#so if you have any requests on that front speak now or forever hold your peace

[animemiscellany]

[pathologicalreid]

hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!

a league of your own | S.R.

as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!

“He flipped him over the table?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriend’s maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspect’s forehead, but you hadn’t heard the story of how he had gotten it – until now.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencer’s ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but that’s what it felt like.

You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasn’t until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. “And that’s three,” Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.

Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.

There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you weren’t naïve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. “You better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,” Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.

“What?” Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.

The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. “They didn’t have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,” Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “That’s fine, thank you.” You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.

If he noticed anything odd, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossi’s conversation on ASMR.

As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, “What?” You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.

The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, “Rossi’s headed out. He was just saying goodbye,” Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, “Have a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.” You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.

As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencer’s hand settle on your thigh. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his head to you, “What’s up with you tonight?”

Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didn’t have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you weren’t concerned with anyone actually taking Spencer’s attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.

You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. “Nothing’s up,” you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.

“Are you sure? You look flushed,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.

Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR – Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didn’t necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lean into you.

Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, “Can we go?” You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.

As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.

Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Are you alright, love?”

Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, “You shoved a guy on a table?”

His face fell, “Is that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. He pushed Tara, it’s not that at all,” you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. “It’s just… you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and you’re getting hit on by people in bars and you’re dressing differently and I’m just… me.” You hold your hands out as if you’re on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.

“Are you jealous that I’m getting attention from other people?” He asked, “Because I’ve never encouraged anyone.” That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.

Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, “No,” you groaned, “What’s that term for someone who can’t name their emotions? That’s me. Right now. At this moment.”

Spencer chuckled at your frustration, “It’s called alexithymia, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess I’m just feeling left behind,” you admitted. “You’re a changed person and there’s nothing different about me.”

He tilted his head to the side curiously, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.

“Did you love me before?”

You froze, looking up at him, “Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “And you love me now?”

Nodding, you stepped closer to him, “Very much so.”

“Then there’s nothing else I could possibly ask of you,” he told you, smiling as you blushed. “You don’t need to change in time with me, and – since we’re being honest – I’ve always felt like I’m the one lagging behind you. So, maybe I’ve just been playing catch-up.”

You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, “Well, now I feel ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he murmured, “Just human,” Spencer amended.

[persicipen]

₊ ˙ ⊹ . 𝓛𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎. SUNDAY ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

₊ ˙ ⊹ . a hotel maid and the young head of the oak family? with such affair, you two need to hide and crumple the laundry that you will have to clean again.

ৎ୭ — · · 2.8k ノ fem reader — possible dubcon or noncon warning because he ignores your request once or twice — implied that both agreed to ‘free use’ dynamic. slight pain. forced discomfort. overstimulation. restraint — tying wrists with a belt. secret affair. hiding the relationship. controlling behaviour. cumming inside. assume there is some sort of protection ノ reposted from my old blog, so pre-playable sunday!

The room smells of detergent, a pleasant freshness of imaginative flowers and meadows, though it’s thick and damp from the opened doors of the washing machines.

Your clothes are soaked through with sweat from the heavy and stuffed air, a sign that the day was long and laborious. The usual of the hotel maid, always running errands and exhausting yourself even though all you had to do today was just to fold these clothes and towels, and sheets, and handkerchiefs… All done neatly and put into categorised baskets.

The dim lamps cast a cappuccino-coloured light, scattering in the subtle fog of moisture until you can’t see much apart from your hands on the perfectly white fabrics.

However, your peace doesn’t last forever. It seems Sunday has been following you not so long ago, for his scent is filling your nose like an expensive perfume as he walks up behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is, so you remain hunched over the pile of linens in front of you.

“Don’t bother looking at me, dove.” He orders coldly, and you freeze where you are standing. “Finish folding these up first, will you?”

You exhale deeply, but there’s no room for you to object. With quick movements of your arms and precise turns of your wrists, you continue working, but it’s getting difficult as he hugs you tighter. He buries his face into the back of your neck, leaving lazy kisses that send shivers down your spine. His touch burns through your uniform.

As he palms your hip, he adds more force to his hold and pulls you against him until you feel how hard he already is.

“I can’t believe we have to hide in the laundry room to spend time together, angel… I wish I could just take you to my apartment,” he whispers quietly between planting kisses along the side of your throat. His voice is soft yet impatient. He speaks words as if they were prayers, his lips worshipping you with each word. “I long for the comfort of your body. Everything else is so stressful.”

Sunday leans in so close now that he feels your shoulders stiffen a bit before relaxing again as his gentle palms keep massaging your sides and hips. However, despite what his tongue whispers in your ears, your heart skips a beat as soon as he locks the doors shut with one hand.

You’re trapped here now. He isn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

His mouth travels into your hair, breathing hot against your sensitive scalp, which sends an unexpected wave of pleasure to the very bottom of your stomach. His fingertips slide across your thighs, and your hands tremble against the damp towel you just picked up to fold it once more.

Slowly he unties your apron from behind, fingers touching and fumbling around your waist longer than necessary, as if trying to make sure he missed no single spot that belongs to you.

With how distracted you’re getting, you finally give up on folding the towels any further. It’s futile. The cotton soft strands of his fluffy locks tickle your exposed skin until you squirm and yelp in his hold as he disrobes you piece by piece, the dewy air sticking to your skin like a layer of unspoken desires.

“What would happen if anyone finds out, hmm?” You breathe softly, trying to look calm. You shift slightly. “Your reputation could be tarnished forever.”

“Perhaps,” he admits. You hear the rustling of clothes, and you realise he’s pulling out his belt. Then there’s silence in the room aside from the droning rumble of the machines and the sounds of your overlapping breaths.

“That doesn’t scare you?” you whisper, even quieter, a bit concerned about being caught or something happening to him. But the moment Sunday twists your arm behind your back to tie your hands with the strip of leather, it becomes quite obvious that he is the last person you should ever worry about.

“I think I prefer having my image dirtied than going mad without you for another day.”

With a gentle push of his hand between your shoulder blades, he bends you against the counter, the collision soft and lovely thanks to all the towels. You lay your cheek on them, still warm and damp after the laundry. You don’t mind though, since it smells good.

But that smell doesn’t stay in your head for too long as he taps your ass, grabbing and squeezing the cheeks between his desirous palms. Even though you’re used to this type of play, your hips sway in surprise, and you inhale sharply, biting on the edge of your lower lip to muffle out any sounds, just in case.

The excitement rises gradually as his fingers roll down your pantyhose to the middle of your thighs, patting and fondling the flesh, spreading your ass apart just to glide between your hot folds.

Curiously, you watch him from a discomforting angle take the alabaster white glove in his teeth, pulling by the expensive fabric just to free his hand, now elegantly swiping thumb up and down your core, sending tremors up your legs.

He traces your clit up and down until the glide is smooth, slippery — skin glistening in the dull light. Your toes curl in your shoes in anticipation, and there’s an ache in your abdomen as he gives you only small caresses instead of taking you just as roughly as he spoke about it.

The tension in his grip tells you he’s just as fed up with teasing, yet his fingers continue their soft journey along your neck, sliding over the thin threads of your baby hair, grazing over your ear. His breath is hot and shallow on your sensitive nape, sending a thrill through your body.

Then, finally, you feel his erection rub along the opening of your core, smearing in your essence as his other hand clutches on your tied wrists in one palm, holding you firmly down.

“S-Sunday, please… nngh! Do whatever you want with me…” You mewl quietly against the frotte towel you are bent over, but he immediately stops humping into your wetness, growing tense for a split second. You shiver when you feel the cold of his rings trail under your jaw as he forces you to meet his eyes.

“I’m doing what I want, dove. Be quiet,” he breathes above your parted mouth, leaving a quick peck before pushing your head into the plushy cloths. Your bodies lock into each other perfectly as he enters you in one smooth thrust, sheathing himself fully inside.

With a shudder and cry, you take him whole, barely spreading wide to let him in. Both of you exhale with satisfaction.

“M-mmh! I know you’ve been waiting for it, but, Sunday, ah—!” You grunt between his deep lunges. “You gotta give me time to adjust, or you’re gonna ruin me…”

He moans breathlessly, watching where he sinks into you as if he needed reassurance that you weren’t just some hallucination he’s making up to relieve his stress.

“Good,” he says and smiles as you gasp in mild protest.

The squelching and slapping noises that follow along with his desperate groans make you burn, and your walls pulse around his cock. So satisfied, he watches how your folds tighten and ripple around his girth as he snaps forward, diving into your heat as it gives in under the pressure. He grips on your wrists, not tightly enough to leave a mark. Every time you feel him dragging along your insides, your thighs quiver, threatening to give up if not for your tummy resting on the counter.

All the energy drained from your hard work makes you weak and vulnerable as he pounds you just to sculpt you into his shape. He’s just the perfect man to melt into, the best way to forget about your aching limbs.

It doesn’t take long until he picks up the pace and your blissful voice fills the laundry room with all sorts of moans and whines, gasping his name again and again. The profane sound of your arousal being sloppily pushed and dragged back as he keeps ravaging your sweet cunt gets mingled with the hypnotising noise of the running washing machines.

For a while neither of you says anything apart from your synchronised pants and sighs. It’s nice like this, enjoying each other without speaking any words. Sunday enjoys you. That’s enough. He keeps thrusting, giving you sharp bucks of his hips that shake the counter you’re sprawled on.

As your arms bend into an awkward position, the metal buckle from his belt on your wrists bites into your skin. The pain is unexpected, causing you to choke out a startled sob. You know Sunday must’ve noticed how it hurts you, and it feels like he’s purposefully doing it. He stops for a moment, perhaps to see if you’re alright or if he wants to do it more. Your juices flow down his shaft, and he exhales longingly at the sight. You catch yourself drooling on the damp sheets as his silky tongue licks the outline of your shoulder blade before stuttering with a deep moan and switching positions.

“Wait, Sunday,” you murmur in confusion. You know there’s no stopping him now, yet you try anyway.

Without a word, he pulls out of you unexpectedly, a worried yelp of yours accompanying his actions. All that standing in front of you just to spread your thighs and turn around with a few firm pushes of his palms, guiding you to sit back down on the counter, this time facing him in suffocating proximity.

“Mm, now you should be able to enjoy the view together with me. That’s much better, right, love? Look between us, how we’re made for each other…” He orders sternly, not in a way to scold you but still leaving no room for negotiations. You could never tell him no. Not in your right mind.

His slender fingers clutch the underside of your thighs and push your legs up until they rest on his shoulders. In such a way he can shove himself inside once more, seeing all of you stretching for him so eagerly.

A drawn-out, raspy whine escapes him, and he mutters a soft “fuck” — inappropriate for his current status and importance to curse openly, its harshness numbing to your mind like honey. His eyes trail over your curled-up figure, trembling like a leaf in the span of a heartbeat. Then he leans down, taking you into a kiss, a messy mingle of spit and tongues.

Despite your efforts, you can’t keep up with his demanding tempo or the overwhelming tension. It just feels too full, your neck falling back as you whine at the stretch of both your muscles and your pussy. He can reach just the right spot, and your eyelashes flutter each time he drives his tip against your innermost depths.

You squeeze around him with your calves, begging him to stop a little, to slow down, but he doesn’t let you rest at all. There’s something addictive about fucking you, even though it’s obvious you have things to finish here. The warm softness of your breasts cushions against him, trying to fold you further, rubbing deliciously with every shove until he almost forgets you aren’t his.

So he just buries his face into your cleavage, planting hungry kisses on the flushed skin there as if wanting to apologise for the earlier impatience. He even bites and nibbles at your exposed collarbone, worshipping and pleasing you however he can, losing himself completely.

There are several moments in which you try to break through his mania, to make him notice that your legs are getting numb from exertion and that your arms sting from being still tied behind your back. That your neck hurts from throwing your head back to pant louder and sweeter for him. But your futile attempts only make you tighten around him.

Eventually Sunday fumbles with the belt restraining your wrists, allowing you to bring your hands up so fast, so desperate for contact, and grab his hair. He mewls in surprise at your tug, lowering his head and pulling you in for another wet kiss.

“H-hurts… and I’m tired. I just can’t, can’t continue…” You weep, whole body trembling and numb from the tension, your muscles feeling like jelly from the stretch. “I won’t be able to work after that…”

Sunday curses quietly under his breath as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, stifling a weak sigh when he continues nonetheless. He doesn’t pay attention to what you said.

“If you can still speak to me so gently, then we shall keep going.” He smirks devilishly, his voice smooth and confident, as if he expected this to happen. You hear his husky laughter against the top of your head.

“No… It hurts, Sunday. You gotta slow down for a while! Just let me rest my legs.” Your tone is pleading, yet you doubt that will be enough to convince him. It isn’t.

“I’d be lying if I said I care for your well-being now, dove. You just have to handle it.”

You pout, grabbing his fluffy locks firmly as he spreads the petals of your pussy wider, opening your throbbing insides further for himself. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes. The angle of your legs prevents you from shifting into a comfortable position, leaving you in his full control.

When his powerful thrusts hit the deepest parts, your chin tucks into your chest as your body seizes in the same position. The familiar rush of your orgasm envelops you again, extracting quiet whimpers against his torso.

Despite it all, Sunday doesn’t show any sign of slowing down, no, even if it’s overflowing now, drenching your inner thighs with slick and precum. It’s difficult for you to take anything more as your fingers grasp onto his ashy locks desperately to warn him about what happens next. His rhythm changes in a heartbeat as he lets out a lewd groan. There’s a tight sensation that is squeezing him, too addicting to pause.

The edges of your vision darken, your jaw slacks as a jumbled string of syllables pours from your mouth, just incomprehensible cacophony in a voice that is unfamiliar to you — not once have you heard yourself mewl so dramatically. Evidently, your body commences shutting down one function at a time until there is no longer any control left.

“Fuck, I’m so— I apologise, angel, but you just feel so good— ah…”

Nothing changes. Your cries don’t affect him. They become background noise as he buries his cock within you. You feel it pulse against your velvety walls; it’s burning hot and hard. It doesn’t take long until a wave of ecstasy spreading from the bottom of your belly overwhelms you. To make you contract and tense uncontrollably, rippling around as you feel it expand.

And then it fills you — an abundance of pearlescent cum spurting deep, splashing between the sticky, intertwined bodies. Your combined essences flow and drip out of your heat, trailing down Sunday’s balls, covering everything in a layer of glossy fluids.

The man gives you one last thrust, making sure you take all of him until his fingers slide through the mess on your sizzling-red cunt. His palm strokes your temples gently, as if trying to calm you down from the devastating pleasure, slowly and surely coming to the realisation that you took all of him. Every single drop.

“Well done…” he murmurs into your ear, and you shiver under his embrace, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

With the way he moves his hips to push them upwards into yours, it feels like Sunday doesn’t want to let go, letting his cock get soft in your pussy before he pulls out. You wonder why. That neediness, longing for your closeness.

The two of you breathe heavily with smiles on your lips, his palm rubbing soothing circles into your abdomen as it finally stops tensing, the other hand carefully putting down your numb legs as the white noise spreads from your knees on both sides, balancing on the edge of cramping.

“You were so obedient. Good work. Almost. The next time we meet, I would like to work on your unnecessary comments, angel. Can I have your pretty face nodding now in understanding?”

“Y-yes, but… not now, please. Please, I n-need rest…” But your thoughts are quickly cut off as you clench around the sudden emptiness as more of his load spills out along with your own juices, down the crumpled towels needing another wash.

“Of course, love. I’m at fault for pushing your limits, that is true. I will think later of compensating for your excellent performance.”

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART III

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: After a mishap on his part, you doubt that Chan is ready for a relationship but he is determined to prove it, except that he's having problems following your one condition. (17k words)

Author's note: Sorry for the late post. Hope you like the new chapter and don't forget to share your thoughts on it x

Chan has always been the type to run when conversations gets hard, when the truth is too heavy to carry. But not today.

Today, he is standing still, facing it head-on. His hand hovers over the wood, hesitating for only a second before he knocks again, his heart is beating out of his chest.

The second knock seems to last forever, but then, the door creaks open and youu stand there, looking at him with an expression that made it clear you aren’t surprised to see him.

Chan feels a lump forming in his throat—he was expecting more. Maybe shock, or even anger. But what he gets is quiet resignation, and that hurt more than he thought it would.

“Can we talk?” His voice comes out softer than he intended, laced with the weight of what he needed to say. His eyes searched yours for any sign of what you're feeling, but you are calm, too calm.

For a moment, you consider his request, eyes narrowing slightly before you step aside to let him in.

Chan exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he is holding and steps past the threshold. The apartment feels familiar, yet foreign—last night’s tension still lingering in the air like a ghost. He can feel the weight of his own mistake pressing down on his shoulders as he moved toward the living room.

You followed behind him, closing the door with a soft click before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.

Chan runs a hand through his hair, his nerves making him fidget more than usual. He isn’t used to this—staying when things got hard. But here he is, about to dive headfirst into the conversation he would have normally avoided.

“I’m sorry,” he begins in the best way there is: with an apology

“About last night. I know it looked bad,” he winces as the whole incident flashes through his eyes.

Your expression remained unreadable, and that only made his stomach twist. He pauses, carefully find the right words to say next.

“I sent that text before you came over,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It was stupid, I know. I was angry... knowing you went on that date. I acted out of impulse, and I didn’t even think she’d show up. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d come.”

You cross your arms in front of you, your silence heavy with expectation and he knows you are waiting for more.

“I messed up,” he continues, the next best thing to do is acknowledging his mistake.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve never sent that text, and I’m so sorry for how things turned out,” he continues, his voice tinted with regret.

Chan’s chest aches with the weight of the confession. He is baring it all, and the fear of rejection, of messing this up even more, is creeping up on him. He takes a step closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

“I just... I didn’t want to lose you. And when I saw you with someone else, it hurt. More than I expected it to,” He painfully admits, then he stops talking and waiting for you to respond.

For what feels like an eternity, the silence hangs between you and him like a barrier. Finally, you sigh, dropping your arms to your sides.

“I know it wasn’t great timing,” you begin, your voice calm but firm. “And I know you didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, but Chris... this isn’t just about last night.”

Chan blinks his eyes repeatedly, surprised, “What do you mean?”

You turn to lean against the back of the sofa, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About how fast all of this has been moving, and maybe... maybe I moved on too quickly from my last relationship.”

Then you look away as if searching for the right words, “Maybe we both aren’t ready for this.”

The idea of losing you now, after everything, is unbearable. His heart is sinking but he sees the doubt in your eyes, the walls you are building to protect yourself. And yet, he couldn’t walk away from this—not when he is feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he says, taking another step closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I’ve made mistakes. But what I feel for you... it’s real. And it’s different from anything I’ve felt in a long time.”

Your eyes flicking up to meet his, and for the first time, he sees something soften in your expression. He presses on, sensing that this is his only chance to convince you.

“I’m not the guy I used to be,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “Yeah, I’ve had my moments, and yeah, I’ve been a fuckboy. But that’s not who I want to be with you. I want this to work. I want us to work.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the raw honesty in his words. And despite all the doubts and fears swirling in your mind, there is something about the way he is standing here, owning up to his mistakes, that makes you want to believe him.

“I don’t want another heartbreak, Chris,” you openly share, “The last thing I need is to go through that again.”

He nods, fully understanding the weight of your words but it only encourages him to convince you more, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I care about you. More than I can put into words.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The room feels thick with emotion, but there is also something else—a glimmer of hope. Something worth fighting for.

You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all you see is sincerity, and that is enough to make you consider his plea.

“Okay,” you finally whisper, “Let’s give it a shot.”

Chan’s face lights up with a warm smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your decision. But the joy in his expression doesn’t last long as you look at him seriously, your gaze sharp.

“In one condition,” you add.

His smile falters, and a flicker of panic replaces it. “W-What condition?”

“There’ll be no sex,” you say plainly, your voice calm and firm.

“No–no sex?” He stammers, looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s not allowed to breathe. His eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process what you’ve just said.

You nod, your expression unwavering. “I don’t want you to confuse this— physical attraction with emotional connection... Sex will only distract us from our goal.”

Chan’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to protest, but no words come out. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he tries to gather his thoughts.

After a moment, he nods, though his expression is one of disbelief. “Okay... okay, no sex.” His voice is strained, but he’s doing his best to sound agreeable.

But then, something flickers in his eyes, and a small hope sneaks back in.

“Just sex, right?” He asks for clarification, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. “I’m still allowed to kiss you...?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and a sly smile spreads across your lips. “I’m afraid not.”

His face falls, the hope vanishing in an instant. “Not at all?” He asks, his voice horrified.

“At all,” you confirm, your tone playful but firm.

He stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and despair. “You’re serious?” He mutters, more to himself than to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as if you’ve just remembered something else. “Oh, and that includes no more barging into my place.”

Chan blinks, still processing the former information when your next statement hits him like a second wave.

“I know you’ve been keeping my spare keys," you say with your eyes narrowed at him, "I want them back.”

He closes his eyes, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare he desperately wants to wake up from. But when his eyes open, nothing has changed. You’re still standing there, waiting for him to comply.

“Come on,” you say, nudging his arm gently, “give them back.”

With a deep, reluctant sigh, Chan reaches into his jeans pocket, his movements slow, as if giving up the keys is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He pulls them out and holds them in his hand for a moment before finally passing them over to you.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, taking the keys from him.

He watches you with a defeated look on his face, his shoulders slumping as you put the keys away. His lips press into a tight line, clearly still processing the fact that not only has he agreed to no sex, but now he doesn’t even have access to your place anymore.

Chan sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

You catch his thoughtful expression and smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. “Well, you can just quit now,” you tease, the words light but with a hint of challenge.

His eyes snap to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Oh, just wait and see,” he replies, his voice low, but there’s a spark of determination behind it.

The teasing grin lingers on your lips, but Chan’s heart is set. This isn’t just about sticking to your rules—it’s about showing you, through his actions, that he’s no longer the guy who flirts and leaves when things get complicated. He’s here, and he’s staying.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as if amused by his newfound resolve. “We’ll see.”

"You will," he boldly remarks, his voice steady, and there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. It’s not just a flirty remark or an empty promise. It’s real.

This time, it’s different. He’s different. And he’s going to show you that he’s ready to be the person you deserve.

-

When Chan thinks about it again, you’re not asking for much beyond that one condition—but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. It’s not just about avoiding physical intimacy; it’s about proving himself. He’s not the guy who plays games or casually dates for fun anymore. He’s not that fuckboy. He’s changed, and he’s ready for something real, something meaningful.

However, words are just words until he acts on them.

That’s why Chan waits in the lobby around the time you usually get home from work. To pass the time, he chats with the new guy working the concierge, trying to distract himself from the nervous energy building up.

The second you step into his radar, he can almost sense it. He turns his head toward the entrance, and there you are—pushing through the apartment door with a bag slung over one shoulder and another in hand.

Without missing a beat, Chan rushes toward you, grabbing the bag from your hand. “Great day at work, darling?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

You let out a low scoff, eyeing him skeptically. “And you’re still doing your best at work, huh?”

“Well, I aim to please,” he playfully responds, giving you a wink.

Before you can protest, he takes your bag to the concierge and talks to the new guy to keep it safe, leaving you standing there, eyebrows raised.

“Why... what are you doing with my bag?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“He’ll be keeping it safe,” he simply replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “While I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Before you can get another word in, he takes your hand, pulling you with him as he drags you right back out the door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

It’s clear: Chan’s not just saying things this time—he’s showing you.

The restaurant he is taking you for dinner is only two blocks away from your apartment building, and it surprises you that you didn’t know about it until now.

“How come I didn’t know about this place before?” you ask in wonder, chewing on your food.

Chan clasps his hands together in front of him and props them under his chin, “Maybe if you were being a lovely neighbor from the start, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” he teases.

You narrow your eyes and take a jab back at him, “And maybe if you weren’t busy taking girls home and avoiding them in the morning, you would’ve taken me here sooner.”

Chan sighs in defeat, putting his hands off the table, deciding to let the conversation slide. “But you agree that you like the food, right?”

You shovel another spoonful of food into your mouth and nod in approval, "Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

Spotting something on the corner of your mouth, he grabs a napkin and, with a soft touch, dabs it away. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You had something on your face. Was I just supposed to leave it there?” he defends with his grin.

You take the napkin from him and finish the job yourself. “You know, you don’t have to try this hard,” you say.

It's not a surprise that you would think that way, that he’s overcompensating, but he's doing it all because he genuinely cares for you.

“What? I’m just taking my lovely neighbor to one of my favorite spots nearby,” he says with his signature dimpled grin.

Shaking your head, you sip your drink, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of anything, he changes the subject.

“So, what are we doing this weekend?” he asks, as if it’s a given that you’re spending it together.

“Bold of you to assume I have nothing to do this weekend,” you say.

“Well, if you do have something to do, I can only hope it’s me,” he says with a wink.

You groan and toss a crumpled napkin at him. “I have to work this weekend.”

His groan is louder than yours. “If you’re working weekends too, when do you have time for me?”

You shoot him a look. “As far as I know, you didn’t have a problem keeping yourself entertained before.”

Chan’s smile turns cryptic as he slumps in his seat. “True... but it would be fun to play with you.”

“You remember my one condition, right?” you remind him.

He tosses the crumpled napkin back at you. “There are so many ways to have fun without sex.”

“Sshh,” you shush him, glancing around.

“Why are you still weird about it? We’ve had sex twice al—”

You cover his mouth with your hand, glaring. “You might as well announce to the whole restaurant we’ve had sex twice!”

He pulls your hand away, grinning wide as if he’s about to do it for real, just to see the horror in your eyes. But then he bursts into laughter instead and catching you off guard by kissing your hand softly which makes you withdraw your hand immediately.

“Did you really think I would do that?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“For a second, yes,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You were right,” he playfully says.

When the server arrives with the bill, you get ahead of Chan, placing your credit card down before he can.

“So you’re the one paying in this relationship?” he teases. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t,” you warn, rolling your eyes.

The server returns with your card and receipt, but she also gives Chan a familiar smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, flirtatiously and completely dismissed your presence there.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” he replies, glancing nervously at you.

“Next time you stop by, I’ll give you a little free service,” she says, smiling a bit too much.

You’re not blind to her tone, but you keep quiet as the two of you leave the restaurant. Once you’re back at the apartment building, you retrieve your bag from the concierge, muttering your thanks as you take it. Chan offers to carry it for you as you head up in the elevator.

“You should invite that cute server to play with you this weekend,” you say, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

His smile grows, sensing you care more than you let on. He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder if he’s considering your suggestion. Even after the elevator doors open, he follows you to your apartment, still carrying your bag.

“I can take it inside for you,” he offers, clearly hoping for an invite in.

“I can take it myself,” you say, effectively blocking his plan.

He hands over the bag with a pout, lingering as you unlock your door. He leans against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“You’re going away for the whole weekend, and I get nothing?” he asks, inching closer.

You cross your arms. “And what do you expect?”

“A kiss would do,” he says, almost shyly, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

You shake your head, staying firm on your one condition. “No kisses.”

“Just a nibble then?” He grins wider.

“A nibble?” you laugh. “I’m not some... snack.”

“You’re not. You’re a whole damn feast,” he says, lowering himself to your eye level, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and not hiding his eyes from looking at them.

Your breath hitches as he inches closer, his lips brushing past your ear. His boldness catches you off guard, and your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your jaw. Then, just as he’s about to claim your lips, you block him with your fingers.

“You’re good,” you admit with a smile, “but not that good.”

For a guy who always gets what he wants when he wants it, this is frustrating. He lets out a heavy sigh then drops his head onto your shoulder.

“I have to go,” you mutter, even as you let him hold you.

“Just give me a minute,” he mumbles, nuzzling his head further into your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

He savors the moment, holding onto you a little tighter, soaking in the feel of you against him. Everything about you—your warmth, your softness, your scent— oh, it’s all so right.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you whisper again, rubbing a hand along his broad back.

“Fifteen more seconds,” he mumbles, discreetly letting his hand slide lower, only for you to catch it and place it firmly on your back.

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to let go until you finally pull away.

“Goodnight, Chris,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight,” he replies with a smile, slowly letting you go, though everything in him wants to hold on.

As you take a step back, he does the same, the two of you locked in a gaze to keep the intimacy of the moment continues through your eyes until you close the door with a faint smile that lingers in the back of his head.

Letting you go isn’t easy, but sometimes he knows he has to if he wants to bring you closer.

-

Chan lies awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weekend he had envisioned was simple: hanging out with you, maybe grabbing dinner or spending lazy afternoons together. But since you weren’t around, the plan had crumbled, leaving him stranded with nothing to do.

He could go out, like he usually does on weekends, but something in him resists. It's too easy to slip back into old habits, to fall into the routine of partying and avoiding the emptiness that comes with it. So instead, he’s here, in his apartment, doing nothing.

With a sigh, he reaches across the bed, his hand brushing against the smooth fabric of something familiar—your underwear. He’d kept it from that night, the night everything between you two changed.

Lifting it to his nose, he inhales deeply, letting your scent flood his senses. Just a whiff, and he’s already lost, a fire igniting in his gut. His cock twitches, aroused, stirred by the memory of you.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back to that night—the way he had kissed you, held you close, felt your warmth pressed against him. He remembers the way his hands explored your body, how he had parted your legs and exposed you, tantalizing and perfect, making his every nerve scream for more.

"Fuck," he mutters, the word hanging heavy in the quiet of his apartment. His frustration is palpable, throbbing inside him.

The thoughts alone aren’t enough. He needs more. He needs you. But you're not here, and that only makes the ache more unbearable.

Thankfully, his phone rings, pulling him from the spiral he was sinking into. He groans and drags himself out of bed, grabbing the phone off his nightstand. The call is brief, no more than a minute, but it does the job. It snaps him out of the rut he was teetering on the edge of.

It looks like Chan has to go out tonight after all.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the text that came through. Someone had pulled out of a gig last minute, and now he’s been asked to fill in. It’s a valid reason to get out of the apartment, at least. Better than staying cooped up and letting his thoughts eat at him.

Before he knows it, he's dressed and heading out the door. The club he’s heading to isn’t unfamiliar—it’s one of his favorite spots to work. Maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it’s just because he desperately needs a distraction tonight, but it feels less like work as he steps inside and feels the pulse of the music hit him.

He takes a deep breath and dives into the scene, ready to let the night carry him wherever it leads, all while keeping you in the back of his mind.

After his set, he decides to hang around the club for a bit, rewarding himself with a drink. It’s been a good night, the crowd was lively, and he deserved a little downtime.

He leans against the counter, sipping slowly as the music thumps around him. Girls have been giving him smiles, glancing his way, but he’s used to that. It’s nothing he can’t handle, especially now when he’s keeping his focus sharp.

Then the bartender sets another drink down in front of him.

“This one’s on her,” he says, nodding toward the far corner of the bar.

Chan follows the bartender’s gaze and spots her—a girl with a sultry smile, waving at him. She’s undeniably attractive, but he’s not interested.

Still, it’s just a drink, and rejecting it feels unnecessary. So he lifts his glass, offering her a polite smile of thanks from across the bar.

Before he can even take a sip, someone else steps up to him, practically radiating anger.

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” the guy growls, eyes dark and filled with rage.

“What?” Chan responds, confused and caught off guard.

“I said, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” The man’s voice rises, his presence looming over Chan.

“I’m not,” Chan says quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “She bought me a drink, and I thanked her. That’s all.”

But the guy isn’t having it. He steps closer, grabbing the front of Chan’s shirt with one fist. “How dare you lie to me!” he shouts, pulling Chan closer, their faces inches apart.

Before things can escalate further, the girl who started all of this rushes over, forcing herself between them.

“Stop! He’s telling the truth!” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm and dragging him away from Chan.

Chan can see the regret in her eyes as she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before leading her fuming boyfriend toward the exit.

As they leave, Chan sighs, straightening his shirt and shaking his head. Maybe tonight, he should have just stayed in his apartment after all.

-

Chan arrives at his place, feeling weighed down by the events of the day. You've only been gone a day, but it feels like an eternity to him. Everything feels off without you around, stretching out every second into what feels like endless suffering.

He needs you. Desperately.

He knows it's late, and he isn’t even sure if you're home yet, but he finds himself walking toward your door. His feet move on their own, driven by an overwhelming need for comfort. When he gets there, he knocks gently at first, waiting in the quiet hallway. No response.

With a sigh, Chan leans his forehead against your door, feeling a sinking hopelessness wash over him.

“Please… open the door,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Then, to his surprise, he hears movement on the other side. He steps back quickly, his heart racing as the door creaks open, revealing you—looking slightly disoriented, your hair tousled from what must’ve been sleep.

"I'm sorry," Chan says, his voice soft with guilt. "I didn’t know you were home already."

"I just got home not long ago," you reply, your voice still thick with sleep.

Seeing you—standing there in the low light, with tired eyes and that familiar warmth—pulls at his heart in a way that makes him ache. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself before speaking again.

“I’ve had a really, really bad day,” he admits, his voice low, almost breaking.

The truth is, you’re a big part of why his day feels so unbearable. The distance between you gnaws at him, creating a physical ache he can’t shake. He needs you, even just your presence, to feel whole again.

Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently but firmly, as if letting go would mean losing his grip on everything.

"Can I stay the night with you?" His voice is heavy with vulnerability.

You hesitate, shaking your head. "You know that we can't—"

“I swear I’m not trying to do anything else,” he cuts in quickly, his eyes pleading. "I just... I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"

The sadness in his voice is raw, and you can see how much he needs this, needs you. You massage your neck, the exhaustion of the day visible in your eyes as you consider his request.

For a moment, silence hangs between you two. Then, finally, you nod. “Okay.”

From the way you're giving in with less resistance than usual, Chan can tell you're too tired to fight him on this tonight. He feels a pang of guilt but, at the same time, relief. A win is a win, and right now, he just needs to be near you, hoping his presence might bring some comfort, as yours does to him.

Once you let him in, there's no more talking. You silently lead him to your bed, making space for him without any fuss.

"You can have that side," you gesture to the left side, your voice soft with exhaustion.

Any side would do. As long as he's here, next to you, he couldn't care less. You crawl under the covers while Chan stands there, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Your voice holds suspicion, your eyes peeking over the blankets.

He smirks, pulling the shirt off. "I told you I sleep naked."

"Naked naked?" you ask, eyebrows raising as his fingers move to his jeans.

He notices the way your eyes fixated on his body, he knows you like what you're seeing so he makes a good show out of it. He's working his jeans open in a painstakingly slow motions, stripping down to his dark boxers.

"Your expression is filthy," he jokes, "what are you thinking?"

You let out a scoff and tuck yourself into the blanket, trying so hard to not to be affected by what he just did.

Chan can't help but quietly smiling in triumphant and comes over to the bed. Climbing into bed next to you feels surreal. It's more than just sharing a space now; you're sharing your bed.

The scent of your sheets is intoxicating, subtle yet enough to make him feel like he's sinking into you even without touching. He pulls the covers over himself, careful to leave a respectful gap between you two, honoring your one condition.

He rolls onto his side, facing you, while you lay on your back, eyes closed. The darkness wraps around both of you, the room heavy with quiet and the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air.

"What happened?" you ask, eyes still shut, your voice breaking the silence.

"What?" Chan asks, fingers barely brushing the edge of your arm, almost on instinct.

"You said you had a bad day," you repeat, softly, your voice drifting through the stillness.

He sighs, staring up at the ceiling now. "Well, I went out tonight and I tried to be... good," he starts, his voice low. "But it turned out to be not easy."

You don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, your presence alone urging him to be honest.

"I was at this club after my set, just hanging out. Someone sent me a drink, and next thing I know, this guy is in my face, accusing me of flirting with his girlfriend," he explains, his tone frustrated. "I didn’t even do anything. But... it just made me realize how easy it is for things to get messed up. One small misunderstanding, and it all spirals."

His fingers lightly brush your arm now, the contact gentle, but you don't push him away. He takes that as permission to continue.

"I don’t want to be that guy anymore—the one who gets mixed up in stuff like that," he murmurs. "I’m trying to be better... for you."

You don’t respond right away, your breathing steady, as if you’re already halfway to sleep. But your silence is enough of an answer for him. He feels calmer, just being here with you.

"He almost punched me," Chan dramatically shares to gain sympathy from you.

You chuckle softly, "So, the usual, huh?"

"The usual, yeah," he responds, grinning.

"But that's also where you're doing it wrong, Chris," you say, turning your body to face him and see his eyebrows knit in confusion.

"You're doing it for me." You say, resting your hand under your head as you clarify, "When you should be doing this for you."

That sinks in, and it hits him why everything's felt like a struggle lately. He's been trying to change because of external pressure—because of you—not because he truly wanted it for himself.

"Don’t get me wrong," you continue gently, your voice low and soothing. "I appreciate that you’re willing to change for me, but I want you to change because you want it. For yourself."

Your words, so calm and caring, open up a new perspective for him. It's not just about trying to impress or be better for you, but about becoming someone he's proud of. It all feels clearer now, and at the same time, he feels a deep sense of reassurance—he really is with the right person.

"Can we cuddle?" Chan asks, pulling his best puppy eyes to win you over.

You don’t answer verbally, but the way you open your arms for him is all the permission he needs.

Without wasting a second, he slides in closer, wrapping himself around you, his arm draped over your body as he nestles his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of your body envelops him, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

"Goodnight, Chris," you murmur, patting his head softly.

"Goodnight," he mumbles back, sneaking in a kiss on your jaw.

You let it slide this time, smiling into the darkness before closing your eyes, drifting off.

Chan, however, is still wide awake, his mind buzzing with the proximity between you two. There's only a thin layer of clothes separating your bodies, and he's doing his best to respect your boundaries, but the way your warmth radiates against him makes sleep the last thing on his mind.

Still, he takes a deep breath, doing his best to settle down, grateful for this moment of closeness with you.

-

Chan is used to waking up unsure of his surroundings, but this morning is different. He knows exactly where he is, and for once, he doesn't immediately rush off. Instead, he nestles his head closer to yours, savoring the warmth of your body pressed against his while you're still unaware that he's awake.

The sound of your alarm blaring from your phone finally breaks the silence. You groan, forcing yourself to wake up, eyes still closed as your hand fumbles around the bedside table to turn it off.

After silencing the alarm, you yawn and stretch, your body still heavy with sleep. "Ugh, I have to go to work," you mutter, tapping Chan’s forearm in a silent request for him to release you.

But instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "No, stay," he mumbles, his voice low and groggy.

"Not everyone makes money from spinning records," you tease, a playful jab at his career.

"I’m not going to take that personally," he grumbles, his voice muffled as he refuses to lift his head from your neck.

You chuckle softly, your fingers naturally slipping into his curls. Gently, you start brushing them with your fingertips, feeling the texture of his hair as you absentmindedly comment, "Is this your natural hair?"

"Hmm," he hums, affirming.

"They’re a bit dry and..." You pull back slightly to take a better look, "...a little dull too."

"Mmh..." he hums again, clearly enjoying the gentle scratching of your fingers against his scalp.

"You should condition them better," you suggest, offering hair advice out of the blue.

An idea forms in Chan’s mind, and though he knows you’ll likely see right through him, he can’t resist. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, a cheeky grin forming on his lips as he asks, "Can you show me how to take care of my curls?"

The playful gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can already tell what he's up to. But the question catches you off guard enough to make you laugh.

"Show you how exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you pretend to play dumb.

Chan, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, stumbles through his words, "You know... we could, uh, get in the shower together, and you can, um, show me how to... condition my curls, or whatever…" He flashes you that dimpled grin, the one that always manages to make his adorable babbling irresistible.

You lift your head slightly, propping it up with one hand as you look at him skeptically. "You want us to shower together so I can teach you how to wash your hair?"

He nods, eyes wide with feigned innocence, fully expecting a refusal and maybe a reminder of the boundary you’ve set about physical intimacy. But instead, you surprise him by giving in.

"Okay," you simply say.

The stunned expression on his face is priceless, his eyes widening further as if he didn’t quite hear you right. "Wait, really?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. You want to learn, right?" You give him a smirk, teasing him without saying it outright, fully aware of what he's really after.

His grin grows, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to leap out of bed with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.

Without another word, you swing your legs out of bed, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the bathroom. Chan watches you, dumbfounded for a second, before scrambling to follow.

-

Nothing could have prepared Chan for this.

The moment you slip your nightdress off and pull your underwear down your legs, his brain shuts down. His eyes roam over your bare skin, every curve, every inch of you exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination.

As if that weren't enough, you gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, exposing your neck—a sight that only intensifies his desire. He stands there, frozen, unable to decide which part of you to look at first.

You step into the shower, and Chan steps aside, barely breathing as the water begins to cascade down your body. He watches the droplets slide over your skin, wishing desperately that he could replace the water, that he could all over you like that.

When you turn to face him, he lets out a low breath, trying to keep his composure. His gaze travels down your body, soaking in every detail, every inch that he so badly wants to touch. He grips the shower stall handle tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you.

Your hands slide down your body, the action as innocent as washing off yesterday's weariness, but in his mind, it's anything but innocent. You're driving him crazy, and you know it. The way you look at him, allowing him to watch you like this—it's tantalizing, almost cruel.

"Okay, first," you break the silence, your voice echoing in the small shower chamber. "We need to get your hair wet."

He almost forgot the pretense of this shower. He tears his eyes away from your body and focuses on your words, trying to remember that this was supposed to be about hair care. You take the showerhead and aim it at him, chuckling as he remains rooted to the floor.

"It's hard if you stand so far away," you tease.

He steps closer, knowing that proximity will only make things worse for him. Still, he obeys. The moment you're close enough, you bring the showerhead to his hair, gently wetting it with your fingers brushing through his curls. He's so close to you, his lips mere inches from yours. He has to fight the urge to kiss you, to taste your skin.

"Now it's wet and ready," you murmur, putting the showerhead aside and reaching for the shampoo. You work it into his scalp, massaging it in slow, circular motions.

"That feels good," Chan mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"Yeah?" you whisper, stepping even closer, your chest now grazing his. "You like that?"

"Yeah, I like that," he says, his voice strained as he struggles to keep it together.

The intense eye contact is too much for him, and though he's usually good at holding a gaze, this is different. He closes his eyes, trying to calm the heat building inside him. His body is betraying him, and the situation down there is getting harder—literally—to control.

"Okay, now we're going to wash it out," you say, grabbing the showerhead again and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

Chan almost groans when you step away, the loss of your touch leaving him aching for more. He keeps his eyes closed as you instructed, but every brush of your fingers against his scalp, every sigh you let out, sends him spiraling.

"It's all good now," you say, smiling as you wipe a stray bit of foam from his face.

He's at ease, yet burning inside. He feels taken care of, but also teased to the brink of madness.

"What's next?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"We're going to condition it next," you explain, turning away to get the conditioner. "Your curls need moisture, so you have to condition regularly. Or just condition without shampooing sometimes."

He nods, barely hearing your words. The proximity, the feel of your breath on his ear, is driving him wild. As you apply the conditioner, you're even closer than before, so close that he can feel your breath on his neck. He’s barely holding on.

Then you ask, casually, "Do you want me to wash your body too?"

The offer hits him like a shockwave, and for a moment, he can't speak. Blinking, he nods, his heart pounding. You take a bar of soap, lathering it up before sliding your hands over his skin. Every touch is electric, and when your hand glides over his abs, he clenches them, trying to maintain control. Your hand goes lower, tracing the path along his pelvic bone.

But then, mercifully, your hand moves away. You rub down his legs and even grab his rear, making him chuckle nervously.

"Something funny?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"Nothing," he replies, swallowing hard as he lets you continue. He’s letting you do whatever you want, helpless under your hands.

When you finish, the two of you just stand there under the warm water, the tension in the air thickening by the second. The bathroom feels smaller, the space between you more unbearable.

Chan snaps. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you flush against him, his body fitting against yours perfectly. He presses his lips against your neck, kissing the soft spot under your ear. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze.

"What’s next?" he growls.

You wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw until your mouth hovers near his ear.

"I'm going out of the shower," you whisper, "and I'll give you a few minutes to..." Your eyes flick downward, pointedly glancing at his hardening member. "...sort out your situation."

You kiss his cheek and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. With one last playful smile, you say, "I can't be late for work."

And just like that, you leave him standing there—wet, aroused, and utterly flabbergasted.

-

Chan’s life is different now—less chaotic, more focused. He’s found a new rhythm, avoiding old habits and temptations, reminding himself that he can be better. At work, he's polite, giving empty promises when girls ask him for drinks, knowing full well he has no intention of following through. His nights out have become rare, and if he feels that sexual urges, he'll channel that energy into working out at the gym.

Tonight, he's watching for you, keeping his apartment door open so he can see when you arrive home. The moment he hears the elevator chime, he rushes to the door and spots you stepping out, looking exhausted from work.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You give him a tired but warm smile. “Hey.”

Chan walks over, grabbing one of your bags to help lighten your load. “Come on, I cooked us dinner.”

The sight of you eating so well makes him feel proud. Every bite you take feels like a reward for the time he spent preparing the meal. When you finish your plate and look at him with a shy smile, asking for more, he grins and happily gets up, placing more fried rice on your plate.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely as he refills your glass of water before sitting back down.

“You’re very welcome,” Chan responds, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.

Dinner ends with a cold can of beer, and soon, you're both on the sofa, enjoying the comfortable silence that fills the space. Chan sits there, the question he’s been wanting to ask weighing on his mind. He takes a breath.

“Do you have plans this Saturday?” he asks casually.

“Why?” you inquire, taking a sip of water, sensing something behind the question.

“A friend asked me to play at his sister’s wedding,” he explains, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, his hand just brushing your shoulder. “and I want you to come with me.”

“As a date?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Chan grins, trying to suppress his excitement. “As a date, yes.”

“I’d love to,” you say, but something in your tone makes him sense there’s more.

“But?” he asks, bracing for the letdown.

“I can’t. I have a guest coming over that day,” you explain apologetically.

“A guest?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity.

You nod. “Yeah, a guest.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Colleague?”

“Nope.”

“Friends?” he asks, growing more curious with each question.

You shake your head, hesitating for a moment before finally revealing, “Ex-boyfriend.”

Chan leans back, exasperated. “So, you're not coming with me because Lee is coming over?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep things simple.

He stares at you, dumbfounded. “But why?”

“Because I told him to,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant, though you know it’s frustrating him.

“What?!” Chan looks at you in disbelief, his eyes wide.

You laugh softly at his reaction, putting your glass down and settling into the couch. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to make this work, so, I thought maybe it’s time I do my part too.”

He’s silent, listening intently, trying to understand what you mean.

“I told Lee to come so he can take his things from my place,” you explain. “That way, I can have space for… new things.”

Chan’s pout fades into a smile as the meaning behind your words sinks in. Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently on your lap. For a moment, he can’t believe it—the two of you are really doing this. You're starting fresh, together.

“Okay,” he says softly, understanding now. “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling back at him.

“I still want you to come with me, though,” he says, the hint of disappointment still lingering.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, genuinely apologetic. Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you offer, “But I can still help you with your hair if you want.”

Chan laughs, his grin returning. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Later, when he walks you to your apartment door, he dreads the moment of parting. You share a long, warm embrace, and as usual, you're the first to pull away, though you keep holding his hand for just a little longer.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say softly.

Chan smirks, joking to lighten the mood. “If you’re really thankful, you should dream of me tonight.”

You smile, playing along. “I’ll try.”

“And I’ll try to dream of you too,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, “preferably naked.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”

He gently caresses your face, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly, then adds with a smirk, “I think we should start picking pet names.”

You shake your head, but there’s a smile on your face as you step back, ready to go. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight… baby?” he tries, testing out the pet name.

You say nothing, just smiling at him one last time before you let go of his hand and step inside, leaving him standing there, heart fluttering, wondering when he’ll get to hold you again.

-

Chan stands in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, though leaving the cuffs open for now. He can’t help but think what a shame it is—looking this good and going to the wedding without a date. You had refused his invitation, but he can’t fault you for it. There’s something good in your intentions, and all he can do is be understanding.

He’s about to grab his suit jacket when there’s a knock at the door. With a smile, he heads to open it, already knowing who it is.

There you stand, a can of hairspray in one hand and a hair straightener in the other. “It’s your hair appointment,” you announce with a grin.

Chan chuckles and motions you inside. He sits in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, carefully styling his hair. As he watches you work, he’s struck by how focused you look—creases forming between your brows, your lips slightly pursed in concentration. He never thought it was possible for someone to be both cute and sexy at the same time, but here you are, proving him wrong.

“Would that suffice?” you ask after spraying his hair one last time.

“No,” Chan says, his tone playful, “not if you’re not coming with me.”

You smile but don’t respond, busying yourself with taming the last few stray hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re done now,” you announce, satisfied with your work.

He glances at himself in the mirror and smiles. “Aren’t you going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me I look handsome?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you tease, tidying up the clutter on the table.

Chan stands, smoothing down his shirt, but there’s one more thing to complete his look. He picks up the tie from the table and holds it out to you. “We still have a problem here.”

You glance up, understanding immediately. Without a word, you take the tie from his hands and skillfully knot it around his collar. Your fingers work quickly, and before long, the tie is secured neatly in place.

“Okay, you’re ready now,” you say with a nod.

Chan puts on his suit jacket, then spins around with his arms spread wide, showing off the full look. “How do I look?”

You step closer, and to his surprise, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You look handsome,” you say with a soft smile.

He stands there for a moment, warmth spreading through him from that simple gesture. It’s enough to make him feel like he’s already won, even if he’s going to the wedding alone. He places his hands gently on your waist and pulls you closer, his voice soft but persuasive.

"It's not too late to text Lee and tell him to come another day," he suggests, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reconsideration.

You chuckle lightly, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I don’t think it's wise to cancel it on the last minute," you explain, your tone gentle but firm.

He nods, accepting your decision even though it’s not the answer he wanted. At least you have a good reason, and it’s not as if you’re choosing your ex over him. But the tension lingers, and Chan pulls you even closer, savoring this tender moment before Lee shows up and disrupts his day. He knows he has no reason to be jealous, but it nags at him anyway—what if Lee has other intentions with this visit?

"Can't you just... put his things in a box and mail it to him?" He asks, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.

You chuckle again, tilting your head slightly. "We’re grown-ups, Chris. We broke up on good terms. I don’t see why we can’t be civil after everything."

Chan tightens his grip around you, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "But what if he asks you to get back with him?"

Instead of answering, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "And you think I’d say yes?"

His grin widens, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

You shake your head, smiling. "Oh, Chris... you're ridiculous."

He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah, but I had to ask. I just don't like the idea of him coming around."

"He's just going to come, pick up his things, and leave," you explain, trying to reassure Chan that there’s no need for jealousy.

Chan takes the opportunity to pull you even closer, his arms tightening around you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "No deep talking, no reminiscing the shared memories, okay? No smiling either," he warns, his voice full of playful intensity.

You laugh at his protectiveness, letting him rest his forehead against yours.

"I love the way you smile," he says suddenly, the words catching you off guard. "I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don't."

"Why?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"Because you don’t give it to everyone," Chan murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. "And I don’t plan on sharing you."

The possessive edge in his voice stirs something in you, and you feel yourself relax, leaning into his embrace. His fingers cup your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly as he draws closer, his gaze flicking down to your lips.

Just as he’s about to close the gap, a knock sounds—not on his door, but across the hall. You gently break away from his hold, heading to check with Chan trailing behind, a bit flustered.

"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry, I was at Chris's place," you say as you open the door and spot your ex, Lee, standing there.

"Oh hey," Lee greets you, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. A hug that, to Chan, feels way too long. Chan clears his throat loudly, making his presence known.

Lee finally lets go of you and acknowledges him. "Oh, hey, Chris," Lee says, extending his hand for a handshake.

Chan hates that Lee’s actually being nice—he's a good guy, and that makes him feel like the bad guy.

"Hey, Lee," Chan mutters, reluctantly shaking his hand.

"You look dashing. Going somewhere?" Lee asks, genuinely.

"Yeah, uh... a friend's wedding," Chan replies, his earlier hostility fading slightly.

As they exchange pleasantries, you unlock your door and gesture for Lee to come inside. "Please, come in," you say.

"Are you joining us, Chris?" Lee asks, seriously offering for him to stay.

Chan would love nothing more than to stay and keep an eye on things, but he checks the time on his phone and realizes he’s already pushing it if he doesn’t leave now. "I have to go, actually," he says, regret heavy in his voice.

"What a pity! I brought us food," Lee says to you, smiling. "It’s the baked ziti from your favorite place."

You smile awkwardly, glancing at Chan. "That’s so nice of you, Lee."

"See you next time, Chris," Lee says as he steps into your apartment.

Chan sighs, feeling torn between wanting to stay and knowing he has to leave. His chest tightens as he glances at you one last time.

"I’ll see you later, okay?" you say, smiling, though it does little to comfort him.

"Don’t smile at him!" Chan grumbles, trying to cling to his playfully jealous tone.

You laugh softly and surprise him by stepping forward, placing a quick but tender peck on his lips. The brief contact sends butterflies swirling in his stomach.

"Have fun at the wedding," you say sweetly, flashing him one last smile before closing the door.

Chan stands there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of your lips lingering. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he turns to leave, knowing that despite everything, you’re still his.

-

Seeing that most of the guests have already left and only a few remain on the dance floor, Chan decides it’s time to wrap up his set. Grabbing the mic, he announces, "Everyone, this is the last dance."

His suit is no longer in its proper form—he ditched the jacket long ago, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He inhales deeply, satisfied with a job well done.

As he packs up, his friend, the groom's brother, hands him a bottle of champagne as a token of gratitude. "You killed it, mate. Thanks for stepping in."

"Anytime, man," Chan says with a grin, accepting the bottle. Just as he’s about to take a sip, a voice interrupts him.

"Are you planning on sharing that?"

He turns around, surprised to see someone he least expected. "Sue?"

"Oh, I thought you forgot about me," Sue says with a teasing smile.

How could he? Sue was his first love, the one who gave him his first heartbreak. She’s older and taller than him, just like before, but Chan sees her differently now—not as the boy who once idolized her, but as a man. Yet, the admiration still lingers.

Sue chuckles and gives him a quick hug. "Of all places, we meet here?"

"I know, right?" Chan shakes his head, still bewildered. "My friend is the brother of the bride."

"And I’m one of the groom's family," Sue says, showing off the dress. "What a small world!"

They share the bottle of champagne in the garden, sitting by the pool as they catch up. The evening air is warm, and the conversation flows easily.

"Is it alright that you're here with me?" Chan asks, glancing around as though expecting someone to pop up and claim her.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" Sue replies.

"I don’t know. I figured your boyfriend would be looking for you soon," Chan jokes, though there’s a part of him that’s curious.

"I don’t have a boyfriend," Sue says casually, taking a sip from the bottle.

Chan arches an eyebrow. "That's a lie!"

Sue playfully elbows him. "Oh, I know you’re happy to know I’m single," she teases.

"You can’t be single," Chan insists.

"But I am," she assures him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"No way," Chan shakes his head, unable to believe it. "I mean, you’re taller and more beautiful than the last time we met. You can’t be single."

Sue leans in, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "And maybe that's why we met again tonight."

The suggestion in her voice throws him off balance, and before he can say anything, they bump into a group of people running around in their underwear, dripping wet and giggling as they pass by. Some guests have clearly taken the after-party to the hot tub.

Sue looks at the now-empty, steaming hot tub and asks, "What do you think?"

"You... you want to get in the hot tub?" Chan asks, incredulous.

"You and me, together," Sue says with a mischievous grin, her fingers already reaching for the zipper of her dress.

Chan's eyes widen as she strips down to her undergarments, standing confidently in front of him.

Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the tub. "Come on! It’s getting cold!"

Seeing no harm in it—and after all, it’s been a lovely night—Chan relents. He strips down to his boxers and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water. The heat engulfs him, relaxing his muscles.

Sue leans back in the tub, her fingers playfully skimming the surface of the water. "Chris, you’ve really grown since the last time I saw you."

"Nah, I’m still the same," Chan says, feeling oddly shy. Despite the years that have passed, Sue still has a way of making him feel like a nervous kid.

"You're... hot. Like, really hot," Sue says with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over him.

Chan shakes his head, his ears turning red. "Nah, nah."

Sue moves closer, her voice dropping. "I’ll admit, I regretted rejecting you back then."

"You’re only saying that to make me feel better," Chan says, trying to deflect, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that throws him off.

"Let's hope that's the case," Sue replies, and for a moment, their gazes lock, the tension thickening between them.

The heat of the water and the intensity of her gaze make Chan’s heart race, and he’s not sure if it’s just the temperature that’s making him feel this way. "It’s getting late," he finally says, breaking the moment.

"Yeah, you’re right," Sue agrees, being the first to climb out of the tub. She picks up her dress from the sun chair—and grabs Chan’s clothes as well.

"Hey, Chris," she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face as he’s about to step out of the water. "I have your clothes."

Before he can react, Sue takes off running, leaving Chan standing there, drenched and half-dressed.

"Sue!" Chan shouts, scrambling to get out of the tub. With no other option, he chases after her, his laughter echoing in the night.

As a family member of the wedded family, Sue has a room reserved at the resort, and she generously offers it to Chan so he can clean up after their impromptu dip in the hot tub. Chan stands in the bathroom, holding a hair dryer in one hand and his damp boxers in the other. He’s wrapped in a towel, waiting for his clothes to dry as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other.

"Chris, are you done?" Sue’s voice calls from outside the door.

"Almost done!" Chan shouts back, his voice strained. The air in the bathroom is warm and heavy, matching the tension he feels in his chest.

Before he can finish drying his boxers, Sue barges into the bathroom, still in her wet undergarments, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s there.

"I can't wait any longer," she announces, her voice playful but firm as she strides confidently toward the shower stall, tossing her towel to the floor.

Chan swallows hard, eyes widening as she starts stripping out of her wet underwear. His gaze flickers to the mirror, catching glimpses of her body before he quickly tries to avert his eyes, heat rising to his face.

"I–I'm almost done..." Chan mumbles, his voice barely audible now as he turns the hair dryer off, but his words trail off because Sue isn’t listening. She’s busy shedding the last of her clothing, standing completely exposed now, her back to him.

His heart pounds, and though he desperately tries to look away, his eyes betray him, catching her figure in the reflection again. She moves toward the shower, but then she pauses, noticing his gaze through the mirror. A small smile curves her lips as she saunters back toward him, utterly confident.

"Chris," she says, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sends a shiver down his spine. She steps closer, her bare body now in full view. "Want to shower together?"

Chan’s throat tightens, and he can’t seem to find the words. His mind is racing, caught between a surge of old feelings and the shocking reality of the moment. Sue stands there, teasingly exposed, as if waiting for him to make the next move.

Chan was a boy back then but now, he's just a man.

-

Is Chan still mad about Lee visiting you? Or did he go somewhere after the wedding and forget to tell you? Or... maybe he simply doesn't want to see you?

You’ve been turning these thoughts over in your mind ever since that night. You thought he’d come over after the wedding, share his usual stories about the day, about anything, really—like he always does. But the silence has been unsettling.

Coming home from work today, you half-expect to see him standing at his door, greeting you with that dimpled grin, his usual "Hi, neighbor." But all you see is his closed door.

You convince yourself that if Chan wants to see you, he’ll come around like usual, to poke fun at you or make you laugh. But it’s been too long now, and a knot of worry forms in your chest. What if he’s sick? What if something’s wrong?

After dropping off your bags and changing into comfortable clothes, you make up your mind and head over to his door. You knock, heart thudding with anticipation. A few moments later, you hear footsteps from inside.

When the door creaks open, there he is. He looks well—he looks good, as usual—but something feels off. There’s no dimpled grin, no sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey, can I come in?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't betray the unease creeping in.

"Sure," he says, stepping aside to let you enter.

You walk in and sit on the sofa, waiting for him to join you. The silence feels heavier than usual, and he seems distant, avoiding your gaze.

"How are you?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

He lets out a long sigh before replying, "I’m good." He says but it doesn’t feel like the truth.

"That’s good to hear," you say, though you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

You reach out to press your hand gently against his forehead. "You’re not sick, are you?"

He lets you touch him, and you tease, "Ooh... you’re still the hottest tenant in this building."

You hope the joke might lighten the mood, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s faint, distant. You don’t want to push him too hard, but this isn’t Chan. Not the Chan you know.

"Are you trying a new persona?" you tease again, nudging him lightly. "Because this brooding emo guy thing doesn’t suit you."

This time, he chuckles, and the sound makes your heart lift a little. He finally looks at you, and his hand reaches for yours, fingers loosely intertwining with yours in the space between you on the sofa.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, the apology catching you off guard.

"What for?" you ask, scooting closer to him, sensing that he’s carrying something heavy. You want to comfort him, whatever it is.

He leans back against the sofa, exhaling deeply. You wait, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.

"I met someone at the wedding," he begins, his voice careful.

A flicker of unease ripples through you, but you don’t say anything. You stay calm, letting him explain.

"Oh no, don't say you ran away with the bride," you joke, but it's more to ease the tension you feel building inside you.

Chan doesn’t react. He keeps looking straight ahead, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"I met Sue," he starts, his voice struggling to push the words out. "She’s... someone I knew from the past."

You stay quiet, sensing that there’s more he needs to get out, but the pauses between his words are long and heavy.

"We met there, talked, had some drinks... and we ended up taking a quick dip in the hot tub."

"Sounds fun," you say, but your voice is flat, far from convincing.

He swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. "We ended up in her hotel room... we were in the bathroom at the same time, and then... she asked if I wanted to shower with her."

Your heart sinks, but you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You stare down at your lap, your thoughts swirling, every unkind possibility flashing through your mind.

"I didn’t take her up on it," he quickly adds, "but... I hesitated. And in that moment, I realized I completely dismissed your feelings. I hate myself for it." His voice cracks with regret, and you can see the pain etched across his face.

"Maybe I haven’t changed at all," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Maybe I’ll always be... this... ‘fuckboy Chris.’" He lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back as if trying to escape the weight of his own thoughts.

He turns to look at you, his eyes full of sadness. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready for this." His voice is small now, hesitant. "And I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue."

It’s a lot to take in. The silence fills the room, and you let yourself feel everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the empathy. You need time, just a few moments, to let it all sink in.

When you finally lift your head, you give him a soft, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for being honest with me," you begin, your voice steady but quiet. "And I know it wasn’t easy to say... but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed."

His expression is heartbreaking. "I’m really sorry," he whispers.

"But Chris..." You take his hand, resting it on your lap, your fingers curling around his. "The fact that you acknowledged what you did was wrong, and that you took responsibility for it, shows me you're on the right path."

His eyes shift, the glints of warmth starting to return. "Don’t ever say you can’t change. You’re changing... I can see it, believe me."

Chan lets out a breath, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Goodness, what did I do to deserve you?"

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "You don’t have to be perfect for me, Chris. You just need to be good for yourself."

He buries his head into the curve of your neck, his arms tight around you, holding on as if to remind himself this isn’t the end. Not yet.

"But, you know..." you tease, your voice light. "You could always quit now."

"Never!" he exclaims, pulling you even tighter into his embrace.

The two of you sit there, holding onto each other, your flaws laid bare. The silence between you feels different now—it's full of understanding, and something deeper starting to grow.

Chan tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and his eyes soften as they lock with yours.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispers, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

You meet his gaze, the same emotions swirling within you. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you echo, because this journey hasn't been easy for either of you.

The moment between you is tender, delicate, and charged with something deeper—something that goes beyond words. You can feel it in the air, and in the way he looks at you. It feels right, like it needs to be sealed with something more, something real.

Your hands gently cradle his face, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You swipe your thumb across his mouth, your touch lingering as you think about how much you missed the feel of him, the taste of him. Slowly, you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his.

The kiss feels unlike any you've shared before. It's soft, deliberate, and filled with all the unsaid emotions between you. His lips move against yours with such tenderness, and in that moment, everything melts away—the hesitation, the doubts, the fear. This kiss marks the start of something new, something deeper.

Chan kisses you gently, and it makes your heart tremble in your chest. Every brush of his lips against yours speaks of the emotions he's been holding back, the sadness and the sweetness of what you’ve both been through. It’s bittersweet and lovely, all at once.

This kiss signifies that you’re ready—both of you are ready to take this leap, to explore this new depth together.

When the kiss breaks, Chan can’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He buries his head in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent that always calms him down. The feeling of your hand rubbing his back as you rest your head against him only solidifies how grateful he is that you're here, that he didn’t lose you.

He almost blew it, and yet here you are, forgiving him, giving him another chance. It's moments like this that make him certain—you’re the right person for him. Everything feels just... right.

You interrupt the peaceful silence with a playful tone, "It's your turn now."

"My turn for what?" Chan asks, momentarily confused as he lifts his head to look at you.

"Your turn to host the pajama party," you say, reminding him of the promise he’d made.

For a second, he’d forgotten all about that. "Huh?" he blurts out before realizing what you mean.

"I'll bring the snacks," you offer, and Chan nods, still smiling.

"Okay," he agrees without hesitation.

But you quickly add, "No weird movies, please?"

He can’t help himself from teasing you. "I know this French porn movie where the man—"

"Don’t make me cancel it," you cut him off, shooting him a stern look.

Chan laughs, "Okay, no French porn movies. Noted."

A mischievous idea crosses his mind as he playfully grins. "It's my party, though. I can do whatever I want, right?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing through his intentions, but to his surprise, you don’t outright protest. "Well... yes."

His grin widens as countless thoughts—most of them lewd and not remotely innocent—flood his mind. You’ve given him too much freedom now, and with that playful look in his eyes, Chan’s already thinking of ways to push your buttons.

-

The pajama party is officially on, and Chan has everything set to perfection. The bed faces the TV, freshly made with new sheets, and a scented candle flickers nearby, filling the room with a light, romantic scent. He carefully curated a movie list that’ll support the atmosphere he’s trying to create—a mix of feel-good films with enough romantic tension to get you in the mood.

As for himself, he keeps it simple yet calculated—gray sweatpants, worn low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of his pelvic bones, knowing full well how much you like that.

He checks the room once more, muttering to himself, "What else? What else?"

After a while, he spots something."The lights!" he says, darting toward the switch.

Setting the lights to a soft, dim glow, it ensures the perfect balance—just enough to see but low enough to encourage a little closeness.

Just as everything’s ready, you arrive, right on time. He’s been buzzing with excitement, but he tamps it down, making sure to keep his face casual as he opens the door slowly.

"I'm on an all-protein diet, but I can't say no to this snack," he teases, his eyes shamelessly traveling down your body. There’s a flicker of disappointment when he sees you in an oversized sweater, hiding your figure.

You hand him the bag of snacks with a smirk, "I hope you like grapes!"

He places the bag on the table, watching as you stroll into the room, eyes observing the cozy setup he’s prepared.

"I see that you did a little renovation." You comment with eyes narrowed.

"And I see that you're not dressed according to the dress code," he quips, pointing at your large, cozy sweater with a mock frown.

"Is it necessary though?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.

"Yes," he insists, determined.

You sigh in playful defeat, tugging at the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head, revealing a short, black slip dress underneath. It's silky, tight, and leaves just enough to the imagination—but not too much.

As you bend slightly to place the sweater on the sofa, Chan catches a glimpse of the lacey black underwear peeking out beneath the dress. His eyes widen for a second, and his pulse quickens. Suddenly, he wonders if maybe insisting on the dress code was too good of an idea. That slip dress, especially with the way it clings to you, is dangerous.

Oh, this is going to be fun, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing as he watches you settle in, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

"Do you want me to prepare the snack or something?" you ask, snapping Chan out of his daze. He’s been standing there for what feels like a full minute, just staring at you.

He quickly averts his gaze, trying to shake off the image of your nipples lightly pressing through the silky fabric of your slip dress. It's too much of a distraction. "No, I'll do it. You can just..."

"I'll just get comfortable," you say with a teasing smile, turning away and heading toward the bed. His eyes can’t help but follow the way the hem of your slip rides up with each step, revealing more of your thighs than he's ready to handle.

He manages to gather his thoughts long enough to prepare the snacks. When he returns with the tray, he finds you nestled in the bed, already looking far too comfortable. A pillow is propped behind your back, your legs casually stacked and splayed across the bed, and the hem of your slip dress rides dangerously high, showing off even more skin.

You crawl over to the side of the bed, the neckline of your dress dipping low and giving him an accidental peek at your soft, unrestrained curves. You help him place the snacks on the bed, and his mind keeps wandering as he tries not to lose focus.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, clearly unaware of the war going on inside his head.

"I don't know," Chan blurts out without thinking, his mind still stuck on how your body moves so effortlessly in that dress.

Your brow furrows, and you pout in response to his non-answer.

"I mean, I've chosen a few, but I’ll let you make the final decision," he says, completely surrendering control of the night, which had not been part of his plan.

He places the tray of snacks in the empty space on the bed, and you pick up a chip, popping it into your mouth with a playful grin. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance—for now.

"Okay, now I’m curious about your choice of movies," you say as you crawl over him to reach for the remote.

The scent of your skin, the warmth of your body so close, it’s all so utterly distracting. His breath catches as you move over him, the proximity stirring something deeper inside.

"No porn," you say with a laugh, scrolling through his movie selections. "That’s a good start."

Chan grins, but the effect you have on him is overwhelming. He needs to cool down fast before his mind strays too far. Thinking quickly, he suggests an action movie, something that could help him focus on anything other than you.

You agree without hesitation and settle back against the pillows as the movie starts, the room dimly lit, and the night now filled with a tension that neither of you can completely ignore.

"So, the father no longer lives with his daughter?" you ask, eyes glued to the screen while Chan’s attention remains fixed on your body.

"Uh-huh, yeah," he mumbles, clearly distracted.

"I don't like the stepfather," you comment about the movie, unaware of how little Chan is actually paying attention.

You turn your head to him, catching him in the act of staring. You pretend not to notice, reaching casually for a grape from the bowl he's holding. But as you bring it to your mouth, it slips from your fingers, rolling down Chan’s bare stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Without hesitation, you innocently reach for the grape, your hand brushing dangerously close to where he’s most sensitive. The moment is fleeting, but it lingers for Chan. He feels the heat rise in his chest as your fingers pull the grape free and pop it into your mouth as if nothing happened.

For a second, he’s frozen, his breath catching as the proximity of your touch leaves him wanting more. His carefully crafted plans for tonight? They seem to be backfiring, with you unintentionally driving him wild.

-

Chan may think all your actions were innocent accidents, but little does he know every move was calculated. You've been noticing his wandering gaze, the way he keeps getting distracted by you rather than the movie. His bare torso, though distracting, only adds fuel to your own plans.

When the first movie ends, you decide it’s time to build a little anticipation. You scoot to the edge of the bed, casually announcing, "Bathroom break."

You linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, letting the tension grow. When you return, Chan has cleared the tray and is fluffing your pillow—a sight that makes you grin inwardly. He’s already under your control.

"Can we watch a romcom next?" you ask as you climb back onto the bed, this time settling even closer to him.

"Sure," Chan agrees without hesitation, confirming that you've got him wrapped around your finger.

The second movie begins, and a few minutes in, you fake a yawn, casually resting your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, but eventually, his arm slips around you, his hand gently rubbing your arm. You smile softly, knowing you’ve set the perfect stage.

You lower your voice and whisper, "She’s beautiful, don’t you think?" referring to the actress on screen.

"Yes, she is," Chan replies quickly, too quickly.

You chuckle, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you'd say something like, 'but you're more beautiful,'" you tease.

That comment finally breaks his concentration on the movie. He looks at you, eyes locking with yours. The tension between you simmers, everything falling into place.

"You are more beautiful," he says, catching you off guard with how sincere he sounds.

You gently hold his chin, making sure his gaze stays on you. "Yeah?"

"Yes," his voice is low, thick with desire.

"Thank you," you sweetly murmur, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. It's a tease, just enough to leave him wanting more.

Chan is clearly struggling to hold on, but you're determined to push him further. You move swiftly, pulling one of his legs aside and slipping between them to sit.

The sheer panic in his voice when he asks, "What are you doing?" is impossible to miss.

“I want to sit here so we can cuddle,” you reply, playing the innocent card. You settle yourself against his chest, making sure to let out a low, sultry hum as you lean back into him.

He remains tense for a moment, but you feel him give in, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. His fingers gently squeeze your waist, and then his arm wraps around you, pulling you in close. His lips find your skin, starting with soft kisses on the top of your head, then trailing down the side of your face and to your bare shoulder. Each kiss becomes more ragged, more desperate, and you can feel the weight of his breath against your skin.

Finally, he turns your head, and the intensity in his eyes says it all—he’s done resisting. His lips crash into yours, the kiss raw, hungry, filled with more than just lust. It’s deep, hard, and leaves you breathless. You're barely keeping up as he kisses you with an urgency that feels like he’s been waiting for this forever.

“How can I walk away from this?” he asks, his voice heavy with emotion, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile, your lips barely grazing his as you reply, "You don’t, because it's your party, and you can do what you want."

That’s all it takes. Something inside him snaps. Chan gives in entirely, kissing you more feverishly, his hands roaming your body, touching you everywhere at once. You feel his fingers tug at the hem of your slip dress, and you lift your body slightly, allowing him to pull it off. The fabric falls away, leaving nothing between his hands and your skin.

“You’re so soft it's ridiculous,” he murmurs in awe, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You watch as his hands trail down your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides, claiming every inch of you. He traces the lines of your body like he’s memorizing them, his breath hot against your neck as he leaves searing kisses along the way.

“Everywhere my hand slides, you fit me,” he whispers, showing you just how well with every touch—from your throat to your breasts, your hips, and down. His mouth follows his hands, kissing, tasting, marking you.

You let out a quiet whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “Please let me touch you too,” you manage to whisper.

Chan doesn’t hesitate. He flips you over so that you’re straddling him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your every move. You waste no time, leaning in to kiss his neck, trailing your hands down his broad shoulders. Your fingers explore the firm muscles of his chest, and your lips follow, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.

You pause, admiring his sculpted abs, running your hands over them. "How do you even look like this?" you ask, awestruck.

Chan grins shyly, clearly not used to the compliments. “I don’t have anything better to do than go to the gym.”

“You do now,” you tease, tugging at him playfully.

Before he can react, you pull him down with you, both of you collapsing onto the bed together, laughing as the tension between you grows thicker.

In the dim light of the TV, Chan’s body hovers over yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he props himself on one elbow. You can feel the tension in the air, the weight of everything unsaid building between you. His eyes are locked onto yours, and you respond by slipping your hand down into his sweatpants, wrapping your fingers around him.

The way he groans, half-broken, sends a shiver down your spine. His hardness pulses under your touch, and each breath he takes sounds more ragged than the last. It’s intoxicating, knowing how undone he is because of you. Every stroke of your hand, every gentle squeeze makes him unravel a little more, and for a fleeting moment, you realize just how much power you have over him.

But before you can dwell on it, you feel his mouth. It takes you a second to pinpoint where, but then you feel it—hot and hungry, kissing your abdomen. His lips trail down, kissing along the curve of your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. The tension coils tighter inside you with each kiss.

With a playful grin, Chan grips the elastic band of your underwear between his teeth. The memory of last time flashes in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh at the familiar sight.

"Someone better not interrupt me again," he mutters between clenched teeth, determination and amusement laced in his voice as he tugs at the fabric.

The laughter bubbles out of you, half from the tickling sensation of his chin grazing your skin, half from the irony. But soon enough, the underwear slips away, and your laughter turns into a breathy sigh.

Chan wastes no time, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You can barely catch the words he murmurs between kisses, your focus completely stolen by the feel of his lips and tongue, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

Your legs part instinctively, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Anticipation swirls inside you, tightening in your core as Chan’s mouth ventures dangerously close to where you need him most.

The first contact of Chan’s mouth on your wetness is deliberate—a slow, teasing swirl that feels like the soft lick you’d give to the top of a melting ice cream cone. The sudden sensation draws a sharp gasp from your lips, and you almost snort from the intensity of it. He rewards you with a soft kiss on your inner thigh, as if pleased with himself.

The second contact is a gentle kiss, a reminder of the first kiss you shared. It’s pure, almost chaste, without any tongue, yet it holds a promise of what’s to come. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, a single thought pulses through your mind—you deeply wish that his kisses were meant for no one else but you.

Then comes the third, another kiss that slowly progressing from pure and innocent to something much dirtier. His lips linger and press deeper, his tongue tracing lines that send electric shocks through your entire body.

Chan takes his time, savoring every second, and with each passing minute, your body alternates between moments of tension and relaxation, yielding completely to him.

All of a sudden, he lifts his head, groaning in frustration. "I can’t handle it..." His voice is rough, desperate. He rests the side of his head on your thigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit as he breathes out, "I need more. Please."

His words are strained, raw with need. He’s hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge, and you know that if you don’t give him what he wants soon, he might just break. You slide your hand through his curls, tugging lightly to bring his gaze back to yours.

“More?” you ask, voice low, teasing, though his desperation makes your heart race.

"Way, way more," he whispers, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.

You smile softly, the pet name slipping out so naturally it surprises you. "Okay, baby."

At that, Chan hurriedly kneels, shedding his sweatpants in a rush, and when his erection springs free, it’s impossible not to stare. The sheer size of him, the desire etched across his face, it’s all aimed at you, and the heat between you intensifies.

He positions himself above you, taking your hands and tangling them with his own, pinning them above your head. "Finally..." he breathes, his voice thick with excitement and relief, almost bordering on ecstasy.

Despite the waiting, the teasing, you realize you were just as desperate as he was for this moment, "Finally..." you repeat.

As he pushes his hard length into you, he does it slowly, savoring every inch as your body adjusts to him. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can hear every sound that escapes his lips—soft gasps, sighs of pleasure, as if he’s trying to survive this moment and let it consume him all at once.

Fully sheathed inside you, he flexes his hips, and your eyes flutter shut. The sensation of him filling you, hot and hard, is overwhelming. It’s perfect.

"God, I was so right," he groans, his voice filled with awe. "You fit me perfectly"

Chan kneels again, his muscles contracting, his skin flushed red from the intensity. The view of him above you—his sculpted chest and arms—is breathtaking. He starts moving, each thrust measured, controlled. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and something similar to panic grips your chest, a raw intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.

“Talk to me,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips.

You smile weakly, your eyes half-closed as you try to keep yourself together. "This is... this is nice," you mumble, barely coherent as your mind reels from the pleasure.

He looks almost offended, his brow furrowing as if the word "nice" is beneath him. "Nice, huh?" he repeats, voice low and teasing.

Before you can respond, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you just enough to create a new angle. The depth he reaches now makes your breath hitch, and any attempt at keeping a coherent thought vanishes as he thrusts harder.

"Nice is good..." you start to say, but the words are swallowed by a moan as his pace increases, hitting just the right spot with every thrust. Your eyes roll back, and he grins at the reaction he pulls from you.

“I don’t do... nice,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning down as his movements grow faster, deeper, shaking the bed with every thrust.

You let out a sob, the sensation too much, and your body tightens around him, trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter. It’s a battle to hold on, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.

Chan hovers lower, his face close to yours as he studies every expression, his hips moving with precision. "Is it still nice?" he growls, his voice hoarse.

You can’t answer, not with the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. Your breath hitches, and just as you open your mouth to say something, a desperate cry escapes as your body finally gives in, releasing all the tension in a wave of pure ecstasy. You cling to the sheets, legs shaking, your voice echoing in the room as Chan continues to drive into you.

Moments later, you feel Chan reach his own peak, his body shuddering against yours as he releases with a deep, guttural groan, collapsing onto you, exhausted and trembling from the intensity of it all.

Once he's come to his senses, he lets out a shy laugh, his cheeks flushed. He’s so different from the brash, confident man you expected him to be—soft and vulnerable in ways you didn’t anticipate. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of affection for this man you’re getting to know in a completely new way.

"We’re going to miss the end of the movie," you tease, glancing at the TV still flickering in the background.

Chan laughs, his voice rich and warm. "I think we finished just in time."

-

Every time Chan wakes up in the morning, he no longer wonders where he is. He’s right where he belongs, lying next to you.

On weekdays, you live your separate lives, each sleeping in your own beds. But on weekends, you’re his, and he makes the most of it. It’s not just about sex—though there’s plenty of that. Your nights are filled with movies, video games, long dinners, and endless cuddling that eventually leads to even more sex.

Once, he warned you that it would take him days, weeks, maybe even years to get enough of you.

As expected, your alarm rings just as Chan is about to pull you closer, his arms instinctively reaching for you. With a quick motion, he grabs your phone, turns off the alarm, and shoves it under his pillow, refusing to let you go.

“Work,” you murmur, still half-asleep, rubbing your eyes as you reach for your phone.

“You know what time it is,” he teases, pulling you on top of him with ease.

Chan brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears so he can plant soft kisses all over your face. When his lips finally reach yours, his hand glides down your spine, resting on your rear before slipping his fingers under your underwear, teasing you through the fabric.

"Chris..." you mewl, your voice a mix of protest and desire.

“It’s either we do it here or in the shower,” he says, voice thick with need. He doesn’t care about the setting—he just knows he needs you to start his day right.

“As long as you’re doing all the work,” you reply, half teasing, half serious.

His eyes widen in disbelief. "Since when do you ever—"

You cut him off with a kiss, your lips pressing firmly against his. "Are we doing this or not?"

No matter how much you protest, Chan always gets what he wants. And he knows you secretly love catering to his desires, just as much as he loves pleasing you.

Your lips move together again as he pulls his cock out of his boxers, positioning himself. You lean forward, lowering yourself onto him slowly, feeling him fill you inch by inch. His hands rest on your hips as you stay on all fours, your back arching beautifully while he thrusts into you from below.

You glance down, watching his cock move in and out of you, and let out a playful giggle. “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” you ask, a little amazed.

He grins up at you, his hips never stopping their rhythm. Honestly, just looking at you is all he needs to feel alive in the morning. Your moans, your smile, the way you move—it all drives him wild.

“That feels so good, baby,” you purr, leaning down to kiss him deeply.

Chan’s mind wanders for a brief second, wondering how he got so lucky. There was a time when he feared you might think this was only physical, that he mistook lust for something deeper. But now, he knows it’s not just his body that craves you—his heart does too.

“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your nose brushing against his.

"Nothing," he murmurs, looking at you with the softest expression. "I’m just so happy."

You smile at him, pressing another kiss to his lips, and he holds you close, your bodies fitting perfectly together as he continues to move, his hips rocking into yours until both of you are lost in the sensation.

When you finally reach your peak, he follows, planting his seed deep inside you to complete what’s now become his favorite morning ritual.

As you get dressed, Chan stays in bed, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He watches you with lazy, contented eyes, still basking in the afterglow.

"I’ll cook dinner tonight," he says, hands propped behind his head, already thinking of the next time he’ll see you.

"Okay," you reply casually, slipping your sweater over your head.

"It would be easier if you gave me your spare keys," he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the underlying hope in his voice. "So I can cook at your place."

You pause for a moment, a coy smile creeping across your face. "You want the spare keys to my place?"

"Yes," he replies eagerly, sitting up a little straighter, hope flaring in his chest.

"Well..." You walk toward the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "You’ll have to earn it first."

As you leave his apartment and head across the hallway to your own, Chan lies back on the bed, his grin widening. It seems he has a new quest: earning the spare keys to your place.

And knowing Chan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them.

-

Chan knows your morning routine by heart. He lingers in bed for a moment after you leave, his mind wandering back to the last time you were together. Whether it was this morning or the night before, the memories of your body against his make him smile lazily.

Eventually, he gets up, washes up, and grabs a quick breakfast before heading out of the apartment to send you off to work.

As he steps out of his door, he sees a sight that surprises him: you're helping someone unload boxes from the elevator. Without thinking, he rushes over to help, noticing that there are still several boxes left inside.

“You should be on your way to work,” Chan says, more concerned about your punctuality than anything else.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get into the stuffed elevator,” you reply with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the time.

Just then, someone else steps out of the elevator, carrying the last box. “You can use it now,” he says, smiling.

You turn to Chan and introduce him, “This is Minho. He’s our new neighbor.”

Then you turn to Minho and gesture to Chan, “And this is Chris, the other neighbor.”

Chan feels a pang of disappointment. Just the "other neighbor"? He swallows it down, deciding to let it go for now.

Minho puts the box down and extends his hand to Chan. “Minho,” he says with a friendly grin.

“Chris,” Chan replies, shaking his hand. As their hands clasp, Chan gets a quick read on him. He knows the type—game recognizes game—but for now, he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’d better get going,” you say as Minho holds the elevator door open for you.

“Yes, please, I’d be devastated if you were late to work,” Minho says with a smile that seems just a little too smooth.

You laugh softly, waving it off. “It’s fine. No worries.”

That laugh—the ease of your interaction—it’s all too friendly for someone you’ve just met. It takes Chan back a little, knowing how long it took for you to warm up to him. Still, he lets it slide again.

As you move to leave, Chan pulls you close, intending to kiss you goodbye, but at the last second, you turn your head, and the kiss lands awkwardly on your jaw.

“Bye,” you say softly before stepping into the elevator.

“Have a great day at work, neighbor!” Chan calls after you, trying to play it off with a wave as the doors close.

Left standing in the hallway with Minho, Chan notices the pile of boxes still waiting to be moved into the new neighbor’s apartment. He offers to help, not feeling right about leaving the guy to handle it all alone.

After placing the last box inside, Minho hands Chan a can of soda as thanks. They sit for a moment, taking a breather from the unexpected workout.

“I must say,” Minho says suddenly, cracking open his can, “that was hard to watch.”

Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Sorry?”

“You and that pretty neighbor of yours,” Minho continues, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Chan straightens up, his grip tightening on the can. “What are you trying to say?”

Minho lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can see you like her, but her… I don’t think she likes you back.”

Chan feels the jab, but he doesn’t let it show. He knew there was something off about Minho from the start.

“She introduced you as her mere neighbor,” Minho adds, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And that kiss dodge? Ouch.”

Chan tries not to take the bait, but it’s impossible not to feel a little stung by the comment. Pissed, actually.

“How long have you been chasing after that cute neighbor?” Minho presses, his chuckle laced with condescension. He doesn’t even give Chan a chance to defend himself.

“Hey, you can mess with me all you want, but not with her,” Chan warns, his voice low, a dark edge creeping in.

Minho only snorts, crushing the empty soda can in his hand before tossing it casually into the trash. “And here I thought you were just like me.”

Chan tenses as Minho steps closer, eyes narrowing with a fierce smile. “I could have that girl in a week,” he declares boldly.

Chan’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to mess with her.”

Minho shrugs, completely unfazed. “Just watch me.”

And with that, it’s clear: there’s a new fuckboy in the area, and Chan’s got more than a little competition.

-

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[feyascorner]

Imagine Tav who has a thing for deep voices (ahem Astarion’s when he gets all low and breathy and AHHHHH) and he notices. I’d combust

AGLAGKJL I HAVE OTHER REQUESTS BUT I SAW THIS AND I HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEIDATELY HES JUST SOOO....also warning this is a bit suggestive nothing terrible but i also haven't written anything other than fluff and angst in ages so i might be a little rusty....

You have barely any breath left in your lungs, and you think you wouldn't mind dying this way. He shoves the door to your shared room open with his back as you push him through it, lips molding against his in a heated wave of passion. Your fingers entangle themselves in his white curls, pulling at them just gently enough to draw out a low groan from his throat, and in an instant, he has your back pressed against the wall, both hands holding either side of your face as if it's the last time he'll get to touch you.

And as much as you wouldn't mind dying from suffocation here, being ever so perceptive, he pulls away to lean his forehead against your own, watching as your chest heaves up and down in a helpless attempt to catch your breath. He pinches one of your cheeks. "It's a relief that one of us needs air to remain conscious. If you were to become like myself, I'm not confident we'd actually ever stop."

"I never said we needed to stop," you say breathlessly.

"You don't need to tell me," he leans forward to press his lips against the area where he usually sinks his teeth into your neck. Instead of the familiar prick, all you feel are his cool lips peppering kisses on your skin. "Your body, and how it responds to me...it does all the talking for you."

And much to your embarrassment, his words are sent straight to the hammering of your heart. It must be the way he says it---so softly, yet rough. Teasing, yet honest. Low enough to drop his voice an octave but not enough to take away its usual charm. And the worst is the breathiness adorning his very words. For someone who doesn't need to breathe, he certainly sounds like he does it a lot.

You feel him nip at a sensitive spot of your neck and practically yelp, earning a snicker from the culprit in front of you.

"Your heart's beating quite fast, darling," he says slowly, almost in a whisper. "Are just a few words enough to rile you up so much?"

You remain silent, afraid all sanity you have left will snap if you dare to speak.

"But that's not all, is it? No, my sweet, you only feel this way about my words because I'm the one saying it," you can hear the grin in his tone. He pulls away from your neck, lifting his head back where he can meet your eyes. "Do you like when I say things like this? Vulnerable? Sensual? Seductive?--"

You slap your palms across his mouth, heat practically radiating off of your face, as you feel his fangs through his smile. He knows, you think, face paling. He knows how you respond to just his stupid voice, and you know him more than enough to expect the worst from the power you've given him. It's humiliating almost---but more than anything, you want him to shut up. To stop talking to you in that way that brings butterflies to your stomach, to stop looking at you as if you're the most desirable person in all of Faerun, to stop just existing in the moment---

Astarion gently pries your hands away from his face, satisfaction more than apparent in his expression. "No use being bashful now. I'm not offended at all. If anything, I'm rather flattered to know you find even my voice as attractive as the rest of me."

"Please stop talking."

"You don't mean that, clearly."

You grab a nearby pillow and smush it against his cheek, pushing him away.

With a soft laugh, he takes the pillow from your hands, placing it beside him to look at you properly. You want to hide away in a hole forever, but you can't do much other than look to the ground, beyond embarrassed. His obvious amusement doesn't do much to soothe you.

"Look at me, darling."

"Hells no."

"Will you listen if I whisper it to you?"

You shoot him a glare, and he laughs again.

So instead of convincing you any further, he takes either of your hands. His voice is low again, and you swear he's doing it on purpose. "We all have our quirks, my love. I enjoy drinking your delicious blood in our nights of passion, and you enjoy listening to my wonderful voice during them."

"Did you just compare this to being a vampire?"

"This and that. Same thing."

The quirk of your brow is enough to tell him of your annoyance, making him squeeze your hand with a grin. You'd throw him out if he weren't so pretty. Those long lashes, the white curls, that irritatingly beautiful shade of his eyes...Gods, you're helpless. But something tells you that the feeling is mutual. Wordlessly, you find yourself leaning closer again, and his grin stretches wider. "So talking lowly does seem to work its charm on you."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

"As you wish."

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Forever

Pairings: Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: How Natasha proposed to you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None— just fluff!

Author’s Note: This is a mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline!

Mini-oneshots: Promise

"What is it that you wanted to talk to us about, Natasha?" your father asked as he looked at the redhead from across the table.

The knight had requested a meeting with your parents, though it wasn't about the kingdoms royal guard as you were told.

It was about you.

Natasha didn't want to lie, but she needed to come up with an excuse to not raise any suspicions from you. And a meeting with the King and Queen about the royal guard seemed perfect.

"I actually wanted to speak to you about Y/n." the knight said.

Your parents eyebrows raised at that. "What’s going on? Is everything okay?" your mother said.

"Oh everything's fine. Perfect actually." Natasha was quick to reassure them. "I just had a thought and I wanted to run it by both of you before I go through with it."

They nodded their heads and Natasha took it as her go-ahead to continue.

"I want to ask Y/n to marry me, and I wanted your permission to do so." she said.

It was silent for a few moments before the biggest grins pulled at their lips.

"Of course you have our permission, Natasha. Did you think we'd say no after all these years?" your mother laughed and stood from her seat to pull your girlfriend in for a hug.

Natasha smiled happily, "I was counting on you saying yes, but if I was going to do this I wanted to do it right."

Your father stood up and made his way over to the redhead to give her a quick hug as well, "We appreciate it, Natasha, but we knew you'd end up tying the knot sooner or later and we love you so of course it's okay."

"Did you need help with anything? We're happy to help with whatever you need." your mother said.

The redhead already had an idea in mind for a while, so she was hoping you'd like it.

“I was thinking…”

~ ~ ~

"Nat, where are you taking me?" you giggled.

You took cautious steps as Natasha walked behind you with her hands covering your eyes, carefully guiding you to some unknown location while also making sure the path ahead of you was safe.

"Hold on, we're almost there." she chuckled at your impatience.

This was second time you had asked that to the knight even though she said it was a secret the first time the question left your mouth.

It was a quiet night in the castle before Natasha came to you. Both of your families had gone to bed, and most of the staff had already clocked out for the exception of a few guards who were taking their positions for the night shift.

You were winding down in bed, catching up on some reading you'd been too busy to do during the day when the redhead peeked her head into your bedroom to make sure you were still awake.

To her excitement you were, so she took the book out of your hands and made sure to bookmark your place. Ignoring the complaints from you Natasha took your hands into hers and dragged you from the comfort of your shared bed to lead you outside.

Which brings you to now.

Blindly walking down a path with Natasha to direct you. You'd tripped over your own feet twice, but of course your girlfriend caught you before any real damage could happen.

"Okay we're here. Are you ready?" Natasha asked as she stopped you both in your tracks.

Her question made you laugh, "Well you did bring me out here against my will, so do I really have a choice?"

"Nope" she said simply before taking her hands away from your eyes and fixing her stance behind you so she could watch your face.

You had to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but when they finally focused your face softened at the sight. You now knew that you were in the castle gardens, but in front of you was a picnic the redheaded knight had set up for the two of you.

There was a blanket on the ground with lanterns and candles scattered around for warm lighting. There were multiple baskets of food sat on top along with a bottle of what you assumed to be wine.

The amazed look on your face was enough for the knight to feel proud of herself.

"What all of this?" you smiled and turned your head to look at her only for that same smile to be mirrored on her face too.

"It's for you, my love."

"What for? Is there something happening today? What did I forget—"

"Relax, princess." Natasha chuckled and stepped in front of you so you could now be face to face. "You didn't forget anything. I just thought we could spend a little time together. You know, just me and you. Away from everyone else."

In that moment you didn't know what you did to deserve the redhead, you were speechless. But as you pondered about it for a second you came to the conclusion that you just didn't deserve her.

"I love you," you whispered.

If Natasha wasn't standing as close to you as she was she wouldn't of heard you. But your words brought a soft smile to the knights face as she looked at you.

She ran a hand over your hair to smooth down the fly aways and leaned in to press her lips to your forehead.

"I love you more," she said, "Now let's get to the food before the bugs beat us there."

You giggled as her hand found its place in yours and the redheaded led you over to the blanket where you both sat down. When you began looking through the baskets to see the options Natasha must've noticed the impressed look on your face that had formed.

"I asked your mom to show me how to make some of your favorites because I know I'm not the best cook, so I hope it tastes alright."

The food tasted amazing, but you didn't expect anything less from your girlfriend to begin with. The two of you talked about everything as you enjoyed each other’s company.

You’d finished the food, took a walk around the garden, and Natasha had spun you in a dance that probably would have looked silly to anyone else because of the way you were both laughing.

By the time you two sat back down and started to get comfy on the blanket it was probably well past midnight.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

The stars were out twinkling and the crickets were chirping, but time always seemed to fly whenever you were with the redhead.

“It’s so quiet out here,” you sighed as you laid your head on the knights shoulder and curled up to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been out here this late at night before, but I like it.”

“I knew you would.” Natasha put her arm around you and pecked the side of your head, “I know things have been busy recently and you’ve been stressed with all the kingdoms nobles practically breathing down your neck, so I thought some alone time would be good for us.”

You smiled at her and lifted your head to kiss her cheek, “Thank you, Nat. You’ve had a lot on your plate too lately so thank you for doing this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, princess. You know I’d do anything for you.” she said and you leaned in press your lips in a soft kiss. “But I wasn’t a hundred percent honest with my reason for bringing you all the way out here.”

You tilted your head with a slight furrow between my eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Yelena always teased me for the crush I had on you when we were younger. My mom called us soulmates when she thought I wasn’t listening and I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I do.” Natasha said, and her voice was so soft the sound made your heart melt.

“There’s nothing about you that I don’t absolutely adore. The way you look out for the people you love. The way you always know what to say to make me feel better. The way you put everyone else’s needs before your own, so much that you forget to take care of yourself too.” she chuckled and it made you giggle.

“But that’s what I’m here for. To take care of you when you forget to. Whenever you need a break from your stresses I’ll sneak you away like how I did tonight because it’s least you deserve.” The redhead’s hand reached to cup the side of your face.

You let yourself lean into her touch as she brushed your hair behind your ear and her thumb stroked your cheek. She was turning you to putty in the palm of her hand, leaving you speechless at her words.

“Oh, Nat. I don’t know what to say, you’re gonna make me cry.” you chuckled and blinked away the tears that were forming as she just gazed at you.

Even when you were on the verge of tears Natasha still thought you were the most beautiful person to exist.

“You don’t have to say anything, my love, because I’m not done yet.” she said and you nodded for her to continue. “We’ve known eachother our entire lives and I know there was never a time where I didn’t love you, even when we were just little kids who didn’t know what it meant.”

The knight untangled herself from your arms to reach into her pocket, “I loved you then, I love you now, and this is my promise that I’ll love you forever.”

You watched as Natasha shifted to kneel on one knee in front of you as she pulled out a tiny black box. When she opened it, a delicate gold band with a shining gemstone placed sophisticatedly on top was revealed.

“So please say that you’ll spend the rest of forever with me, but as my wife. Will you marry me, Y/n?”

At this point, the tears that had been building up in your eyes since the redhead started talking were now falling freely down your cheeks. Natasha wasn’t doing any better, though. You could see her eyes watering as they took on a glossy appearance.

A vigorous nod of your head was all you could give at first with the way you were crying, “Yes,” you barely got out as your voice broke, “Yes of course I’ll marry you, Natasha.”

The wind was knocked out of the knights lungs and she almost lost her balance when you lunged forward to hug her close to you. She returned the embrace once she regained her footing, finally letting the few tears escape her eyes.

When you pulled back you connected your lips and kissed her as if it was the first time all over again. It caught Natasha off guard, but she wasted no time in reciprocating.

You separated when air became a necessity, the only sound heard was the heavy breathing as you tried to catch your breath. Your foreheads rested against each others and you both broke out into a fit of laughter at the pure happiness you felt.

Natasha was the first speak up, “You didn’t even let me put the ring on you.” she chuckled.

“Oh, Nat,” your hand came up to tuck a few of her stray red hairs away so you could see her face clearly, “The ring is beautiful, but I didn’t need one to agree to marry you. I would’ve said yes even if you had nothing because all I want is you.”

She kissed your lips again before taking the tiny piece of jewelry out of the box, “I know, but you at least deserve to have a ring on that finger of yours so let me put it where it belongs.”

The redhead took your left hand into hers and slid the ring into your finger, “There, now you’re stuck with me for forever.”

“Happily,” you said and you both laughed, taking a moment to admire it.

Of course Natasha had it sized perfectly.

“Oh, and I almost forgot I found this in the garden during our walk,” you watched the knight reach into her pocket before holding out the contents in front of you.

It was a flower. A yellow flower to be more specific.

One that was nearly identical to the yellow flower Natasha had picked when you were younger

She reached up and delicately placed it in your hair, “When I first proposed to you with this flower in these gardens, I think I understood what I was doing even though we were just kids.”

Grinning, you began leaning closer to the redhead, “And I’m pretty sure I understood what I was doing when I said yes.” you connected your lips once your noses were touching and wrapped your arms around her shoulders to keep her close.

You both knew you’d have to eventually go inside and deal with the responsibilities of tomorrow, but that all could wait.

For now, everything was perfect, and you were the happiest you’d ever been.

~ end ~

[midmourn]

like the movies

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre fluff, slice of life, angst, suggestive warnings language, suggestive on jeno’s, brief death joke on haechan’s note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 here’s the tropes if you can’t tell: mark: best friends to lovers. renjun: enemies to lovers. jeno: fwb. haechan: fake dating. jaemin: second chance. chenle: arranged marriage. jisung: brother’s best friend. i cant remember who inspired this but i do know it was for enhypen lol ( masterlist )

resting on his elbow on your bed, mark’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, blinking furiously. was he dreaming? you, who stood in front of the floor length mirror, smooth down your clothes for non-existent dust and smile to yourself, “okay, how about this outfit?” you wait a few seconds before frowning, “mark? hello— mark?” you wave a hand in front of him and he jolts, “wha—? oh, um, yeah, it’s great. you look really good— … dude.” he winces inwardly at the name, but you don’t bat an eye at it and frown at his seemingly insincere words. “you’re right, it’s bad. i’m going to change.” mark catches your hand with a laugh, “dude, no! seriously, you look really— …” he trails off, looking hesitant to say the next word, even though he’s said it so many times before so easily. what was different now? “— pretty. gorgeous,” he says it without even thinking, realizing it the moment you smile bashfully, ducking your head to your chest to try and hide it but failing miserably. he studies your face for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. and— oh. he wants to kiss you so bad. you, his best friend. oh. oh shit.

renjun doesn’t know when the lines blurred from enemies to frenemies to … lovers? crushes? all he knows is that the burning rage that used to fill him every time your mouth opened was now replaced with warmth spreading over his chest and the urge to kick his feet while giggling. words neither of you would dare to speak around your mothers, intended to hurt, were replaced with teasing, playful words with no hint of malice. your head turns swiftly, knocking him out of his daydream as you raise an eyebrow at him, “take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.” cheeks flushing a subtle red, his eyes narrow at you, “you might break my camera.” but his pinky creeping towards yours and lips curling up at the ends says how he really thinks. you smile, flipping your hand over and making the first move to intertwine your fingers. his heart stuttered in his chest, “i— you—” you laugh, squeezing his hand once before going back to your textbook. and, yeah, he was certain he’s never felt this before.

“if you squeeze any harder, i think you’ll break the glass,” mark attempts at a joke to diffuse the tension radiating off jeno. jeno’s lips barely twitched up as he glanced down at the glass in his hand before setting it to the side, done drinking for the night. he didn’t feel like it anymore when he saw how closely some guy holds you to his side, hand on your waist. he didn’t like the funny feeling it gave him and he could only imagine how it’d feel when alcohol was added into the equation. “jeno, dude, when are you gonna make a move? you guys have been—” he glances around, checking for eavesdroppers even though the music was far too loud for anyone to hear, “—messing around for months, basically a couple without the label. and you know there’s more people interested in y/n than just him.” the two look back to the opposite side of the room where the guy was whispering something in your ear, a smirk on his face. “you need to tell them you want something more than just fuck buddies. or else you’ll lose them forever.”

“you— WHAT?” haechan winces as your voice grows louder in his ear, casting a quick look around to see if anyone could hear you through the phone. “hyuck! what the fuck?” “don’t act like it wouldn’t be a privilege to date me,” haechan scoffs playfully, hiding his nervousness behind humor; as he always did with his emotions. “i’d rather die.” “okay, well, please! my mom’s already told everyone in my family that i’m bringing someone, including my sisters!” the mention of his sisters have you going quiet, and he hopes you’re thinking about it on the other end. “god, haechan— i—” you sigh in frustration, “how was my name the first name to pop up in that tiny brain of yours?” he ignores the jab, thinking back to that moment. truthfully, he already knew why you were the first name to pop up in his head when his mom mentioned bringing a date to his family reunion. but you didn’t need to know that. not right now, at least. “you weren’t, you were actually my last choice but all my other choices would’ve said no,” he teases, hearing you scoff in disbelief and he grins. “whatever. you’re lucky i love your sisters and hate letting them down.” “and me?” he raises an eyebrow, maybe a hint of hope in his voice. “you wish.” he does.

jaemin swears he’s dreaming when he looks up and sees you. never in a million years did he think you would come back home. not when you tried so hard to leave, anyway. you’re across the aisle, switching your gaze between two spices in your hands when you feel the back of your neck prickling. your head lifts, making eye contact with jaemin immediately. your breath catches, the world freezing around you as the two of you stared at one another. jaemin had only seen glimpses of you through social media the last four years, living your life in some prestigious university with your dream job and dream life in america. he watched your life through pictures like he used to watch you sleep. you break first, raising a hand to wave shyly at him, attempting a weak smile as you didn’t know how he’d react. jaemin abandoned his cart, walking closer to you as you set the spices into your cart. “hi,” you breathe out once he stands in front of you. for years, it seemed like you could never catch your breath, always missing just one thing. and now, it seemed like a breath of fresh air, standing in front of him. his lips turned up into a soft smile, eyes shining as he said softly, “hi.”

the hotel room is silent as chenle unlocks the door with the cardkey, letting you in first and doing a quick check of his surroundings before following in. he listens to the click of the lock, eyes following your movements as you grab a change of clothes and your skincare items from your suitcase. he loosens the tie around his neck, kicking his dress shoes off and turning his back towards you. he doesn’t intend on saying anything, knowing that this situation is definitely not your favorite thing in the world. while he wished it was on his own terms, he liked that it was you. it was only ever you for him. you just didn’t know that. “chenle?” he hums in reply, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it on the loveseat. “you don’t … hate me, do you?” his head snaps up, brows furrowing, “what?” the word comes out incredulous and you bite your lip, embarrassment sinking in as your cheeks begin to feel warm. “i … i know this isn’t ideal, but for me, i know it’s not the worst thing in the world.” he blinks at you. you smile slightly at his dumbfounded expression, “i was angry at first, and i was so … betrayed. but, i’m glad it’s you.” you don’t expect a response, heading into the bathroom quietly. he smiles to himself once he fully registers what you just said. i’m glad it’s you. he was, too.

from your spot on the armchair, you watch as jisung rises from his seat on the couch, next to your brother. “i’m getting a drink, anyone want anything?” the rest of your friends and your brother’s friends chime in with their answers, and you wait a second for anyone to get up and follow after him. but no one does. you smile to yourself before standing, “i’m going to help him, since you assholes won’t.” your brother waves you off, too far into the video game to give a better reply. you sneak up behind jisung, sliding your cold hands up under his t-shirt and he jumps, neck twisting to look at you. “ah!” he says a little too loudly, and you shush him. you stay silent before you hear shouts of excitement and disappointment from the living room, turning back to him. “what if—” he starts to say. “as far as they know, i’m helping you with the drinks and snacks,” you poke him in his ribs and he jumps, making you snicker. you stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the small moment you’ve rarely got since you all came home from college for the summer. at the thought, your face falls and jisung frowns, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes, “what’s wrong?” you shake your head, not wanting to ruin the moment but he insists. “i … i really want to tell him, ji.” you frown, watching his face carefully. “the longer we keep this a secret, the more he’ll be mad. i think we should just rip the bandaid off.” at his hesitation, you sigh and step away from him, making him take a step forward to close the distance again. “jisung, if we’re really serious about this, we have to tell him at some time.” you hesitate, “… are you serious about me?” his eyes widen, “what? yeah, i am. i’ve been serious about you since we were seventeen. i…” he looks shy, “you’re it for me. you’ve always been.” your cheeks heat up, eyes darting away shyly at his words as you allow him to close more distance between you two and press a meaningful kiss to your lips. “we’ll tell him … after everyone leaves, okay? i don’t want to hide anymore. i didn’t like it in the first place.”

[slutforalastor]

Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

HII!! Its my first time requesting here!! But i have thought about this idea just a minute ago while daydreaming

So, mc was back in the human world and basically, lucifer or satan was forced to get married to maddi. And when mc came back it was the wedding day, and mc was so surprised, scared, angry qbout the news she heard and she feels betrayed so she immediately went to confront him about it and yeah. Idk how will this go but you can decide the ending!!! Thank you so much and have a good day/night/afternoon when u are reading this

Lucifer would not put such a responsibility on any of his brother's shoulders. While conversations of the Wedding Day come about, and your visage dances around his mind, his decision remains the same. "It's gonna break their heart, you know?" Asmodeus, might not be the person responsible for your upcoming heartbreak, but the thought of your sorrows gut him all the same. "Is there really no way out of this?" There's not. Had there been he would have made it so. But it looks like everyone's hands are tied in the situation.

"What would you have me do?"

"Do what you always do and figure it out!" There was nothing left to figure. The ceremony is in a week. Supposedly, The Great Witch has invited all of the guest, picked the venue, and her dress. He'd already been measured for his suit. You already knew, not that he told any of the others. He had gone to the Human World himself to inform you, it was the right thing to do.

You'd been furious. Tears streamed down your face, as you continued to ask how he could do this? His response of that he had to, did not console you, it instead made you all the more irate, sentencing to leave and wishing him a happy life. His only regret, was that in that moment, he could do nothing to soothe you. That after all the times you'd brought him comfort and joy; he brought you misery without any means of alleviating the pain.

The night before, Lucifer dreams of you. Dreams of your smile, of your humour, of the precious memories that he'll keep with him for centuries down the road. Only to awaken with a start upon watching it crumble. The image of you crying and asking how he could do this to you, haunt him right up to the altar as he stands awaiting for it all to end.

"Should anyone wish to object, speak now or forever hold your peace." It's like something out of those movies you'd used to sit and watch with Asmo, the doors slam open, followed by your angry shouting.

"I object! I seriously object!" Lucifer takes a good minute to get over the shock of seeing you.

"How did you get here?" When a certain white-haired demon, who had been missing for a suspicious amount of time, stumbles in behind you, Lucifer can't even prevent his name from falling out of his mouth. "Mammooooon!" Mammon, just hides himself behind you.

"It doesn't matter. You can't stop this, it's for the betterment of the Devildom after all." Maddi, isn't bothered by your interruption, merely shrugging at your presence.

"What if he's already my husband?" The whole room turns to you, Lucifer quirks a brow, surely you don't think your lie is going to convince an entire room of nobles? Especially while, Diavolo sits in the front row, who would have known straight away if this was the case.

"Excuse me?" Maddi now seems to be very irked.

"You heard me, we're already married!" He's got no clue where your confidence is coming from, or how you even concocted this whole idea, but he wants to laugh. "You'd really break the first ever human-demon marriage for something that's been done time and time again?"

"And why was no one of aware of this?" Lucifer thinks your lie has come to an end, especially from how shrink ever so slightly at her questioning.

"You'll have to forgive me Maddi, but I requested the pair to keep it a secret." Only for Diavolo to chime in. "In fact everyone will have to forgive me, because I can't allow for this ceremony to continue, especially given the importance for the Devildom's future that these two remain together." The room break out into murmuring, and Maddi is outraged.

"Lord Diavolo, what about-"

"Yes that agreement, Barbatos found something most interesting about the information you presented me that I believe requires a private discussion." There's not much time for Maddi to react, while Barbatos comes up beside her dragging her through a portal.

The events that follow are almost a blur, until it's just Lucifer, Mammon, Diavolo and yourself in the room. Diavolo lets out a loud laugh, turning to you with a signature grin. "I must say, you're always full of surprises! I had a feeling you were going to appear, but I didn't think you'd be bold enough to tell an outright lie in a room full of Demon Nobles."

"What can I say it's part of my charm." You match his grin with one of your own, something that amuses the prince even further.

"Indeed." Lucifer chimes in almost immediately, and the two of you exchange a wordless glance. There's several words that linger on both of your tongues, eagerly awaiting to be said. But as you both stare at each other neither of you are entirely sure where to even begin.

"...so you guys aren't actually married, right?" Mammon does not help. Neither does Diavolo as his laughter starts up again.

[queenkurokawa]

bonten manjiro x fem reader

warnings: smut. cursing. physical stuff. finishing inside. fluff. angst. timeskip - bonten mikey.

an: after finally forever i am finished w the bonten mikey fic that was request from way back and now it is here in existence - hope you enjoy / are pleased with it love! 💙

~

bonten mikey never took it easy on your body. especially after not seeing you. tonight was possibly the worst of all. after accidentally and absent-minded you forgot to turn on your ringtone when he tried calling you suddenly after one of his bonten discussions to check in on you. bad mistake. he had busted through your front entrance with beyond intense rage when you flew out the shower -quickly covering yourself with a white linen fast when you darted through the door to see him standing in front of you in what almost resembled madman. ' manjiro- w ..wha - ' he cut you off instantly with his sweaty rough palm against your trembling face in fear unknowing of what would happen. 'what.. the fck !.. - is wrong with you?! ' he screamed as he slammed his free hand balled furiously against the wall adjacent to your body making you boil in panic. 'manjiro. please. calm down, it is ok .. - ' speaking quitely to him you tried to attempt to cradle his shaking cheeks in your hands. you knew what this was. he was scared. manjiro acted usually so calm and composed but there were few moments when you witnessed his complete and total breakdowns - his times where he just let out everything and let the anxiety win strongly against his full will. you knew damn well he was in a panic over you and couldn't be angry for his actions in that moment even if would mean having to plaster the wall the next morning. 'babe- its alright. i'm here.. i did not mean - to not to answer your calls ..i just was in the shower- nn ! -' before you knew it he was kissing your lips with love filled hypnotic passion. you were here. nothing could go wrong - not with him around. he hated leaving you sometimes even for multiple days on end when he'd have to leave the country for bonten work and other such things and the thought alone sickened his stomach. sure - he always had sanzu always posted outside your apt whenever he was out if town, much to his pink haired partners dismay- there was never a moment that he wasn't thinking about what could be going wrong whenever he stepped foot away from your presence and -at least in this moment .. right now there was not a damn thing that could take him away - from being with you -

~~

manjiro fucking your body like like he's possessed. i mean - he is insane. he forced your hands back pinning them above your head obviously avoiding your whines and whimpers for him and pushing himself in your wet cunt before any words could form in your mind he went feral when heard you moaning from him ' unh .. babee-! 'making his way much further inside you than he should be doing making you cry out his name loudly. ' fck- me manjiro - ah! .' nothing would hold this man from bringing the devil out when he was forcing his cock over and over again until the warmth of that place he needed took over and stole him from reality. it was an abyss one you only could deliver him into - manjiro wanted it all. making you only his was the best decision he could have had ever made in his life. grabbing onto your waist he placed his mouth over your neck biting down almost as if he was in need of your sweet nectare pushing himself further into his abyss making you cum so dmn fast you swore it was the first time. ' - babe! - ah ! ' swelling around him your vagina drenched his belly and was dripping all down your own legs from whatever magic he was working your pussy into and you pleaded with him so hard not to stop - 'babyy ..! ah! .. manjiro! - ' mikey cut you off with his tender lips in a sharp embrace to your moaning mouth. 'nnngh .. unh-nghh ..' you heard him groan wildly as he began fucking you harder and harder sighing into you with his sexy voice - all the way pressed in your hair from how close he was about to orgasm and the motions rocking the bed of how he was pleasuring himself with you with such force and strength from his biceps and toned build so chaoticly when you felt yourself starting to cum all over again before the feeling of the wood snapping beneath you giving out completely with the mattress folded in half against the floor as he went on relentlessly aggressively pounding his hard cock in you in a murderous fixation, thrashing your throbbing cumming core with such fine work you did not give no cares .. at all. 'manjiro- .. ah!- fck .. yess! - ' your voice sounded so beautiful and pleasing to him and he could not stand to pull himself out when in some dream like state he gave out to your serene voice against him like a melody to his body. the sweat from your panting chest against his skin mixing into his felt like a drug and he grabbed your chin into a hungry lip lock- manjiro needed you. every last part of you. your body. your lips. your voice. your smile. your comfort. your embrace. you were his life - the perfect person for him that he could have imagined in a partner and to his surpise you offered it happily he had thought to a piece of shit like him - without question. he had to do better for you. for your future. and maybe even his own.

©izaneko - all rights reserved.

please do not copy / reupload or modify my writing.

[the-little-ewok]

The Little Spoon

Poe Dameron x G/N Reader

Rating: M

Wordcount : 1600 (ish)

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of getting caught during sex/heavy petting, rife with teasing innuendos, soft softness, spooning, brief mentions of food, Poe being an adorable menace.

Prompt / Summary : Burying your face in their neck, listening to their heartbeat, spooning at night. / After a difficult day you and Poe try something new in the bedroom.

A/N : Anon who sent me the prompts - i dont know if fluffy was what you really wanted but… i kinda went pretty fluffy cute with this. If you were hoping more for a NSFW request please send me an ask and i’ll do an alt fic for you :)

If you enjoy this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!

-------

"Stop!" You half whine, half laugh, burying your face in Poe's neck.

"I don't know if he'll ever be able to talk to you again without blushing!" Poe laughs, clearly finding the fact his newest squad member walking in on you both in a, well, compromising, position, hilariously funny, and your embarrassment even funnier.

Since then poor Leru had been unable to look at you without his cheeks lighting up red, and losing all ability to speak.

"Take it as a compliment it affected him so much," Poe shrugs, taking the whole situation in his stride, as usual. "You can't change what happened, and besides you can't hide out here forever."

'Here' was the grassy bank outside the, what now seemed all too small, base entrance. You had escaped out into the humid night air as soon as your shift was over, convinced everyone you encountered knew the story and was staring at you.

Of course, they already knew that you and Poe were close, but perhaps not quite how close. There had never really been time, during the middle of a war, to consider what you were. And now you were together, both of you wanted to enjoy it without too much fuss. At least while you settled into a new routine, and Poe to his new role as General. So really, getting carried away in what should have stayed an empty office, after Poe had returned from a long mission, was not the best of plans.

But oh, he had been so distractingly hot. The way he'd smiled, his eyes flickering up and down your body, the way he'd pulled you tight against his chest, the way his lips had brushed against your skin.

It was hard to regret what happened. But you did regret getting caught.

"I can stay here as long as I like," you challenge his statement, folding your arms.

"I could just order you back inside," he shrugs with a sigh, making out it would be a huge inconvenience for him to do that.

"You wouldn't dare!" You twist to glare at him in challenge, as Poe leans back to look at you, a serious expression creasing his brow. He slowly raises one eyebrow, before he finally gives in, bursting into laughter.

"No, you're right. I like continuing to live without a vibroblade in my chest, so I guess orders are off the table!" He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight against him.

"How about I very politely request you come back inside? We can grab some food and get an early night?"

"I don't want to go to the canteen,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your trousers, unable to remove the idea that everyone would be judging you.

"You know, I don't think anyone else knows? And even if they did, firstly, it's not like they saw anything personally, just second hand, and secondly, if anyone says a damn word I'll have their ass hauled in front of me faster than they can blink!" Poe states passionately.

"That's sweet. But we agreed on no special treatment."

"Not special. I'd do that for anyone talking inappropriately about anyone. You get absolutely no special treatment. I've never given you any special treatment." Taking your chin he tilts your face towards him before he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Hmm, so you offer that to everyone, do you?"

"Well, everyone is a little broad. More like a select group. You, Finn, Rey, Snap, BB, that really cute medic we met in Yavin," he shrugs with a teasing smile as you roll your eyes. “Now stop overthinking.”

Poe was right, you were over thinking, and as annoying as his teasing could be, you know it comes from a good place in his heart. He simply wants you to see that it's not all bad. Nothing you could do now would change anything that already happened. All you could do was, as Poe does, make the best of the situation.

Still, the embarrassment gnaws a little at your thoughts, though quieter, still there for now.

"Can we eat in your room?"

"Only if we are naked," Poe grins, making you dissolve into laughter.

"Stop that, right now!" You warn through giggles.

"I've been away for almost a month! I've been storing it all up. You are in for a lonnnnnng night, baby," he winks, and for a moment, you`re laughing so hard you forget anything had gone wrong at all today.

~

"I'm sorry," Poe offers later that night, his fingers trailing up and down your back as you lay in his bed, curled up against his side, his heartbeat drumming in your ear as you lean your head on his chest, half asleep.

You hum in question, wondering what he's talking about.

"Earlier. It was my fault we got caught like that. I should have waited. I was just excited to see you and being impulsive. I’ll try and keep my hands to myself for a little longer next time.”

You lean up on your elbow to look at him, frowning in confusion and feeling the tendrils of guilt in your own belly that he feels he's somehow to blame. The last thing you wanted was for Poe to feel he couldn't be his usual, affectionate self.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. We were both willing participants. I was excited to see you too. You’ve no idea how much I missed you."

Poe's hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him as he mumbles, "I missed you too, baby," against your mouth before he kisses you.

When he finally lets you go, you have to take a moment, feeling a little giddy, whether with love or lack of oxygen, you aren't sure.

"Anyway, I like you being impulsive," you assure him with a soft smile.

"Then I rescind my apology," Poe chuckles as you snuggle back down against his side, trying to get comfy again.

Except now you have a problem. No matter where you place yourself, you can't quite get comfy enough to fall asleep. Something just feels wrong.

You let out a noise of annoyance, sitting up.

"Turn over," you instruct, laughing as Poe raises a questioning eyebrow, his lips upturning in a familiar grin.

"Is this going a sex thing? Because you know I can stay awake a little longer. I'm sure I can help tire you o-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your hands against his arm, trying to manually roll him over, onto his side.

"So it's not a sex thing? I'm disappointed," Poe sighs over dramatically, ignoring your pathetic attempts to move him.

"I want to cuddle you!" You explain with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's what we are calling it these days? Okay, well, we can 'cuddle' as much as you like," he grins, eyes crinkling with amusement as he makes air quotes at you. You make a show of dramatically rolling your eyes in response.

"No, Poe! I mean I want to hold you!"

"Hold which bit?" He wiggles his eyebrows as you try and bite back your laughter. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself you are grateful he's home and he just needs to get this out of his system.

When you open them again you fix him with a stern look.

"Alright, alright!" Poe holds his hands up in surrender, clearly deciding he might be pushing too far now. "You want me to be the little spoon?" He asks, obviously having known exactly what you wanted from the first time you asked.

"I want you to be the little spoon." You nod in confirmation. Poe's expression softens from teasing into something that makes your chest ache with love. It's as though the seriousness of the last few years of war drop away, and the boy Poe used to be, stares at you with hopeless adoration.

"I like that idea better," he says simply, before he rolls over with his back to face you. "But I'm still open to the sex thing." He adds, making you snort as you try to contain your laughter, knowing it will only encourage him.

Once Poe is settled, you curl up behind him, wrapping an arm over his chest, tucking your legs in behind his, cuddling up close to him as you press your face between his shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've ever been the little spoon before. I like it," Poe sighs contentedly, his hands resting over yours wrapped around his chest, holding you in place.

You smile and press a soft kiss to his back, "I like it too."

A near silence settles over you both, the only sound in the room your steady breathing as you hold each other. You can feel your eyes finally starting to drift shut, but you also know Poe is not asleep yet, as his fingers continue to gently caress your arm, almost distractedly.

“What are you thinking, Flyboy?” You mumble sleepily against his skin, not wanting to fall asleep if he has something on his mind.

"I was just wondering," he mumbles quietly, “if you think Leru is thinking about us right now?"

"Go to sleep!" You sigh against his back, feeling him shake with barely contained laughter.

"I definitely think he enjoyed it a little bit."

"Sleep!" You hiss, refusing to play into his teasing again.

There's a moment of silence, one in which you think that he's given up with the teasing and finally decided to get some rest. That is until -

"Do you think he wants to join us sometime?"

"POE!"

You can't help but smile as his laughter fills the room. Insufferable, infuriating, pain in the ass. You had missed him, so very much.

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

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[sturnioloshacker]

confession of love - a matt sturniolo short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended

cw: angst, make out session, crying, matt being a sweetheart

summary: matt confesses his love for his best friend since seventh grade

in the dim light of a rainy boston evening, matt stood nervously in front of the quaint, empty park that him and his best friend y/n always go to. it’s been their favourite spot to hang out, eat food and just simply talk since they first met in seventh grade. 

it wasn’t until their junior year that matt knew he was falling for his best friend but always kept his feelings for her inside him as he was afraid of ruining his relationship with her. now in their senior year, matt had absolutely fallen truly, madly and deeply for his best friend. from her cute smile to her bubbly personality, matt had to let her know how really felt. 

so here he stands, under the dim streetlight, heart racing as he clutched a small bouquet of y/n’s favourite flowers. raindrops fell from the sky, making his clothes cling to his body. he mumbles the words he’s been wanting to say to her a hundred times in his head, but now, they felt heavy on his tongue. he had messaged her to meet him at their spot but he was left on read. 

maybe she was busy, maybe she went to reply but got distracted, maybe he scared her off with the message. tears pricked at his eyes as he hung his head low. she’s not coming, he thought as he started his walk back to the car. he goes to turn his back when he notices a figure approaching. y/n. 

matt turns back around, holding the flowers against his chest. he noticed the way y/n’s hair stuck to her face and the way her clothes clung to her. god, she is perfect! as she came closer, matt flashed his cheeky grin. she stopped in front of him and flashed her cheeky grin that made his heart stop. 

“matty, what are you doing out here in the rain?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

matt takes a deep breath before pouring his entire heart and soul to his best friend.

“y/n, there’s something i need to tell you. i just can’t hold it in any longer”.

tears form in matt’s eyes as he looks away. he draws in another deep breath before looking back at y/n. 

“from the first day of seventh grade, you have been my side through thick and thin. your bright personality has been able to make me come out of my shell more and it’s made me feel so much comfortable and happier around others and especially you”.

the rain slowly becomes heavier as matt takes y/n’s hands in his before continuing his confession.

“i honestly can’t imagine my life without you. you have made it so much better and easier and i can’t thank you enough. you are literally the centre of my universe, my world, my rock, my absolute everything”.

“matt, i-”

“i want to be more than friends. i want you to be mine so bad. so bad that it mentally, physically and emotionally hurts. i love you so much, will you please be mine?”

both matt and y/n are in tears, the feelings finally released after being held in for so long. matt looks into her eyes, waiting for an answer, an answer that he has been waiting for since the beginning of junior year. with a soft, trembling voice, y/n finally speaks.

“oh matty, the way i’ve been waiting to hear those words from you for so long. i fell in love with you from the moment we met but i got scared of ruining our friendship. now that you confessed to me, i want to confess something to you”.

she shuffles closer to him, their faces inches away from each other. 

“i love you matthew bernard, i’ll be yours forever and always”. 

she stands on her tippy toes, and in the pouring rain, they shared a passionate, electrifying kiss that sent shivers down their spines.

for that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of them standing in the rain, embracing their love as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

[anilovie]

thinking about anakin if you’ve had a bad/hard day & coming home to him just being ur safe place to unwind & cry if you need to, & he just UGH is so warm and gentle w uuuuuu i need him

I know it’s not exactly what you asked for but my anxiety has been soooo bad lately, i needed this too 🥲💕 -- thanks for the request!!

WC: 1.8k

CW: mentions of anxiety, angst + fluff, soft ani <3

You’d been on edge for days.

You could tell when it was getting bad again – your sleep schedule was off, your eating habits askew, easily irritated, and unable to stop moving for even a second to allow yourself to think. Thinking meant your thoughts would all come slamming back into you, and nothing was worse than that. 

You were in a piss mood for multiple days in a row, the stress and anxiety getting so bad that you eventually fell into robot-mode. Everything in your life just kept piling on top of each other, from work problems, family issues, even relationship issues. You just came from a work meeting, which only seemed to add 10 tons to the plate you were already struggling to hold. These days, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Not to mention, you missed Anakin.

Your relationship was still new, and you’d been distancing yourself lately so he wouldn’t bear the brunt of your moodiness. Once you got everything handled– if you could just get a little better– that’s when you’d seek him out again.

“Y/n,” speak of the devil.

Usually, his deep voice would be met with a flurry of butterfllies in your stomach, but not today. Now, it was met with a sinking feeling.

Anakin was sitting on a bench outside the training room, fiddling with something on the hilt of his lightsaber. He had an ankle crossed over his knee, robes spilling over his shoulders, and usually you’d be delighted to see his pretty face.

You skid to a stop before him, frozen like a deer in headlights. “Anakin.”

He uncrossed his leg and leaned toward you, voice lowering so only you could hear.

“Where have you been? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You rocked back on your heels, twisting your fingers all in a knot. “Sorry, Anakin. I've just been busy.”

“Are you okay?”

“‘M Fine.”

He’d never heard that sort of dullness in your voice before. Never seen that… exhaustion in your gaze. He could see that you were trembling, even just standing there before him, like a storm was brewing beneath your skin… but your gaze was glaringly empty. He frowned, tugging gently at your wrist. “Come with me.”

Dread dumped over you like a bucket of ice water. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted – Anakin was supposed to be your safe space. You didn’t want to taint him with any of this. Didn’t wanna ruin his perception of you, of his good, sweet, brave, strong girl. 

He pulled you into an empty battle-planning room, the lights dimmed so it was all shadowy inside. He closed the door and turned to you, concern etched into his handsome face. 

“Y/n, tell me that truth. What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong?? 

Everything was wrong. Just the thought of it had wet, hot tears rushing to your eyes, the ones you promised yourself you wouldn't let appear. Before he could see, you ducked your head and covered your face with the crook of your arm, hiding from him.

You tried to swallow it down, the unexpected emotion so thick you couldn’t choke any words past. Your silence was answer enough– Anakin immediately reached out to touch you, but you shifted back an inch.

“‘M sorry,” your voice came out high-pitched and shaky, voice breaking. You were too ashamed to let him touch you. 

Quickly, your sleeves became soaked in the hot tears you tried to stuff back into your eyes. You could hear your breaths grow quicker and quicker in your ears, a squeezing sensation in your chest furthering your panic. Your head was dizzy, unable to think past the fact that you were crying in front of Anakin, and you were so ashamed about it, you couldn't stop shaking, and you couldn’t breathe–

“Hey,” Anakin called your name in a soft hush, reaching for you again. This time, you let him pull you closer, hand encircling your waist, carefully guiding you back to him. You were still hiding in your arm, scrubbing at your face and muttering “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” as if to convince yourself you were.

He crouched before you, trying to be on your level so you would look at him already. When you finally let him tug your arms away, his heart ached at the sight – your eyes were all red, cheeks flushed and shining with tears. You looked exhausted, embarrassed, and… scared. 

“Talk to me,” he murmured, allowing a warm hand to cup your cheek and brush the tears away with his thumb.

You still couldn’t look him in the eye, avoiding his worried gaze as you studied the robes over his chest. You were still trembling like a leaf in the wind, muscles tensed and gut rolling as everything you’d been suppressing washed over you like a tsunami.

“I’ve just– I just–” you sniffled, twisted your hands together, another tear trailing its way down your face. “Well, y’know I get anxious sometimes…” you muttered, breaths hiccuping in your chest. 

Anakin hummed his agreement, urging you on.

“t’s just been really bad lately,” the admission felt like defeat. Pathetic, worthless defeat. Another wave of tears made your voice turn into a whimper, almost ending the sentence as a sob. But Anakin pulled you into him, tucking your head under his chin and against his chest, arms winding themselves around you.

You muffled your soft cries in his Jedi robes, clutching them in your fists to ground you. 

“I just want it to go away,” you hiccuped. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Shhh, honey, ‘ts okay,” his touch was gentle against your back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. “I’ve got you -- I've got you.”

You felt like you could cry and cry and never stop. The feeling would never go away, you would always feel like there was something chasing you, hunting you, waiting for something to go wrong, always on edge, even in your sleep.

But at least his chest was warm. And he smelled like Anakin – your Anakin – and his arms were strong around you. Nothing was going to hurt you in this room. Not while you were with him.

After a long, long while, you were finally able to pull away a bit to gulp in multiple deep breaths. Your chest didn’t feel so heavy anymore, but now you were just exhausted – mentally and physically. 

Rubbing at your sore eyes, sniffling, you mumbled, “‘M sorry, Anakin. I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose. Jus’ didn’t want you to see me like that.”

He sighed softly, shifting so that one of his knees was planted on the ground for balance. His hand traveled back to your face, smoothing the hair that got messed up back behind your ear. “You don’t have to hide from me. Ever,” his words were stern, but his voice was honey-sweet. “Especially not something like this.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he shook his head, eyes bright with intensity. “I want to help you, you know.” 

Your lip quivered, nodding in understanding.

“Look at me?” he requested, gently directing your chin down between his thumb and pointer finger. You blinked at the ground for a moment before lifting your eyes, meeting his shining blue ones, filled with concern. His face softened as soon as you looked at him, the corner of his mouth tiling up a little. “There she is.”

“Hmph,” you ducked your head again, embarrassed. You’d never cried – truly cried – in front of him before. And now that the anxiety had been flushed from your system, all that was left was the shame. 

You should be better than this, letting the emotion pierce you so deeply. Letting it get so bad. You should have had a better handle on it by now.

“Stop beating yourself up,” Anakin whispered, thumb swiping at your bottom lip to still the quivers. “You’re okay. I promise.”

You nodded again, obedient, but the more you heard the words the more they felt real. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, head tilting to the side. 

You shrugged. “Just work stuff. Family stuff. I dunno… just need to stop thinking so hard about everything, I guess.”

“Hmm,” he agreed. “Anything I can help with?”

“Not really,” you whispered.

“No?” his brows drew down, a little crease forming between them. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Mmm… yesterday.” Your stomach had been twisting and turning for days now, too nauseous to eat much of anything. 

His frown deepened. “That was over 24 hours ago, sweetheart. When’s the last time you drank something?”

“This morning.” 

You didn’t have to look at him to know what expression he was making. Letting go of your face, he dropped his hands to pull the both of yours apart, keeping them from twisting at each other any further. He curled your fingers into your palms, holding them warm and steady in his as he said, “How about I take you back to your room and make you something good, hm? Then you can take a nap, and we can watch a movie or something later tonight. Get your mind off everything?”

You finally lifted your gaze to him willingly, hopeful yet tired. “You’re not too busy?”

“‘Course not. I’m all yours tonight, no matter what,” his thumb rubbed patterns on the back of your hand, lips tilting up in another sweet, encouraging smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I– I’d like that,” you nodded your head, voice still too soft and quiet for his liking, but at least it wasn’t shaking anymore. “What’re you gonna make?”

“Whatever you want,” he insisted, hoping his smile would rub off on you. “What about that soup I made a while back? The one I made for Obi-Wan’s birthday? You really liked that, remember?”

“Oh,” you cooed, glossy eyes brightening a bit at the memory. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

“Okay, then I’ll make that.” He was still crouched before you, letting his eyes wander over your face for a moment more, thinking something you couldn’t decipher. Before you could ask, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your still-damp cheek.

“You’re gonna be okay. You know that, right?"

Your lashes shuttered, and strangely, the world didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“Right. I’ll be okay.” You took a deep breath, sucking the air in and puffing it back out, breathing life into the words as they floated between you.

Before he could stand back up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Ani. I feel a little better now.”

You couldn’t see, but he was smiling into your shoulder. “Good,” he murmured, petting your back again. Then he pulled away and rose to his full height, grabbing your hand in his.

Neither of you cared if anyone saw as he led you out of the room, falling into step beside you as you headed home together. 

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Perfect Send Off

Pairing: Billy Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of war, slight coercion and corruption kink, loss of (male) virginity, smut. Word count: ~2.1k

Summary: Visiting war torn London, while helping to evacuate her sister and her children back to Cambridge, a young woman finds herself checked in at The Halcyon, and catches the attention of their bell boy, soon to be soldier, Billy. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Billy, don’t stare!” Peggy chastises her son with a swat to the arm. “Help the lady with her bags.”

Her eyes move appreciatively over the tall form of the sandy haired young man in front of her. He offers her a tight lipped smile, obviously flustered, considering the shade of scarlet he’s turning, before grabbing her suitcases from the marble floor of the hotel foyer. “Sorry, Mum,” he mumbles awkwardly to the dark haired woman beside him.

“It’s Mrs. Taylor in front of the guests, how many times?!” She hisses quietly, before turning back to her with a charming, painted-on-for-the-guests type smile. “Welcome to The Halcyon, madam. Billy is one of our bell boys, and will take your bags to your room for you now that you’re all checked in. My name’s Peggy, I operate the switchboard. Please don’t hesitate to ring down if you need anything. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She watches Peggy walk away, each click of her high heels growing quieter as she retreats, before turning back to Billy, who stands there expectantly with her bags in his large hands.

Oh, I certainly will enjoy my stay.

She had arrived in London by train from Cambridge that morning, intending to leave again with her sister and her children. Since war had broken out, the frequent airstrikes over London had made it too dangerous for them to remain, so they’d be staying with her until it was safe to come back - provided they had a home to return to.

It would take a few days for her sister to get packed and have the house and children’s schooling in order, so she’d be staying at The Halcyon until they were ready to leave.

She spares a sideways glance at the bellboy as they stand in the lift together, the reddening of his face from having been caught staring at her only just beginning to fade. He’s younger than her by at least a couple of years, but has chiseled features that make him look handsome despite his bashful nature, and he fills out the grey slacks of his uniform more than adequately.

The reason for her trip to London is a serious matter, but she figures there’s no harm in having some fun with it.

“It’s nice that a young lad like you gets to work with their mother,” she says with a sultry smile, as the lift travels upwards.

His eyebrows raise, blue eyes widening slightly as he turns to her in the small space. “Oh, I’m not a lad, I’m a man…I mean, working with me mum, it’s not forever. Expecting me draft papers any day now…miss?”

He looks at her uncertainly and she huffs a quiet laugh as they step out of the lift together. “Yes, miss is fine, I don’t have a husband.”

Billy presses his lips together and averts his eyes, nodding slightly.

“So, you’re signed up to draft,” she says as they reach the door of her room, “how exciting for you. You’ll have to pop by and let me know your posting once you find out, I’d love to know.”

He falters, the suitcases he’d been carrying thumping heavily to the ground as he stoops to deposit them over the threshold of her room. He straightens, clasping his hands in front of him, and looks at her apologetically. “Oh…yeah, course…yeah, I will!”

She holds his gaze for a few moments, enjoying his barely disguised panic, before she speaks again. “I’d give you a tip, but I’m afraid I’m unsure of which bag I’ve put my purse in–”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, honestly, don’t worry,” he insists hurriedly.

“Nonsense, I have to give you something,” she purrs, “will this do?”

She leans up and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching him carefully as she settles back on her feet.

His eyes go wide, the scarlet hue returning to his skin as he battles to hide a grin, tugging at the collar of his uniform. She hears him mutter “bloody hell” beneath his breath, as his eyes dart nervously down the corridor.

She wonders if he’s ever kissed anyone before, based on his reaction to a mere peck on the cheek she supposes he probably hasn’t.

Oh, my stay here is certainly going to be fun.

“Was that to your liking, Billy?” She asks with a smirk.

“Oh…oh yeah…thanks,” he says, swallowing thickly and trying to regain his composure.

Adorable.

“My pleasure. If that’s everything then, I’ll see you later?”

He nods, retreating from the doorway and down the corridor, sparing glances back over his shoulder at her standing there, until he’s back in the lift and out of sight.

It’s nearly two days later when she’s heading back up to her room in the late afternoon, having spent the day with her sister, that Billy rushes towards her, eyes lit up with excitement and a wide grin on his face.

“I got my posting this morning!” He tells her excitedly as she puts her key in her room door.

“Congratulations, soldier,” she says with a wink, “got time to come in and tell me about it, or have you got to get back to work?”

“Just finished me shift, actually, so I’ve got time.” He loosens the strap around his chin of his Halcyon branded cap, removing it as if to signify the fact. His dark blonde hair is slicked back against his head, neatly parted to the side.

“Great, come on in then.”

Billy trails behind her, his hat held gingerly in both hands as he glances around the room.

“Make yourself at home, Billy.” She gestures towards the bed and he perches on the edge of it, while she takes the armchair opposite. She has never seen anyone look less relaxed and has to stifle a laugh at how rigid his posture is.

“So, about your posting–”

“Yeah!” He suddenly becomes animated again, leaning forward and gesticulating each of his words, “Came in the post this mornin’, tried to find ya, but you were out. I’ve been put on the anti aircraft guns! Can you believe it? I’ll be shooting German planes outta the sky!”

She watches him intently as he speaks, the curve of his lips, the brightness of his eyes. He exudes confidence when he’s passionate, not a trace of shyness to be found and it’s incredibly attractive.

“That’s very brave of you,” she says, “I expect your sweetheart will be worried for you though.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, his gaze downcast, “no, there’s no one…no sweetheart.”

“That’s a shame,” she drawls, her smugness at the fact barely concealed. “Tell me, Billy, are you a virgin?”

He widens his eyes, mouth opening and closing as he flushes pink from the base of his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “N-no…I’ve had it off with loadsa girls…”

“Billy…” she chastises in a stern tone of voice.

He sighs, turning his hat over in his hands, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I’m a virgin.”

She moves to sit beside him on the bed, her hand caressing his shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that,” she reassures him, “but perhaps you’d like not to be? Can’t send you off to war, never having known the touch of a woman.”

He audibly gulps, staring at her in disbelief, so she takes the initiative, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

He freezes at first, she can feel him trembling all over, but he softens as she’s about the pull away and reciprocates, his hat slipping from his hands and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His mouth moves clumsily against her own, over eager and inexperienced, yet there is something endearing about it. She longs to show Billy the tenderness he deserves.

“I–I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers nervously against her lips once they part for air.

“It’s okay,” she soothes him, caressing his cheek, “just lay back. Let me take care of you.”

He nods, moving back against the bedspread.

She takes her time stripping him of his bellboy uniform. Billy is undeniably skinny, but his long, lean limbs are corded with wiry muscle, his chest and shoulders well defined and broad as they’re revealed to her as she sheds his jacket, shirt and vest.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with anxious, shallow breaths, his eyes glued to her as she removes her own clothing. His lips part as she bares herself before him, trembling hands reaching out tentatively to trace over her naked flesh.

Her eyes widen with shock and admiration and she removes his briefs. She had not been expecting Billy to be quite so well endowed; his erection is thick and reaches almost to his navel, the ruddy tip glistening with arousal.

Billy hisses through his teeth, brow furrowing as she takes him in hand to roll a sheath over the length of him. She can tell from the way he twitches against her palm that he won’t last long.

“You okay?” She whispers as she moves to straddle him.

His expression is almost pained, only able to nod as he looks up at her with desperation in his eyes.

She sinks slowly down onto him, her jaw going slack at the stretch, hearing Billy groan beneath her.

“Oh…oh god…” he grits out, as her hips sink fully against his.

Trailing her fingertips over his bare chest, while giving herself a moment to adjust, she soothes him with a soft kiss.

He hums into it, his hips bucking slightly upwards and she pulls back with a grin, rolling her hips against his, delighting in the way his thickness drags against her sensitive walls.

He gasps softly, head thrown back against the pillows, a few strands of hair coming loose from his carefully waxed style.

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters.

His grip on her hips is vicelike as she rocks against him, she feels impossibly full and yet already anticipates this being an unsatisfying ending for her - she can feel him throbbing inside of her, as he pants hard beneath her.

Her backside slaps softly against his thighs once, twice, three times, and all too soon his eyes are screwing shut as he cries out in ecstasy, twitching as he spills into the condom.

She stills, gazing down at him as he opens his eyes, skin flushed as he gasps for air. He looks like a work of art, no shame or fear of making a fool of himself guiding his behaviour, just utterly lost in the moment.

“Sh-shit…sorry…” he whispers, as she climbs off of him. He pulls off the rubber and discards it in the bedside waste paper bin. “That was really quick.”

She smiles, guiding him back to her side and laying back. “It was your first time, that was going to happen. You’ll last longer next time.”

He grins down at her. “Next time?”

“If you want to, that is.”

“Course I do!”

He kisses her with more confidence, his hands snaking a trail down her body, squeezing greedily at her curves. After a few minutes of their languid kisses and caresses, she can feel him stirring to life against her thigh again.

“Could I be on top this time?” He whispers into her ear, settling between her legs, once he’s found another sheath.

She nods, sighing in pleasure as she feels him slip back inside of her. The change in angle and sensation of his weight on top of her heightens the feeling as each of his gentle strokes brushes deep within her.

While it feels good, it’s not quite enough to get her there, and as she feels his thrusts becoming less controlled, she knows she needs to help him to help her.

“Give me your hand,” she says huskily, taking it and guiding it between their bodies. 

She presses his fingers to her pearl, guiding them to stroke her in quick, tight circles. “Just like that,” she tells him.

He’s quick to learn, stroking her in tandem with each snap of his hips. He groans low into the crook of her neck, stilling as he spends himself a second time, but the movement of his fingers never relents. The combination of his ministrations against her bud and him pulsating within her drive her over the edge, and she climaxes with a moan, clenching around Billy, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

He rolls off of her after a moment, throwing his arm behind his head and pulling her to his chest. “Could get used to this,” he murmurs with a lazy smirk.

“Won’t you get the sack?” She asks jokingly.

“Nah, leaving anyway, aren’t I?”

“Right you are,” she smiles, snuggling against him.

“You up for another send off then? I could die, y’know.”

“That’s manipulative, Billy!” She giggles, swatting his chest.

“Is it working though?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is…” she says quietly, feeling his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of her thigh.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Could I possibly request a little Negan x hispanic!Reader? Reader has 3 kids from before the apocalypse and the toddler seems not to be scared of Negan?

Wandering Babies

Negan x plus size reader

When the ruthless leader of the Saviours bumps into a lost toddler in his city, his life gets changed forever, especially when his protective mother shows up.

Warnings: Negan being Negan, swearing, implied future relationship, fluff

WC: 1.3k

A/N: Hi nonnie! I don't usually write y/ns with a specific race since I like to remain as open as I can with them but I did give her kids traditionally Spanish names so I hope that was ok!

Minors DNI

“Well well well, what the fuck do we have here?” The sun shone brightly behind the giant of a man, casting his face in shadow. To any normal person, it would have scared the absolute shit out of them, especially with the looming threat of Lucille across his shoulders, but the toddler in front of him was smiling the whole time.

His big brown eyes focused on the man in front of him, looking at him in a way that only babies could. Kneeling down, Negan came face to face with the child. “The fuck do you want?” He said like he was addressing someone below him but the two year old just burst out into giggles, obviously finding this whole thing hilarious.

“I think that’s the new-comer’s kid.” Simon chose that moment to speak up and caused Negan to roll his eyes.

“Yeah I fuckin figured that.” He growled, not taking his eyes off the kid who was now inching closer. He wasn’t quite steady on his feet and wobbled dangerously with each step he took. Unconsciously, Negan’s free hand shot out and held the surprisingly plump belly of the child, keeping him upright. Tiny hands grabbed at his wrist but didn’t attempt to push him away. Instead he touched Negan's arm, pulling at the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

“I’m just wondering how the fuck someone could lose a goddamn kid.” The toddler continued to fiddle with the dark fabric, Negan only stopping him when he tried to put it in his mouth.

Simon shrugged behind his boss. “I mean she’s got three of em and she’s working in the kitchens and the infirmary.” That shocked the older man. Working two jobs was unheard of in the Sanctuary, one job could provide more than enough for someone and their family.

The kid suddenly released his wrist and raised his arms over his head, opening and closing his chubby hands in a clear sign. Releasing a deep sigh, Negan relented. He shoved Lucille into the awaiting arms of his second in command and picked up the child with an ease of someone who has done it many times before. His little head tucked into the crook of his neck, his fluffy brown hair tickling Negan’s nose.

“How about we go find your mother huh.” The toddler nodded. Just as Negan took a step forward, already planning a very angry speech to the boy’s mom, a woman ripped out of the building and his breath caught in his throat.

Her eyes were wide with panic but that wasn’t what caught his attention. She was gorgeous, all thick curves and fat like a Greek goddess. She blazed with anxiety and rage, poised for a fight against anyone that might have taken her child. “Tomas!” The child’s head shot back, clipping Negan’s chin as he did.

“Mama!” She spun and locked eyes with the big bad leader of the Saviors and shamefully, he felt his knees buckle. Tomas squirmed in his hold, eager to reach for his mother but Negan was frozen in place. Two other children trailed behind her like ducklings, a pair of twin girls that looked to be 8 or 9 years old. 

As she drew closer, he could see the details of her face, the scars and blemishes but more importantly, the huge dark circles that marred her otherwise perfect visage. She stopped a yard away from him, quickly shoving her girls behind her back. “Thank you for finding Tomas, he has a bad habit of wandering off when I’m not looking.” Her voice was steady, he supposed from years of practice.

“He is a very sweet fucking kid.” One of the girls gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth in a comical expression of shock.

“He said a bad word, mama.” The other whispered just loud enough for Negan to hear. 

“You shouldn’t let your fucking kids run around without supervision, that’s how they get killed.” Her murderous glare set itself on Simon as she took another step forward. Negan could see what she was planning to do, grab Tomas and then go after the tall man. 

But before she could make her move, Negan did. “How about you go and fuck off, I need to have a fucking conversation with this lovely woman and you are really killing the mood with your fuck ugly face.” There was a brief moment of tense silence before Simon thrust Lucille into his free arm and turned with a huff to walk away, muttering under his breath.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, her walls crumbling slightly but they were quickly built back up. “Could I please have my son now?” Tomas was lifted from his arms but Negan realised he missed the weight of the toddler against his chest. He suddenly felt a hell of a lot colder than he did before.

The boy gave out a great big sigh as he settled into his mother’s bust, utterly exhausted from his escape attempt. Two little heads poked out from behind her legs, studying the man that had been holding their brother. “Well who are these two pretty girls?” Shyly, they clung to their mom’s jeans, not answering him.

“Isabella and Lucia.” She responded for them.

“Two fucking gorgeous names for two gorgeous girls.” They smiled bashfully but didn’t try to hide again, he took that as a win. “And which one of you are going to tell me your mama’s name? I bet her name is just as beautiful as her.” He raised his head to look at said woman, expecting her to be as flattered as her daughters but instead he was met with a glare even dirtier than the one she gave Simon.

“Oh now that is a dirty damn look! And I would be lying if I said it didn’t turn me the fuck on.” Her jaw ticked with annoyance but that only made his smile grow wider across his stubbled cheeks. He gave an exaggerated shiver which made the girls giggle. “Wowie your mother is goddamn scary.”

“Yeah! Once she kicked Derek’s dad in his private place because he said something mean to her.” Isabella finally spoke up, her little voice gaining confidence. Lucia nodded along with her sister in agreement, still too shy to say anything yet.

“Well Derek’s dad deserved it for being such an asshole to your lovely mother. Now how about we go have some fucking dinner and keep disguising how amazing she is.” Those seemed to be the magic words because the twins emerged fully from behind said woman’s legs and ran at him. With absolutely no hesitation, Negan dropped Lucille beside him, kicking the bat away so neither of the girls would accidentally hurt themselves. 

Just like their brother, they each took hold of one of his jacket sleeves and yanked. “Can we have spaghetti?” “Do you have ice cream?” “Mama, can we go with him?” “Mama please!” “Mama!” They screamed in quick succession, not giving either adult any time to answer before asking their next question. Negan gave her a victorious look. 

He could tell she wanted to say no but her girls had finally opened up to someone new for the first time since the world ended and, even though she loved them, she could use a break from their clingy behaviour. “Fine but no complaining about an early bedtime tonight. Remember mama has to work early tomorrow.” They exploded into excited shouts and began tugging the older man forward, eager to talk to him.

Negan let them pull him along but he looked back at the woman that had so entirely captured his attention, throwing her a wink. “We’ll stay up as late as you want and don’t worry about your job mama, I’ve got that all covered. You just need to sit back and relax tonight and let me do all the work.”

Her eyes widened and then darkened with a barely hidden lust at the double entendre and he just chuckled deep in his chest. He’d gotten her and maybe, just maybe, a new chance at life with this little family, all because Tomas liked to wander.

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[flw3rrr]

My forever dove

Paring: Billy the kid X fem!reader

Rating: 18+ NSFW MDNI

word count: 4.2k

Summary: wanted for murder. You escape to an old friend's house to find shelter, gaining safety from the law hunting you down. when suddenly Billy sees your face plastered onto a wanted flyer.

Warnings: alcohol usage, unprotected PnV (wrap it up), Oral (Fem receiving), Swearing, fingering, Betrayal, Death, murder, plot twist at the end, No happy ending, NOT PROOFREAD, rifles/guns, no description of reader, No mentions of Y/n.

Please 100% let me know if I missed any warnings! my inbox Is open and free for ask's and requests

Bold = Flashbacks (Note: Had to save this to post for when the new episodes came out <3 )

The sky was dark and gray, as the clouds were gray and threatened to rain any second. Thunder is heard in the distance as you arrive at an old friend's farm house. The farm wasn't really alone in the middle of nowhere; there were other houses in the distance, but they were far away for privacy. Knocking onto the door as tiny droplets of rain had begun to fall and hit the dirt ground, awaiting your friend's response.

You'd been running from the law for quite some time after having an accidental run-in with someone, which caused the gentleman to lose his own life. But in your defense, he earned it after you saved a couple of people from him. He was yelling and screaming and took out his pocket knife. An instant reaction came from your body as you tackled him to the ground, resulting in cuts and clothing being ripped when your hand suddenly knocked the knife from his hand, which landed into his throat.

But before you could get any words out to the law, you were defending yourself and explaining how you tried to hold him down to save those strangers, but there was no mercy, calling you a heartless and unlady person, quickly getting up and running away before your leg was shot. Not noticing it for quite some time as your adrenaline was pumping quickly, running as fast as you could before falling to the ground, a numb, painful, cold yet warm feeling as you looked to see a dark red liquid pour out of your leg along with a trail.

Your thoughts were blank in confusion as you processed the image in front of you. Your vision began to go blurry as you saw the outlines of the lawmen running to get you. Before the darkness consumed you. Coming back to your realization, your friend opened the door for you. "What are you doing here?" She spoke in confusion and worry, seeing your pale, tired face. "Oh Mary, thank God you opened. Please just let me in, and I'll explain everything," letting out a sigh of relief as the door opened wider.

The second you stood foot into the house, the rain began to downpour aggressively. Mary guided you to take a seat at the wooden table, handing you a drink to warm you up. "So why have you come here as if you just had a worrying moment or as if you saw a ghost?" Her words filled up with concern, yet a serious expression was seen on her face. Looking up at her with a painful look and glossy eyes before opening your mouth to explain everything, start to finish.

Your senses slowly came to you as your eyes slowly blinked open as you heard voices speak in the distance, talking, yet you could not comprehend what they were saying. Slowly leaning up, your eyes wander to your leg, seeing a white bandage wrapped around it, though it hurts to move. "Ah, it seems you're awake now; the doctor came by and removed the bullet. gotta keep you alive to give you a trial at least." The sheriff laughed at the end as he sat behind his desk. You tried to sit on the edge, but the pain prevented you from moving more than you could have, forcing you to sit in an uncomfortable way.

Looking at the sheriff before speaking to him. "But I am innocent. I was only stopping the man from harming those people. They saw me; just ask them, and they would tell you I was trying to protect them." The words you spoke hurt your throat. Dry and desperate for a drink to relieve the pain sensation.

A laugh was heard from the sheriff, who was shaking his head as he laughed before speaking once more. "Lucky for you, Miss. I did my research and asked them. They said you attacked them. That's all I needed to know—you were the wrong one and a danger to this town." Standing up immediately, the sting and major pain shot through your leg, and you grabbed onto the bars of the cell.

"They are lying; I swear, I was only protecting them; they are the ones who lie, not me!" You yelled in despair to defend yourself. The sheriff just shakes his head as if you were speaking riddles and jokes, not taking you seriously. "You can say that all you'd want. it’s what they all say, but nothing happens." He walked off to another room, leaving you alone and in great pain. But four days later, you managed to escape with a few others who were arrested and were sent to hang with you. Kindly, they guided you away through the bricks of the wall as your leg was still healing. Leaving you to take a horse and begin your journey to Mary's farm.

Mary spoke your name softly, placing her hand above yours that laid on the table. "So now you're wanted and to be sent to death." You nodded slowly, a slight panic in your face as you suddenly remembered someone you knew a long time ago: Billy. Your good friend, your old lover, somebody who understood you and treated you with the most kindness you ever had gotten. You heard he had gotten a name for himself and was known to almost every lawman in the towns. Now both of you were in the same boat, yet he had more experience than you. praying silently that he'd find you before the law did.

Mary looked to the side before speaking up, almost unheard, as a loud crack of thunder cried out. "I'll try my best to hide you, but you know I won't be able to forever." Stating as she looked you in the eye with a serious tone. Mary was known for being honest, never doing dirty work, and never lying to those she spoke with, including never lying to the law. Knowing deep down this played something big in her life, you agreed to stay for a while, and once your leg healed, you would flee farther away from here.

Taking her hands and playing your forehead on them, giving a silent thank you, and looking up at her with gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, Mary. Thank you so much. I'll never ask again, I promise." feeling the weight of fear dissolve from your body. 

Mary led you to a guest room that was small but yet had a warm bed, and that's all you cared about, giving your body the proper care to fully heal and rest. The rain was still pouring hard, but it always sang you to slumber as a child growing up.

being left alone to dress in a loaned nightgown from Mary and fresh wraps to wrap around your leg, hissing as you cleaned it from a little whiskey, which your good friend also handed with a clean cloth, making sure your night was painless as it was for the past four days.

Once, after getting into the bed all clean and comfortable, you sigh out of gratitude, thankful for being safe as long as God has granted you. Leaving the candle flame to dance until it burned out. Letting slumber claim your exhausted body to comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy walked into a saloon with Jesse and a few other men for a drink as a celebration for a good day's work. Walking up to the man who ran the bar, signaling for a whiskey. "This time, don't be worried about getting all out, 'ight?" Jumping from the slap onto his shoulder, Billy looked at Jesse before smiling, "Don't have to worry 'bout me. I'll just do fine."

His head looked around the saloon, looking at the decor and seeing drunk fools tumble over anything and even nothing. Then his eyes land on a wanted board... In one of the sketches, looking a little too familiar, he took a last swig before walking over.

Just as he reached up to the bulletboard, he admired the sketch of the woman, upon his eyes landing to see your name. You, his dove The name of your favorite bird, which you found breathtaking and admirable. Looking around the room to see if anyone was paying attention, he took the paper off, shoving it into his pocket. Jumping at the noise of a man behind him, he turned to see a man, half blind in his left eye, with hair almost gray and missing teeth. "Plannin' to catch that one, eh?" The man asked, his rough southern voice yet scratchy voice almost filling the room.

​​Billy stayed silent for a moment. Every question flew through his mind. What did you do? How on earth did you get into trouble? Taking a deep breath before asking. "Yeah. What exactly did she do though?" looking at the old man shake his head before speaking again, his eyes burning into his. "The real question is, what hasn't she done?" Billy's head followed the man as he sat down. Taking a sip of whiskey before speaking one more. "These fools believe someone like her killed a man."  

The words rang through his ears. Killed? "I saw it myself actually... She was defending a couple. A man was threatening, taking him down and fighting, which caused the knife to slip and land into the man's throat." Billy imagined the scenario of you going through it as the man explained deeper. "My guess the law was so desperate for a crime they took that chance... bribed everybody to lie to get her in trouble... even shot her in the leg as she tried to run." His head shot up, looking at the man in the eyes. Anger filling up through each bone of his body. "Why did they do that exactly?!"

The old man shook his head. "No clue.. I asked them, but they paid me to stay silent. Didn't take it though." Clearing his throat before pointing his hand at Billy. "She escaped though. A couple of outlaws escaped by the building. was blown up by the gang, and they kindly took her and helped her escape, but from what I've known was her last location, she was seen alone.. possibly going to a hideout." Billy quickly thanked the man before walking off to Jesse, eager to find you as quick as possible before the law did. "Jesse is leaving. I have business to attend to; it's urgent." Speaking harshly while gathering his stuff. "Woah woah, what's gotten' you into a twist?" Raising his hands up as Jesse looked at Billy. "Just a job... I'll be back." Storming out of the saloon before heading out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Mary gave you chores—nothing hard on your leg but simple chores to keep you busy and earn your stay until your leg fully heals. The hot sun beating onto your back as you placed a bucket of hay down for the animals, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you sighed and began to walk back into the building, limping as your leg stung in pain. Sitting down onto the wooden chair, you held tears from the pain before Mary walked in front of you, handing you whiskey. "Here should help with the pain... just don't drink it too fast or you won't have any left." Nodding your head before you took a sip, the drink cooling your dry throat before looking up at her. "You're too good to me, Mary," you let out a chuckle. "Well, I don't just leave helpless friends alone while in pain. You rest for now. I'll cook a little something. I do need to go down later on, just so you know." 

Nodding as you let Mary alone cook, knowing she enjoys that time alone to focus deeply. your head hitting the pillow as you think before falling asleep. 

Being shaken awake by Mary as she spoke your name, which deeply scared you. "Jesus Mary, what is the issue?" You placed your hands onto hers, which kept its place on your shoulders. "There is a man near here. I'm not sure who, but he seems to be coming this way." Those words worried you as you stood up limping to the door. Peaking out to get a glimpse, but the sun setting gives a challenge of guessing. "Go out there and confront him with your shotgun." Mary's eyes widened. "Are you insane?" Shaking her head as you hand her shotgun, opening the door before pushing her out. 

As you now watch peeking behind the now open door, watching Mary sigh before taking a few steps in front of the silhouette. "Stop right there... hands where I can see them, mister," hearing the tone of uncertainty filling her throat as she spoke. Watching as the man got off his horse before raising his hands. "I'm not here for trouble, miss." As the words came out of his mouth, you recognized that very voice... Billy... "And that exactly is...?" Mary's hand shook. "I'm looking for- '' His words cutting off as you rushed out before slamming into him, hugging him deeply. His scent of whiskey and cigarettes and gunpowder comforted you.

His arms quickly wrapped around your waist, tightly afraid you'd disappear from him. Moving to look at him to admire his face, which looked... sad and tired. "How on earth did you find me?" You asked. "I have my ways. I even found out the trouble you're in by the law." Staring into one another's eyes before Mary spoke up. "I enjoy a reunion, but we need to go inside; law likes to search at this time." Guiding both of you into before shutting and locking the door

With everyone now seated at the table, the only thing heard was the clock ticking. "So how did you... get here?" Billy asked, breaking the silence. He knew just wanting to know your view from it. Your gaze goes to him before you smile at him. His presence brings you joy and comfort. "A group helped me. I got a horse, and this place was the closest.. and I'm here until my leg fully heals." Just watching him, you could see how his heart broke for you. yearning to place your hand onto his.. to feel him and let him know you're alright.

With Mary not knowing what to do now with two people in her house that were wanted by the law, she grew tense at the thought that if the law found them here, she as well could be in big trouble. Before snapping back to reality, she looked at the both. "I just realized I have to head out and... get a few... things," she said quickly, raising up from her stool before heading to the door. "I can trust him here; I can actually get my things." That was the last thing Mary said before she left.

The crickets began to hum their tune as it got darker than ever, turning your head to Billy, then back to the door. Mary seemed hesitant and almost guilty as she left. "That was odd..." Billy broke the silence. Looking at him with soft eyes with a slight smile. "Nothing to worry about; Mary is just... normally a nervous person; I'm sure she is just anxious." Now both looking into one another's eyes, the tension is growing and yearning for one another. In a blink of an eye, Billy's hand cradles your cheeks as his lips softly land on yours. skin feeling warm as his hands slowly slide down to your waist gripping onto tightly.

A groan escaped his mouth as the kiss deepened, hands roaming around his body, desperate to feel him anywhere you were granted With the feeling of you being lifted onto the table, the feeling of his lips trace and teasing your neck, creating a sensation that tingled well. Biting your lip as he teased at your collarbone before looking at you in the eyes that spoke thousands of words that couldn't be described. "What is it?" You asked, your heart beating from the heated kiss. His hand caresses your cheek before speaking. "I want to make sure you're alright with this, especially because of your leg." His words filled with sincere, truly caring about you and your health.

The words that slipped from his mouth brought butterflies to your stomach—the feeling of love and kindness, and most importantly, trust. "Yes, of course I do.. just not here.. the guest room will do." Getting down from the table as you gently take his hand, leading him to the guest room, upon closing the door, his lips land onto yours once more. the feeling full of bliss as if you both were on earth for one another just to be in love, and that's what your purpose was for, just to be with him in every moment life granted you.

Slowly he laid you onto the bed, carefully untying the ribcages of the borrowed dress Mary gave you, revealing your bare skin to him and the cold air hitting your body, creating goosebumps. You watch him place soft kisses, starting from your collarbone, slowly down to the middle of your breast, and furthermore till he reaches the inside of your thigh. His eyes look up at you once more as his lips place a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh.

Shivers ran through your body at the sight of him and how he moved with grace and patience. His tongue slid through your folds slowly, a wash of pleasure washing over you, your body aching more of anything he has to offer. Hands slowly sliding down to grip softly onto his hair, which granted a groan from him. His tongue continued to move, moving to your clit bringing more stimulation and guiding you to an orgasm.Bucking your hips twoards him, building the pleasure as his tongue flicked at your clitoris with moans escaping your mouth. "Please do not stop," a feeling of euphoria washes over you as Billy's hand grips your thighs to keep you still. Watching him as he rests on his knees, bringing two fingers, slowly teasing your entrance before slowly sliding them in, spreading you out fully

with his fingers. One of your hands grips onto the bedsheets as another grips onto his other hand that held your waist down."

Billy, please," you begged, gasping for breath as your body tried to squirm around, but him holding you down did not allow such a thing. The feeling of his fingers curling up, hitting all the spots, bringing you ecstasy. "Just one more, I promise, then I'll give you what we both want. I promise." Taking his other hand in yours, placing a kiss onto the palm." Just as those words were spoken, a wave of bliss passed, your heart beating quickly, head flung back moans filling the room as you came, your body already hot but yearning for more.

Gently taking your legs before placing them around his waist, watching carefully as he removed his gunbelt.. then his pants.. showing his hard cock, precum dripping out as he moved your waist closer to him. eyes both locked in once again as he slowly slid in, filling you fully up to the brim, bottoming out as both of you groan in pleasure. Taking your hands to wrap around his neck, giving him a soft kiss, and reassuring him to move.

Slowly nodding and proceeding to thrust into you, the feeling of him filling you up greatly encouraged you more to your climax, letting out a sigh as he hits all the right spots once more and more deeply than his fingers. short moans leaving as each thrust he took was not slow nor fast.. just perfect to savor the feeling. "You feel so good wrapped around me.. god," moaned Billy, his hand moving to play with your breast, squeezing, feeling you tighten around him.

"Right there, don't stop fuck." You cry out as his thumb circles your clit to guide you to another orgasm. "C'mon.. together.. your doing amazing." Billy whispered into your neck as his eyes tightened. Within seconds, both of you came together, and both moans could be heard throughout the whole place. Warmness filled you up, bodies both still letting the pleasure pass by.

Within minutes, both of you lay together, bodies covered in sweaty thighs sticky from both of your releases. Taking in the moment of silence with one another. "When do you think Mary should come back?" Billy asked once again, breaking the silence and looking at you. "Nothing we should worry about. She likes her time." smiling as your eyes grew heavy, Billy being the last thing to see before Slumber claimed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Has Mary returned yet?' You walked up to Billy as he kept watching through the window. "No, not yet. Has she done this before, meaning being gone for a day collecting?" Looking towards you hoping to find a response. "Unfortunately no," you say, wiping your hands on the cloth as you see a group of lawmen on horses come up, aiming guns before the sheriff spoke. Yelling your name. "We know your in there... no hope left. Just come out, and this will be easy for all of us." Billy ran to you, holding you tightly and giving both of you comfort. "How about we talk first, like normal people do?" Watching as he signaled the men to lower their guns. 

You slowly looked at Billy before slowly walking out of the farm house, Billy's hand staying tightly onto your waist, ready to defend you at any cause. "Ah.. you even have Billy the kid himself with you... Your little friend didn't tell me that. As you watched the sheriff chuckle, your heart dropped in horror, eyes widening as you looked over and saw Mary with an upset guilty face. "W.. what?" You stuttered in shock. "Your friend.. you see she didn't want to be the bad guy hiding you.. and so she led us here.. at least thank her for giving you a night in a comfortable bed." Each word rings through your ears as you hyperventilate.

Staring out at whatever was in front of you, everything was blurred. The voices of Billy yelling at everyone, his hand tightened more around you, securing you. "Be quiet Billy, be thankful we aren't taking you in.. though don't worry, we'll come back for you." His smile was corrupted and insane. Two men splitted you and Billy as more held him down, restraining him from getting you. Just as you passed Mary, you spoke. "You fucking traitor. You're no friend. You're a horrible person." You spat as tears filled both of your eyes. Upset and angry as she was crying when she's the one who gave you in.

The last thing Billy saw was you taken away on a horse before he was knocked out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 months later

Once again, it was raining, but soft as Billy stood there looking down. What kept him so occupied was your headstone, hung by the law—all because of your 'friend.' Anger filled his body as he dropped a coin onto the dirt patch. walking away from where you laid to rest, awaiting for him to return to him and hug him in the afterlife. He had business to finish... to avenge you. blinded by rage as he slowly rode up to the farmhouse Mary resided in. Stopping as he quickly checked if his gun was loaded, before dismounting and walking up to the door and slowly opening it.

Upon walking in, Mary stood facing away from him, pausing as she heard a click of a gun. "Don't move," Billy said quietly. "Please don't.." She slowly said, turning to face him, both hands raised. "Why shouldn't I? You turned her in. Now she's in a cold grave with nobody to keep her warm and loved." His heart felt broken—the same way he felt as he watched his own family die in front of him as he grew. Hearing a chuckle, his breath shook as she watched her. "Fine, you want to know... I couldn't stand her... So I used my charms on the sheriff... on the town.. made everyone think she was a killer. I hated her. Despised her" Mary's voice yelled towards the end. His hand tightened on the gun more as his pointer finger moved to the trigger. "Slept with the sheriff even.. told him she'd probably run to me for safety.. when you came it was the right time to get him... Best thing I've do-" Her words were cut.

Her body laid still... Lifeless just as yours did. Cold and nothing. Blood pooled onto the wooden floors, soaking and staining the wood. turning around to head. out back into the rain, stopping just before he left. "Say hello to her for me." Before shutting the door. Never once forgetting your smile.. the rain slowly stopped. Looking over to the fence, he saw a white bird. Upon further investigation, he noticed it was a dove. looking straight at him before flying away.

a sign that you were now free from your pain of injustice and now could wander free as birds do.. praying he shall see you once more as hold you in his arms as he once did.