aroace-spec so this wasn't awkward at all! I hope this exactly caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Azul would approach a relationship with careful consideration, analyzing every aspect like a well-prepared contract. When he realizes you’re asexual, his first instinct is to research—discreetly, of course. He’s not about to ask outright and risk looking ignorant. Instead, he gathers knowledge, ensuring he understands what it means and how to navigate your relationship in a way that makes you comfortable.

He might initially worry that he can’t provide what you need, but once you reassure him that your feelings for him aren’t contingent on anything physical, he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He shifts his focus to what he does best: crafting moments of intimacy through words, gestures, and acts of service. Azul is a firm believer that affection can be expressed in a thousand different ways, and he’s eager to explore every single one.

Romance with Azul means private dinners in his VIP room, soft words whispered over candlelight, and tender reassurances when his insecurities creep in. He thrives on quality time, and the simple act of sharing drinks while discussing your day becomes a cherished ritual. He may not always say it outright, but his actions speak volumes—whether it’s remembering your favorite dessert or slipping a handwritten note into your books.

"There are… many ways to express devotion, wouldn’t you agree? Physicality isn’t the sole measure of affection. I would be a fool to let something so trivial stand in the way of what we have."

─────────────────────────

Jade approaches your relationship much like he tends to his terrariums—patiently, attentively, and with great care. When you reveal that you’re asexual, he listens with quiet intrigue, nodding along as he absorbs your words. Jade is nothing if not adaptable, and the concept of romance without a focus on physicality doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

If anything, he finds it fascinating—one more layer to peel back and study. He never makes you feel like a puzzle to be solved, though. Instead, he takes your preferences into account and seamlessly adjusts, treating your boundaries with the same respect and consideration he gives to everything else. Affection with Jade manifests in quiet but meaningful ways: the way he subtly leans closer when you speak, how he shields you from the rain without a word, the lingering touch of his fingers when he hands you something.

Jade enjoys the thrill of deep conversations, and if romance is to be built on something other than physicality, then he will ensure it is rich in emotional depth. He asks thought-provoking questions, weaving discussions that leave you contemplating long after the conversation ends. If you ever feel insecure about what you can or can’t offer, he tilts his head and chuckles, his mismatched eyes twinkling.

"My, my, such concerns are unnecessary. If anything, I find it quite refreshing. Love, after all, is not bound by a single definition. Shall we discover what ours looks like together?"

─────────────────────────

Floyd has never been one to care much for rules or expectations, so when you tell him you’re asexual, he blinks once, twice, and then shrugs. “Okay! So?” It’s not that he doesn’t understand—it’s just that, to him, it doesn’t change anything. He likes you. That’s it. Simple.

He doesn’t treat you any differently, nor does he make a big deal about it. If you ever express worries about whether he’ll lose interest, Floyd pouts and dramatically flops over you like a beached eel. “You really think I’m that shallow? Sheesh, shrimpy! That hurts my feelings!” He’s an affectionate person by nature, but he’s also flexible—literally and figuratively. If you’re comfortable with certain kinds of affection, he’s all for it. If not, he simply finds new ways to show his love.

He thrives on shared experiences and quality time. Late-night walks, arcade dates, reckless adventures—he wants to make memories with you, not just go through the motions of what people say romance should be. He’s unpredictable, but one thing remains constant: his unwavering devotion.

"D’aww, don’t stress ‘bout stuff like that, shrimpy. You’re mine, I’m yours—that’s all that matters, yeah? Hehehe, now c’mon, let’s go do somethin’ fun! I’m bored!"

[anothermaletfwriter]

Hey broo, my gay nerd roommate was insisting me so much to go with him to a new library and I finally agreed to 'cause I was bored and maybe I would see a hot busty babe around to have some fun with, but ever since entering this library hes been really annoying me about some weird smell, like WTF bro??

You and your roommate, Gavin, never really got along. As the pinnacle of a straight alpha bro, you had weekly ragers at the Pi Alpha Phi house with your fellow Asian alpha bros. With them, you all worked out together every day, and brought home a different woman or two every weekend. While you had free time in your room, you often flexed and grunted in front of your mirror for hours, appreciating your masculinity and Adonis physique. You didn’t wear those unnecessary chemicals called deodorants because they would mask your alpha scent. But your musk needed to be out in the world to show you are a true straight alpha male, much to the constant complaints of Gavin.

Unlike you, Gavin was a puny gay nerd. Not an ounce of muscle on his tiny frame. Things were awkward between the two of you since you had nothing in common. He studied frequently in your room and spent the weekends all night watching his little gay shows, often an obstacle whenever you tried to bring a horny hottie with you home from the bars. He paid attention in class and asked unnecessary questions about the lecture while you spent most of the class time flirting with the women next to you and joking with your bros rather than paying attention to your expensive education. You threw parties like no one could while he read poems at open-mic night in gay lounges. Despite you inviting him to your parties on multiple occasions, he always declined, stating he’s not that type of guy. While you jerked your girthy long member to hot women with their bouncing tits and wet pussy on your phone, he played with his meager two incher to men fucking each other. It never bothered you but sometimes you wished he was a straight alpha bro like you. He was missing out on the many pleasures of being a straight alpha male: the woman, the domination and the masculinity. He was a good guy but you often hoped one day he would flip the switch and become one of the bros.

Today, you accompanied him to a brand new library, which only nerds like him could ecstatic about. The library was nothing different from any other libraries so as you entered, you scratched your head, wondering why he was so excited about this. Probably some stupid nerd academic shit.

You picked a table adjacent to a group of sorority girls, sitting with a front row view of them. Gavin sat opposite from you, his back turned from the girls. They wouldn't have interested him anyway.

While Gavin typed textbook notes away on his iPad, you were staring at the group of hot chicks, pretending to study on your laptop. Like you, they weren’t truly studying, having their expensive Macbooks out while they gossiped about the latest mean girl drama in their sororities. You were imagining fucking their mouths and sliding your dick between their breasts and in their pussies when your focus was shattered.

Gavin called out your name.

You panicked, thinking you were caught. Oh shit. You quickly redirect your focus to him and his concerned face.

Gavin wiped his glasses while covering his nose with his hand, “Owen, do you smell that?”

You shook your head. The only thing you could smell was the barely touched sugar-loaded coffee that the sorority girls had, “Sorry bro, you know I don’t do deodorant,” You say as you stretched your arms, flexing you did arms yesterday.

“It’s not that. It’s more nutty. I’m not allergic to nuts though.”

"Just ignore it. It'll go away."

"Sorry, I can’t handle it. My entire body feels like its glowing,” He coughed before running off to the bathroom.

While you entertained the idea of staying behind and flirting with the group of girls, you were more concerned about Gavin. After all, he was your roommate. As you followed him, you noticed how he had grown in height. While you recalled him being more than a foot shorter than you, he appeared to be at your height now. Strange. Why would it be strange since he was always as tall as you? You were certain he got taller and you weren’t seeing things as you noticed he outgrew his jeans with his shins showing.

By the time you caught up with him in the bathroom, Gavin was frantically splashing water on his face, shrieking quietly. His jawline was a lot sharper and angular, slowly resembling an alpha bro. His jaw was not always like that.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I can still smell it. I feel like I’m burning up,” Gavin stepped away from the sink. He looked at you, his face looking more masculine with hard facial features and angles. Cold sink water dripped down from his sharp chin, “Help me out here, bro," His voice dropping octaves as his Adam's apple bulged out.

“I got your back, bro,” You helped him take of his sweat-drenched hoodie, revealing the ill-fitting tank top underneath. You couldn’t help but believe your eyes as you watched the rest of his body transform.

The tank top that once draped loosely over his chest was being squashed by his inflating pecs and a hard six pack that poked through the thin material. He squeezed his solid chest as the growth continued in the rest of his body. His shoulders cracked as his once stick arms that lacked definition began to burst with muscle, pumping up his veins that fueled testosterone to his biceps, which he cockily flexed instinctively. His pits reeked of manly musk like yours. He filled up his pants as his calves exploded into mountains from rigid leg work while his glutes firmed up, no longer flat. You looked down on his crotch and noticed he actually had a bulge for once. You figured it was as long as yours, the perfect length and girth for breeding women. He flexed and admired his ripped body and the alpha sensation he was emanating, he pulled up his tank top with his hand sliding down from his firm pecs to his rock hard abs in a cocky display. He even traced the peaks of his biceps, squeezing it like he was checking if he was dreaming. He resembled an alpha like you but he wasn’t one, he was a nerd.

You no longer remembered the times you came home from a frat parties to him snuggled in his bed watching cute gay romance shows but instead he was jerking his extensive member to straight porn, notably the ones you had recommended to him. He was your best friend in university. But you guys were basically strangers with opposite interests. You shared the same classes together but it’s not like that mattered, as you two always goofed off with each other while ogling at the women. You recalled the excitement when you find out the both of you were accepted into your frat and the week long bender and bar-hopping you two went on afterwards to celebrate. In the gym, you two always had a competition to see who could bench press more, it was a 50-50 chance so your other bros would bet on you two equally. Every party, event and rager you attended had Gavin tag along. You didn’t even have to ask him to come with you. That’s how much of best bros you two are. Even the women you would share around together to use and breed.

He washed his face, leaving whatever was remaining of his homosexuality down the sink. He was now a total straight alpha bro like you. His pecs bounced as he walks towards you, placing a meaty hand on your shoulder, stating he was fine now and the smell was gone.

Before you two left the bathroom, he asked, “You think we can bring those sorority girls sitting behind me home?”

“Of course, bro. You don’t have to ask” You patted his muscular back.

“Just asking, bro. You’re the expert of doing it after all.” He let out an extended, douchy laugh and so did you do.

You left the bathroom with your straight alpha best friend roommate with the successful goal of breeding those sorority girls. There was no friendship better than this. It was up to you and him to assert your dominating nature in the world and conquer women and fill them with your alpha seeds.

[maddie0101]

𐚁 chapter three: signs we can’t ignore

𐚁 summary: dean tries to fix things but it doesn’t go according to plan.

𐚁 warnings: jealous reader, idiots, small injury, both can’t think straight, tension, slight fluff?

𐚁 word count: 3.3k

series masterlist previous chapter next chapter

The morning sun filtered through your curtains, casting golden rays across your room. The warmth should have been comforting, but all it did was remind you of the fire that had burned in your chest the night before.

You had gone to bed with his words still echoing in your mind, and now, as you lay staring at the ceiling, you hated that he was the first thing you thought about when you woke up. Your fists clenched against the sheets as irritation flared up all over again.

Dean could be infuriating. One minute, he was your best friend—the person who had always been by your side, who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, who could read your moods better than anyone. And the next? He was acting like he had some kind of claim over you, like you were incapable of deciding for yourself who you spent time with.

You shoved the blankets off and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet pressing against the wooden floor. Maybe if you and Dean hadn’t been friends for so long, things might be different. Maybe you wouldn’t feel this stupid pull toward him, this constant ache in your chest whenever he looked at you a certain way.

You ran a hand through your hair with a frustrated sigh before pushing yourself up. There was no use sitting around overthinking. You had work to do.

The air was thick with dust and tension. Practice had been going for over an hour, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t the usual easygoing rhythm of competition. No, today the air felt heavier—charged, like a summer storm brewing on the horizon.

You ignored Dean. And he ignored you right back. Or at least, that’s how it started.

The usual back-and-forth, the teasing jabs, the small, comfortable moments between drills—it was all gone. In its place was silence, clipped conversations, and stolen glances neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

You threw yourself into training, forcing your focus onto your riding, your turns, your speed. Anything to keep your mind off the man standing just a few yards away, hands on his hips, jaw locked, looking about as frustrated as you felt.

Dean was stubborn, but so were you. And if he wanted to play this game, fine.

But after another hour of dancing around each other, Dean finally caved.

You were tightening Whiskey's girth strap when you heard the familiar crunch of boots behind you. You didn’t turn around, didn’t acknowledge his presence, even as his shadow stretched beside yours in the dirt.

“Alright, this is stupid,” Dean said, voice low, exasperated. “We gonna keep doin’ this or are you gonna yell at me and get it over with?”

You gave Whiskey a pat and turned to him, arms crossed. “I don’t feel like yelling, Dean.”

He studied you for a long moment, green eyes searching, before he sighed and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, I was an ass last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

You raised a brow. “Which part? The part where you basically called me naïve, or the part where you acted like I can’t make my own choices?”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Both,” he admitted, and to his credit, he looked like he meant it. “I just—I don’t like seein’ guys like Evan all over you, alright? It rubs me the wrong way.”

“That’s not an apology, Dean. That’s just you doubling down.”

He sighed again, shoulders tense. “I am sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

You eyed him for a moment longer, weighing his words. Finally, you let out a breath and gave a small nod. “Okay.”

That was as much of a truce as you were willing to give. Dean seemed to take it, but the tension didn’t fade. Not really. Because even after the apology, things still felt off.

Dean kept stealing glances at you—more than usual. And the usual teasing and banter? It never came. Instead, your conversations were brief, almost mechanical, and with each passing minute, your frustration only grew.

Not just with him, but with yourself.

Because no matter how hard you tried to move past it, you felt him. Every damn second. His presence was like a weight pressing into your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. And when you caught him staring at you—his gaze unreadable, something guarded and intense behind his eyes—it only made things worse.

So when you saw him walking toward another woman at practice, it threw you completely off balance.

Dean had been standing by the fence, watching you, when one of the girls from the roping team approached him. You didn’t recognize her, but you sure as hell noticed the way she smiled up at him, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as she spoke.

Dean turned to her, said something that made her laugh, and something inside you twisted. You hated it. You hated the way your stomach clenched. Hated the way your chest burned. And most of all, you hated that it distracted you just enough to make a mistake.

The moment your focus slipped, Whiskey hesitated at the third barrel, and you lost your rhythm. Your boot caught the edge of the stirrup wrong, and before you could recover, your balance wavered—just enough to send you slipping sideways.

You hit the dirt hard, a sharp sting shooting up your arm as the impact jarred your shoulder.

A few people called out, but you were already pushing yourself up, ignoring the dull ache as you dusted yourself off. Your pride hurt more than anything.

From across the arena, Dean was already moving toward you, his expression unreadable. But before he could reach you, you turned on your heel and walked off toward the stables.

You couldn’t deal with this right now. Not with Dean. Not with your own feelings. Not with any of it.

Dean didn’t know what the hell to do.

You had been distant all damn morning, and now, after your fall, you were avoiding him completely.

He had seen the way your expression shifted when you caught him talking to that girl, the way your body tensed before you went into that last run. And then you’d gone and gotten yourself hurt because of it.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him. He didn’t do feelings. Not like this. Not when it came to you. For years, you had been his best friend, the one constant in his life that never wavered. But now? Things were shifting, and it was making him antsy.

Because you weren’t supposed to look at him like that. Like he could actually hurt you. And now, every time he tried to talk to you, you just brushed him off. The more you pushed him away, the more his frustration built.

Finally, he had enough. The next time he saw you near the stables, rubbing your shoulder absently as you tended to Whiskey, he marched straight toward you, jaw set.

“You gonna keep runnin’ from me all day, or are you gonna tell me what’s actually wrong?”

You stiffened but didn’t turn around. “Not now, Dean.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re the one who doesn’t feel like talkin’? That’s rich.”

You let out a sharp breath and turned to face him. “What do you want, Dean?”

“I wanna know why the hell you’ve been givin’ me the cold shoulder all day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” Dean crossed his arms. “One minute we’re fine, next thing I know, you’re actin’ like I ran over your damn dog.”

Your nostrils flared. “Maybe because I’m tired, Dean. I’m tired of you acting like I don’t know my own damn mind. Tired of feeling like I have to prove myself to you. Tired of—”

You stopped yourself before you said too much. But Dean caught it.

His gaze darkened, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “Tired of what?” he pressed.

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head as you turned back to Whiskey. “Forget it, Dean. I have to meet my dad back at home in ten minutes." You made up and excuse to get away from him, not realizing the hurt look written all over his face as you led Whiskey back into the trailer.

The next day at practice, the air between you and Dean remained thick with unspoken words. You were still ignoring him—not entirely on purpose, but because every time you looked at him, you were reminded of the argument, the tension, and the way he had been acting lately. It was easier to avoid him than to deal with the confusion brewing inside you.

So, you kept your distance, or at least, you tried to.

The sun hung high overhead, scorching the dirt beneath your boots as you moved around the arena, lost in thought. Your mind was running in circles, replaying every moment from the past few days—the way Dean had looked at you the other night, his frustration, his protectiveness, the way his voice had held something different when he spoke to you.

And just when you were about to push those thoughts away for the hundredth time, your foot caught on something.

One second, you were upright. The next, the ground was rushing toward you. But before you could hit the dirt, strong hands grabbed your waist, steadying you with ease.

Your breath hitched as you felt the firm, familiar grip pulling you back to safety. The world stilled, and suddenly, all you could focus on was the warmth of Dean’s hands on you, holding you close.

His fingers pressed into your sides, sending a strange, electric sensation through your skin—straight to the exact place on your wrist where your soulmate tattoo would one day appear.

The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before—like a gentle pulse, a warm tingle that sent a shiver up your spine. And from the way Dean suddenly froze, his grip tightening just a fraction, you wondered if he felt it too.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Your eyes locked, and the rest of the world faded away. Dean’s gaze was intense—greener than the fields after a spring rain, deep and unreadable, but filled with something you couldn’t quite place. His breath was slow and steady, but there was something in his expression, something new, that made your stomach flip.

Then, without even realizing it, you smiled. A small, unguarded smile that slipped past your frustration, past your stubbornness, past everything that had been weighing you down.

Dean’s lips parted slightly, his expression softening as he took you in, like he was seeing the sun after days of stormy skies. It was the first time he’d seen you smile in days. And damn if he didn’t love your smile.

His eyes traced the curve of your lips, the way the corners lifted just slightly, and for a brief second, he forgot how to breathe.

You noticed the way he was looking at you—like you had strung the stars across the night sky just for him—and heat rushed to your cheeks. You quickly turned your head before he could see the full force of your blush, but he caught a glimpse anyway.

Dean’s hands stayed on your waist for a second too long before he finally let go, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he stepped back.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You needed to get out of there.

“I—uh—I should get back to work,” you stammered, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you took a step back.

Dean’s brows lifted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but he nodded instead.

You turned on your heel and left without another word, your legs moving faster than necessary, needing space to think, to breathe, to process whatever the hell just happened.

You slipped into the stable, finding an empty stall to lean against as you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the erratic beat of your heart.

The touch. The warmth. The look in his eyes.

It was too much. And the worst part? You liked it. You liked the way his hands felt on your waist. You liked the way he looked at you, like you were something precious. You liked the warmth that had spread through you when his skin touched yours.

But that wasn’t supposed to happen. You reminded yourself. Dean was your best friend and he had a soulmate out there, waiting on him to find her. Someone who wasn't you.

Your fingers brushed over the skin of your wrist—the same spot where that strange, tingling warmth had spread through you.

That’s probably where your soulmate tattoo would appear. It had to be. It was like your body was telling you, whispering a truth you weren’t ready to face.

But had Dean felt it too? Felt that same electric current, that same warmth, that same pull?

You shook your head, forcing yourself to push the thought away. No. It wasn’t possible.

You still didn’t even have your mark. You were just overthinking it, that's all it was. Just… overthinking.

And yet, as you stood there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you and Dean had shifted.

Dean couldn’t sleep. No matter how many times he flipped onto his side, his back, his stomach, he couldn’t get comfortable. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to shut off.

He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, shadows stretching across the walls as moonlight filtered through the curtains. His muscles were tense, his thoughts running wild, tangled in knots he couldn’t untie.

Damn it.

All he could think about was you. The way you'd smiled today. That soft, breathtaking smile that had made his chest tighten. The warmth of your skin under his hands when he caught you earlier, the way his whole body had reacted without thinking. The way their eyes had locked, the moment stretching between them, charged with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Then, there was that damn tingle on his wrist. He didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t want to know. Because if he let himself believe it meant something, let himself hope that it was a sign…

That would be dangerous.

Because what if—what if—when your mark finally appeared, it didn’t match his? The thought crushed him. Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

He was in love with you. Hell, he had been in love with you for years, hadn’t he?

It had been there, buried beneath the surface, hidden under teasing grins and late-night rides, in the way he always looked for you first in a crowded room, in the way he felt more at home with you than anywhere else.

And now, it was all unraveling. Because now, he knew. And he couldn’t shove it back down anymore.

But what the hell was he supposed to do? You were his best friend. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose. And yet, he wanted you more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Dean groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed air. But instead of walking outside, his feet carried him straight to his truck.

Straight to you.

You were just about to crawl into bed when a soft knock at the door made you freeze. You frowned, glancing at the clock.

Midnight. Who the hell was knocking at this hour?

Heart hammering, you grabbed the baseball bat you kept by the door—just in case—and peeked through the window. Your breath caught.

Dean stood on your porch, hands shoved into his pockets, staring down at the ground. The porch light cast a golden glow on his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrow in his brow.

Slowly, you opened the door. “Dean?”

His head snapped up, and for a second, his eyes flickered with something unreadable. Then, his gaze dropped—right to what you were wearing. Your breath hitched as you realized you were standing there in a pair of soft cotton shorts and a small tank top, your usual sleepwear, but it somehow only left little to his imagination.

Dean swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he quickly averted his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I’d be getting a visitor tonight. Otherwise, I would’ve changed.”

Dean let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh—yeah. Sorry. I just…” He exhaled sharply. “I needed to see you.”

Something in his tone made your heart stutter. You stepped aside, silently inviting him in. Dean hesitated before stepping past you, hands still jammed into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. You closed the door behind him and turned, watching as he paced across your living room. His movements were restless.

You crossed your arms. “Dean, what’s going on?”

He stopped. Then, finally, he looked at you. And damn if the look in his eyes didn’t nearly knock the breath from your lungs. There was something raw there—something vulnerable.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you, Y/N.”

You blinked. Dean took a step closer.

“I never meant to hurt you. I was just… worried. I know I was an ass, but I—” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “I should’ve never said what I said. I was just scared of someone hurting you, but that wasn’t an excuse.” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

Your chest ached at his words.

“I don’t know how to fix this, but I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured.

For a second, you just stared at him, watching the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

Then, slowly, you shook your head. “You don’t have to, Dean.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I forgive you.” A soft smile tugged at your lips, small but genuine.

Dean’s breath hitched. And then, for the first time in a long time, he let himself look at you. Really look at you. The glow of the lamp cast a soft light over your face, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones, the way your lips curled just slightly at the edges. Your hair was tousled from the day, and you looked… beautiful. So damn beautiful it made his chest hurt.

He had always known you were beautiful. But right now, standing in the quiet of your home, barefoot and bathed in the golden light, you were breathtaking.

And that was dangerous. Because you weren’t his. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Dean swallowed hard, shoving those thoughts down.

He forced himself to smirk, his usual defense mechanism kicking in. “You always this easy to forgive people, sweetheart? Or am I just special?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re definitely not special.”

Dean chuckled, but there was something softer in the sound this time. Something warmer. And for the first time in days, the tension between you both didn’t feel quite as heavy.

But as you stood there, inches apart, the air still buzzed with something else—something unspoken. Something neither of you were quite ready to say. Not yet. So, instead, you smiled again.

And Dean? Dean memorized the moment. Because no matter what happened—whether or not fate decided to brand you both with the same mark—he knew one thing for sure.

He was completely, helplessly, irrevocably in love with you.

And he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.

author’s note:

I’m sorry for the short chapter guys :( I hope you still enjoyed reading! I promise things are about to ramp up! It’s a little slow in the beginning but things are about to take a sharp turn 😅

tags:

@i-love-ptv @lieutenantchaos @hollywoodxrose @pressedwater @aylacavebear

@bonbonnie88 @lori19 @muhaha82 @freeluigihesbae @muhahaha303

@itsdearapril @sevendevilsinmyimpala @ladysparkles78 @bejeweledinterludes

@supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell (idk if you guys would like to be tagged in this series or just one-shots but lmk! I didn’t want to leave yall out)

If you would like to be tagged please fill out this form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Two: The Past Comes Full Circle

Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds as [Reader] sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through notifications.

A message from the old class batch group chat caught her eye.

“Aviation Academy Batch Reunion – Tomorrow! RSVP now!”

Her thumb hovered over the message. A reunion?

She hadn't kept in touch with most of them. Some, she had good memories of—friends who supported her through the grueling academy years. Others? Not so much. There were a few who made her life difficult, like her.

Liana Reyes.

The self-proclaimed queen of their batch, always flaunting her family's wealth and belittling anyone she deemed beneath her. She used to mock [Reader] for her simple clothes, her quiet nature, and her relentless focus on studies instead of chasing popularity.

But things were different now.

[Reader] smirked, tapping the RSVP button.

Let’s see how everyone turned out.

—

The reunion was held at an upscale hotel, the banquet hall buzzing with chatter and laughter as people reconnected. The space was decorated in warm golden hues, and waiters moved gracefully through the crowd with trays of champagne.

[Reader] walked in, confidence in every step. She wasn’t flashy, but the way she carried herself—poised, self-assured—turned heads. She wore a sleek yet simple black dress, paired with heels that gave her just the right amount of height. Her makeup was subtle but polished, her hair styled effortlessly.

She didn’t need to announce herself.

People noticed.

Conversations quieted slightly as eyes turned toward her, whispering among themselves.

"Is that [Reader]?"

"She actually looks… good?"

"No way. I thought she’d be some workaholic mess by now."

Liana, dressed to the nines in an expensive but slightly overdone outfit, practically beamed as she strutted toward [Reader], champagne glass in hand.

"[Reader]! Oh my God, it’s been years! I was so excited to see how you turned out," Liana gushed, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"You and me both," [Reader] replied smoothly, tilting her head.

Liana’s smile twitched, but before she could continue, one of [Reader]’s former friends—Marissa—spoke up, voice laced with fake concern.

"Wow, [Reader]. You look so… well off. What happened? Did you get a sugar daddy or something?" She giggled behind her glass, others around her chuckling in amusement.

[Reader] didn’t even flinch. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips.

"That’s funny, Marissa," she said, tilting her head. "I heard you’re the one dating a married man."

Silence.

Marissa’s face paled, and the group exchanged nervous glances.

"You should be careful throwing around accusations," [Reader] continued, voice light but cutting. "Especially when your business is all over social media."

Marissa sputtered, gripping her glass tighter. "T-That’s not—"

Before she could retaliate, a deep voice cut through the tension.

"What’s going on here?"

All heads turned toward the entrance, where Caleb stood.

He had just arrived, dressed in his usual semi-casual look—dark jeans, a button-down, and that effortless pilot confidence that made people naturally gravitate toward him. He scanned the room, his sharp gaze landing on [Reader].

And for the second time in two days, she saw it.

Surprise.

Recognition.

The realization finally settling in.

"You," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

She raised a brow. "Me."

His lips quirked into a small smirk before he turned to the room. "Alright, let’s all sit down. I came here to eat, not witness a reality show."

People chuckled nervously, the tension breaking as everyone slowly moved to their seats. Caleb, however, strode toward [Reader] and took the empty seat beside her.

"You didn’t tell me we were classmates," he said, resting his elbow on the table, leaning slightly toward her.

"You didn’t remember me," she countered, sipping her drink.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I feel like an idiot now."

"You should."

He turned to face her fully, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "So, were we friends back then? Or just… strangers?"

She met his gaze, considering her answer.

"We weren’t strangers," she said finally.

He studied her for a moment before smiling, like he was realizing there was more to their story than he ever knew.

And this time, he wasn’t going to let her slip away unnoticed.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART TWELVE

a/n: this is a long one because i realised i accidentally skipped a few chapters of the story, so ive put all of them together 💋

summary: thanos was supposed to ruin you—not fall for you. what started as revenge turned into obsession, jealousy twisting in his gut every time you went back to myung-gi. he doesn’t want to share you. he wants you to be his. but when you finally ask him what he really wants, for the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing, oral (thanos receiving), p in v, car sex

bad investment masterlist

Thanos had seen you that night—pressed up against the car, letting Myung-Gi take you right there, out in the open, where anyone could see. And worse? You enjoyed it.

The way your body arched into him, the way you moaned for him like you meant it—like you actually fucking wanted him.

It pissed Thanos off in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Why the fuck did he care so much? He knew what this was. Knew he was technically sharing you with your boyfriend.

But fuck that.

He didn’t want to share you. Not anymore.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

You weren’t supposed to be letting that loser touch you—not after the way Thanos had touched you. Not after the way you had melted for him, moaned for him, let him ruin you.

That shit was his.

But what did this mean? Thanos had never cared this much about a fucking girl before.

It was annoying. Frustrating. A problem he didn’t know how to solve.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Nam-Gyu snorted when Thanos brought up his tangled mess of feelings.

Thanos scoffed. “Jealous of MG Coin?” He let out a sharp laugh. “Why the fuck would I be jealous of him when I fuck his girlfriend?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, unimpressed. “Because she’s his girlfriend,” he said, like it was obvious. “You’re pissed that you have to share her.”

“I’m not jealous. I don’t get jealous.”

Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his vape. “Then what the fuck are you?” He leaned forward slightly, studying Thanos. “Because last I checked, you were supposed to record a video of you slutting out his girl, but instead, you’ve been dragging it out—fucking her over and over like you don’t actually want to let her go.” He tilted his head. “So if it’s not jealousy, then what is it?”

Thanos clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

Maybe it was jealousy.

“What the fuck do I do then?” Thanos muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Nam-Gyu exhaled slowly, leaning back. “I don’t know, bro,” he shrugged. “What do you even want from her?”

Thanos let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t fucking know.”

Nam-Gyu studied him for a moment before asking, “Are you mad that she’s fucking Myung-Gi? Or would you be pissed if she fucked literally anyone else?”

Thanos paused, rolling the thought around in his head. He knew the answer immediately, but saying it out loud felt like admitting something he wasn’t ready to.

Still, he gritted his teeth and said it anyway.

“Nah. I don’t want her fucking anyone but me.”

Nam-Gyu smirked, tapping his vape against the table. “So… you wanna keep her?”

Thanos scoffed. “She’s not a fucking pet.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nam-Gyu muttered. “You’re acting like some territorial motherfucker who just found out his toy can be taken away.”

Thanos didn’t argue. He didn’t have a defense.

Because he did want to keep you. Maybe not in the traditional sense—not in a boyfriend-girlfriend, let’s-hold-hands-in-public kind of way. But the thought of anyone else having you made his blood fucking boil.

“She wouldn’t leave him for me,” Thanos muttered, almost to himself. “She’s with him for a reason.”

Nam-Gyu raised a brow. “And what if that reason disappeared?”

Thanos looked up. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, watching Thanos with amusement. “I’m just saying… We could kill him.”

Thanos shot him a dry look. “Yeah, genius plan. And then what? Rot in jail?”

Nam-Gyu chuckled. “Relax, man. I’m joking—kind of.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “But for someone who doesn’t do relationships, you’re taking this shit real serious.”

Thanos clenched his jaw. “I never said I wanted a fucking relationship. I just don’t want her with Myung-Gi. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Nam-Gyu let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re gonna steal a girl from her boyfriend, refuse to date her, and still expect her to stay loyal?” He shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, let me know how that works out for you.”

Thanos stayed quiet, jaw tight, Nam-Gyu’s words rattling in his head long after they left his friend’s mouth.

Was he being stupid? Maybe.

But the thought of you with anyone else made his skin crawl. It wasn’t even just Myung-Gi—though that pissed him off the most. The idea of some random asshole having you, touching you, hearing the sounds you made when you came—fuck, it made him sick.

And that was a problem.

Because he wasn’t supposed to care this much. You were just a means to an end. A way to get under Myung-Gi’s skin, to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. But now? It wasn’t about Myung-Gi anymore. It was about you. About the way you let Thanos take you apart like you were made for him. About the way you looked at him, like you knew exactly what he was doing but still wanted more.

It was fucked up. It was possessive. And it was only getting worse.

If he was smart, he’d record the damn video, drop it in Myung-Gi’s lap, and be done with it.

But Thanos wasn’t feeling very smart these days.

———————

Thanos’ text came through at the worst possible moment. You had been trying to keep it together with Myung-Gi, pretending everything was fine while your mind raced with thoughts of him. The last thing you wanted right now was to face what you were about to do, but there was no avoiding it.

The message was simple: “I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding your chest. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before, but this time it felt different. You’d been spending more time with Myung-Gi lately, trying to make the relationship work because, well, you didn’t have much of a choice. Not after he didn’t let you break up with him a few nights ago.

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull towards Thanos. There was something about him—something dangerous, raw, and irresistible.

“Hey,” Myung-Gi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing? You seem kinda off.”

You looked up at him, forcing a smile. “Nothing, just tired. I’m fine.”

But the lie didn’t come as easily as it once did. He didn’t seem to buy it either, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

“I don’t know…” He hesitated, but then continued. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Is it because of what happened the other night? Are you thinking of dumping me again?” His voice was low, almost playful, but you knew him too well. His paranoia was surfacing.

“No, Myung-Gi,” you said quickly, a little too quickly, even to your own ears. “It’s just work stressing me out.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged it off. “Alright, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, and his attention returned to his phone as he laid back on the couch. Your eyes flickered back to your phone screen, and there it was again—the message from Thanos, blinking in your notifications.

“I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

You wanted to say no. You should say no. But you could feel the temptation gnawing at you. You had told yourself before this—Thanos—was just a phase. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You were craving something more, you had been long before you met Thanos. Craving something Thanos could give you, and Myung-Gi never would.

You glanced over at Myung-Gi, still distracted by his phone. He hadn’t looked at you the same way in a while. Maybe he knew you were pulling away, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you had a chance—just a little one.

You stood up, pulling your phone out of your pocket, debating what to do. You didn’t have an excuse prepared. He’d never let you leave this apartment without a reason.

Think fast.

But then, in the back of your mind, you knew what to say. The lie was simple, easy enough to sell.

“I’m just going to grab something from my car,” you said, your voice casual, as if you did this every day. “Be back in a minute.”

Myung-Gi barely looked up. “Alright, just don’t take too long.”

You nodded, relief flooding you. You grabbed your keys and slipped out the door before he could say anything else, the weight of the moment settling in as you made your way down the stairs.

By the time you reached the car, your heart was racing, but there was no turning back now.

You opened the door to Thanos’ car without hesitation. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed you. No words were needed. You didn’t even need to say anything—he already knew.

The second you slid into the passenger seat, Thanos could already see it in your eyes—you needed it.

“Lock the door,” he muttered, barely getting the words out before you were climbing over the console, straddling his lap like you had no time to waste.

“Missed you,” you whispered, lips grazing his neck as you rolled your hips against him, and fuck, he could feel how warm you were even through your clothes.

But all he could think about was what he’d seen the other night. You against Myung-Gi’s car, letting him fuck you right there in public like you didn’t have a damn ounce of shame.

It made his blood boil.

“Yeah? You missed me?” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back so you were looking him in the eye. “That why you let him fuck you against his car like some cheap slut?”

Your eyes widened, lips parting like you wanted to deny it, but you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you just whimpered, your thighs squeezing around him.

Thanos scoffed. His other hand slid between your legs, pressing against your cunt through your shorts. “Bet you didn’t suck him off first, though. Bet you don’t get on your knees for him.”

His fingers curled, dragging the fabric tighter against you, making you gasp.

He smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He let go of your hair, pushing his seat right back, shoving you down onto your knees between his legs. The car was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, but he could still see the desperation in your eyes as you fumbled with his belt, like you were starving for it.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, leaning back as you freed his cock, your breath warm against his skin. He grabbed the back of your head, guiding you down. “Come on, señorita. Show me how much you missed me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

The second your lips wrapped around him, he groaned, his grip tightening in your hair.

“That’s right,” he murmured, watching as you took more of him, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. “Bet you didn’t look this pretty for him, huh? Bet you didn’t let him fuck your throat like this.”

You moaned around him, sending a shiver up his spine. His jaw clenched.

He hated the thought of you with Myung-Gi. Hated the way he saw you against that car, taking him like you liked it. Like you actually enjoyed letting that loser use you.

But this? Right here? This was his.

He tugged you off him, your lips glossy, your breath heavy. “Look at you,” he sneered, thumb swiping at the spit on your chin. “So fucking eager. Do I make you feel that good, baby? Or do you just like being treated like a slut?”

You licked your lips, eyes hooded. “Both.”

His cock twitched. “Fuck,” he exhaled, tilting your chin up.

He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a condom. “Come here.”

He pulled you back onto his lap, yanking your shorts to the side, not even bothering to take them off. He was too impatient for that.

He lined himself up, teasing your entrance, making you whimper.

“Go on,” he rasped. “Show me who you really belong to.”

Thanos barely gave you a second to adjust before snapping his hips up, burying himself deep inside you. You choked out a moan, hands flying to his shoulders as you tried to keep yourself steady.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands gripping your waist, forcing you to take every inch. “You take anything I give you with a smile on your fucking face, don’t you?”

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with pleasure as he fucked up into you, the car rocking slightly with each thrust. Your fingers dug into his arms, nails raking over his skin.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he watched your face, loving how wrecked you looked already. “Tell me, baby—am I better fuck?”

You whimpered, nodding your head.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneered, smacking your ass, making you jolt. “Poor guy probably thinks he’s got you all to himself, huh? Thinks you’re his loyal little girlfriend while you’re down here letting me fuck you in my car.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the sheer filth of it making your walls tighten around him.

Thanos smirked. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He pressed his forehead against yours, hips snapping harder, making you cry out. “Fucking whore, getting off on cheating on him.”

You barely had time to react when he suddenly stilled. His grip on your waist tightened, and his eyes flicked past you, narrowing.

Then, before you could even ask what was wrong, your phone lit up on the dashboard.

Where the fuck are you?

Your stomach dropped.

Thanos exhaled a sharp laugh, nodding toward the window. “Look who’s looking for you, señorita.”

You twisted your head, heart pounding as you saw Myung-Gi wandering around the parking lot, his phone in his hand, his head on a swivel.

“Shit,” you whispered, ducking down, pressing your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

He hummed, smug. “You gonna sneak back upstairs, or risk getting caught with my dick inside you, hmm?”

You cursed under your breath, snatching your phone off the dashboard, fingers flying as you typed out the first excuse you could think of.

‘Went to grab a coffee, be back soon.’

You hit send, praying he wouldn’t question it.

Thanos chuckled darkly, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you back up to look at him.

“You really think he’s gonna buy that?”

You swallowed, feeling your phone buzz again. Myung-Gi’s reply popped up.

‘Hurry up.’

You sighed in relief.

Thanos smirked. “Guess you got away with it this time.”

Then, before you could even breathe, he gripped your hips and thrust.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he started fucking up into you again, harder this time, his grip bruising.

“But next time, baby?” His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and full of promise.

“I might just want you to get caught.”

———————

The bass thumped deep in your chest, neon lights flashing overhead as you weaved through the packed bodies of Club Pentagon. You could already feel the heat of the night clinging to your skin, your blood buzzing from the drinks you’d downed, the energy in the club electric.

But none of that had you on edge.

No, it was him.

Thanos had been watching you since the second you stepped inside. His gaze had burned through the crowd, dragging over your body like a physical touch, making you hyperaware of every inch of skin your dress left exposed.

And the best part?

This time, you told him you’d be here.

It wasn’t like the other nights where he just showed up out of nowhere, finding you when you swore you’d been careful. No, you sent him the text. You told him Myung-Gi wouldn’t be here.

And Thanos had made damn sure to take you up on the invitation.

Now, he leaned against the bar, watching you from across the room with that lazy, half-lidded look that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t flirting with anyone else—he was just standing there, waiting.

Waiting for you.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, your pulse hammering in your throat as you turned back to your friend, pretending like you weren’t about to do something reckless.

But you could feel him.

Feel his gaze tracing the hem of your dress. Feel the way his jaw tensed when you laughed at something your friend said. Feel the heat of his stare as you threw back the rest of your drink, a silent challenge sparking in your chest.

You ran a hand through your hair, tilting your head just enough to catch his eye across the dance floor. Your lips curved into a small, knowing smirk before you turned away, pushing deeper into the crowd.

It didn’t take long.

Within seconds, you felt him behind you.

His chest brushed your back, his hands sliding low over your waist, fingers pressing into your hips as he leaned in close.

“Real cute,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm. “Trying to make me come find you.”

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you rolled your hips back against him, feeling the sharp inhale he took behind you.

“Didn’t have to look very hard, did you?”

His fingers tightened, and you barely had a second to catch your breath before he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall beside the DJ booth.

His hands flattened against the wall on either side of your head, his body crowding into yours, and suddenly, the music felt muffled.

All you could hear was him.

“You did this on purpose,” he said, his voice low.

Your lips parted, heat curling in your stomach at the intensity in his eyes. “Did what?”

His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he glanced down at your dress. “This. Wearing that. Telling me you’d be here.”

You exhaled a slow breath, tilting your chin up. “Maybe.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “You know I can’t keep my hands to myself when you pull shit like this.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Thanos cursed under his breath, his restraint snapping as he grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitched, your hands sliding up his chest as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over yours. “I should make you pay for that little stunt you pulled at the bar,” he murmured. “Acting like I wasn’t gonna come claim you the second I saw you.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, heart racing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His smirk was downright lethal.

Then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

His lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth and need, and you gasped, your back arching against the wall as his hands gripped your ass, lifting you just enough to feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh.

It was reckless. It was stupid.

And you didn’t give a single fuck.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, drinking in the way he groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just how he liked.

The music pounded around you, the crowd oblivious, but you could feel eyes on you.

And you liked it.

Thanos broke the kiss just long enough to nip at your jaw, his teeth grazing your pulse. “Tell me to stop,” he muttered against your skin.

You didn’t.

Instead, you rolled your hips against him, chasing the friction. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His breath hitched, his grip tightening. “Fuck,” he growled. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, angel.”

A shiver ran through you at the pet name, but before you could respond—

A movement caught your eye.

Across the room, a familiar face turned in your direction, his brow furrowing.

Your stomach plummeted.

One of Myung-Gi’s friends.

Fuck.

Thanos followed your gaze, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Who’s that?” he murmured, his tone suddenly sharp, all the teasing from earlier gone.

You swallowed hard, trying not to panic. “One of Myung-Gi’s friends,” you whispered, your nails digging into the front of Thanos’ shirt. “I’m so fucked.”

Thanos’ jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the guy’s movements.

The friend wasn’t looking directly at you anymore, but he had definitely seen something. He wasn’t heading for you—not yet—but he was still in the club, still close.

“Is it bad that part of me wants him to find out?” you said, voice barely cutting through the pounding bass.

Thanos’ brows pulled together, his grip on your waist tightening. “The fuck are you talking about?”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I tried to break up with him.”

His expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Figured if I’m cheating on him, I shouldn’t be with him, right?” You let out a humorless laugh. “But he wouldn’t let me.”

Thanos’ face hardened. “What do you mean, wouldn’t let you?”

You swallowed, shrugging like it was nothing, even though you could feel the way Thanos’ body tensed. “I don’t know… he just talked me out of it. Made me feel bad.”

Thanos scoffed, shaking his head. “He talked you out of it?” His voice was laced with irritation. “So what—you tell him you’re done, and he gives you some sob story, and now you can’t leave?”

You stayed quiet.

That was exactly what had happened.

Thanos let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s fucking cute.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a goddamn idiot.” His hand slid lower on your waist, fingers digging in possessively. “You think he gets to decide whether or not you leave him? That’s not how this works, baby.”

You exhaled sharply, glancing around, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were to him, how easily his body caged you in. “It’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple,” he interrupted. “You don’t want him? Fucking leave him.” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. “You wanna keep sneaking around with me, or you wanna be mine for real?”

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering in your ears. You knew he wasn’t asking because he was some lovesick fool.

You didn’t answer, and Thanos exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Then at least act like you belong to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

“So what?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “I dump him, and then what? You gonna play boyfriend? We gonna play house?”

Thanos tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You wanna play house, baby?” he hummed.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I want to know what the fuck you really want from me.” Your voice was sharp, demanding, but beneath it, there was something else—something unsure. “Because I know you don’t actually care about me, so what is it, Thanos? What do you really want?”

Thanos looked at you—really looked at you.

This was supposed to be for revenge. That was the whole fucking point. Get close to you, fuck with Myung-Gi’s head, then ruin him. Simple.

But staring at you now, with that fire in your eyes, the way you challenged him like no one else did, he didn’t know what the fuck this was anymore.

This was messy. He was messy.

Because if this was just about revenge, why did it feel like his stomach was in knots every time you spoke? Why did he hate the idea of you leaving Myung-Gi only to be with someone else? Why did he keep pushing, pulling, keeping you close instead of just taking what he needed and leaving?

Why did it feel like no matter how much he touched you, it was never enough?

Thanos exhaled, his jaw tight. He wanted to say something cocky, something smooth, but the words didn’t come. Because for once in his fucking life, he didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know.”

[aboutcustardcreams]

Time. I want more time.

Summary: Rio finds you, or rather you find her. But things don't go as planned. They simply can't. And when together with Nicky and Agatha, you make her an offer, one so tempting, so impossible to refuse, it makes Rio forget why she should. So she takes it. Just for now, just for this moment, Rio -not Lady Death- allows herself the thing she’s denied for so long. Time.

a/n: I’m so, so sorry it’s been so long! As I mentioned before, I was busy studying for a public competition, which I finally took a couple of days ago. On top of that, I came down with the flu, which slowed me down a lot. But I’m feeling much better now, so here I am!

I hope there aren’t too many typos or mistakes—I didn’t reread but I'll do it latr today (let’s be honest, it is very on brand for me at this point). Anyway, I hope you like it! ❤️

previous chapter

They gave her a job, a very specific one, that clashed with every fiber of her cosmic being. Only then did Rio realize why mortals loathed and resented her so much, why each and every time she showed up to collect a soul, all she saw was fear and despair swimming in the eyes of those whose life had sadly come to an end. 

Lady Death always found a way to justify herself, until now. She persuaded herself into believing that those who feared her were just… ignorant to the real purpose of her visit. She was meant to be welcomed as a friend and not dreaded as an enemy. And some did see her that way, as a release, a quiet mercy. But most didn’t. Most couldn’t. And now, she could see why. 

Rio couldn’t help but wonder, what kind of balance was she trying to achieve by condemning you to years of torment. What good was to the world if she made sure you suffered for having used your power to save your child? She searched for the meaning of it, but this time she failed to see it. 

The Fates had been outraged, that was the truth. The punishment  she was meant to inflict to you had nothing to do with what was fair and what wasn’t. 

She sighed deeply, as she leaned against a tree. Was it better to warn you or to do it, from night to day? Should she speak to Agatha? Should she show up at all, or complete the task hidden in the shadow?

She brought her hands to her face and then rubbed at it, out of sheer petulance. She inhaled and exhaled shakingly. Silent tears welled up in her eyes then slid down her cheeks like a raging river, the moment her eyelids fell shut. 

Rio couldn’t do this to you, without granting an explanation. She couldn’t distort Agatha and Nicky’s life by acting behind their back and yours. 

Then she heard it, a voice, one she had been allowed to listen to, from the fragile veil between the two realms. She froze before crunching down behind the tree she laid on to stay put. Quickly she wiped her eyes, before tugging her hood over her face. Silence was one of her crafts. Death could come unexpectedly, like a hurricane as well as softly and subtly like the faintest whisper of wind. And now, despite the tragic drumming of her heart, she was the latter. She had to be. 

“I’m so full, mama,” she heard Nicky say, with a sigh, though by the tone of his voice, she caught how satisfied he actually was. 

A smile tugged at her lips, small, yet sincere. 

“I can see that,” Agatha mused, her blue eyes flickered from him to you, “your stomachs are like bottomless pits.” 

Your head lolled to the side, kinda dreamy. “But the lamb stock was so good, Ags.” Agatha rolled her eyes at that. She wasn’t there to deny that, her point was another. “I know that, but you had three refills, my love. Three–” she repeated, playfully elbowing at you. 

You stuck your tongue out at her in response. 

Rio watched the interaction unfold, struggling to keep her soft side at bay. She tried to see you as another task to complete, and as soon as she did that, she cursed herself because you simply were not. To separate her love for you from the things she had to do against you was impossible. 

Before meeting you and Agatha, her job was relatively easier– if not completely, it was at least partially bearable. Without emotional ties, her tasks were just that: assignments to be completed, objectives to be met. But you weren’t one, and you could never be.

“I had four!” Nicky squealed, catching her attention once again. You turned towards the boy, and so did Agatha, whose eyebrows shot up. “My, my, four you say–?!” Playfully, you draped an arm around his middle, pulled him snug against your side. His back bumped into you and before he could react your fingers found his tummy, wiggling silly. “I wonder how all that food fits in this tum-tum of yours, lil champ!” 

His reaction was immediate. Laughter burst from Nicky as he squirmed and squealed, his small hands pushing at yours but to no avail. Agatha watched with a fond smile, her eyes glimmered to the sound of her son’s giggles mingled with yours.

“I’m a grown up now, mama–” he protested between laughs. “I can eat more than both of you, if I want to!” 

“Oh-ho, hear that, Ags?” You leaned in, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to the top of his head before finally setting him free. She hummed, a playful sound slipping past her lips. “We’ve got a tween on our hands–”

Nicky braced his hands on his knees and bent forward to collect his breath. But the glimmer in his eyes gave it away– he was happy, perhaps the happiest he has ever been. 

He could have it all now: a long life ahead, his mothers by his side and no more battles to fight. Rio’s hands turned into fists, her nails dug in so hard she ripped at her skin, but she felt no pain. The only ache– the most painful and persistent inhabited inside her chest. Nothing could top the feeling of her heart turning darker little by little. 

Agatha grimaced, brows furrowing in feign disappointment. “Well, it’s a shame really–” she rummaged through her nosebag, quickly catching the boy’s attention. And yours. His eyes locked onto her hands the moment she pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth. She peeled it back, revealing two soft oat cakes, still warm, their golden surface glistening under a thick glaze of wildflower honey. They looked delicious. Nicky felt his own mouth water at the scent they emanated. “I was going to give you these later today as a snack, but since you’re a big man now, perhaps you’d rather donate them to younger children?””

His brows furrowed, his mouth parted ajar, ready to protest, but you were faster. 

“Or–” you rolled your tongue, drawing closer, eyes on them. “I could eat those.” 

Agatha should have known. “You’re worse than him,” she mused, keeping the oat cakes at a fair distance, giving you an innocent push. 

An impish grin tugged at your lips, before you giggled, “you do call me baby girl, don’t you?” 

Agatha snorted out a chuckle as she glanced at you. Her eyes spoke louder than any words. “This is not the appropriate context…”

You played dumb, “is it?” 

Nicky, completely ignoring your staring contest, decided to interfere. “If mama can eat those, so can I,” he reasoned defiantly. 

Oh yes, your boy was sharp. 

“His logic is airtight,” you admitted with a nod. 

A toothy grin played out on his face, one of victory. 

“Fine, fine,” Agatha snorted in defeat. “Both of you can have it. But later– unless you want a serious stomachache now.” She put the treats back in her nosebag, silently enjoying the way your lips turned into a slight pout, matching Nicky’s. It took all her willpower not to pounce on you two and pepper your faces with sloppy kisses. 

“We can wait, right kid?” 

Nicky nodded promptly, muttering a soft ‘I guess’, before resuming his walk, trotting ahead and busying himself searching for pieces of wood. 

You and Agatha remained a few steps behind him. It was peaceful. It was everything you always wanted. 

You were looking for a spot to settle down for the night, but in the meantime, something caught your attention. There, on the forest floor, nestled against the green of the leaves, were clusters of red berries. Their deep crimson skin gleamed, looking so smooth, plump and perfect, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Something about them felt off, though. You crouched down, fingers grazing the soft, delicate surface of one berry. You squeezed one between your fingers and then leaned in, inhaling it softly. There was something faintly bitter underneath its apparent sweetness– like decay. It made you wince.

“Are there any good?” Agatha asked, lowering herself to crouch beside you.

Her hand brushed a strand of hair from your face behind your ear and when she did she caught the way your nose scrunched up. 

“I’m afraid not, unless you’re eager to lose your sense of taste,” you hummed, discarding the berry and wiping your fingers on a large green leaf lying there.

Agatha chuckled softly, with a shake of her head. “Pass.” 

“Thought so,” you grinned, pulling yourself up. 

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

You met her gaze, the subtle shift in her tone inevitably caught your attention. “That not everything is as it seems?” 

“Yes,” she began, leaning in just a fraction closer, so that her warm breath crashed against your cheek, tickling your skin and making your stomach flutter. “But also that something so good looking, juicy and rich like those barriers can also be potentially… lethal.”

You couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle at that, your head dipping with amusement. You got the feeling it wasn’t just the berries she was talking about. Nicky, a few steps ahead, was too engrossed in his own task to notice the conversation going on between you and Agatha, his back turned as he collected wood and pines. 

“Are you calling me lethal, Ags?” You said, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in. 

Unable to resist, she pulled you by your hips, her eyes bore into yours and you saw a flicker of arousal swim within them. There was hunger there, barely restrained. One you understood very well, because it was similar to yours. 

She hummed, her hands squeezed your hips, fingers kneading slow, deliberate circles. Each stroke of hers sent a shiver running up your spine and goosebumps to rise over your arms. Her breath ghosted over your lips, so close it made your skin tingle. “No, not lethal.” She shook her head. 

You swept your tongue over your mouth, and her eyes followed there helplessly. She wanted to claim you, pull you close and devour you right then and there, but the sun was too high in the sky. And then there was Nicky… “But easy to fall for, yes.”

You bowed your head, a quiet chuckle slipping past your lips. One Agatha found herself going mad. When your eyes bore into hers again, only a second passed before you kissed her. Agatha exhaled, her mouth parting instinctively as her eyes fluttered shut. Yours did, too. A soft hum vibrated in your throat when she deepened the kiss, drinking you in like the succubus she was. Your hands cradled her face, fingers threading into her hair as you tilted your head, surrendering to her. Her tongue crashed against yours, teasing, chasing, until she caught the very tip between her teeth, giving the lightest, most maddening nip. 

You couldn’t help the faint little chuckle that slipped past your lips, one she promptly reciprocated. “You’re being unfair now,” you whined, before laying your forehead against hers. “I– we can’t do this now.”

A flicker of amusement danced in her gaze, as she inhaled deeply in your scent, “I know, but perhaps when the night falls–” her breath was hot on your skin. 

You nodded way too quickly. “I’d like that,” your voice came out hoarse, “please,” you added eagerly. 

Agatha smiled against your lips, her fingers still tapping at your hips. “Such a good baby girl for me,” she closed the distance between you one more time to give you a gentle peck on your lips. She used that pet name on purpose, knowing the things it did to you, especially in such intimate contexts. 

“Ags–” you whined, but before you could say anything else, a sound came to your ears. It felt like a crunch in the grass that interrupted, gladly or less so, it depends on how you see it– the moment between you and Agatha. You three turned, but not at the same time. Nicky had noticed a slight movement coming from a point in the distance, a glimpse of a green cloak, one vaguely familiar to him. 

Before you and Agatha could tell him to wait, he trotted in that direction. 

Rio could have disappeared. With a snap of her fingers, she could have. She should have. But what was the point? She was never a coward and she clearly wouldn’t start now. For once, in centuries, Lady Death felt like she needed the contact– a physical one. Looking at her family in the eye, and enjoying a glimpse of normality she always wished for herself. So she stayed. 

She came out of her hiding spot, and took her hoodie off, a soft smile tugging at her lips. 

You and Agatha froze, eyes widening but for different reasons. 

Nicky’s face lit up as he ran to her. “Rio! It’s you!” 

With a chuckle, she caught him in her arms, and buried her face into his hair, while he nuzzled underneath her chin, “my dear– It’s so good to see you.” 

For a moment, time itself seemed to hesitate. It was as if Death and the very essence of Life had met halfway. It felt so right. Rio and Nicky there, together. Your eyes watered, a single tear slipped down your cheek but you wiped at it before it could wet your chin. 

Beside you, Agatha tensed up, her magic flickering at her fingertips. One wrong word, one bad movement and you knew she would have snapped. Her magic stilled when you reached out and curled your fingers around hers. She looked at you, brows furrowing, a plea in her eyes. She was conflicted, you knew that. Honestly, who better than you could, after everything you went through?

“Don’t– she’s not here to hurt him,” you reassured her, voice soft and kind.

“Moms!” Nicky called out, as Lady Death pulled him down, ever so gently.  His hand in hers as he dragged her towards you and Agatha. “It’s her! She’s the woman I told you about! I found her!” 

He looked so happy, your heart swelled. When he let go of her hand, he ran to you and pulled at your clothes, barely containing himself. 

Rio didn’t say anything, she waited for you and Agatha to do so first. 

“Rio,” saying her name felt like finally taking a breath after being underwater for ages. 

She turned, hazel eyes bore into yours with such a raw intensity, you felt the need to get even closer. She looked at Agatha too, with the same love and… what you thought being regret. Guilt gnawed at you as you did, memories of your last encounter came back to you like a hurricane. You had treated her unfairly, let yourself be fuelled by harshness– so deeply foreign to your person and pushed her away. 

“I’m sorry for-”

“I need to apologize for–”

Realizing you had talked at the same time, a soft laugh slipped past your lips. She smiled, instead, eyes flickering towards Agatha, catching the moment she started nibbling the inside of her cheek. You caught a gentle blush coloring Rio’s cheeks, when she turned to you once again and your expression softened even more. 

“You first,” Rio muttered softly. 

You rubbed at Nicky’s back, still clung to your side before speaking, “I shouldn’t have said those things,” you started, your voice barely above a murmur. “And I’m sorry I’ve been cruel to you. I regret pushing you away… it was selfish– you were as scared as Agatha and I were and–” you swallowed a lump in your throat getting bigger and bigger.

Rio’s face fell, her brows furrowing. “No, no, shhh, it’s okay–” She was quick to cut the distance between you. “

Nicky looked up at you, a pout forming on his face, recognizing you were this close to crying. “Mama–?”

You inhaled a deep shaky breath. Your eyes flickered to him, “it’s okay, my love,” you smiled, softly but sincerely. “I’m just– emotional. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, because you indeed were. However, there was more to it: things you weren’t ready to confess to your son. 

The sight of your lip quivering, only caused Rio’s heart to feel heavier. Agatha wasn’t doing much better, but she resisted, she had to. With one hand atop Nicky’s shoulder, she kept the other in yours, thumb gently tickling your palm as a way to reassure you. 

“I never blamed you for a second. Not you, Agatha…” A bitter smile ghosted her lips as she shrugged. “What other choice did you have?” she murmured.

It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows. 

“You had no choice either–” you croaked out. 

“Yeah, I s’pose.” Rio pursed her lips, trying to offer a smile, but it wavered, tilting into something closer to a grimace. “It’s okay now. No hard feelings,” her attempt at teasing worked quite well, because you chuckled. Weak, quiet, but real. And for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The ache remained, but it was softer now, dulled just enough to breathe. 

Agatha scoffed. She knew the pull Rio had on you, knew it because she felt it too. But unlike you, she couldn’t let herself be swayed. She needed more time, proof that it was safe to let the guard down now. No catches. No hidden prices to pay. She wanted to ask, she wanted Rio to be straightforward about her intentions, but sadly that was not the right moment, not with Nicky listening to the conversation. 

When Rio reached out a hand towards Agatha, she whimpered without meaning to. The image of the four of you gathered so closely– closer than ever before, was a lot even for her. She hated how she loved it. She hated how much it terrified her: to be shown something she wasn’t sure she could keep for herself, for Nicky and for you. She swallowed, blue eyes boring into hazel ones, searching, digging deep, trying to find clues, anything, pleading even. 

"I know this is hard for you– I see you trying, and I appreciate it. Truly." Rio said, her voice thick with emotion. You smiled at Agatha, it was encouraging, lovingly. "What you’ve done here—” Rio’s eyes flickered to Nicky, then. Her hand grazed at his cheek. “It’s nothing short of a miracle. And I couldn’t be prouder."

Agatha could have answered with one of her usual bitter remarks, but decided against it. 

Instead, she shot you a teasing look and said, “she did all the work, but insists on giving me the credit, too.”

An amused scoff slipped past your lips, as you rolled your eyes. “We talked about this, Ags–” 

“No kidding,” her remark caused Rio to barely stifle a chuckle. 

“Wait–” Nicky, his brows furrowed, mind racing, found himself bubbling with a very important question, his mouth parted, before he finally asked, “so, you do know each other?” 

A watery chuckle slipped past your lips, as you nodded. Agatha’s smile grew and so did Rio’s. Of course he would have noticed by now, considering you and Rio were talking as if there was a history and indeed there was one. There was no point in lying on that part now, wasn’t there?

“Yeah–” you confirmed, with your hand resting atop his shoulder. “Guess we know the same Rio after all–” 

“What were the odds, huh?” Agatha added, her gruff voice taking on a note of fondness. 

“There aren’t many like me,” Death teased lightly. 

Agatha folded her arms to her chest, “thank the stars for that–”

You shot her a playful elbow, despite knowing full well there was no real bite behind her remark. And Rio– she, too, knew better than to take offense. Agatha and you noticed the way she tried to hide her amusement, by pressing her tongue against her cheek. A thing of hers. 

Nicky grinned. In his perspective, this coincidence only made things easier for you to get along. “My moms and I were looking for you.” 

Lady Death frowned at his words. “Oh?” Her tone held a note of surprise, though she stopped herself from asking why. She had a feeling you’d give her the answer soon enough.

Nicky glanced up at you, as if searching for the right words. His wish was simple: he wanted Rio to be with you all. And while you knew it wasn’t that easy, that it couldn’t fully happen, not when Rio’s duty was unlike any other, you still hoped to find a compromise. 

And as for Agatha– she wasn’t sure what scared her more. The fact that Rio might actually stay, or the possibility of another betrayal coming from her. Because unlike you, she didn’t forget. She wasn’t even sure you did, to be honest. Perhaps you simply pushed the thought aside because you were desperate for some peace and quiet. Some normalcy in your life. And quite frankly, how could she blame you for wishing such a simple thing? 

Rio had mentioned a price to pay that night. So if you wanted to let your guard down, then fine, she would have to be the one with a clear head, ready to have your back. To fight, if necessary. 

When you spoke, Rio’s heart clenched in a way that almost hurt.

“We were hoping you’d… tag along,” you murmured, so softly you weren’t even sure she heard.

But Rio did. And it stole the breath from her lungs. Not that it could kill her– but it almost felt like it. She looked at Agatha for further confirmation, only to find her nodding at your words. 

“I know you’re busy,” you continued, hesitating, your fingers curling slightly at your sides, as a way to cope with your own jitters. Because yes– there was the possibility that your request would be denied. That your hope would burn out as easily as it came to  light. “I know your job is part of who you are, but—” You turned, searching for Agatha’s eyes and your heart pounded even faster when she looked at you in a way that made you feel seen and protected. “But you’re also needed here,” you pressed on, your voice steadier now. “With us. You’re not just your job, Rio. And I hope you know… you’re so much more.”

Rio didn’t say a word, she couldn’t trust her own voice yet. She had shown up with a purpose, one certainly less flattering than yours. She curled her fingers into fists, and inhaled. She almost thought the Fates did this to her, manipulated yours and Agatha’s mind into asking her such a thing. And quite frankly it wouldn’t surprise her if that was true. Only to make her suffer more. Only to make her task even more impossible to be carried out. 

“I–” she hesitated. She wanted this. She really did. 

Nicky tugged at her cloak, with adorable impatience. “Please–” he half whined. “There’s no need to hide. No need to meet in secret anymore. We can be your family–” The way he said that, with such simplicity, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, affected you three at the same time and with the same force. 

You, Agatha, Rio and Nicky. A family. A real family. 

You reached out, cupped her cheek and stroked her skin ever so gently. “What do you say? Want to give it a try?” 

She leaned in, lips a few millimeters from your face, eyes staring at your lips. She loved your hope. And she would absolutely hate it to be the one taking it from you. 

To her surprise, Agatha drew closer, too. Gently, almost absentmindedly, she reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Rio’s ear. And for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to truly look at her, not as the witch, and even less as Lady Death. But as the woman beneath it all, who never truly stopped, not even once to be hers and yours. 

“Make it right,” she added, and before you and Rio could ask her what she meant by that, she continued, “for us and for you. Just– for the love of the gods, make the right choice,” she finished, her voice barely above a whisper held a pinch of urgency.

Rio let out a quiet scoff, her smile touched with something almost amused—almost, but not quite. The right choice, she said.  She had made choices before, choices that defied fate itself. And if she had to do it again—if it meant giving you all something, even if just for a little while—then to hell with it. Her hands were still tied, but she could live with that a little longer. 

Her gaze flickered to Nicky, something unreadable passing through her eyes. She knew– Hell, she knew this choice would break her. But it wasn’t just about her. It never was. You all needed this. 

So she made up her mind, by offering you the same thing she once did.

“I’d very much like that.” 

Time. She could only offer time. 

“That means–?” Agatha began, head lolling to the side, suspicion warring with hope in her eyes.

“That I’ll stay.” She confirmed, her voice trembling as tears welled, faster than she could blink them away. “If you all will have me.” 

You smiled. Nicky cheered. Agatha swallowed hard, then nodded. The answer to that couldn’t be clearer.

[aylacavebear]

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 5

A/N: Today is my birthday. So, I'm posting this today for all of you. I like to do fun things for others on my birthday and throughout the year. This is my gift to all of you, the next chapter early. <3 Enjoy.

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 4525

Warning: Angst, longing, some Fluff. Not much that I can think of.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5

A slow, lopsided grin broke across Dean’s face, utterly wrecked by the sound of your voice. It hit him like a punch to the gut—warm, knowing, inevitable.

Across the room, Jess stood frozen, staring at Sam, who looked just as thunderstruck. Recognition flickered between them, their past colliding with their present. Jess had always noticed him, the boy she’d wanted to talk to but never had. For Sam, she was the girl he’d been too shy to approach, graduating before she ever presented. And now, fate had pulled them back together.

“Looks like our families just got a little bigger,” John murmured to your parents, his voice carrying the weight of years spent hoping for this moment.

“Looks like it,” your father agreed, while your mother pressed a trembling hand to her lips, her eyes glistening.

A teasing voice cut through the heavy silence from the other side of the living room. “Are you four just going to stare at each other all day?”

Heat rushed to your face as you and Jess snapped out of it, giggling like teenagers. The sound was enough to break the spell, letting the brothers breathe again—just barely.

Sam cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can, we, uh… talk outside?”

Jess shot you a giddy look before smirking at Sam. “Yeah. She’s not everyone’s cup of tea,” she teased, throwing an arm around you in a quick hug. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Jess,” you hissed, mortified, but she only chuckled before slipping her hand into Sam’s and leading him toward the door.

Dean didn’t notice. He hadn’t stopped looking at you.

“I don’t bite,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.

Dean blinked, finally shaking himself loose from whatever had him trapped in place. “Yeah, I, uh…” He exhaled sharply, shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure if he should move closer or keep his distance. “Sorry.”

Sorry—for staring, for not knowing what to say, for the way his chest ached just from being in the same room as you.

Dean had been around plenty of omegas before. But you—your presence, your scent, your everything—were something else entirely.

And for the first time in his life, he had no clever remark, no easy charm. Just the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and the certainty that he had just found something he never realized he was missing.

Tilting your head slightly, you studied him, wondering what was running through his mind. “Would you rather we spoke outside?” you asked gently, just wanting him to be comfortable.

Dean shook his head again, then cleared his throat, finally forcing himself to move. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure you were real,” he admitted, easing into the seat Jess had vacated. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, urging him closer, but he ignored it—your comfort mattered more than his instincts.

You settled back into your chair, noting the distance he kept. He could have sat beside you, but chose to face you instead. Perhaps he wants to be able to look directly at me. “Your father mentioned you were going through something, when he was here earlier,” you said, your voice laced with quiet concern. “Is everything okay? Is there something I could do to possibly help?” 

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, your sincerity both unexpected and endearing. “When I’d come back in the mornings and shift back... your scent clung to me. It sort of drove me crazy because I—” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I don’t remember anything when I shift.” He tried to find his usual confidence, but the words still felt awkward, like he was tripping over them.

Your brows knitted together. “Why can’t you shift back or remember things?” 

Before he could answer, you blinked, realizing something. “Oh! Would you like some coffee?” You winced at the oversight, feeling like a terrible host.

Dean chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head in quiet amusement. You weren’t like other omegas—there was no hesitation, no shyness, just you, unfiltered and real. It was refreshing.

“Coffee sounds nice,” he murmured, watching as you moved effortlessly around the spacious kitchen. He leaned back in his chair, finally starting to relax. 

“I have a genetic mutation,” he explained after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It happens sometimes to alphas in my pack. When I shift, I stay shifted ‘til sunrise, and I don’t remember anything.” His gaze flickered to yours, gauging your reaction. “But… the upside is any pups I father will have immunities to certain diseases and things.”

You set a cup of coffee in front of him before taking the seat beside him. “Will you ever get those memories from when you shifted?”

Dean took a breath, steadying himself. Your closeness tugged at something deep inside him—his wolf stirred, pressing at the edges of his mind, drawn to you. But he held himself still, not wanting to push, even as your scent wrapped around him like a whisper of something familiar and longed for. He’d been around plenty of omegas before, but none had ever unsettled him like this. You were his. His true mate. His body knew it, his wolf knew it, and yet, he had no memory of the nights spent at your side. 

God, get a grip, he mentally berated himself.

The tips of his ears burned as he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhh… yeah. I mean, kind of.” He let out a rough chuckle, almost embarrassed. “My true mate has to claim me before I’ll remember.” Saying it out loud made it real in a way that sent his pulse skittering. Omegas didn’t usually claim alphas, not the way an alpha claimed an omega, anyway.

Your expression didn’t shift the way he expected. No shock, no discomfort. Just quiet understanding. “So, you’re kinda like me,” you murmured, lacing your fingers together in your lap. “I have a genetic mutation, too, but mine’s a little different. I can only smell presentation, can’t shift during the full moon, and… I can’t feel that connection my soulmate would feel being near me.”

It was something you’d always carried like an invisible weight. But telling him? It didn’t feel heavy—it felt like something finally lifting off your shoulders.

Dean stared at you, completely caught up in the way you spoke—gentle yet playful, confident yet soft. God, he could listen to you talk all day and never get tired of the sound of your voice. It was like some heavenly melody that soothed not only him, but also his wolf. When you tilted your head, confused by his silence, he blinked, trying to snap out of the trance he was in. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed at himself for getting lost in your eyes, again. “So, to you, I just smell like an alpha?” he asked before taking a sip of his coffee, trying to wrap his head around that.

He couldn’t imagine not recognizing the distinct scents of his pack, not feeling them in a way that tethered him to something bigger. His wolf whined softly in his mind, unsettled by the thought. “That… sounds lonely,” he admitted.

You studied him for a moment before offering a small, reassuring smile. “I grew up with it, so it never felt like I was missing anything. My pack comforted me with physical contact instead of scent. And I had Jess. She’s like my sister.” 

Dean nodded, but the thought still lingered, gnawing at him. He tried to imagine it—living in a pack without scenting the safety and warmth of the people around him. It was foreign, but the way you spoke about it, there was no bitterness. Just acceptance. 

“Wow,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I honestly can’t imagine what that would be like.” But there was something in his voice—something quiet and earnest—that made your smile linger.

The two of you talked for hours, the conversation stretching on like neither of you wanted to stop. Even though you’d spent the last several years speaking to his wolf, none of those memories belonged to him. So you shared them, watching the way his eyes softened, the way he leaned in slightly every time you spoke. 

He told you about his childhood, about his brother and his pack, about the kind of trouble he and Sam used to get into. And every time he made you laugh, something in his chest eased—like he was getting back something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

Time unraveled between you, stretching and folding into itself, lost in the quiet gravity pulling you toward each other. The hours ticked by, as time often does, the afternoon slowly melting into evening. Golden light slanted through the windows, setting his green eyes aglow. It had all just flowed so easily, his entire body relaxed so much so that he wasn’t tripping over his words anymore.

“Would you let me cook dinner for us?” you asked, hoping he’d stay, just a little longer.

Dean’s gaze flickered over your face, as if memorizing the moment before it could slip away. Then, that slow, easy smile spread across his lips. “Dinner sounds amazing,” he murmured, voice rich with something unspoken. 

Neither of you had noticed when the others had left, how the main cabin had emptied around you. The world had faded to just this—this space, this stolen pocket of time where nothing else existed. 

Outside, one of your cousins leaned against his truck, a knowing smirk on his lips. “So, your place or his?”  

You smacked him on the shoulder, shooting him a glare. “Seriously?” 

Dean’s wolf didn’t bristle at the interaction, both finding your behavior somewhat adorable. A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips as he shook his head in amusement. “Hers. She offered dinner, and what kind of mate would I be to refuse such an offer?”

The word mate sent heat rushing to your cheeks before you could stop it, and your cousin barely contained a laugh, though he knew better than to push. Without another word, you made your way to the truck—only to freeze when Dean stepped ahead of you, opening the door with a quiet, effortless chivalry.

Your breath caught when he held out his hand.

The moment stretched between you, charged with something neither of you had the words for yet. Slowly, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver up your arm. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet careful, as if he wasn’t entirely sure if you’d let go.

During the short drive, he wanted so badly to move closer, maybe just hold your hand, but he was trying so hard not to rush into anything. Even his wolf kept trying to nudge him to get closer, missing the closeness the two of you had shared during the full moons. Now, there was nothing separating the two of you.

“Come on,” you said with a smile, stepping out of the truck.

Dean followed without hesitation—not like a lost pup, but like a man who had finally found what he had been missing. His wolf stretched within him, content in a way it hadn’t been in years.

The cabin welcomed you both with the stillness of a familiar sanctuary. The air smelled like you—faint traces of your scent woven into the wood, the very bones of the place. It settled around him, comforting, but not enough. His wolf still wanted closer. 

Your parents were nowhere in sight, but a note sat waiting on the kitchen table. You plucked it up, scanning the familiar handwriting before huffing a soft laugh.

“Looks like my parents are going to stay in another cabin for the night,” you murmured, shaking your head before glancing at him. A small, almost apologetic smile tugged at your lips. 

If you were being honest, you understood exactly why your parents had left. Most soulmates bonded within hours of meeting—nature pulling them together in an unshakable, undeniable force. Yet, despite the quiet certainty of your connection, you didn’t feel that same urgency, due to your mutation. 

Dean leaned against the doorframe, watching you with cautious curiosity. He wasn’t sure why that simple statement sent heat creeping up his neck until realization struck. God, her parents think… he couldn’t finish the thought, his ears burning. His mind hadn’t even gone there. 

He cleared his throat, searching for something to ground himself. “So, whatcha gonna make?” he asked, leaning against the doorway as you moved toward the fridge. 

“It’s a surprise,” you teased, pulling out ingredients with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

The room hummed with quiet, steady warmth. Being here, watching you, being near you—it was so damn easy. Now walls, no tough guy act, just the quiet, unshaken truth of your presence. He hadn’t expected this. The pull, yeah, he’d expected that. But the calm? The peace? That was new.

And yet, even as he basked in it, something gnawed at the edges of his mind. You weren’t feeling this same way was. He knew that, had known it from the moment you looked at him without that same electric urgency. His wolf knew you, but you—

You were steady. Measured. Not resisting, but not swept away either.

His fingers curled against the wood of the doorway. It should’ve bothered him, that difference, that lack of mirrored need. Instead, it made his wolf want to comfort you in the ways he had on the nights of the full moon, being close to you.

Having him there, cooking for him, was something you’d only ever dreamt about. Cooking for your mate. The butterflies were still dancing around in your stomach, but it wasn’t nerves, and that alone felt impossible to explain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only woman in the world to him.

Before he even realized it, he stepped forward, his hands moving instinctively to help as you prepped the food. Neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was something else. Something comfortable. Like a dance you’d already learned, despite never having done it together before.

Dean found things without asking, his hands moving to the right cabinets like he’d known their places all along. He barely paused, barely had to think—because it all made sense. Practical, easy, like the way his own kitchen was set up.

His wolf rumbled in satisfaction, catching the slight shift in your scent like he’d done on countless full moons. The scent of comfort that he knew came from his closeness. The one that meant home.

You watched him from the corner of your eye while focusing on the meat sizzling on the stove, sprinkling seasonings with practiced ease. “You didn’t have to help. I offered,” you tried to insist, but his easy smile told you all you needed to know before he even spoke. “Feels right,” he shrugged, reaching for a cutting board.

It did. More than right. His wolf settled, no longer forced to watch you from across the room. No longer waiting, hoping.

His wolf wasn’t even uncomfortable being on your pack’s land, never feeling like he needed to protect you from an unknown intruder, not here. Dean mostly stopped fighting what his wolf wanted, letting his comfort around you guide him. He almost chuckled quietly, realizing it was his own nerves that made things a bit awkward at times.

He tried not to think too hard about how much his wolf already knew you—how many full moons you’d spent on opposite sides of the fence, growing familiar in ways he hadn’t yet had the chance to. A part of him wanted to be jealous of that, of the connection his other half had with you before he even got the chance. But he shoved that feeling away.

The last thing he wanted was to taint this with thoughts that didn’t belong here.

His mouth was already watering before you brought dinner to the table, which he had set in anticipation. 

Dinner was easy—comfortable in a way that neither of you fully expected, but both instinctively leaned into. The meal itself wasn’t anything extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. The simple act of sharing a table, passing plates, and catching each other’s lingering glances between bites was enough.

Dean wasn’t used to this, the quiet domesticity of it all. A meal that wasn’t rushed, a conversation that didn’t feel forced. You laughed at his surprise when he took his first bite because, of course, you knew exactly how to season everything just right.

“Damn,” he muttered around a mouthful of food, shaking his head. “You been holdin’ out on me?”

You smirked, shrugging as you took a sip of water. “You’ve only known me for a couple of hours, Dean.” His lips quirked, eyes glinting with something warm. “Still feels like longer.”

Neither of you addressed that truth out loud. It just was.

After dinner, cleaning up felt just as easy. You didn’t even have to ask Dean to help—he was already stacking plates, rinsing them off before you even got up from your seat. It was effortless, like he belonged here in ways that should have felt foreign, but didn’t. His hands moved with familiarity, setting things aside as you worked alongside him. The hum of the night filled the comfortable silence, the occasional clink of dishes the only real sound between you.

“Y’know, most guests don’t do the dishes,” you teased, bumping his arm lightly as he passed you a plate to dry.

He scoffed, shooting you a sidelong look. “I’m not most guests.”

No, he wasn’t. And you were starting to understand just how much that meant.

When everything was put away, you hesitated for just a second before grabbing a folded throw blanket from the couch. It was soft, worn from years of use—your favorite. You turned, holding it out to him.

“For you,” you said, feeling a little ridiculous for the sudden shyness creeping in. “Till we see each other again.”

Dean looked at the blanket, then back at you, something unreadable flickering across his expression. He didn’t say anything at first—just reached up, pulling the flannel from his shoulders and offering it in return.

Your fingers brushed as you took it, the fabric still warm from his body heat. You swallowed, clutching it lightly in your hands.

“Thanks,” you murmured, not trusting yourself to say much more.

Dean only nodded, taking the blanket and tucking it under his arm. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he stepped back, giving you one last glance before heading for the door.

The night air was cool when he stepped outside, the quiet settling around him in a way that had his wolf stretching beneath his skin. He pulled in a slow breath, adjusting the blanket under his arm, when movement caught his eye.

Sam.

Dean stilled, watching as his brother stood on the porch, Jess in the doorway. Sam leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek, something tucked under his arm as well. Dean waited till she had slipped back inside before getting his brother’s attention, a lopsided grin on his face again as he waved him down.

The Impala was a sight for sore eyes.

She was parked near the main lodge, the chrome gleaming under the moon’s light, looking damn near perfect. Their parents must’ve driven her up, knowing full well Dean would want his baby for the ride home.

Running a hand along the hood, he exhaled, lips twitching despite himself. “Well, I guess they didn’t forget about us after all.” Sam huffed a quiet laugh beside him, “Yeah. Probably didn’t want to assume one of the Winters would give us a ride back.”

Sliding into the familiar leather seats, he inhaled deeply. The scent of home wrapped around him—motor oil, leather, and something that just was the Impala. The blanket from you sat on his lap, the fabric soft under his fingers as he reached for the keys. The engine rumbling to life beneath him. 

Sam settled in the passenger seat, the blanket from Jess resting on his thighs.

The road stretched ahead, and for a few minutes, neither of them said much. Just the sound of the tires against the dirt path, the trees rolling by as the land faded in the rearview.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Jess is amazing. She made me dinner, and we talked all day.”

Dean flicked him a glance, waiting.

Sam sighed, shaking his head with a small, almost disbelieving smile. His thumb brushed absently over the blanket Jess had given him. “We talked about taking the summer to really get to know each other. Spend time together before we go back to school.” He paused, an almost dreamy smile finding his lips. “She wants me to claim her before we go back to school.”

Dean’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel.

“We’re waiting, to have pups,” Sam added, catching the shift in his brother’s posture. “We both want to finish school first.”

Dean nodded, jaw shifting, but said nothing. His mind was already moving too fast, and his wolf stirred uneasily inside him.

Sam glanced at him. “What about you and Y/N?” he asked, smelling the shift in his brother's scent.

Dean frowned. “What about us?”

“You guys talk about any of that?” he coaxed gently. Claiming and pups was something he knew his brother thought about often, and now that he’d finally found his true mate, you, Sam was hopeful.

Dean let out a slow breath, his grip tightening for just a second before he forced it to relax. “Nah.”

Sam waited, but when Dean didn’t elaborate, he pressed. “You want to?”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, we just met. And we’re—” he stopped himself, exhaling. “I dunno. It’s different.”

It was different, in so many ways. His wolf knew you, for years before today. You were different than other omegas, unable to feel that instinctual pull toward your true mate. Sam knew all of that, but talking about it? Putting words to something he barely understood himself? That was another thing entirely. How the hell was he supposed to bring up stuff like claiming and pups when you were still figuring out what any of this meant to you?

Dean rolled his shoulders, shifting in his seat. “Ain’t about that. It’s just—” His fingers tapped the wheel, and the other slipped down, resting on the blanket you had given him. “There was a lot we didn’t talk about.”

Sam was quiet for a few moments, reading his brother like an open book. “So, spend the summer getting to know her better. Your wolf already knows her. Let him lead.” Dean laughed dryly. “Pretty sure if I did that, he would have claimed her tonight.”

His mind was running a hundred miles an hour, overthinking every interaction they’d had over the day, every moment he could’ve brought any of it up. Hell, should I have? Or would that have been too soon? What if she didn’t want any of that anytime soon? What if she did and thought I didn’t? 

Sam sighed, “You’re thinking too hard.” Dean shot him a flat look. “Shut up.”

Sam just grinned, shaking his head. “Look, all I’m saying is, you two still have to talk about it eventually. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off instead of overthinking it to death.”

Dean exhaled through his nose, eyes on the dark road. Yeah. Eventually. But that didn’t mean he had to figure it out right this second.

—-------------------------

The cabin door flew open with a burst of cool night air, slamming against the frame as Jess all but tumbled inside. “Oh my God!” she practically squealed, eyes bright with excitement as she spun to close the door behind her. 

Before you could react, she launched herself onto the couch beside you, bouncing slightly as she tucked her legs underneath her. The flannel swallowing her small frame was unmistakably Sam’s—just like the one draped over your own shoulders belonged to Dean.

You huffed a small laugh, “Let me guess—Sam?”

Jess gasped, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. “Wow. Look at you. Psychic now?” You just rolled your eyes, but the teasing glint in hers didn’t waver. 

“Okay, but seriously, yes,” she continued, grabbing one of the throw pillows and squeezing it like it might contain the sheer joy she was trying to hold in. “I can’t even explain it. It’s like—I don’t know. Like he’s always been there, like I’ve always known him. We talked all day. About everything. And then, at the end of the night, he just—” She broke off, grinning so wide it had to hurt. “He kissed me, Y/N.”

A genuine smile pulled at your lips as Jess practically melted into the pillow at the memory, her fingers twisting in the fabric.

“That’s amazing, Jess,” you said softly, and you meant it.

Jess sighed dreamily, still grinning as she looked at you. “I think I love him already. Is that crazy? I mean, I know you hear about the whole soulmate pull, but to feel it…” she exhaled again, her gaze going distant for a moment, lost in the warmth of it all. 

You shook your head. “No. That’s normal.”

Jess studied you then, her expression shifting just slightly. That hyper-focused awareness kicking in, the one that always saw too much. “You okay?”

You hesitated, but it was just long enough to put her into little sister mode.

She sat up a little straighter, her grin softening into something more thoughtful, something meant just for you. “Talk to me,” she coaxed gently, knowing how things were different for you than they were for others.

For a moment, you bit your lip. You’d hoped—maybe too hard— that you’d feel that connection, that pull that others felt when being around their soulmate. But hadn’t been there. It still wasn’t. You missed his presence, but not like you knew he was missing yours. Then there was everything he hadn’t even asked you about. There had been plenty of opportunities, but not once had he brought any of it up.

“We didn’t really talk about that stuff,” you murmured, shrugging off the weight of it.

Jess was quiet for a beat, but you could see her mind working through the small piece you’d given her. “Maybe he doesn’t know how to,” she offered, voice thoughtful. “Since you can’t feel that pull, maybe he’s afraid of pushing too hard.” Then, with a knowing smirk, she nudged your shoulder. “What happened to you being the curious one and asking questions so you don’t overthink things?”

You huffed a small laugh, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders. “Didn’t expect you to be the voice of reason.”

Jess grinned proudly. “I have my moments. Now, tell me everything. I have to know.”

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6 - coming soon

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