#that ending made me have goosebumps...it made me stop breathing...i burst into tears...

[cherishedskulls]

i would do anything. anything. to be able to experience the ending of saw for the first time again. anything.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [23.5]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: fluffy, mentions of trauma, fear of water, mentions of near drowning

Word Count: 2,196

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i am so sorry i have been MIA. Here's something. Someone ages ago requested this scene and I thought it was so sweet I had to do it. I'm hoping to get the actual full length chapter out soon. Same for the other stuff. Better news though, this is the last build up to what we've all been waiting for😘. date night is gonna go very very well.]

#23.5: AM I CLOSE TO REDEMPTION? .

"tickled fingertips, goosebump skin, wandering eyes, shallow breaths, all in anticipation to be completely consumed by you." -Chrissie Pinney

.

“Grogu?” You called out while peering around furniture. When the boy wanted to keep out of sight he was very good at doing so. “Grogu, where are you?” It was nearing bed time which made sense why he would hide. Lately, he’d been wanting to stay up later and later. Usually though it would only take you repeating yourself once for him to come out of hiding. You stopped in place and set your hands on your hips. “Grogu, baby, I’m being serious now. I need you to come out.”

Seconds later, you watched Grogu squirm out from under the couch with a frown. You blinked in surprise. ‘How did he even fit⏤ nevermind.’ He waddled over to you slowly, dragging out the motion, and you knelt down. “Ma…”

“What’s going on?” You didn’t hesitate to scoop him up into your arms. 

“Don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wanna what?” You asked. Grogu mumbled under his breath a mix of Basic, Mando’a, and gibberish. You walked toward the bathroom, bouncing him lightly, and Din glanced up from where he was working on reattaching a new door to the broken frame.

Din was dressed in his sleep clothes and his helmet’s visor focused on the two of you, “Everything alright?”

“I think so.” You reassured him. “Someone just doesn’t want to go to bed.”

“Listen to Ma, ad’ika.” Din hummed distractedly while shifting his attention back to the door frame.

Grogu was too big for the sink, but he wasn’t quite big enough to shower on his own yet. Din had bought an attachment for the sink that could be filled with water and used as a little tub. Bath time ended up being one of your favorite times with Grogu just because he had so much fun playing in the water. You had even bought him toys and bubbles. 

You set Grogu down on the ground so you could get his bath set up, “Get undressed, baby.” When you got the water to a comfortable temperature, you glanced down to see Grogu was shifting in place. “Grogu?” Something definitely seemed wrong now. You carefully picked him up to stand on the counter. “What’s going on?”

Grogu squirmed uncomfortably and eyed the water skeptically. You reached out to hold his hand, but he must have assumed you were going to get him undressed for the bath. He burst into tears making your eyes widen in alarm and he lunged forward. Quickly, you opened your arms and caught him. He clung to you desperately and sobbed in your shoulder.

“Grogu, I need you to talk to me.” You rubbed his back. 

Din was immediately at your side. One hand settled on your lower back while the other reached out to set his hand on Grogu as well. “Me’bana?”

“No, no. No bath.” Grogu shook his head frantically.

You glanced up at Din, worried, and then back to the boy, “Why not? I thought you liked bath time.”

“No more water. Bad.”

“Since when is he scared of water?” You asked Din in a soft whisper.

“Uh,” Din shifted in his stance and cleared his throat, “Good question.”

“Bad. Water hurt buir.” Grogu whimpered.

Your eyes widened, but Din ran his hand lovingly over the back of Grogu’s head. He threaded through his hair with a reassuring hum, “Ad’ika, that would never happen to you. You’re always safe here.”

“What happened? What is he talking about, Din?” You demanded. Din stiffened and remained silent. You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes in a glare. “Din?”

He cleared his throat, again, “During our trip to Mandalore, there was an incident… I may have, er, fallen into the Living Waters…” Your jaw popped open. “With my gear on.”

“You nearly drowned and never told me??”

“...In my defense, I did tell you that I nearly died three times in one day.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You didn’t. Bo Katan did.”

“Nuance?”

You began to speak but forced yourself to stop. With a glare, you lifted your hand to point at him. “This conversation is not over. You hear me?” Din quickly bobbed his head up and down sheepishly. You returned your attention to Grogu and rubbed his back again. “Buir is right though, baby. You are safe here.” You shifted so Grogu was forced to peel his face away from the crook of your shoulder. He rubbed his watery eyes and you offered him a soft, reassuring smile. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

Grogu sniffled. “Ma promise?”

“Ma promises.” You leaned forward and brushed your nose against his back and forth until he giggled. You could feel your own features brighten at the sound and and snuggled him closer to your chest so you could tickle his sides. Din chuckled from beside you. “How about this? Let’s jump straight to the bubbles today. Yeah?”

Grogu bounced in your arms happily. “Bubbles. Bubbles. Bubbles.”

The little boy’s fears had been qualmed enough for you to get him into the bath’s warm water and you filled it with as many bubbles as possible. Enough that it billowed up and nearly swallowed the giddy boy whole. Din had paused on fixing the door to wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder. The cold beskar pressed to the side of you face was comforting⏤ you associated it with Din’s presence and care. 

“So?” Din murmured softly. You could hear the curl of his lips in his voice. “How much trouble am I in, ner kar’ta?”

“Oh, a lot, mister.” You replied and scooped up a handful of bubbles to rest on top of Grogu’s damp hair. “So, so much trouble.” Grogu clapped his hands to make the bubbles surrounding him float up. You turned and pressed a kiss to the temple of his helmet. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Din chuckled and his hand lifted to reach the lid of his helmet. “I’d rather your lips on my skin.”

“I bet you would.” You turned your head to look back at Grogu. “Shame you’re in trouble.”

You heard the deep rumble of his laugh, felt it against your back where his chest was pressed, and a small smile lifted the corner of your lips. You unhooked the drain, but left Grogu in because you knew he liked playing with the water as it spun down. Din shifted so his head hid behind yours and you heard a quiet hiss before you felt his lips press softly to your neck. You still felt the chill of beskar as well so he probably only lifted it up enough to kiss you.

“Can I show you how sorry I am?” Din mumbled against your skin.

“Trying to seek redemption, Djarin?” You teased.

Din tugged on the back of your shirt to reveal more skin to kiss. You tried to ignore his innocent kisses and filled the cup with warm water to rinse off the remaining suds on Grogu’s skin. Din’s teeth brushed against your skin and you jumped just enough to make Din chuckle. 

“Make yourself useful and get me Grogu’s towel.” You chimed. Din squeezed your waist before tugging his helmet down and wandering away. When he stepped out of the bathroom you shook your head at Grogu. “Your buir is trouble, you know that?” He giggled and you ran your hand through his damp hair to make it stand up on end. “Must be where you get it from.”

“Ma like trouble.” Grogu replied.

“I suppose I do.” You bopped his nose with the tip of your finger making him scrunch up his face with a snicker. Din returned with the fluffy, gray hooded towel you had bought him at market and you took it from him. “Thanks, honey.”

You wrapped Grogu up in the towel and began to dry him off. Din put his chin back on your shoulder, “I like that.”

“Like what?” You asked absentmindedly while carefully pulling Grogu’s ears through the holes you had cut in the hood for them. Grogu beamed up at you while bundled up in his towel. “Hm?”

“When you call me that.” Din answered and you could hear the slight embarrassment in his tone.

You pulled Grogu into your arms and turned to smirk at him. “What? Honey?” Din just tilted his head at you. “Who would’ve thought such a simple pet name would make the big, strong Mandalorian weak?”

“Everything you do makes me weak.” Din chimed. He leaned over to press his forehead against yours. After a beat, Grogu began to whine and hold his hands up. Din was grinning, you could hear it in his voice, and he leaned down, “Sorry, ad’ika. I didn’t mean to leave you out.” Din set his head against Grogu and when the boy was satisfied with the love he pushed Din back and lifted his arms up to you. You chuckled and leaned down to press your own forehead against Grogu’s. “Hey, no more stalling. It’s bedtime.”

Grogu blew a raspberry at his words and Din’s hands fell to his hips. You reached out to lightly rap your knuckles against the side of his helmet. “Don’t you have a door to fix, honey?”

Din shook his head while you slipped out of the bathroom to head to Din’s bedroom. You scrounged up Grogu’s pajamas and helped the boy into them. By the time you got him dressed for bed, he was already beginning to yawn and his eyelids began to droop. You set him in his hammock but lingered to murmur a soft lullaby while petting the boy’s soft hair and dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose. When Grogu’s eyes finally drifted close you nestled his stuffed frog closer to his body and tucked him in. Carefully, you pressed your lips to his forehead before sneaking out of the room. 

The second the bedroom door was shut, Din was on you. He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close and dragging you further back from the bedroom. “Eyes, ner kar’ta.” Unable to hold the shock, fear, and irritation that came with the mental image of him drowning, you closed your eyes at his command. Din yanked off his helmet, you heard the sound of it lightly hitting the floor, and then Din was pushing you backwards until you felt your back bump into the wall. You squeezed your eyes closed tighter to resist the urge to look at him as you felt his form surround you entirely. You tilted your chin up, and your lips involuntarily parted in anticipation. Din chuckled. “Good girl.”

The words sent a sharp thrill through you and you let out a soft gasp that was muffled by his lips latching onto yours. Din was everywhere and everything. His hot tongue explored your mouth while his hands roamed your body. They brushed down your neck, across your collarbones, down your sides⏤ Din didn’t let any part of you go untouched. Then his lips followed the path of his hands. You missed the taste of him, but the way he left open mouth kisses along your jaw and down to your neck made you moan.

“Am I close to redemption?” Din asked in a husky voice.

“Getting there, honey.” You repeated the nickname you knew he liked and Din groaned before kissing back up your neck and sucking your earlobe between his teeth. It seemed like Din was making up for lost time when it came to using his mouth, and you were growing obsessed with his obsession of constantly keeping his lips against your skin. 

Din returned his lips to yours for a moment more before pulling back. “We need to go to bed.”

You jutted your lip out in a pout. “Last I checked, we didn't have bedtimes.”

“No, but we have to be up early.” Din replied and you heard the excitement seep into his voice. “Peli will be here before the shop opens to pick up Grogu and then we can leave for our first courting session.”

You reached out to set your hands on his chest and slowly dragged them up to his neck and then carefully cupped his face. Hearing how eager he sounded for your date made your heart swell. Your fingers dragged through scruff that covered his jawline and you pulled him closer to set a soft kiss against his lip. Din seemed to melt in your touch and he let out a sigh through his nose⏤ his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. When you finally broke apart, you grinned in excitement yourself. “Tomorrow is gonna be so great. I can’t wait.” 

Din moved and a moment later that same cool beskar kissed your forehead. You let your eyes slowly open and you were greeted by the sight of your reflection in his dark visor. You let your finger trail against the edge of where the metal met glass. The thought of what tomorrow could bring made your heart flutter in your chest and for the thousandth time since Din returned with Grogu, you thanked your lucky stars that this was your life.

mando'a translations

ad'ika: little one buir: father ner kar'ta: my heart me'bana: what's happening?

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[hugheshugs]

i'm not your dad | t. bordeleau

au masterlist

summary: when you're in distress and call your dad to come get you, he sends his best friend instead.

contains/tw: dadsbestfriend(dbf)!thomas, dad!brendan, reader has a meltdown, mostly hurt/comfort or angst, one minor suggestive phrase.

pairing: dbf!thomas x reader

timeline: takes place a couple months after they met

word count: 1.4k

note: the title was funny to me :)) you're always welcome to discuss this AU, dbf!thom or dad!bren in my inbox if anyone wants !! also, please send me an ask or comment if you wanna be tagged in anything related to dbf!thom <3

the cold air nipped at the goosebumps on your bare arms as you stood in the dark. you'd finally decided to go out with your friends after weeks of stalling, only to have them leave with a set of boys, which left you all alone.

you didn't know where you were. they were your ride, so you simply followed them without question and ended up where you were. you were freezing, your feet hurt, you were hungry and just one minor inconvenience away from a meltdown.

your teeth sunk into your lip in an attempt to stop it from shaking. you didn't want to accept defeat but you had no other option, so you quickly dialed your dad's phone number.

"you've reached the voicemail box of—"

a frustrated sound left your mouth as you resorted to texting him instead. within a couple minutes, your phone rang.

"dad—"

"y/n, this better be important. i'm at an event," brendan cut you off before you could explain.

that was the minor inconvenience that led you to your meltdown.

you tried holding in the dam of tears, sucking in a sharp breath. you didn't know why you ever thought it would be a good idea to call him in the first place.

"i'm gonna hang up if you don't say anything—"

"i need you," you practically whimpered. "i-i'm stuck here, i don't know where and i don't know how to get home. please come get me."

he paused at the sound of your voice. "god, the things you get yourself into. this is important for hunter, y/n. you know i can't just leave."

"please," you begged. "i don't know where i am. its cold and dark and—"

"okay, okay, just hold on. i'll try to get out of this, give me some time and i'll be there. send me your location, alright?" he cut you off with a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

"mhm, i will. t-thank you dad, i'll see you soon," you replied, relieved and shocked that he agreed.

"see you," he hung up in an instant.

after sending him your location, you took a seat on the dirty curb in front of you, waiting for him to come. the orange street light flickered above you, on the verge of bursting, and an eerie feeling creeped up your spine.

you brought your knees up to your chest and ducked your head down, tears soaking the fabric of your dress. you heard small, frightening sounds as you waited, like the rustling of a bag behind you and footsteps. you wouldn't dare lift your head up for fear of what you'd see.

after nearly thirty minutes, you heard a car pull up. you immediately looked up with a small, fake smile on your face but upon the sight, a feeling of dread and disappointment filled your stomach.

you put your head back in your hands, sobs wracking through your body. you couldn't think straight, you didn't care who heard as the man who wasn't your father walked towards you.

the warmth of thomas' body radiated onto you as he stood by your feet, looking down at you with his arms crossed.

"what's wrong, mon chou?"

he held back a sigh and sorrow flooded through his body when he didn't get an answer from you, only hearing your cries. bending down at his waist, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and forced you to tilt your head up.

you looked heartbroken. your red, wet eyes almost made him angry. all he wanted to do was talk to whoever made you feel this way, but he already knew the culprit.

"you just wanted your dad, didn't you?" he asked softly.

your chest clenched at his words and you tried your hardest to hold back a sob as you nodded. your lip continued to tremble and he brought his hand to your cheek, the reason for your goosebumps now shifting.

"i'm sorry. i know i'm not your dad— god, that would be terrible. i'd never want to— i mean not because of you, you're amazing. i just mean like... you know, because—"

"i-i get it," you cut him off. you would have chuckled if you weren't feeling so miserable.

his eyes flickered around your surroundings before he crouched down to his knees. you sniffled, wiping the endless stream of tears with the back of your hands.

"c'mon, let's get outta here," he grabbed your hand and pulled you up with him. he began walking but you stayed frozen in place, causing him to turn back towards you.

"i don't wanna go home. please— please don't take me home," you shook your head.

you were making this hard for him. "i can't not take you home, y/n. bren'll be waiting for you."

"he won't even be home! he doesn't care, it doesn't even fucking matter!" you wept. "i don't matter."

"yes you do," he snapped back, almost angrily. "let's go, i'll take you somewhere else for now but you have to go back home later."

he spoke so sternly that you couldn't argue. he held the car door for you and waited until you buckled yourself up before heading into his own seat. no one said a word as he started the car and drove back home.

it was warm in his car but you still felt cold. you felt vulnerable and exposed. all you wanted was your dad and now, if he didn't already, thomas knew for sure that you never had him.

the silence wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. you felt the need to speak up and say something. perhaps a thank you.

you opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"are you cold—"

"did you see my underwear?" you blurted out, a sniffle following.

his lips parted as his eyes glanced back and forth between you and the road. "i— what?"

"when i was sitting. 'cause.. 'cause i'm wearing a dress and i w-was sitting with my knees up."

"i mean i.. yeah," he confessed, looking away.

"i'm sorry," you apologized barely audibly as your face heated up.

"it's fine. not the way i thought i'd see you like that for the first time but," he stopped himself with a shrug. "cold?"

"huh?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"nothing," he shook his head. "cold?"

for the first time tonight, a real smile danced upon your lips. "i know what you meant."

"i don't know what you're talking about," he kept his eyes on the road.

"sure," you played along while glancing at the tatooed arm on the wheel. his other arm rested by his side, his hand sitting comfortably on the gear.

you pushed away every sinful thought that rushed into your mind. "i'm sorry you had to come get me.. but thank you for coming."

"never apologize to me. i'd rather not have you stranded somewhere you don't recognize and i'm glad he asked me to come get you."

with a nod, you pursed your lips before asking the question that's been on your mind. "you weren't busy, were you?"

"hm?" he asked for clarification.

"like— like when dad called you, or texted, whatever. when he asked you to come get me.. were you doing anything important?"

you noticed something change in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. he opened his mouth before shutting it and repeated the action two more times before confessing.

he didn't want to tell you what he was doing out of fear that he'd make you feel worse. you were just starting to feel better, he didn't want to take that away from you after your long night. but he also didn't want to lie. his voice got caught in his throat as he wondered how to answer the question. the answer was so straightforward that he couldn't think of any other way to say it.

"i was, um.. i was at the event."

his eyes continued to avoid yours, not wanting to see the way your jaw dropped in the slightest.

"you what?"

"i was at the event," he repeated. "with your dad."

"you were there? so you could leave and he couldn't?" your murmured.

his head finally turned to you. "i'm sorry."

his hand on the gear made a move towards your own, rubbing soft circles on your skin. the action and the way it made you feel was almost enough to make you forget about your dad. almost.

but even though it wasn't enough, your breath still got caught in your throat.

even though it wasn't enough, you still felt warmth in your chest when you looked down to see your hands intertwined.

[doctorstethoscope]

A Direct Order (18+) || A. Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hello my loves! I hope those of you that had a long weekend were able to enjoy it :). Combining two similar requests for this one! 

Submit your requests here!

from @all-hallows-reid (which has maybe deactivated?? I can’t find u bestie):  How about fem!reader secretly dating Aaron (with a twelve year age gap). She takes a stupid risk and almost gets hurt. Suffice it to say he’s not happy, and punishes her accordingly on the jet or when they get home.

and from @mrandmrshotchner:  Disobeying a direct order and Hotch punishing reader for it

I hope you both love this one!! 

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Sir kink, spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex.

wordcount: 2.2k

“I see the girl,” you whispered into your comms device from the back row of pews at a church in Mittburn, Iowa, nearly 200 miles away from where this child abduction case had started. “He’s concealing a hand behind her, could be a weapon,” you relayed to the team. The church was mostly empty, the service having ended. A few parishioners and the priest were still milling around, and your unsub, Phillip Rishi, was leading seven-year-old Abigail Torres to the altar. 

“Agent, do not engage-- Rishi is devolving and we don’t know what he’ll do. Wait for backup.” You heard Hotch, although you wished you hadn’t. 

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking a rule if you got up and followed Rishi a little more closely-- and Aaron didn’t have eyes on you, anyways. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. So you slipped out of the pew, kept your head facing mournfully towards the ground, and knelt at the altar, Rishi and the girl to your left. He still had her in front of him, concealing her with his body-- so you couldn’t get a good look at her, to make sure she was okay. You made a half-assed attempt at praying, hoping you were fooling the people around you when you tilted your head at a flash of light-- Rishi had a knife, was tracing the planes of the young girl’s cheekbones, and she was crying.

You gasped, quickly diving across the altar and forcing Rishi off of Abigail. He thrashed as Abigail screamed and ran into the arms of the priest. You wrestled Rishi to the ground, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it out of his reach before cuffing him and reading him his Miranda rights. 

As you stood back up, you turned around and noticed Hotch bursting through the door, his face making it perfectly clear that he had heard everything that had gone down through his comms. Oh, man. You were totally fucked.

Aaron asks if you’re okay, which you are, and then the two of you don’t speak. You don’t speak on the jet ride home, you don’t speak as you drive the FBI SUVs back to Quantico, and you don’t speak at the office before you leave for the night. 

You last for all of an hour after leaving the office before you can’t take it anymore. You throw your go bag in your car and take off towards Aaron’s place, walking up to his door and knocking before you can talk yourself out of it. He looks surprised to see you, but doesn’t ask you to leave, which you take as a win. 

“I’m here for my punishment,” you tell him as you slip past him into the apartment, and he rolls his eyes-- not his typical, “my young, playful, sexy girlfriend is driving me crazy” eye roll, but a genuinely disdainful “this young girl is too much to handle” kind of an eye roll. A pang of something you don’t recognize flashes in your chest-- guilt? Betrayal? You push it aside-- that wasn’t what you came here to do. “We’re not the couple that doesn’t talk. If you want to yell, you can yell, but we don’t shut each other out. That’s not us. So go ahead and get it out so we can move past it,” you attempt to sound cool and aloof, even if you are feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. 

   “You disobeyed a direct order,” Hotch says. 

“I did,” you agreed. 

“What, and you don’t even have an issue with it?” He asks you, his tone harsh. 

“He had a weapon, Hotch. And it was drawn on a little girl. What was I supposed to do?” You shot back.

“You were supposed to wait for backup. We hadn’t profiled that he would hurt her,” he tells you, the strain of contained rage in his tone.

“Is that a chance you would have taken? Is it a chance you would have wanted someone to take if it was your son?”

“It’s not a chance I would have taken-- but I can’t take chances with you, either,” he admits, and his confession hangs in the air for a moment. You realize this is his way of telling you how much he cares about you-- walls too high to be truly vulnerable, he has to shroud his disclosure in an argument. “You could have been hurt,” he tells you.

“I could have,” you agreed. “But I’m here, with you, and I’m okay,” you remind him, stepping closer to him, taking his hands in your own to ground him, remind him that everything had turned out okay this time. 

It takes a beat, but Aaron responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You smile into the kiss, letting Aaron lead you backwards towards his bedroom as you wind your fingers in his hair, letting your forearms rest on his shoulders. 

“Were you serious about your punishment?” Aaron asks, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, and you smile. 

“Yes, sir.”

You can feel the air shift in an instant, as Aaron sits at the edge of his bed. “Come on, then. Over my knee,” he tells you impatiently, and you feel a rush of warmth in your core as you move to comply. He stops you. “Pants off. Panties too,” he tells you, and you strip from the waist down before climbing across his lap. He lays his hand against your ass and you feel goosebumps form against his tender touch. 

“I think five is fair-- do you think five is fair, angel?” He asks, pulling your head up by the hair so you can look him in the eye. 

“Yes sir,” you agree-- he always asked before engaging in any sort of impact play, never wanted to give you more than you could handle, and you appreciated it-- even if five did seem like it would be a walk in the park. 

He lands a swift spank against your bare ass cheek and you feel it flood your center almost immediately. “One. Thank you for my spanking, Sir,” you let out almost as if it were a reflex. 

“Good girl,” he encourages you, rubbing at the tender flesh before his hand comes down against the opposite cheek.

“Two, thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Just a few more,” he encourages you, his sweet words a direct contrast to the sharp pain of his hand coming back down against you. 

“Three, thank you Sir.” 

“You belong to me, kitten. I need you to take good care of what’s mine, that’s all,” he reminds you with another spank. 

“Four, thank you Sir. Thank you for taking good care of what’s yours,” you affirm, and he delivers your last spank. 

“Five, thank you Sir,” you breathed out as your hips rocked, incredibly turned on before he had even truly touched you.

Aaron wrapped his arms around you, moving to hold you close for a moment. “There, sweet girl. I need you to help me to take good care of you-- you are very special. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you, but I need your help, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” you tell him, reaching out to hold his face in your hands. 

“Good. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

He nods, permission granted to continue, shifting to help you off his lap and onto the bed. “Ass up, slut,” he commands gruffly, and by now you’re certain that you’re dripping down your thighs. You’d find out soon enough, you supposed, as you leaned onto your elbows and knees, raising yourself into a kneeling position, legs spread for Aaron. You heard, rather than saw, Aaron disrobing, which only added to your arousal. 

You feel the mattress dip as Aaron pulls himself up behind you. 

“Oh angel, you’re dripping. Nasty whore,” he smirks, sticking one finger inside of you, but withdrawing it immediately when you rolled against him. “Ah, ah.” he warns you. “Don’t try that again.”

So you hold still, as he pumps one and then two fingers in and out of you. You moan, cry out, beg for more-- but you don’t move.

“Sir, please,” you pant.

“You can move, sweet girl,” he grants you permission, and you start rocking your hips into his fingers immediately, wantonly, letting out a moan that makes Aaron’s cock twitch painfully. You shift your weight onto one elbow, moving one hand towards your center, which Aaron bats out of the way, slapping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out. 

“I said you could move. I didn’t say anything about touching, slut. Don’t make me tie you up, too.” He warns you. 

Half of you hoped that he would, but you were already desperate to cum and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You doubled down on your thrusts into Aaron’s hand, whimpering and panting the whole way. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, Aaron pulled his hand out of you, and you whimpered. 

“Sir,” you said weakly. You hadn’t been expecting that, and you wanted to cum so bad you thought you might cry. 

“Ah ah. What do you say?” He asks. 

“Thank you. Thank you for edging me, Sir,” you panted out, still coming down from your near-miss. 

“That’s my good little whore,” he cooed out. “I want you to ask permission tonight, angel. Color?”

“Green, sir.” You affirmed. “I won’t cum until you give me permission.

“Good, angel, good,” he said, lazily rubbing at your clit, and you whimpered. You’d never come like this, but you’d get increasingly more frustrated. “And why do you need to wait for permission?’ 

“Because I’m Sir’s dirty little whore,” you moaned out, the words turning you on even more as you attempted to grind down on Aaron’s hand. 

“That’s right, good girl,” he said, stepping away from you. “All fours, my love,” he tells you, and you roll up to your knees and elbows. You hear a foil wrapper tear, and without warning Aaron is stretching you. It feels delicious, makes you heady, and you cry out as he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

“You make me feel so good, sweet girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well and making such pretty noises. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes sir, you make me feel so good,” you affirm, the words coming out in a shaky breath. After a few moments, you feel the coil begin to wind up inside of you. 

“Sir, may I please cum?” You ask. 

“No, not yet.” He answers simply, like you’d asked him if it had started to rain, or if dinner was ready. 

“Please, sir. Please, please let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not. Yet,” he affirmed, leaning forward to paw at your clit, which caused you to cry out. “Are you going to thank me?” Aaron asks, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand the question. “Are you going to thank me when I make you come?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, please please make me come.” 

“Go ahead, angel,” he tells you, and the rubber band snaps. 

“Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you scream as you buck against him. He guides you through your orgasm, gently brings you back to reality once the pleasure has subsided, holding you gently and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. 

“I have to clean you up, sweet girl. Is it okay if I get up, or do you need me to stay here a little while longer? It’s okay if you do. You did such an amazing job,” he assures you, and you nod. 

“I’m okay, hon. Bring back water, please? And maybe some fruit snacks.” 

He rolls his eyes at you, again, but it’s the endearing kind again, and you smile. The two of you would be okay.

After he cleans you up, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and snuggle back into his arms as soon as you're back in bed.

“I was so scared, and I still had to be your boss, first, and I hate that,” Aaron tells you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” you tell him, shifting so that you’re facing him. “It’s something we should talk about-- me transferring.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not changing your career path for me,” he is quick to correct you. 

“What did you mean, then?” You asked. Surely he wasn’t thinking of stepping down?

“Well, I was hoping… that you might want to tell the team about us? I don’t want to rush you, so if it’s a no, that’s fine and I won’t bring it up again. I understand the professional risks are--” you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I only suggested it because I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.” You tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want the team to know how much I love you?” He asks, and you smile. Yeah, the two of you would be okay.  

  tagging: : @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar @scuttling  

[ramp-it-up]

Anything and Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF  Read at your own risk.

SMUT, Angst, long distance relationship issues, doting husband, massages, employer/employee relationship, the notion of cheating, talk of happy endings, cursing, graphic sex, a sweet surprise, and Princess behavior. 😉———————

As soon as you ended the sexy Facetime call with your husband, you burst into tears. It was common lately, with him being gone for over a month and under the circumstances, but he never knew.

Until he decided to call you right back because he missed you so much.

You tried to keep it together when you answered the call, but he knew you better than that.

“Hey, Princess. Are you crying?”

He sounded so earnest that you couldn’t hide it any more. You were snuffling and unable to control the sobs shaking your body. 

It tore him apart not being able to be there to comfort and hold you. Although he had some idea, he asked anyway.

“What’s wrong babe?”

You let out all of your words.

“I, I, I  just miss you so much. It’s so hard with you gone and not being here to talk to and hold me and run out to get me food and, and I don’t want electronic sex or a vibrator or my fingers or a dildo. I want your mouth and your hands and your dick.”

You took a second to breathe. “And I know I have that silicone replica of you but it's cold and not warm and alive and I just want you and your warm arms and your huge chest and your beating heart and a forehead kiss...”

You cried harder thinking of how much of a cry-baby you sounded.  You didn’t normally do this, but the separation was getting to be too much.

You sobbed while he tried to calm you down. He would give you the world to make you happy. Once you were able to listen, he spoke in soothing tones. 

“Listen Princess, I’m going to arrange something to make you feel better. I know you’ve been missing me…”

You were smiling by the time you got off the phone, your man always able to make you feel better.

Two days later, a huge box with the massage table arrived at the house. Workers came to set up one of the spare rooms for a spa/wellness room, and you were not allowed to see it until the appointed day.  

You did clock them bringing in the massage table, a counter/workspace/storage, a ton of essential oils and supplies, and an upscale extra wide sofa with lots of pillows. 

You were excited and distracted from your lonliness, and you couldn’t wait to see it.  

You talked about your in-home massage appointment excitedly every time you spoke with your husband.  He beamed to know that he was able to bring the spark of happiness back to your voice.

“This is going to be good for you, try this massage therapist out, we might keep them on staff indefinitely.”

You lit up again.  “You mean, I can have my own live-in massage therapist?” You smirked.  “What did I do to deserve this?”

Your husband grinned back at you through the camera and proceeded to tell you everything that made you Queen in his eyes.

-------

Almost a week later, you entered the dimly lit room, ensconced in your fluffy terry cloth robe. There was soft music playing.

The soft green tones of the paint and the bamboo floor looked amazing.  You took off your slippers and realized that the floor was heated.  You grinned wide. 

The massage table was set up and waiting as you took in the room and noticed all the details. There was a soft knock at the door and you spoke.

“Come in.”  You didn’t know why, but you were full of anticipation. 

The massage therapist came in and your eyes locked for a second. There was a sudden electricity in the room, but then he averted his eyes and stood beside the table, eyes forward, back straight, almost at attention.

You gave him the once over, he was tall, broad shouldered, very well built, and extremely handsome. 

His dark hair and beard were well manicured and his large hands clasped behind him. That allowed you to see his lean form, his flat stomach and the large hump in his pants. 

You raised your eyebrow. This man was packing. You smirked. You couldn’t see his eyes, as they were downcast, so you went and stood in front of him.  

You realized that his blue scrubs matched his eyes and you smiled as he gazed down at you.

His perfect pink lips parted and you gazed at them a moment too long. There was a hint of a smile, and then it vanished. You stepped back.

You took him in from his broad, muscular shoulders, to his wide chest and his slim waist and hips.

He shifted and brought his hands to rest in front of him, and you walked around him and got a glimpse of his ass. There were no flaws.

“What is your name?”

“Robert, ma’am.”  

His curt reply came with just a glance at you, and you proceeded toward the counter, setting down your iced lemon water.

Your husband knew what you liked. And he delivered. Today would be just what you needed to relax.  

You started to untie your robe, still facing the counter, and when you started shrugging out of your robe, Robert cleared his throat.  You stopped and looked at him over your exposed shoulder.

His eyes were on you, but he raised his hand toward the table. 

“I will step out for a moment to allow you to disrobe and get situated. Start off face down. Please cover yourself with the sheet and I’ll be back in.’

You nodded your head at him.  And smiled. He was quite handsome.

He closed the door and you fully stepped out of your robe, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door, then you situated yourself on the table, placing the sheet over you, covering your back and leaving your arms out. You put your face into the headrest and relaxed.  

Robert came back in, and you heard him going to the counter, opening doors and moving things around.

“Is the table a suitable temperature, ma’am?”

The heated table had been a nice surprise when you lay down. Another plus for hubby.

“Yes, it’s heavenly, thank you Robert.” You smiled and snuggled into the cushioned table.

He moved back to the counter, and then came and placed his hands under the headrest so that you could inhale the scent of a spicy oil on his hands.

“Peppermint oil, ma’am. Your husband wants you to be sure that you can breathe well.” 

You smirked into the cushion.

“Does he now?”

“Yes ma’am. Those were his instructions.”

You detected no humor, no sarcasm in his voice, just a matter-of-fact tone.  You inhaled deeply, staring at his thick fingers through the headrest, wiggling at the thrill you got between your legs. 

You knew very well why your husband wanted your nasal passages to be clear. You couldn’t wait for him to control your breathing with his hand or his cock again.

He moved away again and then came back, placing his hands on your shoulders and pressed a little, as if getting you used to his touch.

His hands were warm, and strong, but gentle. His fingers trailed softly, but firmly up your neck, stopping just below your hairline to your hair, which was piled on top of your hair in a very messy bun.

“Can I touch your hair, ma’am? Scalp massage.”

You nodded, smiling at him asking permission. “Yes, that’s fine.”

He threaded his fingers into your dense curls and into your scalp and started massaging, drawing a long shuddering breath from you. Your bun was coming loose, but you didn’t care.  It was so fucking relaxing.

The peppermint oil on his fingers made your scalp tingle and your back arch just a tiny bit.  If Robert noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Your hair is beautiful, ma’am.”  His voice made you shudder and your nipples peaked.  

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely audible.  

Robert removed your hair tie, and smoothed your hair forward above you.

You thought of how often your husband insisted on your hair being loose during love making, and you obliged.

He loved to grab it, especially when he hit it from the back. You loved when he did that. And you loved him. You’d missed his touch.

“Do you mind if I sit, ma’am?”

“Oh no, I’m sure standing on your feet all day must be exhausting.”

Robert didn’t reply, he just grabbed the rolling stool nearby and sat at your head, rolling his legs under the headrest.  You could see the muscular thighs in his scrubs when you opened your eyes halfway.

Upon opening them further, you could clearly make out Robert’s dick print.  He was well endowed, and the tip of his member was deliciously thick. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Now this was a development. You licked your lips and a drop of your saliva landed on his pants, right next to his dick print.  He stopped massaging your scalp for a second.

“Ummmm, sorry.  Lying face down is kind of awkward.”  You giggled as he cleared his throat.

You sighed as Robert finished up the scalp massage and went to get some more oil.

“Sweet almond oil, ma’am. Your favorite?”

You couldn’t stop smiling.  Your husband had thought of everything.

“Yes.”

He began to work on your shoulders while still standing at your head, and he bent over you as his hands traveled down your back. HIs fingers grazed the sides of your breasts, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He moved nearer you, as he stretched his arms to reach the top of your sheet covered ass, long fingers almost cupping it, making you squirm a little. 

“Sorry ma’am.  Are you uncomfortable?’

He straightened up and there was something in his tone that you heard, but that you didn’t care to decipher at the moment.

“No, no. I’m good.” 

And you hummed softly in your throat, wiggling your ass a little. That was always the signal for your husband to slap it. And if he were here, he would have. You’d missed that for the past 5 weeks he’d been away working.

Robert ran his hands slowly down your back again and this time grabbed lightly with his fingers as they retreated, gently pulling your ass cheeks apart.

The sound of your slick was evident, and a little embarrassing.  This man had made you wet.

He did it again, and if you didn’t know any better, it was to hear that sound again. You were trying to compose yourself when something hard nudged you in the head.

It couldn’t be. You lifted your head a little bit and came face to face with Robert’s blue scrub covered hard on. You smirked at it and licked your lips.

“It’s okay ma’am. Just relax.”

“Are you uncomfortable, Robert?”  

You echoed his question from earlier. You twisted your neck and looked up at him. Damn, he looked good gazing down at you.

“I’m good, ma’am. Let’s continue. Your husband is insistent that we finish.”

“Hmmmmmm.” You pursed your lips and put your head back in the headrest as he moved around to the side of you.

He massaged your shoulders and pressed down either side of your spine to your hips, stopping there and adjusting the sheet over your ass. He shook it out, lifting it high enough that he might have gotten a glimpse if he had been paying attention.  

But he was a professional, right?

He continued smoothing his hands down your legs, stopping at your feet and squeezing. 

“What kind of pressure, ma’am?”  He was awaiting further instruction.

“I like it hard and deep.” 

There was a noticeable pause, and Robert cleared his throat. You smiled down at the floor. 

“Deep tissue massages are everything.  Can you accommodate that Robert?”

He quickly replied. “Of course, ma’am.”  He situated the sheet so that your right foot was out. “Your husband told me to give you anything and everything you wanted.”

“Oh?”

He started massaging your foot, hitting all the pressure points with just the right way.

“Ohhhhhhhh! That feels good.”

He just hummed a response.  You relaxed even more, reveling in the human touch on your body that you had missed for so long.  He worked on both feet and calves, and you were almost putty on the table.

His hands moved up to your thighs, kneading and squeezing your muscles firmly.  He inched his way up your thighs to your ass, his fingers moving near your cunt.  He got oh so close to your lips, but never crossed the line. You were beginning to feel some kind of way.

“Do you talk, Robert?”

“If you need me too, ma’am. What do you want to talk about?”

“Do your clients ever…. ask you to do things…” 

“You mean, switch pressures? Use hot stones?….” 

If you knew him better, you would say he was intentionally misunderstanding.

You cleared your throat. ”I mean, do you ever give… happy endings?”

Another pause. “Ah.”  He continued up and down your legs with long, firm strokes.

“I’ve never had a client I would risk it all for.”  He never stopped moving his fingers up and down your legs, fingers almost giving you pleasure. “Until…”

“Until…?”

He cleared his throat again. “What did you want to talk about ma’am?”

He was intentionally evading.  You put the pieces together and you came to a conclusion.

You raised your hips a little and arched your back. Your ass was in position for him to easily go further if he wanted, and you knew he could see the outline of it under the sheet. Your man said it was the most gorgeous ass he’d ever seen.

Robert coughed to cover a moan. At least that’s what you imagined. 

“I need you to go further, Robert. Take off the sheet please.”

“Ma’am?”  He didn’t sound confused.  He was asking for confirmation.

“I need a deep tissue internal massage, Robert.”

The prospect of having this gorgeous man do things to you was making you soaked. 

“I’m already lubricated, you won’t need any more oil. I’m soaked actually.”

This time he didn’t cover his moan, he just pulled the sheet off and let it slide to the floor.

“Y-you’re beautiful Ma’am.  But what would your husband say?”

You turned your head around to witness Robert staring at your exposed cunt, his hands inches away from feeling all your glory.  He was licking his lips.  Then, his blue eyes met your brown ones. You arched your back some more and his eyes were drawn back to your most private places.

“Didn’t he tell you to give me anything and everything I wanted?”  

He moved his fingers a millimeter, and then looked back into your eyes. 

“Do your job, Robert.” 

You tried to keep the bitchiness out of your voice, but it was hard.  You wondered if he was still hard.

Robert looked back at it and moved his hands up, one thumb gently grazing the slick on the lips down there, pushing the viscous liquid around your fat pussy.  

He teased you, looking between what his thumb was doing and your face, as your eyes were halfway closed and your mouth was open, panting for your life.  He pushed in a little deeper inside you, not entering you fully, but just enough so your lips swallowed his thumb.  

He rubbed around the entrance to your cunt while holding your hips back with his other hand on your ass cheek.  You were trying to throw it back on his hand. It had been so fucking long since someone else had touched you.

He pulled his thumb out suddenly and tasted it, putting it in his mouth and sucking like a baby.  HIs eyes closed for a second, shook his head and then his eyes blazed at you.

“You taste so good ma’am.” 

He moved his hands back up to your apex and you expected him to put his fingers inside you again, but you yelped when he pulled you back and your ass met his face.

“Robert! Oh my! Oh shit. Yes!”

Robert was going to town. He licked his thick, wide tongue up your folds from your clit to your ass and back down again, swirling at each end.

“Fuck!” 

Robert had you impaled on his face while his strong hands gripped your thighs. He hummed, causing an electric shock to jolt up your spine.  You cried out again.

Then he started slurping your juices, and sucking your clit, stretching it out from between your lips with his own.  He slurped it between his lips and the sound was obscene enough to make you get there quickly.

He started humming again when you started to quiver, and he worked his head back and forth, taking your clit with him. He worked it up and down, back and forth until the coil of pressure in your belly contracted and snapped, delivering your juices to this man’s face.

Your orgasm was hard and relatively fast.  He smiled, watching you spasm when he pulled back. 

“Look at that delicious cream.  Your husband is a lucky man, Ma’am.”

He held you open so he could watch your arousal and cum drip down your folds. You watched it drip down his beard. You twitched at the sight. 

He shook his head again, grabbing a towel from the counter, wiping his face and washing his hands in the sink. You thought you saw a smile.

You were unable to speak for a minute.  He came around to your side and gazed down at you, smile gone, placing his hand on your shoulder and looking deep into your eyes.

“Are you ok, ma’am?”  You nodded yes, and then he made a turning motion with his hand.  “Turn onto your back.”

You obeyed, not thinking too hard about what was happening. You were beneath him, exposed. Watching him. You noticed that he was indeed still hard, and even bigger than you’d peeped earlier. You reached for him and he moved away.

“I’m here to serve you, ma’am.”

You put your hand back down to your side and moved your head to watch him go get the bottle of almond oil and come back to your side.

He raised the bottle above your breastbone and began to pour a thin drizzle down your body, ending with him dripping it slowly and methodically on your clit.  You were still sensitive, and the stimulation made you throb anew.

He finally stopped and used both hands to smooth the oil into your skin, his left hand stroking it into your chest and spreading it to your breasts, grabbing your fullness and pulling your nipples through his fingers firmly, but gently, making you wet all over again.  Your breasts were very sensitive.

“You are so, so beautiful ma’am. “ 

He leaned down and used his tongue on your nipples, swirling and lightly biting. When he started suckling, your pussy clenched, and as if sensing that, he then used his middle finger flat on your stomach and smoothed the oil downward toward your pussy, parting your still throbbing lips again.

He played with you lengthwise, the sloshing sound of your wetness simultaneously embarrassing and erotic. You were at the brink immediately, especially when he pushed his finger inside you and curled it.

“Ohhhh.  Feels so fucking good Robert.”

At that, he inserted another finger, and then another, until your cunt was stuffed full of his thick fingers and you were stretching out nicely around them. You were not disguising your moans or your desire for him. 

You didn’t know exactly what you wanted, but you wanted what he was giving. He worked you toward your next orgasm swiftly, squeezing and flicking your slippery tits, looking up and down your body appreciatively.

You turned your head toward his crotch, which was situated near your head. You looked up at him. He met your gaze. He knew what you wanted. You now held him captive to your wants.

“Anything and everything Robert. Stuff your cock in my mouth while I cum.”

His reserve snapped at your comment and he couldn’t help but groan. He kept fingering your cunt while he quickly undid his scrub pants with his other hand and pulled them down so his cock could spring free. You managed to catch it before it slapped his stomach and you tugged him toward you, your mouth wide open.

You quickly licked your lips as he pushed it toward you, and you gladly accepted the wide organ, his girth almost causing you to split your lip around him.  His movements at your clit turned into circles as he pushed deeper into your throat.

“Now, just relax ma’am. I know it’s a lot.” 

He smirked down at you as you relaxed your throat and tried to breathe around him.  That peppermint oil really helped open your nasal passages, but you still spluttered as he filled your throat, and saliva and tears wet your face. You knew your throat would be sore later.

He pulled out and you choked and gasped for air for a bit before he tapped his dick on your mouth and you opened up again.

Your face was a mess but still beautiful. He didn’t push as deep this time, allowing you the space to swirl your tongue around his fat tip and down the vein underside of his cock.

The circles he was drawing on your clit were more insistent now, and you came yet again, moaning around his cock, sending vibrations up his back this time. He threw his head back and moaned, all the while managing to keep you from running from this orgasm with his hand.  

“Fuck!  Ma’am. You’re very good at that. Too good.”

He pulsed a little into your mouth before he pulled out, making your mouth pop off of his thick head loudly. You whined because you wanted him to come down your throat.

“You wanted everything, ma’am?”  

You caught his meaning as he moved around toward the foot of the table. He took his pants all the way off and stripped off his shirt. Your eyes took in his tattooed torso as he stroked his cock, knowing full well that you were watching him. Damn, he was so beautiful.

Then, he stood at the end of the table, rubbing up your legs to the apex of your thighs, which he pulled down so that your ass was almost hanging down off the table. He took himself in hand again and swiped his cock up and down your cunt, teasing as you whined for him.

“Each and every part of you is so beautiful ma’am.”

He stopped at your hole and pushed just the tip in and then pulled it back out, making you mad.  

“Nnnnnnhhh.”  You keened.  

“I want to wreck this beautiful pussy, ma’am. Want to feel you squeeze my dick until I paint your walls white with my seed. It will look so beautiful. We look so good together, see.”

You leaned up on your elbows so that you could observe. 

“Take it, it’s yours…”

You were open-mouthed panting, and although you didn’t think you could get any wetter, you were.

“But what would your husband say?”  He was smirking at you now.

“Anything. Everything.”

He pushed back into you, a little more this time, and you thought he would bottom out, so you threw your head back in ecstasy, but he pulled back again, causing you to snap your head up and glare at him.

“Please, it’s been so long for me.”  

Robert was panting now.  “Me too.”

Your eyes found his as he pushed inside you, this time moving slowly toward his goal.  

“You promise?” 

He felt so good stretching you out.  No fingers, no dildo, nothing could compare to him.

His hips stuttered as he stuffed you full.

“I’ve only had my hand for over a month. Nothing, no one comes close to this.”  He opened his mouth and outright panted, jaw slacked and eyes glazed.

He looked down at where you were joined together. 

“It really is magnificent.” He gasped at the sensations of you. Liquid satin. “Fuck, you aways feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

He pushed both thighs up to your face and he started fucking you hard. You pussy was pulling him in deeper.

“I was planning on flipping you over, fuck… and… and hitting it from behind...shit!”

You started palming your own breasts and pulling your nipples while moaning wantonly. It was the best erotic movie he’d ever seen.

“Gat damnit…”

He puffed, watching what you were doing. His hips were getting off-rhythm and he shook his head to clear it. 

“But I just had to bend you in half and fuck the shit out of you.” He groaned, completely lost in the sauce. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He reached up, licked his thumb and moved it to your clit, hitting impossibly deeper with each thrust.

“Cum for me one more time Princess.”

It had been so long since you heard that command in person.  You let go with abandon.

“Fuck! Yes Mr.Evans!”  You came again, gushing all over him. 

“Yes, baby, yessssss.”

Chris looked down and licked his lips.  “I’ve been wanting to feel this for forever.” He pulsed and came and mingled his liquid with yours.

He released your thighs and massaged them as he stared down at you, smiling as you came back to earth.

You looked at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”  He winked and leaned over to give you a good kiss.  

“Welcome home, Baby.” You beamed up into his eyes.

“What a welcome….”

He grunted as he pulled out of you and you watched as he grabbed a towel and turned on the hot water, soaking some in the basin while taking one and cleaning himself up.  

Then, he grabbed his scrub pants, put them back on and brought a warm towel to clean you up gingerly. There was only love in his eyes as he completed the most intimate of acts. 

When he was done, he picked you up bridal style and moved you over to the sofa, arranging the pillows to cradle you as he crawled between your legs again. He sighed deeply, finally home.

You held him as he laid his head on your breasts, playing with his hair.  

“I missed you so much.”  You were so happy that your husband was finally home. 

“Mmmmm. You know I missed you too.”  He looked up at you, blue eyes large.  “Are you ok?  I didn’t hurt you did I?” 

He looked down at your body, and placed his large hand on your abdomen, beaming down at it. 

“How are you? How’s the little one? You look gorgeous. I can tell your body is changing already.” 

It was the same thing he asked every day over the phone, but in person, it hit different. The felt a lump in your throat.

“We’re great.  I can’t feel the baby yet, so I’m glad you’re home before I do.”

You were so afraid Chris was going to miss the major milestones of your pregnancy, but so far he’d only missed some faint morning sickness and you sleeping all the time.

You were nine weeks pregnant. You and Chris found out that you were four weeks along right before he left to film in Romania.  That set you off on an over-emotional rollercoaster that he tried to staunch from 5,000 miles away.

“You’re gonna have to pry me off of you until after the baby comes, and probably every day after that.” Chris looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And you were. “Wherever you go, I go, and vice versa.”

You started to cry, because you loved this man so much. Or maybe it was because of hormones.  Chris lovingly kissed your tears away.

“I love my present, this room, the decor, the oils.  And especially my massage therapist. I might have to bring Robert on staff permanently at the Evans household. He’s fine as hell…” 

Your tears had turned to a sultry look. He chuckled at your mood swing.

“I almost broke character so many times, from the first time I looked in your eyes, to when I saw your ass under that sheet, and when I finally touched you.”  

Chris took a deep breath and kissed your collarbone, then laughed. 

“I can’t believe you drooled on my pants. That was a great test of my acting skills.”

You laughed with him.  “Well, you got skills, baby. You’re a great actor. It was a great experience. Say, did you ever do adult film?”  

Chris raised his eyebrows at you.  “The only ‘adult films’ that I’ve ever done are in a google drive that only you have the password to...”

“Don’t forget IG, when…” Chris started tickling you to get you to shut up.

After a few minutes of laughing and talking and getting reacquainted, your eyes started getting heavy. The excitement of your reunion, combined with great sex, and first trimester pregnancy, was about to do you in.

Chris picked you up and carried you down the hall to your master suite.  You loved that he was so much bigger than you. 

You snuggled his neck and started playfully biting him. His little moans and the slight swelling of his dick against your thigh as he carried you told you he wasn’t playing.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish right now, Mrs. Evans. I can tell you’re tired.”  He lay you on the bed and you got under the covers, warm and happy. 

“What do you want right now? Food? Sleep?.....Anything else?”

He stood at the side of the bed, blue scrubs slung low on his hips, hair messed up. His blue eyes were blazing, his abs on point and the trail of soft dark hair on his stomach was pointing to happiness. 

You watched him as he subtly flexed for you. You realized that you were getting moist again. And judging from his smile, Chris realized it as well. 

You bit your lip and looked him up and down.

“I want all of that.” 

You pointed to him, circling your finger around his form.

“Everything.”

You giggled as Chris moved to give you whatever you wanted.

————————-

Tell me anything and everything about this! Let me know in the comments or reblogs!

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[ppascalsstuff]

Eres un asqueroso [Frankie Morales x f! reader]

Summary: you are in bed with Frankie when you hear an unmistakable sound.

Warnings: fluffy, slightly smutish, MINORS PLEASE DNI. 

A/N: just leaving this here...  English is not my first language, sorry in advance if there’s some typos or grammar errors.

Word count: ≈700

The book feels heavy in your hands and your eyelids decide to stop following your orders, closing every time a paragraph ended. The Monday blues had been especially strong today, and you almost didn’t make it out of bed if it hadn’t been for Frankie, who had made you a delicious breakfast and some tea to help with your cramps, leaving it on your bedside table before returning to the kitchen to prepare the pancakes.

You decide to close the book. Concentration is not on your side tonight and it’d be a shame to waste the lovely words the author took the effort to write just because you’re not in the mood.

“Maybe tomorrow”, you think as you leave the book on your bedside table, dog-earing the page so that you don't forget to give it a try tomorrow.

“Not feeling it today?” the husky voice behind you makes your heart clench with affection immediatly.

“Nope” you say as you roll over and lie on your side, looking at Frankie.

His glasses slide down his nose, and with a firm finger he puts them back on the bridge of his nose. His face is scrunched up with concentration, lips slightly parted and his messy hair pointing  in different directions. You trail your gaze from the broadness of his shoulders to his partially covered chest. The white v neck he’s wearing is worn out, the neckline stretched, and you can see the freckles covering his collarbone and neck, Your mouth waters at the thought of kissing all his body.  

Then you hear it: an unmistakable sound muffled by the sheets.

“Sorry babe” Frankie apologies without looking at you, focusing on the book he’s reading.

“Did… did you just fart?”

Frankie nods trying to hold back a smile before a pillow hits his head.

“Oh my god, FRANCISCO!” you shout as you get out of bed, opening your nightstand drawer and looking for one of your favourite candles.

“Come on babe, it wasn’t that bad”

“Eres un asqueroso” (You are disgusting)

Frankie’s laugh fills the room. He can’t believe you are looking for your candles because he farted on bed.

“Cariño… come on” he says giggling and tries to reach your hand, but you quickly push it away.

“And I can’t even open the windows because it’s late” you mumble, making him laugh harder.  “This isn’t funny. No wonder why they call you Catfish”

Frankie can’t hold it anymore. He takes off his glasses and brushes away the tears that are now falling down his cheeks. Maybe it’s because it’s late and his brain isn’t lucid anymore, but he can’t stop laughing at your reaction and the fact that he just farted. He feels like a 5 year old who had discovered a new bad word, but it’s this kind of moments that make him realize how much he loves you and how much he could lose. If he could, he would put all the moments you’ve made him happy in a jar, so he could cherish them in the future and don’t forget them.

“Come back to bed, please”

“No way I’m getting in. That’s a nuclear weapon right now”

Frankie burst out laughing again as his tummy shakes under the covers.

“Baby stop please, I’m gonna pee myself”

“Now he’s going to pee himself” you tease. “How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me”

“I think my cock might have helped” he smiles at you, face flushed.  

You can’t help but chuckle as you get in the bed, the adrenaline of the moment leaving your body exhausted.

“So all I had to do was mention my cock and you’d have come back to bed?” now it’s Frankie’s turn to tease. He starts to leave little kisses on your neck, traveling all the way down to your collarbone and lifts your shirt to expose your breast. The cold air hits your skin and you feel his hot breath over one of your tits, giving you goosebumps.

“I swear to God Francisco, if you fart-” you run your fingers through his hair as he kisses your nipple.

“I won’t”

[blindingdutchy]

The filming scene In part 1 of pornstar!tom where he’s tied up and you take the blindfold off and his eyes are all blurry and unfocused go me thinking:

Imagine the video went viral and people started asking for more sub!tom so they get you to do it again but with more edging, so you’re sitting there, tom is tied up and gaged and you’ve been edging him for the past half hour but he’s not used to being the sub so he’s crying cuz he just wants to cum so bad and everyone thinks he’s just really good at acting but you know he’s crying for real. So when the scene is done you untie him and remove the gag, and the directors are telling you to come see how good it looks but you’re too busy making sure Tom is okay, and he’s so tired that he’s falling asleep on you😍🤤

i am such a submissive person this was genuinely difficult for me to write, but i think i got somewhere 😅possibly not even a request, but i was inspired and wanted to challenge myself

read switch here!

cry baby | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

word count: 2,254

warnings: smut ofc

warnings: sub!tom, oral (m receiving), bondage, blindfold, spit play, edging/orgasm denial

You never thought you’d have ended up here again. But, your video with Tom had reached heights you’d never achieved before, and the fans were eating it up. They wanted more—and to your surprise, so did Tom.

Now, as he laid in much the same position he had in the original video, you were starting to understand why. He was flat on his back with all four limbs stretched out and fastened to the bedposts with thick black rope. His chest was heaving, his lips parted in fast paced pants as he watched you with intrigue—he knew what was to come.

“Are you ready, baby boy?” you cooed, stroking his cheek with your thumb. Tom’s eyes fluttered at the caress, brown irises blown wide with lust and desperation, and he whined airily. The black blindfold shielded you from his longing stares, and he lifted his head a little too eagerly so that you could slip the strap around his head.

Already he had suffered through the torture of your hands, his body flushed from agonizing minutes spent with your hands stroking his cock hard and fast just to rip his orgasm away from him. The sound of his pleas and cries still echoed in your ears, a familiar pang throbbing in your core as you remembered the way he sobbed your name on the third denial. For being such a dominant man, Tom was incredibly good at being submissive.

This time, though, you were skipping the gag. You wanted to hear all the little noises Tom could make, to hear all the words that spilled from his lips as he yearned so achingly for your touch. Trailing your fingers down his chest, you murmured, “What do you want, hm? Want my hands again?”

He shivered, a stuttered gasp escaping his mouth as you swirled your thumb around his nipple. The little bud hardened instantly, standing tall and stiff from the stimulation. “I—I want your mouth, Miss.” he whispered, and you smiled.

“You know what you have to do,” you tutted.

Tom’s lips were trembling as you crawled onto the bed, perching on your knees between his thighs, and he pleaded weakly, “P-please! I want your mouth, Miss, want it so bad.” His hips bucked wildly as your hands delicately caressed the skin of his inner thighs, and you admired the trail of goosebumps that erupted in their path. He was always so reactive, and it made your belly twist up in knots.

Seeing him there, entire body physically quivering for you to just do something, the world around you faded away. No longer did you care about the cameras trained upon you, and the faint sounds created by the crew vanished into white noise—it was just you and Tom. His legs were straining against the rope that tied them down, flexing and tensing as he tried his hardest to chase the hands that touched them.

Humming, your hands dragged up his thighs to rest on his hips. Thumbs dipping into the rippled lines of muscle that descended from his abdomen to his center, the length of his cock was reddened and leaking as it rested on his heaving stomach. Tom’s breathing picked up a notch as you teased the skin with a feather light touch, the area bare and smooth; he liked to keep things groomed for filming.

“Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?”

Tom gasped when your hand closed around his length, stroking soft and slow pumps with almost no pressure at all. “Yes, I’ve been a good boy, Miss! I’ll—I’ll be so good for you!” he pleaded, voice hoarse, and you smirked at the way his head rolled around helplessly. “Please, Miss!”

Pulling at his length with more conviction, you relished in the strangled cry of relief he gave. “Don’t cum until I say so, understand?” you commanded, tone heavy with warning, and he nodded with a choked moan.

The sounds Tom made when your lips finally wrapped around his tip, lapping greedily at the pre-cum that was beaded on his slit, were purely animalistic. Carnal shouts of ecstasy and relief, his mouth hanging wide as he tugged relentlessly on his restraints. Each noise, each cry and plea for you to take him further, spurred you on. Your lips wrapped around him tighter, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked harder, and you flattened your tongue to take more of him.

Tears welled in your eyes when you pushed the tip of your nose into his pelvis, his length buried deep in your throat and choking you. “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, hips bucking wildly off the bed, and you gagged roughly around him. The noise of your wet, sloppy cough around his length paired with the sensation of your throat constricting had him trembling beneath you.

“Miss, ‘m gonna cum,” Tom panted. His voice was broken and cracked, his throat undoubtedly worn out from the guttural sounds that had ripped it apart. You hummed around him before pulling away with a grin, loving the way his hips chased after you sloppily. “I—why did you stop?” he groaned, lips puffing up in a tiny pout.

You tutted, swirling your thumb lazily around his tip and licking the vein that ran along his shaft. There was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to strip your costume off and slide into his lap, but the video didn’t call for that. This time around the focus was all on Tom, endless edging and denial for the panting man on the bed.

As his breathing finally slowed, the erratic rise and fall of his chest deepening with his steadier inhales and exhales, you dipped closer once more. Almost instantaneously he stiffened, cock twitching in your hand expectantly, and you smirked at how needy he was. Now, after all the times you and Tom had slept together, it made you feel good to finally be in control. It felt good to be the one delving out the excruciating push and pull, dangling him right at the precipice of ecstasy only to drag him away before he could fall.

So, maybe you were being a little vindictive when you sucked his weeping tip between your lips and curled your tongue around it just like you knew he loved. When Tom was in control he rarely gave you the chance to truly treat him well; most often he’d be holding your head and choking the life out of you as he thrust to his heart’s content. But now? Now you were setting the pace, calling the shots, and damn if you weren’t going to make him fucking cry.

Already he was whimpering pathetically, his breathing jagged and voice hoarse as he continually vocalized his need for you. His entire body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and oil, the latter courtesy of Marlena the makeup artist, and he looked ethereal. He looked like a classical painting or sculpture, all artistically harsh edges colliding with soft flesh. The ridges of his muscle flexed and strained against his tender, slightly flushed skin, and it made your mouth water.

You pushed him to that cliff twice more, each time forcing more and more aggressive pleas from his pretty, pink lips. Tom was growing frustrated—angry, even—and the thought of it made you excited. His jaw was tensed and ticking with every grind of his teeth, and if you’d removed the blindfold you’d surely have been met with dark, swirling pools of rage in his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be teased.

Swirling your tongue around the broad, blazing red tip of his length, you giggled when a guttural cry burst straight from his chest. There it was, you were finally getting somewhere. His body was trembling all over, knees quaking and fingers quivering, and the sound of his desperation had finally reached its peak.

“Do you want to cum, baby boy?” you murmured, lips ghosting over the ridge beneath his tip eliciting a breathy whine, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

He jerked against the restraints, snarling madly. “I’ve been so good, Miss!” he choked out, “I’ve been a good boy, please, please, please, let me—oh!”

Your nose buried in the soft flesh of his pelvis, eyes watering and throat aching as he stretched your throat out. In the blurry edges of your vision you could just barely make out the way his hands stretched against their bonds, fingers straining and clawing through the air as he fought to grasp your head like he always did. You knew he wanted to move you, to thrust in and out of you at whatever pace he desired, but you had no intentions of moving.

How long could you stay like that? Face buried in his abdomen, eyes dripping tears, saliva trailing down your chin as you strained around him? You wanted to find out, and a part of you also longed to know if you could push him over the edge just like this. Not moving, just letting the erratic twitch of your throat as you gagged stimulate him.

In the end, you caved first. He was muttering unintelligibly, lips moving in a flurry of words you couldn’t make out that wavered in pitch dramatically. You wished to keep going, but the persistent ache in your jaw and lungs told you that you needed to stop. You needed air, and if you tried to push through it you’d either suffocate or instinctively clamp your jaw around the intrusion—that certainly wouldn’t have been good.

As you pulled off of him again, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly as you stretched your jaw, you wondered if he remembered this was the end. The script called for you to leave him begging, pleading his life to release only to be left unfulfilled. He was still whining to himself, and you could just barely make out the hoarse whisper, “I’ll fucking die if you don’t let me cum, please, Miss.”

You were still stroking him slowly with your hand as you sat up, your back aching slightly at the stretch. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you teased, and he growled under his breathe, “I don’t like your attitude right now, baby boy.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grimace, jaw tight and unwavering as he jerked against the ropes violently. “I want to cum!” he whined, voice cracking and slurred despite his demanding tone.

“Is that so?” you pouted, teasing the small slit of his tip playfully, “Well, it’s too bad I don’t really care what you want.”

With that, you got up and climbed off the bed as his length fell back onto his stomach with a dull smack. He hissed at the loss of contact and fought hard to chase after you, only to growl when he remained stuck. You admired the slick sheen that coated his body and the way his cock had gone a deeper shade of red, probably throbbing to the point of near agony from all of your edging.

“Cut!”

You swallowed down the swelling lump in your throat as you approached Tom timidly. The cameras were no longer rolling, his time playing the role of a submissive man over, and already you were shivering over what you’d certainly be facing later that night. What you hadn’t expected, though, was to find genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as you removed the blindfold.

The black garment was soaked with them, and you gaped at the red rim of his eyes and the inflamed ring around his nostrils. His brown eyes were unfocused and dazed as he looked at you, still watering as he blinked up at the sudden light, and your heart thudded pitifully against your ribcage. He was crying.

He was crying, and you didn’t know whether to feel guilty or scared. “Tommy?” you whispered, chewing on your lower lip as you stroked his sweaty curls from his face, “Are you okay?”

Tom’s head lulled into your touch, and he sniffled as he blinked up at you. “Yeah, ‘m good,” he croaked, “but you won’t be later.” His threat wasn’t all that intimidating as his eyes drooped, brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and lingering remnants of desperation. You brushed aside the feelings of nervous anticipation that stirred in the pit of your belly—that could wait.

All you cared about was untying Tom and maybe finishing what you’d started in your dressing room, though you were pretty sure he was too tired to go on. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought to keep them open, and the sight was so heartwarmingly adorable that you couldn’t help but to coo at him. He pouted when you kissed his cheek, smacking his lips at you, “You missed, darling.” Rolling your eyes with a giggle, you pecked his lips and smiled at the pleased sigh that fanned your face.

All around you, you could hear the crew mumbling words of praise, all raving over Tom’s impeccable acting. “Damn, he should be in movies or something!” one man gaped, “(Y/N), come have a look!”

“Later,” you called back, “I’m busy.” Tom murmured sleepily, his head rolling deeper into the pillows, and you pondered to yourself how you were going to get him off the bed. A quiet snore perked your ears and you shook your head—for a man with so much stamina in the bedroom, he sure was beat from a little edging.

[hobidreams]

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

[peakyscillian]

It's my birthday | Cillian x Fem!Reader | One Shot |

Summary: It's your birthday & you know what you want. Requests: Not so much a request but a fic swap for our birthday month with @janelongxox Warnings: Smut/langauge A/N: Happy Birthday Girl! Enjoy this fic, thank you for letting me always talk about our Cilly!

It's my birthday.

The party was in full swing, everyone had a drink in their hand, you were stood with your girlfriends, you'd been away on location with Cillian and you had catching up to do, but it was your birthday and you knew you should be mingling with your guests.

Cillian had managed to pull off the ultimate surprise party, coordinating all the arrangements with your best friend in Dublin whilst you were both in Manchester. He'd even picked out a dress, which much to his relief you loved the moment you slipped it on that evening, his hand had run down your exposed back, stopping just before the curve of your backside, before he dropped his lips to the exposed warm skin of your neck making you suggest you forgot about dinner and stayed home.

He'd given you a coy smile, shook his head "plenty of time for that, birthday girl" he had teased, a gentle kiss to your painted lips before he grabbed his suit jacket and exited the room, leaving you with a dull throb between your thighs.

Your eyes caught him over with a few of your family members, your gaze dropping to his fingers, thick and long curled around the glass of Guinness as he spoke to your uncle, you felt the throb return to your core at the thought of those fingers, dragging under your tiny piece of underwear.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N" the voice made you jump slightly, you spun round face to face with Paul and Joe.

"Thank you, when did you two get here? Left you in Manchester under twelve hours ago" you laughed lightly as they hugged you in turn.

"Got the flight after you and Cill" Joe admitted

You laughed "so you were in the airport with us, why am I so oblivious to everything"

"Where is he? The big party planner, haven't heard about anything else for weeks, if this is your twenty fifth I can't wait for you to turn thirty" Paul winked.

You batted at his chest not wanting to think about leaving your twenties "he's over with my uncles, they're probably embarrassing me"

They excused themselves making their way to their friend and co-star, you were determined to distract yourself from thinking of all the sinful things you wanted Cillian to do to you.

You were waiting at the bar, when you felt the two arms slip around your waist, a firm body pressed into your back "my birthday girl" his breath fanned across your skin, igniting it with goosebumps.

You turned in his arms, back resting against the cool wood of the bar, arms instantly snaking around his neck "m' missed you"

He smiled, lips pressing softly to yours, hands on your hips kneading them through the material of your dress.

"I've been right here" he barely pulled his face away from yours, eyes locked together.

"I know, you've been the perfect host, want to be alone" you almost whined, hips moving to push ever so slightly against his.

Cillian changed his grip on your hips, firmly pressing you against the bar "later, I told you" he nipped at your bottom lip.

You felt the rush of pleasure run through you, his stern voice, the pressure on your hips, you nodded fingers running across the slightly out grown shaved back of his head.

"Cillian, uhm sorry but we need you in the back" your friend was awkwardly stood beside you both, you smiled at her as Cillian moved away.

"Be right back" he kissed you again, before they left you to sort out party business. You sighed grabbing your glass of wine and heading for Natasha, Sophie and Aimee who had also snuck into Dublin without you knowing.

The cake had been extravagant knowing that was all down to your friends, Cillian had held you close to his side as everyone sung you happy birthday, his voice low and vibrating in your ear. You'd hugged your girlfriends right after blowing out the candles, feeling so blessed to have this life.

A few wines and shots with Cillian's co-stars later the party was dying down, people calling taxis and heading to their hotels, you were on the dance floor, Aimee and Sophie ending the night with you, Cillian interrupted you all asking if he was allowed to take you home.

Sophie had made a lewd comment causing him to act like the older brother he played on screen, she rolled her eyes at him as they hugged goodbye.

Finally you were in the back of the booked car, you were hungry for him, lips pressing hot bursts of kisses across his neck, where he'd popped a few buttons undone as the night went on, your hand snaked its way into the opening pressing a warm palm against his cool skin.

"Baby...baby" he lifted your chin up to stop the assault of your lips "we'll be home so soon" he stated.

You whined, hand running across the bulge in his tight dress pants "just want you" you whispered sitting back in the seat trying to control yourself.

Cillian hadn't even got you fully through the door and you were kicking your heels off, attaching yourself back on his lips, feverish kisses leaving between wanting mewls.

"hey..hey what's got into you" he smirked scooping you up in his arms.

"I just need you, need you to touch me" you begged, as he carried you effortlessly up the stairs.

He dropped you on the bed, eyes scanning your body, licking his lips, he'd been so controlled all evening, holding off all your advances the best he could but now he was ready to ravish you, tease you into falling apart around him.

Your body was writhing on the bed, without any contact with him, just his gaze burning into you was enough to get you worked up.

"Cillian" you whimpered getting frustrated with the way he wasn't paying any attention to you.

He smiled, finally crawling over your body, pressing his hips to yours to stop you moving "yes? Birthday girl" a smirk tugged onto his face.

"Please" you whispered fingers fumbling with the buttons on his fitted shirt

"What do you want?" He was teasing you, you were so close to screaming at him for his hands to be on you.

"Just...fuck touch me" you begged eyes wide

Cillian brushed some hair from your face, fingertips feathered against your skin "where?"

You were biting your lip, tears pushing against the brim of your eyes in frustration "everywhere"

Cillian tusked, dropping a faint kiss to the side of your lips "show me or I can't help"

You groaned head thrown back, grabbing for his hands "I want your fingers in me, I want them pressed against my clit"

"You only had to say" he teased, lifting the hem of your dress up your body, you sat up letting him pull it off you, revealing your bare breasts and the barely there underwear.

"Been walking around like this all evening" he ran his fingertips over your breasts "if only I'd known" he tweaked your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling a gasp from your mouth.

"Shit please Cill don't tease me" you were barely able to form a sentence, hips moving off the bed.

"Baby, you need to be patient it's your birthday after all" he nuzzled into your neck, lapping his tongue against your sweet skin.

"I should get what I want" you pouted, grabbing for his hand, pushing it down to the edge of your underwear.

He rested his hand just above your mound, tutting at you once again "I've got a bratty birthday girl on my hands huh?"

You bit your lip, nodded at him because you couldn't deny it "Cillian I swear-"

You didn't have time to finish as his hand plunged into the thin material, hand cupping at your soaking pussy, thumb brushing over your clit "oh uhh fuck" you sighed feeling some pressure being relieved from your core.

"Been this wet all night baby?" He asked slowly pushing his finger into your cunt, you nodded "yea...yes all for you Cillian" you panted eyes closing in pure ecstasy. He pulled your underwear down your legs, dropping it on the floor, as you spread your legs from him. Cillian was working you up, adding another finger in as you squirmed under his touch. Stretching you for him, you moaned as he added a third finger, curling up to your soft g-spot, tapping on the area before roughly brushing his fingers over it, thumb pressed on your clit, he could feel your walls clenching and unclenching around his fingers, your panting breaths indicating you were already close.

"You can let go as long as you come around my cock later" his lips were pressed against the shell of your ear.

You nodded erratically, holding onto his biceps, with one final stroke of your g-spot, added pressure on your clit you were unraveling under him, head thrown into the mattress, legs shaking as he carried on pumping his fingers into your tightening pussy.

Your hands were grabbing for the zip on Cillian's trousers, he chuckled lightly batting your hand away "no touching, it's all about you, you've been so good"

He stood up discarding his trousers and boxers, you almost cried out in pleasure at the sight of his hard cock standing to attention, veins nearly pulsing with the tension.

Cillian crawled back over your heated body, running the head of his cock against your slick folds, you could swear your body was on fire, you needed release again, needed him inside you.

"Cillian, baby please" you whimpered propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him dip the tip of his cock into you.

"Want me to fuck you eh?" He smiled his charming smile, you jerked your hips trying to get him inside your clenching pussy.

"Yes fuck me please" you mumbled, voice breaking with the pressure growing in your abdomen, he nodded finally pushing forward, filling you completely in one swift move, stretching you, sending a wave of pleasure over your whole body.

Cillian's blue eyes had turned a shade or two darker, his hands on your hips pulling you to meet his thrusts , legs wrapped around his waist, he lifted you off the mattress, as he knelt onto the soft duvet, using his hands to guide you up and back down in a perfect rhythm.

Sweat was building on his forehead, your hair once perfectly curled for your party was sticking to your back and forehead, your sticky bodies hitting together as he pounded into you, losing the strength to hold you up, he dropped you back, not stopping his thrusts as he lent over you.

His lips wrapping around your erect nipple sucking and nipping, your hands were tugging at the hair on top of his head the perfect length for getting your fingers into.

"You look so fucking beautiful" he was pressing his lips to your collarbone, nose nudging your jaw before he finally kissed you, biting at your lip before his tongue slipped into your warm mouth, hips still snapping into yours.

"Fuck..Cillian, this is amazing" you sighed hands cupping at his face. Eyes locked with his intense and wide as the tip of his cock brushed your g-spot, he knew exactly how to angle his hips to find it.

"Just treating my birthday girl to what she deserves, looking fucking gorgeous all evening, dancing with her friends grinding them to tease me" his hand grabbed at the flesh of your backside, kneading it with a rough squeeze as he pulled your leg to sit flush against his hip.

"Just wanted you to take me home, all night wanted to be alone with my man" you confessed, nails scratching down his back in appreciation.

"People whispering about me being too old for you I heard them, but does any else make you feel this good?" He asked stalling his hips, his cock resting inside your needy cunt.

You shook your head "never, only you, you're not too old, you're mine" you pushed your hips off the bed, needing some friction from him anything.

He was peppering kisses across your face, you claiming him as your own making his hips snap faster into you, you were moaning with no stop from the sweet noises leaving your mouth, he was so close his abdomen tightening, the feeling of his cock twitching against your walls, he was panting, forehead pressed with yours. "I can't hold out much longer" he confessed, you moved your hips causing a primal moan to pull from his throat. "Cum in me Cill.. let go for me" you were circling your hips, causing a friction between you both, then his hips stalled, thrust sloppy as he came in you, pushing you over the edge for the second time, calling out his name as you done so. Cillian was still on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms on the bed, "Happy Birthday, baby" he smiled slowly dragging himself from your swollen pussy, rolling to lay beside you.

The feeling of his cum dripping between your thighs was something you wouldn't ever get bored of, having decided that you being on birth control was enough to not use protection after about four months of being together. "Best present ever" your hand ran across his cheek cupping his jaw. "oh there's more" he stood up, you watched him cross the room, his bare bum was sculpted perfectly, he returned from the walk-in wardrobe, your mouth pratically watering at the sight of him, still semi-hard as he made his way back to you, three gift bags in his hand. "I like this present best" you giggled fingers grazing across his cock, he let out a low groan, gift bags discarded on the floor as you crawled across the bed on your knee's, licking your lips ready for the sweetest gift of all.

*** Taglist. @janelongxox @missymurphy1985 @queenshelby @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @elenavampire21 @being-worthy @uchihacumdump @magicalpieex

[muffindaddystyles]

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics. 

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head. 

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her,  staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments. 

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself. 

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone. 

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice. 

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness. 

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore. 

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that. 

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them. 

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically. 

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears. 

// 

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with. 

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness. 

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights. 

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life. 

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue. 

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again. 

// 

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy. 

She misses Zippy badly. 

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place. 

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on. 

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him. 

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes. 

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor. 

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end. 

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times. 

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly. 

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door. 

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her. 

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly. 

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying. 

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state. 

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth. 

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it. 

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face. 

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath. 

"Who did this to you?" 

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders. 

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying. 

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest. 

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly. 

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets. 

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life. 

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door. 

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love." 

"What?" 

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye. 

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her. 

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so, 

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her. 

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth. 

// 

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her. 

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it. 

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls. 

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head. 

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down. 

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room. 

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt. 

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause. 

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret. 

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind. 

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars. 

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her. 

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak. 

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey." 

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly. 

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction. 

To have his loved one in his arms. 

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering. 

She'll heal. 

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else. 

// 

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman." 

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend. 

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out. 

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!" 

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff. 

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it. 

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness. 

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times. 

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances. 

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely." 

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist. 

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward. 

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies." 

// 

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos. 

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back. 

With a strict warning glare to her way. 

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly. 

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley. 

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard. 

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back. 

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek. 

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble. 

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk. 

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment. 

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns! 

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it. 

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change. 

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side. 

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does. 

// 

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup. 

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does. 

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment. 

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident! 

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it. 

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp. 

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically. 

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered. 

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees. 

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile. 

// 

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly. 

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently. 

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace. 

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her. 

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair. 

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely. 

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness. 

// 

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade. 

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl. 

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck. 

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly. 

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls. 

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat  anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart. 

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase. 

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah … silly me." 

"Why?" 

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.  

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand. 

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug. 

//

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties. 

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers. 

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date." 

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life. 

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much." 

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh. 

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out. 

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully. 

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them. 

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!" 

// 

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart. 

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy  lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her. 

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin. 

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine. 

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth. 

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle. 

Just made for him. 

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath. 

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely. 

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y. 

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket. 

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him. 

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face. 

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her. 

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt. 

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force. 

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought. 

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls. 

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection. 

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly. 

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air. 

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp. 

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides. 

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want. 

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll. 

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off. 

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay. 

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey. 

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand." 

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head. 

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile. 

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent. 

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively. 

// 

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together. 

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too. 

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm. 

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans. 

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie. 

"Yours." She says without any hesitation. 

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever. 

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive. 

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes. 

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's. 

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him. 

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes. 

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection. 

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease. 

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back. 

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- " 

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions, 

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material. 

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible. 

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name. 

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them. 

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with. 

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before. 

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy. 

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave. 

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum. 

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit. 

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily. 

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers. 

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths. 

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy. 

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls. 

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles. 

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking. 

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously. 

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness. 

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs. 

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy. 

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc. 

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear. 

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest. 

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice. 

"I'm gonna cum, fuck." 

"You're gonna make me come." 

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression. 

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her. 

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice. 

// 

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning. 

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell. 

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her. 

She's jealous. 

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality. 

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her. 

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk. 

"You what!?" 

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it. 

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking. 

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket. 

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably. 

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly. 

"I love you too." 

[perzawa]

→ defender of justice

saeyoung choi x fem! reader

desc: you weren’t the best at relationships. man after man, woman after woman, but you could not find the right one. after getting stood up on a date, a mysterious man with red hair comes to the rescue. 

genre: smut

warnings: praise kink, unprotected sex, sex with a stranger, pet names

word count: 3.1K

Not again.

Not like this.

Hot tears pricked your eyes, the salty liquid rolling slowly down your flaming cheeks. How long had it been since you were sitting in that exact spot, waiting and waiting and waiting. You looked around like a lost puppy, mouth agape and eyes wide. Where the hell was he? You scammed the restaurant, your eyes glossing over multiple bodies of men and women. Everyone looked so happy with their spouses or potential mates, smiling in the faces of each other as they shared meals. 

That was supposed to be you laughing. That was meant to be you sharing spaghetti with your boyfriend. How could you be so foolish to believe he’d show up this time? 

“Ma’am, are you ready to pay for your meal?” The woman asked kindly, eyes shut with a large smile plastered on her features. You frowned, wiping away at the tears forming in your eyes. 

“Just a moment, ma’am.” 

“Okay! I’ll be back!” She left soon after. Sweat trickled down your eyebrows and your breathing hitched, stomach churning painfully. You were surrounded by couples. Everywhere you looked, there was a couple. Man, women, women, men. You’d given up. He won. Getting ready to pay and leave, you stood up, wiping at the new tears forming in your eyes. 

You took one last look around. Multiple people had been paying attention to you now, apologetic looks dancing across their faces. You simply smiled in their directions. You didn’t need pity from anyone. You’ve been stood up before, you’ll be fine. Yeah, you’ll be fine after you eat six tubs of ice cream and cry your eyes out for a week. Maybe you and Akira weren’t meant to be. You had given up now, sighing as you reached for your wallet, standing to your aching feet.

Just then, a pair of shoes stepped into your vision and you looked up, instantly in awe. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. You can sit down now.” 

You stared up at him, lips agape as you tried to process his request. This wasn’t Akira. I mean, he was no doubt more attractive than Akira was in every way, but he definitely wasn’t Akira. The last time you’d seen him, Akira had black hair, not red. 

“W-Who are you?” 

“I’m Seven. Just go with it, okay?” He whispered to you, sitting in the seat across the table from yours. Shocked, you didn’t say anything, only blinking at the man. 

“I was standing there,” he looked over and pointed to the small line of people waiting to be seated. “I was there for a bit and I noticed that you’d been stood up.” You winced hearing the words, eyes darting down in embarrassment. You knew he wasn’t coming, but it still ached to hear him put it so matter-of-factly. 

“He’s a dick. Or she.” 

“A-Are you here with someone?” You tripped over your words, rubbing your exposed arm with your hand. Suddenly the air was cooler, tighter. 

“Nah, I came alone. I originally came for pickup, but seeing a pretty little lady all by herself made me change my mind.” 

“O-Oh…” you tilted your head up at him. “Please, I don't wish to burden you or anything. You’re incredibly sweet, but you can get your food.” 

The mysterious man chuckled, running his hand through his shaggy hair as his eyes looked you up and down. “You’re precious.” 

“I’m serious. I don’t want you to pity me. I saw this coming.” You mumbled those last words, pushing your plate of food to the middle of the table, hoping a waitress would swing by soon so that you could leave quickly. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. My conscience won’t allow me to leave you alone here.” You frowned, crossing your legs under the table. Your eyes met his and you’d noticed how pretty his were, suddenly melting. This man was adorable. Sure, he was kinda underdressed to be eating there, but you overlooked his apparel. He was hot. 

A few minutes passed by of an odd silence before a waitress came by, taking your old food and asking who she assumed to be your date, if he was ready to order. 

So he did. 

“Seven…” you muttered, hoping he would’ve been gone by now. “You’re too nice. I-I’ll pay for this as a thank you.” 

“Pay for it? Oh, hush, I got it. I’ve got enough. Don’t thank me for anything, okay?” 

And that was it. He ordered food and even shared a bit with you, even after you explained that you’d already eaten. You didn’t even know how you could both find so much to talk about, being complete strangers and all. But you still found a way. You incorporated jobs, home life, and he even allowed you to talk about your relationship with Akira a bit. 

“I was right. He sounds like an ass.” 

You giggled, reaching over the table to fork some of his salad before shoving it in your mouth. Seven gazed at you in awe, his focus completely set on you whenever you decided to share something, anything. 

“He wasn’t always like that, I promise. We got along really well for a while and it was perfect,” you looked down at the table you were sitting at before a dry chuckle found its way out of you. “We’re a bit off and on, you could say. That’s why this was so important to me. I guess he didn’t care as much.”

Seven frowned, noticing your change in demeanor. 

“Don’t let that get you down, okay? Look, you may not know me, but I’m here now. And as far as I’m concerned, I’m having so much fun right now. I’m glad he didn’t show up.” 

“Really? Y-You’re having fun?” Your eyes widened and you felt blood rush to your cheeks, self consciously rubbing your arm, which had now produced an insane amount of goosebumps. 

“Course I am, sweetie. What? You thought I stayed for my health? You’re cool. He’s missing out.” 

And with that, you both changed the subject to forget about Akira. He was irrelevant. 

You didn’t end up paying for your bill in the end, Seven did. Of course he did it, throwing in a ‘you really thought I’d let you pay for this alone?’ While he was at it. He escorted you out, hands stuffed in his pocket. You felt the cool air embrace your skin, the new area calming you now, the wind sweeping away every negative thought you experienced that evening. You almost forgot you’d even been stood up in the first place, really. But that’s how fun the ginger was. He was sweet and loud, always making jokes. His humor was a little bit odd. Well, it was extremely odd, but it made him more attractive to you. From his striped glasses to his plain sneakers, he was so down to earth. You wanted to talk to him again. You needed to say thank you. 

“I had a great time. Hey, actually, you never told me your name.” He turned to you, both of you still standing in front of the building. 

“Oh! You’re right! It’s Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I had a good time. I’ll get going now, you take care for me.” The tall man turned away, pressing the button on his keys. Your ears perked up after hearing the car beep, indicating that the car was his. 

He was leaving. 

C’mon, Y/N. Ask him. It won’t be hard, right? The worst he could say is that he’s probably busy or he’s got work in the morning. Just do it. Do it. 

You yelped and that seemed to snatch his attention, the man whipping around to see if you were alright. 

“You good?” 

“Y-Yeah! Um, I’ve got no idea if you’re like busy tomorrow or something,” you trailed off, staring at your heels as you rocked back and forth on them. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come over! J-Just to like, watch Netflix. Unless you’re busy! Then that’s okay! I’m so sorry for burdening you!” You rambled on, your face entirely flushed, your body swinging sporadically from putting yourself on the spot like that. 

“Hey, hey, stop that,” he pushed your chin up, your eyes drifting to his hair, rather than his eyes. “I’d love to come over, okay? Hell, where’s your car? Let’s go right now.” 

Your eyes shot down to his, your face lighting up at his kind words. 

“Oh! Um, I took a cab here!” 

“That’s fine. Just gimme the directions, I’ll take you.” 

You could feel your heart swell in your chest. He was so damn cute. His smile stretched across his entire face, eyes closed from his cheeks pushing them upward. He guided you to his vehicle and let's just say you were more than impressed with his ride, eyes widening. Damn, now you really had to know where this man worked to afford such an expensive car. That was a question for another day. You pulled up a GPS and from there, the ride was mostly silent. You aimlessly scrolled through your twitter feed until he pulled up outside your home, first asking if he was at the right place. 

“Yeah, this is it!” Seven nodded and parked in your driveway, stepping out of his car awkwardly waiting for you to unlock the door before he did anything else. He locked his car, following after you. You giggled and unlocked your home, your cat rushing to the opening door to greet you. 

Seven laughed, pushing his way in as well. “Hey! I love cats!” 

You beamed, bending down to pet your feline. “Mmm, that’s a funny coincidence! Her name’s Elle.” 

Seven’s goofy demeanor dropped into a much more serious one. “You’re lying! There’s no way! M-My friend, his cat’s name is Elizabeth!” 

You threw your hands up, bursting into a fit of laughter. You looked up at the flickering lights, wishing you’d remembered to turn them off before you left the house. That was your worst bad habit. Seven noticed the flickering as well, but ignored it, just standing awkwardly as he awaited your next steps. You turned the main light off and led him to your living room, sitting on your sofa. He plopped down on the furniture and spotted the remote on the coffee table, passing it to you. You thanked him and turned the television on, the bright light illuminating the living space. 

“Whatcha wanna watch?” You asked, turning to Netflix. 

“Uh, scary movie? Or Anime? I could care less.” You nodded and searched for a horror film that you could both agree on, settling the remote on the coffee table. Not too long had passed before you were both cuddled up together, reclining the sofa so that neither of you would roll off by accident. You didn’t think you’d get so comfortable with a stranger, but there you were watching a horror movie with him while his arms were wrapped around your hips, pulling you into his touch. You’d be a fibber if you said you didn’t like it. 

“I hope you know I meant what I said. You’re cool as hell.” 

“Could say the same for you, Mr. Seven.” 

“Oh,” he teased, his lips close to your ear. “Am I Mister now?” 

“Depends. Do you wanna be called that?” 

Seven snickered, rubbing circles into your waist. A low groan escaped your lips, a small laugh following. Neither of you even cared about the movie anymore. 

“I guess that depends on what type of Mister you’re thinking of.” 

Chills ran down your spine and you smiled, slowly grinding yourself onto him. Seven’s breath hitched in his throat, a small chuckle following after. 

“That’s how we’re playing?” You didn’t respond, simply moaning while you continued grinding yourself against him. Seven gripped your hips tighter, rocking his hips against your ass. He pushed your hair out of the way, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. You let out a yelp, melting into his touch while his hips continued to move against your ass. You could feel him hardening, his tongue flicking against your skin. 

Seven groaned, sucking marks onto your innocent neck while you felt yourself getting lost in his touch. 

“Can I fuck you?” He whispered, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips again. You nodded, and before you knew it, he’d instantly had you on your back. 

“You know,” he started, grinning down at your defenseless body. “I did not think this was how tonight would play out. But I’m so glad it did.” He unbuckled his pants, pulling his cock free from his underwear. His cock sprung free, precum already bubbling at the tip. You licked your lips at the sight, feeling a surge of wetness rush through your pussy, wetting your white underwear. You shut your eyes tightly, your fingers finding their way to your underwear as something in your forced you to circle your clit through your panties. 

Seven spat on his hand, the mixture of saliva and precum slicking his cock enough. “That’s hot. Keep going.” He whispered, stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You whimpered, finger rubbing circles into your clothed clit while he jerked his hard cock, groaning at the your vulnerability. 

“Yeah, that’s good. So good. C’mon, take those pretty little panties off.” You weren’t hesitant at all, quickly sliding the panties down your ass. You’d never been fucked on your sofa before, oddly enough. You’d been fucked almost everywhere in your house but the time to do it on your sofa never really came up. You were glad, though, it was so hard to get comfortable on the black leather furniture. 

“Let me see that pretty pussy,” he muttered, pulling your dress up to your neck, the pink bra exposed under the fabric. Seven gripped your clothed tit before kneeling between your legs, leaning forward. 

“You’re so pretty. Your body’s so damn pretty. Everything about it. I don’t even remember his name, but he’s fuckin’ missing out.” 

He circled his wet tip against your clit, gathering some of your slick on his cock. You cried out. 

“Please, Seven, hurry.” 

“Are you rushing me? Bad girl.” He kissed the side of your lip before pushing against your entrance, sliding into the tight heat. You gasped, tears forming in your eyes from the painful stretch. It was probably helpful to mention how big Seven was. You almost couldn’t see from the constantly fading light of the television, but he was a good size. One you didn’t expect from someone so thin and lanky. Not that you weren’t appreciative or anything. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist as he bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment to move. 

“Tight.” He choked out, pulling out halfway before slamming back into you, grunting with each thrust. His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but you could care less, clenching around his constantly moving length. You cried out his name, tears falling from your eyes. 

Seven found a good pace to fuck you at, rocking his hips inside of you slowly while you adjusted to his large cock, pussy fluttering over him.

“Fuck yeah, baby. So good. So, so good. I could cum on the spot feeling you grip me like this.” 

You looked into his eyes, slamming your lips against his waiting ones without any thinking. Seven moaned into the exchange, pounding you as hard as he could while his tongue pushed past your opened lips, both of your tongues intertwined. Your velvet walls gripped his cock harder, causing the man to begin moaning, hips stuttering while he fucked into you. You felt like you were already on edge, rocking your hips against his. Your ears perked up and you yelped hearing your phone ring. 

Seven’s eyes darted over to the contact name, sweat dripping down his glistening forehead. 

‘Akira 💕…’ 

“Answer it,” he snarled, his pace never haulting. He was quicker, harder, as he fucked his cock into you, head constantly hitting against your special spot. You couldn’t help but moan, tears drying on your cheeks while fire spread inside of you, the overwhelming need to cum urging you on. You didn’t question him, simply reaching over to the coffee table to grab the device, answering it. 

“Yeah?” You put him on speaker. 

Seven’s eyes were cut, focusing on the conversation while pounding you. He gripped your waist tightly, stifling a moan. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I don’t know, I don’t think we should be seeing each other anymore.” 

Your heart dropped at his words and your stomach churned. 

“Fuck yeah,” Seven moaned loudly, throwing his head back. His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass while his cock hit the hilt of your pussy over and over again. You were so close, almost there. 

“Who’s that?” Akira squeaked. 

“No one,” you moaned out, forgetting to even hold back by now. 

“Tell him. Tell him how good you feel. Go ahead, naughty girl. Tell him.” 

You felt more tears well in your eyes, fresh liquid dripping to your damp cheeks. 

“I feel so good, Seven. Please fuck me. Harder, please. So close. I’m gonna cum. Please,” you managed to get out, fucking yourself on his cock while holding the phone in your hand. Ever thrust felt like energy being launched into your body, electricity shocking you each time your pussy clenched on his cock, walls constantly being jabbed at. It felt so good. You were almost there. One more thrust. 

“I want you to feel good. Want you to feel so fucking good. Do you feel good? You feel good with my cock inside you? Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Gonna cum, Seven. Close.” 

“Okay. That’s okay. Go ahead, I’m close too, pretty girl.” By now, Akira had hung up, his own heart dropping to his feet as well. As long as he understood how you felt, it was okay. You were fine. You’d be fine like this. 

He sped up, sporadically whimpering sweet nothings as he pounded you through your orgasm, pussy fluttering around his length while you came, cum coating his dick. Seven screamed out, burying himself to the hilt inside of you while he came, shooting his load into your gaping heat. He collapsed on top of you, both of your breathing uneven. 

“Good. That was good,” you found a way to croak out, releasing your grip on his waist. He didn’t respond, only kissing your sweaty neck. 

“Good girl.” He said, cock still buried inside of you. You flushed at the nickname, whimpering. He waited again to speak when you’d both caught your breath, bodies still, simply enjoying the presence of the other. The television was still on, the movie was over now. It had probably been over for a while. 

“Maybe it's not the right time for this, but can I take you out next week?

[cryptiql]

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

[lailannajacobs]

Heart of the Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky finds you after a mission that didn’t quite go as planned. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: lil bit angsty 

A/N: This is my submission for @wkemeup​​ 9k challenge, it’s not quite as edited as I would have liked but the end of the school year is always super busy so here it is! Congrats Kas, you are such an incredible writer, your talent absolutely blows my mind, it’s just unbelievable and I hope one day to have a tenth of your skill! You deserve everything great and more! <3

The needle trembled, metal glinting off the fluorescent light in your bathroom as it hovered just above the skin of your abdomen. The air reeked of copper. The pristine sink was marred with the dark red streaks of failure. You tried to swallow, but it felt like you were choking on your own throat. 

The needle approached the bloody canyon made by a knife you’d been too careless to avoid, and hovered there, trying to find its mark. The world swayed. You’d lost too much blood already. The needle clattered into the sink, black thread trialing behind it like a broken tether. You were somehow conscious — delirious? — enough to think you were lucky it hadn’t gone down the drain because you didn’t have time to call a plumber. Wait no. You’d just have to get a new one from the cabinet. You tried to reach for the needle. Your body didn’t react. Instead, it swayed dangerously, only your fighting instincts keeping you from tumbling to the floor by gripping onto the edge of the sink. At least there were some things blood could wash off from.

“YN!” that familiar voice burst into your apartment, “pool table. Five minutes. I swore to Sam that this was the day we finically beat Vision and his perfect calculations.”

You swore at the joyful ness in his voice. You couldn’t match that tone right now if you tried. But you had to. The mission had gone well. You’d done what you’d set out to do. Only you, the ever-present failure, had gotten yourself stabbed along the way. The only mercy was that no one else had noticed and you’d disappeared to your apartment without drawing suspicion. That was, until now if you couldn’t pull yourself together. You willed your body to close the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t move. If anything, everything only spun even more.

“Where the hell are...”

You felt his presence in your doorway. Felt his gaze like a physical thing. You were always aware of him. Even now was no exception. Maybe if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away. Right. And the three-inch gash in your stomach would stitch itself up. You turned your head, not realizing how many abdominal muscles it took to look over your shoulder. Your pride and the death grip your slick fingers held on the porcelain were the only reasons the spinning didn't send you tumbling to the ground.

When your bathroom came into focus again, the only thing you really saw was Bucky taking up most of the doorway. And he was seething. His normally cool eyes were raging hurricanes, framed between hard lines of frustration on his face. They scanned you from top to bottom with deathly calm, from the sports bar you had on that exposed all your skin and the bruises you garnered during the mission to the sweatpants you’d changed into. An X-ray would have been less intrusive. You shivered. It was probably the blood loss.

You wanted to make up some excuse for your failure, but his anger was justified. You were a liability on the field. They were bound to have figured it out eventually.

He said nothing as he stalked over in a few brisk strides, fury emanating from him in waves. He stopped beside you, the pleasant smell of his freshly showered body chasing away the tang in the air. You closed your eyes. It was a coward’s move, but you’d take any peace you could get before everything you’d worked so hard to keep got taken away from you.

“Sit,” he ordered in a low, almost growly voice, “now.”

You went to sit on the toilet but tipped backward before you could make it. His arms gathered around you, easing you onto the closed seat. Your head lolled back and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.” He decided, “I need an explanation. Talk to me.”

It seemed like too much work. All you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“No,” he ordered as if you’d spoken the words aloud. Maybe you had.

You opened your eyes, caught in the crossfire of his icy stare, “Hydra agent during the extraction.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

The extraction of the French Prime Minister had been more than an hour ago. You should have been stitched up a long time ago. You should not have been dripping on the pale bathroom tiles.

“Surface wound,” you continued as professionally as your body would allow, knowing that even though you’d live, your failure was the reason for his fury, “came here. Was in the process of fixing it.”

“We have medics,” he growled, “what were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t about to tell him how your presence was a poison that would likely get them all killed eventually. Or that your constant mistakes were your own consequences to deal with — to fix. He probably knew that all ready. His question had to be rhetorical.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he were trying to steady his anger. You stared at him, the winter soldier kneeling before you, his calloused hands still resting on your hips. He let out a sigh, his breath warm on your stomach.

“I should call for a medic,” he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, “I can take care of my own mistakes.”

His lids snapped open, piercing blue eyes pinning you to the spot with their ice cold intensity. He was obviously still pissed. But he didn’t call for a medic. Instead, he got up, warm hands leaving behind nothing more than goosebumps and shivers — from the blood loss, of course— and picked up the needle.

“This is going to hurt,” he murmured once he was kneeling in front of you again.

You tried to nod, but the motion sent your vision spinning again and you gripped onto his shoulder for support, the metal sturdy beneath your grip.

He looked up into your eyes, “are you sure you want me to do this? It’ll leave a scar and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s only fitting,” you coughed a laugh, “at least the outside will start looking like the inside.”

His brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything. He knew what you were. You were a mutant who somehow got the ‘gift’ of being able to make anything stop functioning. You could make plans fall apart. Kill a software program. Stop a body’s functioning. Even ruin a functioning team like the Avengers. With skill, you should have been one of their greatest assets, ruining everything that threatened the world. But your ‘gift’ extended to yourself as well. You ruined everything you touched. Even the good. Especially, it always seemed, the good.

He pierced your skin without warning, but you were glad for the pain. It gave you something else to focus on than the echoing thoughts of your failure. But Bucky was gentle. Despite the anger you knew must still be there, his movements were delicate and focused, hesitating whenever you winced or sucked in a breath.

By the time he tied the knot, you were surprised you were still upright. He might have been efficient, but you couldn’t tell if it had taken seconds, minutes or even hours. His hands cupped your face and eyes you hadn’t realized you’d closed fluttered open. He was so close now, his expression pinched with worry. You couldn’t help but wonder how it could be for you.

“I’m almost done,” he said softly, “but you’ll probably need a transfusion.”

Adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Please don’t take me there,” you begged, “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

Your abilities rarely activated while you were asleep, but you wouldn’t risk the lives of the other patients or the doctors by going down to the medical wing. Years ago, when you’d realized what your abilities were, you’d stopped sleeping anywhere near anyone else. Now, hurt, there was an even greater chance you might lose control.

If you hadn’t been working so hard for consciousness, you would have also told Bucky to leave. But it wouldn’t have mattered. For some reason, he always stayed. Even when he was within the radius of your power. Even when you told him to go. Especially then. He always stayed.

“I won’t hurt anyone else,” you choked out, “I always hurt someone else.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek, “and yet you saved me today.”

You looked away from his burning gaze, your tears threatening to spill.

He continued, mercifully ignoring your watery eyes, “even though you were hurt you dropped that Hydra agent before he could shoot me in the back. We didn’t lose a single agent today, YN. That’s because you were there.”

“No,” you tried to shake your head, but his hands held on tightly, “they — you — saved yourselves. I got stabbed.”

“You got stabbed because you were busy watching everyone else’s back,” he growled, that earlier anger returning.

“I ruin things,” you repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

But it didn’t matter. He never seemed to believe you. But he needed to. You desperately needed him to before you ruined him too.

“Please leave,” you whimpered.

His answer was simple, “No.”

He took his hands back, but it was only to find some gauze to place over your cut. Once he was done, he scooped you up so gently the movement only hurt a lot instead of blinding pain and brought you to bed.

You gripped his shirt, fist balling up at the hem with all the strength you had left, “you need to leave, Bucky. Now.”

For some reason, the bastard smirked, “Someone has to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” you snapped, though it lacked any kind of force.

He didn’t look impressed, “If you were fine you wouldn’t be begging me to leave. You’d be downstairs with me and we’d be getting our asses handed to us by Vision and Sam like every other Thursday night.”

You wanted to protest. You wanted to protect him, but you had no fight left in you. And with the plush mattress calling you to sleep, the world went dark before you could figure out a way to get him to leave.

“All right Destructo, show me what you’ve got.”

You weren’t a fan of the nickname, but you weren’t about to tell the Tony Stark to shut up and use your real name. And anyways, as much as you hated using your abilities, and how you were always overcome by the tidal wave of fear that sent fear rolling like waves throughout your body, you always felt better — healthier even — after using them. And he was giving you free range now.

Eight suits surrounded you in a perfect octagon, hands out like they were ready to strike. Tony had somehow altered his suits so that they’d shoot bubbles — of all things — instead of small blasts and said you’d only be alive if you managed to take them all down before a single bubble came out.

A small grin unwittingly made its way onto your face.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Tony remarked, “it’ll come in handy for future testing. Ready?”

You nodded and ignored the bit about future testing. They might have thought they wanted you now but after they saw how much of a curse you really were, they weren’t going to keep you around long enough for future testing. You prayed that day wasn’t any time soon.

But you were ready now. That was until Tony’s voice crackled through the intercoms once more, “just make sure you don’t kill anyone of us in the process. I’d hate to miss Taco Tuesday.

You lifted your chin, “Give me thirty seconds with the enemies and you’ll have your taco.”

“Such confidence,” he remarked with a chuckle.

It was false bravado but you wanted this. You wanted out of your hell hole. So you weren’t about to let him see any of the very real fear that you actually might kill him. in the process.

You let out your power in a giant blast.

You bolted upright, gasping for breath. Black spots clouded your vision but you forced through the waves of dizziness, looking for the one person you couldn’t bear to hurt. He was supposed to have left. Your next breath never came. Bucky’s long limbs spilled over the edges of the chair in the opposite corner of the room, his phone resting on his chest. His eyes were closed, a peaceful look on his face but that didn’t mean anything. The dead often looked at peace.

Then his phone rose and fell with his chest. You held back a sob. Your relief would have sent you tumbling if you hadn’t been sitting. He was alive.

Without your blinding panic, the rest of your room came into focus. He’d left all the clothes you’d strewn over the chair in a neat, folded pile on your dresser. You glanced over at your alarm clock for the time, which was…off. Your dread clenched it’s fist around your stomach. It had been on. So had your air conditioning unit. And where was the constant hum of your ancient refrigerator?

“They’re all fried,” Bucky’s gruff voice came through the silence as if he’d actually been sleeping, “the phone gave a nice little shock when it died. Snapped me out of my sleep that’s for sure.”

Your heart was still trying to hammer its way out of your chest when you said, “You could have gotten hurt. I don’t know how you’re not.”

“I do,” he replied simply, eyes finding yours.

“No, you don’t,.” you shook your head more than you had to, “No, you can’t.”

“I can because I’ve trained with you almost every day since you got here. I know that your gift,” you scoffed at the word but he kept going, “your gift works differently depending on who and what you’re targeting. And I know you don’t target people. Not unless you have to and even then I see that it kills you to do it.”

You looked down at your sheets, hating the way his words resonated through your body, refusing to go away. But you could still ignore it.

“That might be true, but Tony has been making his suits to withstand me. In case I can’t control my powers and they hurt anyone on our side. He might say it’s in case we meet another mutant with powers like mine, but we all know that’s not true.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he huffed then took in a slow breath. It did nothing to hide the growl in his voice when he asked, “None of us are perfect, why do you have to be?”

Because, even as a full grown adult, you were afraid you’d somehow end up back in that orphanage, unloved and unwanted because all you did was ruin things. And you didn’t know what you’d do if you ruined the closest thing you’d ever had to family. Perfect kept you here. Perfect kept you safe.

He stood from the chair, and came to kneel beside your bed. He brushed aside the hair that had stuck to your forehead with sweat, calloused fingers resting gently on your cheek when he was done.

“You’re one of us now” he whispered as if he could read your mind, “and I — we — won’t let you go that easily not matter what you think of your abilities. Even if that means I have to inspect you for cuts and bruises myself after every mission. You are good, YN.”

You could only nod, taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. Still, it didn’t stop you from looking him over head to toe once more just to make sure he was okay. Then you noticed something off with him.

“Where’s your arm?”

He ran his hand through his hair, a sheepish look on his face, “it might have fallen off a few seconds before you woke up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “I hurt you.”

He shook his head fiercely, “you didn’t. I’m fine.”

“But I could have,” you protested.

“But you didn’t,” he said, “you never do. Because despite what you might think, you control this thing inside you and we all trust you with it.”

You were about to object but he stopped you by pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back there was that lopsided little grin on his face that made you realize how light headed you were feeling, “one day we’ll get to a place where you’ll find this funny. I promise.”

And somehow, you believed him.

[alrightberries]

three weeks

❈ pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.9k

❈ summary: “It’s been three weeks, and Levi still lies to himself when he says he’s okay.”

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of violence, death and gore. explicit description of panic/anxiety attack.

a/n: i’m not sure what... this is since i just randomly started typing it but hopefully y’all still like it.

He could still feel you.

Feel your presence in his room; in his hollow heart. With every shallow breath he took he swore he could still feel your warm palm on his skin, gently patting his shaking shoulders.

The clothes you'd left behind were still in his closet. The little notes you'd scribbled to him on random days still compiled. The letters you wrote sit heavy in a wooden box inside his bedside drawer.

He once complained that they created clutter in his room when you started slowly moving your things into his private quarters. It started off with clothes left on his unmade bed and eventually ended with you bringing your hygiene products to his personal bathroom. Slowly but surely, you moved in. Slowly but surely, you cemented a place in his life where you'd already cemented a place in his heart.

But now glancing at your shared bed, half empty, he simply couldn't find it in himself to do anything about your ‘clutter.’ It was, after all, all he had left of you.

The pillows on your side of the bed still smelled like you. The cotton where you slept countless nights before had a slight depression, an imprint of your body on the mattress. Faintly, if Levi closes his eyes, he swears he could still feel your fingertips running through his scalp as you peppered sweet little kisses onto his calloused skin.

His own fingers reach out and grasps at air where your beautiful face should be, sleeping peacefully next to him. Snoring. Twitching your eyes when you had nightmares. Him gently shaking you awake and holding you close to reassure you that everything was okay, whatever you dreamt of wasn't real, and he'll be here to make the darkness go away.

Yet his own darkness starts to eat at his conscience. He curses at his hands for even having the audacity to reach for you when it was these same hands that signed your death certificate earlier in the day.

Three weeks.

That’s how long it's been since he woke up next to you. Since he bid you good luck before breaking into formation as you crossed the walls and rode your horses through titan country.

It’s been three weeks since you were separated from your squadron. Since they came back from the expedition and he'd only noticed you weren't there when they finally reached the walls. Since he searched through countless corpses and severed bodies, trying to find your own.

It’s been three weeks since he's pushed off on signing the "M.I.A. - PRESUMED DEAD" document with your name and information printed at the top before he was forced to come to terms with your fate when the second search party once again came back empty handed.

It’s been three weeks since he last cracked a smile. Since he lost the last reason he had to strive forward. Since he lost the last reason to hope for a better place; a better future; a small home in the suburbs to live out the rest of his life with you.

It’s been three weeks since he last heard your voice. Since he rested his cheek against the palm of your hand. Since he first picked up a bottle of bourbon and let the alcohol numb his distressed mind and aching heart to the reality that you were gone.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks, and Levi still lies to himself when he says he’s okay.

A breeze passes through the open window, snapping him from his thoughts. Goosebumps form on his skin but he couldn’t bring himself to get underneath the sheets or close the window because he tells himself that the breeze was you. It was you, checking up on him, scolding him for drowning his sorrows in bottles of brewed brown, wiping away the tears he didn’t even know he’d shed as the pain of loss and mourning— the very things he’d been trying to outrun— hit him all at once.

He closes his eyes to stop more tears from falling. But he knew he was really doing it because he found darkness more comforting than having to look at your shared room. Not when you weren’t there to make the darkness go away when he opened his eyes. Not when every little thing reminded him of you.

The chair in the corner where you always sat, reading under the dim glow of candlelight. The shelves full of books, an impressive collection you’d both amassed throughout the years. Even the porcelain cup that sat on his bedisde table reminded him of you. It was a gift you’d given him when you were both still in the Underground. A cup matching his own sat on your bedside table, that much he already knew without having to open his eyes. He brewed you a cup of tea hours before going on the expedition that would seal your fate.

His skin tingles when he remembers the way you held his hand as you both sipped tea on that day. You were sat next to each other on the bed. He was reading the newspaper and you were reading a book, intertwined hands resting in the space between your bodies.

A new wave of tears threaten his eyes and he hears himself sob before he realizes the tears have fallen again. His hands clutch at his hair, pulling at the strands, and he lays on his side to curl up into a ball as he wills himself to stop, be quiet, and stop being so weak.

His heart began to speed up and his ears began to ring. He couldn’t focus. It was so noisy— everything was too much. The was talking. So much talking.

shut up. be quiet. leave me the fuck alone.

Levi realizes that the talking was his own conscience degrading him, and he wonders if he’s finally snapped. He heaves and gasps for air, trying to get his mind to shut up, but it only serves for the noise to get worse and suddenly the ringing in his ears turns into static. His heart begins to thump louder, and he’s accutely aware that he was having a panic attack.

Pathetic mewls leave his lips and his hands reach out to your side of the bed out of habit, just as he’s done plenty of times before. Only this time he doesn’t feel your fingers gently grasp at his shaking wrists to pull him to your chest, to hold him and whisper sweet nothings into his ears to calm him down. Instead, he grasps at white fabric, and he lets out a frustrated growl when he once again feels air where you should be.

Unfair. It was unfair.

It was unfair how you were taken away from him so easily. How he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. How he didn’t have a body to mourn, knowing you were either rotting away in a forest or disfigured in some titan’s belly.

Levi cracks open his eyes and his gaze lands on splotches of wetness on his pillow, the marks of his sorrowful tears. He sniffles, telling himself there was no need to be so pathetic when soldiers died everyday. He repeats it to himself like a mantra.

But then, he thinks, you weren’t just any other soldier. You were y/n— his y/n. The owner of his heart. The love of his life. The one who kisses his forehead good morning and good night. Who held his hands underneath the table before giving him a knowing glance, like you were sharing a secret that only you two knew of. Who would slip little notes into his pockets when you thought he wasn’t looking. Who sat with him in silence and calmed him down when emotions got the better of him. Who held him close and tight on nights like this, when the crushing reality of pain and loss finally broke him. And the sickening irony of needing you the most because he was mourning your death almost made him want to laugh.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed there. Unmoving. Curled up into a ball on your side of the bed, nose digging into the sheets to find comfort in the remnants of your scent as he hugged himself to slowly calm himself down.

Suddenly, he hears the door to his office burst open and rapid footsteps approaching his room. The wood slams against the wall, and his reddened eyes meet the wide and panicked ones of a soldier he’s seen in passing. She’s breathing heavily like she ran a mile to get there, sweat dripping down her forehead as she frantically looks around in search of the captain before finally landing on the man in question.

“Captain Levi, we—“ She’s cut off when he heaves a loud sigh, slowly sitting up and rubbing his red puffy face.

“Has there been a breach?” He asks. His voice is hoarse, she notices. The tone is calm but his eyes are angered, clearly not amused to be interrupted when he was mourning, and the soldier visibly gulps as she replies.

“N-no, Captain.”

“Are there titans anywhere in the walls?”

“No, but sir we—“

“Has anyone died in the few hours that have passed since dinner? Choked on their own spit, perhaps?”

“Well, no. But—“

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Captain I was—“

A thought crosses his mind and he clicks his tongue in irritation. “Tch, did shitty glasses send you?”

“...yes but—“

“Tell four-eyes to stop sending people to check up on me.” He murmurs, beginning to lie down. “I’m allowed some goddamn privacy the night before my fiance’s funeral.”

“Yes but, sir, that’s actually why I’m here.”

“Whatever motivational words you have to say, save it for someone who cares.” He pulls the sheets above his head. “I’ve had enough pity-filled glances and half assed condolences thrown my way to give a damn—“

“Captain Levi, Y/N is alive!”

The soldier doesn’t know what’s happening until her back is abruptly slammed into the wall behind her and pain shoots from her spine to the back of her head. Hands are tightly wrapped around her throat in an ironclad grip, and her feet are dangling from the ground. She gulps.

The captain’s face is mere centimeters away from hers. If she thought he looked angry before, then the scowl he gave her now made it look like he was smiling just moments ago.

“What kind of sick joke do you think you’re playing, huh?” He sneers. “You think it’s funny to make fun of someone’s death?”

She tries to reply but only choked sounds escape her lips as her fingernails claw at her captor’s hands. Tears blur her vision as the Captain tightens his grip, but the way his eyes almost glowed a bright red— the clear intent to murder if she so much as breathed out of line— didn’t go unnoticed to her.

“Do you get some fucked up kick out of this?” He asks again. “You get a kick making fun of a man who’s lost everything?”

He loosens his grip the slightest, and the soldier is momentarily releived when she realizes she could finally speak.

“N-no, sir, I—“

“Levi, let her go!” Another frantic voice pleads with him from behind. “She’s telling the truth.”

Wait, what?

“What?” He chokes out. His grip loosens on the soldier and she slides to the ground in relief, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Hange cautiously walks closer, almost scared that any sudden movements would put Levi in a state of shock. They slowly, warily place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s true, Levi. Y/N is alive.” The Section Commander murmurs. “Your Y/N is alive. They’re looking for you.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fake Dating Drabble No. 3

Today with Javier Peña (x OFC) who told Connie he had a (non existent) girlfriend so she stops setting him up on dates. Big thanks to @ladyreapermc​ for the idea 😘😘😘

Steph’s fake dating Drabble week

This is like 1.7k so not really a Drabble but 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: alcohol, cursing

He was fucked. Why the fuck did he agree to bring his girlfriend to the weekly Sunday dinner at the Murphy’s? The very much not real girlfriend he lied about because he didn’t want Connie to set him up with another nurse or doctor from the hospital she worked in.

He loved Connie, he really did. But sometimes she didn’t know when to stop.

“Don’t you want to settle down Javier? You’re not getting any younger,” she had asked.

“I have this very nice doctor friend at the hospital. She’s American and very intelligent and single…” Connie had started. He knew where this was going.

“Connie. I appreciate it but…” Javier looked at Steve who looked suspicious at him.

“I have a girlfriend. So you can stop setting me up on dates, okay?” He thought he had heard the last of it.

“You bring your girlfriend next week yeah?” Connie had asked, very much not about to take no for an answer as the Murphy’s walked him to the door. Javi had looked at Steve who almost cried silent tears to suppress his laughter.

“I don’t know…”

“See you next Sunday Javier. Let me know if she’s allergic to anything, yeah?” Connie smiled as she hugged him goodbye.

“Yeah…” he sighed. Connie went back inside, leaving Steve and him standing outside.

“So that girlfriend of yours…”

“Fuck you, Steve,” Javi hissed, making Steve chuckle.

“Don’t think about bringing one of your… Informants yeah? She’s gonna figure that out immediately.”

Javier turned around, giving Steve the finger as he walked back to his apartment.

It was Saturday and he still had no fucking idea who to bring. Javier wasn’t someone who had many friendships. The only real friend he really had was with Steve. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone. And he wouldn’t be any help. That fucker had teased him the whole week.

“Another one?” Mary asked. Javier found himself sitting at the counter of his favorite bar. It was getting close to midnight.

“You trying to get me drunk, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, looking up at the woman in front of him.

“You wish, Peña. I’m only this nice because you tip well,” she grinned, filling his glass. Javier kept looking at her. He didn’t know much about Mary. Only that she came to Colombia for a job that she quit after 6 months because the boss was harassing her. She started out working shifts at the bar. She was younger than him, but only by a couple of years. She was hilarious, intelligent and beautiful. It was like a lamp went on in his slightly drunk brain.

“You okay there, Javier? Is there something in my face?” she asked when he just kept looking at her.

“I need you to be my girlfriend,” Javier said.

“Excuse me?” she asked with big eyes.

“Fuck. Shit. It’s perfect. You’re perfect…” he ran a hand through his hair, his other hand grabbing the package of cigarettes, bringing one to his lips.

“Okay no more whiskey for you. I’m gonna call you a cab,” she shook her head at him.

“No… Let me explain. Fuck I shouldn’t drink that much.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for a year,” she teased and he grinned.

“And you’re right. Anyway. I need a date.”

“The brothel is right down the street.”

“No. Wow. Fuck you’re mean. No. I need a date because I told Connie that I have a girlfriend so she stops nagging me to settle down or set me up on dates with every woman in Bogotá she knows.” He explained. Mary looked at him before she burst out in laughter, gathering a few confused looks from the people around her.

“Sorry…” she shook her head, trying to stop herself from laughing.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Javier smirked, his cigarette almost out.

“Javier I saw you leave with another woman only two days ago. How would that even work?”

“That’s not a no,” Javier grinned and she sighed.

“It’s not a yes either.”

“Well… You’d only have to pretend. Connie likes you. Steve knows I’m lying so…”

“So... Why not tell Connie that you lied?”

“You know Connie…” he groaned. Mary looked at him, the man who somehow became her favorite customer because he was the only one not trying to get her to fuck him. And now he was asking her to play his girlfriend. She shook her head.

“You better tipping me really, really good, Peña.”

Mary was at his place 15 minutes early. She even had put a dress on. The food better was worth it. Javier opened the door after the third knock and she grinned.

“Hi babe,” she teased, walking past him.

“I’m regretting this already,” he muttered, trying not to let his eyes wander down her body, but failing miserably. He had never seen her in a dress, let alone anything that made her body look so… so…

“So how do we do this?” she turned around and Javier looked up into her eyes.

“Well, I’m a very physical man…”

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t keep your hands to yourself?” she raised one eyebrow.

“Well it has to appear real…” he smirked. She bit her lip, looking at him as she crossed her arms in front of her. He fought the urge to look at her cleavage as she shamelessly checked him out.

“If you get too handsy, I will break your fingers,” she clarified.

“What is too handsy?” he asked with a smirk. She walked towards him, her hands on his chest as she blinked up at him.

“I think you know what’s too handsy, Agent Peña,” she winked and he shakily breathed out. Shit. Were her eyes always this bright green?

“You wanna kiss me, Javi?” she whispered with a small smile.

“You want me to?” he asked hoarsely. She chuckled before she shook her head, patting his chest twice, and parted from him.

“I’m starving, let’s go!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that it’s Mary you’re dating,” Connie was sitting on the couch next to Steve who had the time of his life. He had to give it to Javier, he really did try hard. Mary was lovely. And funnily she would be just what Javi needed and the longer the night progressed the more Steve noticed the way Javi was looking at her. If Steve didn’t know better he would really buy it.

“So Javier ended up shitfaced at the bar and I took him home…” Mary told Connie and Javier rolled his eyes. That really did happen and she had been giving him shit about it for the last three months.

“And before I left him to sleep, he drunkenly asked me to be his girlfriend to which I only laughed and went out. Turns out he was genuine about it.” The way Mary lied without blinking an eye towards Connie who seemed smitten was unbelievable to Javi.

“Well, children and people who drink do speak the truth…” Connie teased. She patted Steve’s thigh. “Come one honey, I need your help in the kitchen.” Steve leaned in, kissing Connie on the cheek as he helped her up and they went to the kitchen.

“You are really selling this, Hermosa. Might think that you have thought about it before.”

“Well you were very affectionate when I brought you home that night,” she turned around to face him. Somehow they had gotten closer and closer over the evening. She was leaning against his shoulder, his arm around her waist, his fingers brushing over her thigh. He had noticed the goosebumps on her arms everytime he got closer.

“I didn’t do anything more….”

“Inappropriate than this?” she gestured around with a smile. “No. No you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled softly at her. He felt himself grow warm at the look in her eyes. Fuck. No. No. No. No. He reached to brush a stray of hair behind her ear and she smiled back at him. She shuddered when she felt his fingers brush over her cheek. Javier was a really beautiful man the longer she looked at him. There was a dimple on his cheek when he smiled at her. It was kinda cute. The thought that she wanted to kiss it crossed her mind. What? Kissing? Javier?

“Don’t break my fingers…” he whispered as he leaned in. He stopped inches from her lips and she gulped, breathing deeply before she softly pressed her lips on his. It was like she was hot and cold at the same time as their lips met and Javi sighed. He pulled her closer, his lips moving over hers.

A cough let them part from another and they both looked up at Steve who was holding a tray of what looked like a chocolate mousse with a teasing grin on his lips.

“Not. A word,” Javier hissed at him, making Steve chuckle, while Mary tried to control her breathing. Shit, she wanted more. More of Javi. More of his lips, his hands, his….

Javi grabbed her hand and she looked at him as he mouthed the word later before Connie walked in.

They said their goodbyes an hour later, waving at the Murphy’s.

“Be safe kids,” Steve called after them and Javi, again, gave him the finger while his other hand held Mary’s. When they were standing in front of Javi’s apartment they both sighed.

“Well this was certainly very interesting,” Mary had a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah. You could say that,” Javi said.

“You think she bought it?”

“Oh definitely. You… you were perfect.”

They stood in front of each other, both not really wanting to leave.

“So…” Mary said, sucking her bottom lip in. She looked into his eyes, only quickly to his lips and she caught him doing the same.

“I should get home….” she whispered. Javi nodded.

“I’ll drive you,” he said. She nodded but didn’t move.

“Or..”

“Or?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Or you could kiss me again,” she smiled and Javi sighed relieved before his arms pulled her close and his lips crashed down on hers.

[sailorhyunjinz]

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈𝐈

© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, tobacco use, dysfunctional families, mentions of undereating, vague hints to eating d-sorders mentions of crimes, mentions of blades, fainting, mentions of dr-g use, arguments, mentions of savior complex, mentions of childhood neglect, depiction of depression, mentions of needles, mentions of blades, yelling, mentions of hangover, parental issues (lmao cherry just say daddy issues), arguments

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; PIV, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drooling, getting caught, masturbation, fingering, clitoral stimulation, orgasm (f). 

(fic header made by @yjeongs! thank u cora <33) 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 10.0 k 

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 

O N E ｜ T W O

                        ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Drugs N Hella Melodies - Don Toliver, Kali Uchis

Life is a Bi... - Bibi 

cigarette and condom - Bibi 

Empty Trash - LØREN 

Noir - Sunmi 

NEED - LØREN

Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood

(hint hint look at the lyrics <33)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ; 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚

Three months.

Three months of booze, questionable substances, friends and most importantly. 

Him.

Seo Changbin. 

You never knew you could feel this deep about someone, there hadn’t been a reason earlier in your life since everyone in it either used you or abused you. But you knew he was different from the first time you saw him that night in the dark room, injured and surrounded by 7 other boys that were now your closest friends. Why would anyone ever want to leave this place? There was everything! Free drinks, ear-deafening music and your boyfriend. This was heaven for a hurt soul like you, so why would anyone search for an exit in this box of traitors? 

“O-oh fuck! Changbin!” you cried out as the momentum of his thrusts made you jolt forward, hands desperately trying to grab onto the black leather of the sofa you and him had made love on countless times, the door always being unlocked since there wasn’t a lock and this damn parallel universe wasn’t gonna install one anytime soon. 

Changbin grabbed your hair, twisting it around his hand as he pounded into you from the back, the supple valleys of your ass wobbling with each movement. Your voice became frail, stuttering and moaning his name in broken syllables along many other pleas and swearwords, the way your words became incoherent the longer he fucked you made his head lull backwards, pure music to his ears unlike that shitty music that blasted through the speakers on the dancefloor that was just next to the tiny dark room that was currently filled with the scent of sex and lust. Your head was tilted up, eyes tightly shut as you clenched around Changbin’s leaking cock that was jackhammering into your wet cunt, his dick glistening with your slick every time his hips moved away from you and reflected in the minimal light of the room. He grunted as all kinds of lewd sounds were heard from you, the skin slapping against each other and the squelching noise of your pussy being filled with his cock. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure surged through every nerve of his body, sweat beading around on his temples. Your arms could barely hold you up, quivering and risking to collapse under you causing you to put your head towards the seat, warm cheek against the slightly cold leather. With your back fully arched your ass perked up, Changbin hitting exactly the right place in this position, a small stream of drool hanging from the corner of your swollen lips. You were so close to your release, hanging on by a thread to not tip over the edge and be sent spiraling down an earth shaking orgasm. 

“C-changbin, I’m gonna f-fucking cum” you stutter, reaching your hands backwards to which he let go of your hair and instead grabbed your wrists, holding you in place and pushing you down onto his cock. Your voice was no longer a whimper but instead a scream, goosebumps erupting on your soft skin as you panted, Changbin viciously thrusting inside you and being fueled by your pleasured sounds, he got off by the fact that you felt good. You were so close. So close.

“QUICK!! FELIX FUCKING FAINTED” Jisung said, bursting through the door but immedietly regretting his decision as he yelled out into the room that was now filled with your yelp and the loud club music from outside. 

“For fuck sake Jisung! Knock!” Changbin growled at the boy, you trying to grab your clothes off the floor and desperately covering yourself as Jisung stod in the doorway with panicked eyes, flailing his arms around in an anxious state. He was more appalled by seeing Felix passed out than he was seeing Changbin fucking you from behind. 

“NO TIME FOR KNOCKING, JUST FUCKING MOVE” he said, signaling his hands to follow him. In a haste you put on your clothes that weren’t much more than a skirt and a tight shirt, oh and of course your sexy panties, you had leveled up from your previous looks that made you look like a distressed mother of 4. Now you knew when you were gonna pass out and you even teleported in the phonebooth instead of injuring your head against the wall as you fainted. Changbin did the same, putting on only his pants as he ran after Jisung, you following shortly after, scared about what you were gonna witness.

The main dance floor looked like it usually did. People high, drunk or both, dancing and singing their hearts out, falling over and tumbling down on the floor. The whole place reeked of straight liquor and the music was loud enough for anyone to go deaf. You held Changbin’s hand as he dragged you through the crowd, not letting his eyes go from Jisung’s figure that was leading the both of you to the back end of the club, pushing through people and muttering small apologies that couldn’t be heard by even yourself. When you got to the end of the big place you saw Felix, his back and head against the table as he was completely knocked out, his legs dangling from the end of the rectangular table. You climbed on top of the soft seatings of the booth, putting your cheek near his nose and mouth. You didn’t hear if he was breathing but you were assured as you felt his cold breath against your hot flesh, sighing in relief. 

“How is he?!” Jisung yelled, “is he dying?”

You shook your head, grabbing his limp wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger on the underside of his limb, his veins not visible in the dark lighting of the club. His pulse was stable, beating faintly. 

“He’ll be alright!” you yelled back, the concerned gazes of the other boys standing around the boy exhaling as they heard your words, Changbin going closer to Felix and putting his hand on his shoulder, shaking the boy and repeating his name over and over again but to no avail. Seungmin rubbed the palm of his hand against his exposed forehead as his hair was pushed back.

“I’ll stay here with him, Changbin fetch me a water bottle and,,, wait,,, why did he even faint in the first place?” he asked, the boys looking at each other until they landed on Jisung that looked distressed, his pinkish lips quivering. 

“Probably a nice concoction of no food and only alcohol” he said, peering down at his black boots, his hair flopping onto his face, too shy to meet the gazes of his friends as if he had done something wrong himself. Seungmin could only sigh, you patting Jisung on the back as you walked through the jumping crowd again, the song changing as you heard Seungmin say “get him something Changbin”, their voices fading into the beat as you walked with Jisung behind you. 

Jisung slammed the door as you two were back in the room that had only moments earlier been filled with helpless whimpers and pleas. You threw yourself on the wrinkly couch, looking away in shyness when remembering that Jisung had caught the two of you even if everyone knew that you guys fucked in that very same room whenever there was time and Changbin wasn’t standing in the bar. The young boy sat down on the dark floor, leaning his elbow against the seat of the sofa as his twinkling eyes met yours. 

“I,,, just don’t understand” he said, you tilting your head in wonder as he uttered those words.

“Don’t understand what Sungie?” you said, the walls almost vibrating from the bass of the song from outside. He sighed as he momentarily looked away from you. 

“Felix,,, like it’s so clear that he needs help, just over the last few months his cheeks have sunken in and his eyes are completely matte and lifeless” he said, his voice trembling as a lump of tears was stuck in his throat. 

“But aren’t you the same Jisung? You need help too, help to stop thinking that everyone is your responsibility. I understand that you want to help him,,, but you carrying everyone's emotional baggage has landed you here. Felix will get help by those that are capable of getting him that help, you aren’t Jisung.”

His eyes shot up at you, dark as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching in anger. He felt attacked, commenting on his actions usually made him feel offended. 

“I am capable of helping him. What about you then huh? You can’t even help your own boyfriend” he snarked, running his hand over his hair in frustration. You rolled your eyes at him, watching him as he bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to do that, he couldn’t tell you the fact that one day your boyfriend is just gonna disappear since he’s actually taking matters into his own hands and getting help. 

“Don’t say that Jisung, we both try our best,,, let’s not fight over something we can’t control” you say, your voice getting frail by the end of the sentence.

“Can’t control? We can, we can help each other!” he said, banging the palm of his hand against the warm leather of the couch, making you jump in fear. You dropped down on your knees, your eyes being on the same level as his as you looked at him, the young boy diverting his gaze immediately.

“Jisung, look at me.” You grabbed his other hand that was resting in his lap against the rough material of his jeans. “We try, that’s the best we can do. Change comes from within. Nobody can save us if we don’t save ourselves.” Jisung sighed loudly, swallowing harshly, the both of you flinching when somebody burst through the black door. Changbin was carrying Felix on his back, the male still passed out on his broad shoulders. Your boyfriend looked puzzled at the scene before him. His girlfriend holding hands with one of his closest friends, sitting close enough to feel his breath against her cheek, both looking like two helpless deers caught in headlights. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked into the room, throwing Felix off his shoulder and positioning him into a semi-prone position in order to open the airways. You and Jisung stood up, looking at the blonde boy and how his eyelashes layed gently against his lower eyelid. Changbin looked at Felix for a while before turning to you with a serious expression. 

“So,,, what happened here?” he said to which you shrugged.

“Me and Jisung just talked,,, about Felix” you answered, Changbin uttering a little “oh” as his previous rather unfaithful suspicions were proven to be false. “There’s no need to worry, he’s breathing so he won’t be in any medical danger as of right now but somebody needs to keep an eye on him,,, in case something changes.” You smiled at him talking.

“Alright doctor Changbin” you said while giggling, hugging him and him wrapping his sturdy arms around you, looking at Jisung’s mellow expression, eyes brimming with tears as he sat down on his knees on the floor once again, pushing a lock of hair from Felix’s delicate face, cupping his cheek that was once plump but now gaunt. Changbin pulled away from your comforting embrace and patted Jisung on the shoulder, bending his knees to get closer to him. 

“Do you wanna keep an eye on him, Ji?” he asked to which the boy nodded, not answering with words, not even a gaze at the male that was talking to him. He turned around to look at you, pointing his chin towards the door, signaling for the two of you to get out and leave the two boys alone to which you nodded, following Changbin out and gently closing the door behind you by turning the knob and releasing it slowly. The music got louder and louder as you two walked in the long corridor before ending up on the main floor, the corridor going to the bar and you could only get onto the dance floor by exciting through the wooden gate of the bar. 

“I’ll go find the others, you should work!!” you yelled through the music and Changbin nodded, giving you a kiss on the lips before you exited through the gate, being careful to knock any of the liquor bottles on the walls over and causing a ruckus like you’d done once before, being black-out drunk and trying to hobble your way through to god knows where, accidentally swinging your arms towards the shelfs. Luckily everything restores itself in this universe.

People were doing their usual activities in all corners of the club, making out against a wall or jumping, spilling their drinks on the floor that Changbin would have to mop up afterwards when he steps in the sticky liquid that pressed up against ones shoe. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark room, the neon lights on the roof changing colors but not making it easier for you, especially not with the commotion around you, individuals bumping into each other. In the distance you saw a hand waving, a familiar hand that was decked out in maybe a thousand silver rings, all with intricate designs that could only be seen from up close. Next thing you see is Hyunjin jumping, the bedazzled hand belonging to the long haired blonde male that always made sure to use the most expensive perfume. You made your way over to him, the male smiling brightly as he sat down on the edge of the cubical sofa, the other males being around the table that Felix was lying unconscious on just a brief moment earlier. The table was filled with half empty beer bottles along with red glimmering packs of cigarettes that belonged to some of them. Hyunjin patted the seat next to him, scooting closer to Jeongin that was ruffling his slightly sweaty hair, putting the bottle green top against his lip and taking a sip, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. 

Hyunjin was different, different from anyone else in this place. You’d expect him to have the best life imaginable due to his family background. His father was the CEO of an influential business and his mother being his fathers assistant, both living a lavish life and providing for their only son, Hyunjin. But no amount of wealth can buy happiness. You don’t know the entire story but what you have heard when he was drunk and barely able to speak is that he was bullied all throughout school, struggling with the pressure being put on him by his parents to become a businessman just like his father. It ate Hyunjin alive to everyday go to sleep and feel like a failure that wasn’t able to live up to his parents expectations. He wasn’t worth this lifestyle he thought as he mindlessly doodled on the edge of his college application papers, it was easier to end it. He felt like a coward, always taking the easy way out but that’s how he’d lived his entire life. Getting help wasn’t an option, it would bring shame upon the family if anyone found out that he went to therapy and besides, his family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, it was simply to “go on a run” to feel better. “Then why the fuck am I not feeling better? I’ve ran miles but my mind runs faster” he wrote in the small black notebook he kept in his bedside table, hiding it together with his cigarettes under piles of papers and books. That’s how he ended up here, being together in a little group consisting of Chan and Minho along with some other people that had already departed from the place he felt the safest. 

You gave a smile to Hyunjin, grabbing the beer bottle in front of him, earning a little “hey!” from him but you drank it anyway as you laughed at his reaction, the bitterness spreading throughout your mouth. You exhaled, putting the bottle down harshly, the loud sound being drowned out by the music. Hyunjin laughed along with you, he seemed kinda distant, his pupils dilated. With furrowed eyebrows you looked at the other boys that looked back at you in a confused manner. 

“Something wrong y/n?” Seungmin asked, his cheeks slightly red from the heat that was radiating off everybody in the room, the tension heightening the temperature. Your eyes landed on Minho who looked equally as dazed as Hyunjin, looking up at the ceiling as the crown of his head rested against the dark walls in an uncomfortable manner. 

“You guys definitely did something” you said to which Hyunjin laughed, now stealing Minho’s drink since he was completely immersed at how the colors changed. 

“Of course we did,,, if we were gonna do it, why not here?” he said, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze sharp as pin needles, the black smudged eyeliner around his eyes not making it easier to escape the way you drowned in them. It was true, here was the place where you could be yourself, do whatever you pleased and act reckless as long as you didn’t hurt anybody, a rule Minho found difficult. It’s not that he wanted to hurt people, it’s just that he couldn’t help himself. Something bad was gonna happen if he didn’t. So that’s what the switchblade was for, not to hurt anyone but just in case he needed to add another felony to his list. You didn’t even wanna know what substances that ran through his veins but you felt bad for him. He was a slave to his own thoughts, sometimes even his own actions. He had no other choice but to obey them, do everything that the voices whispered faintly into his ear, a serenade of revenge to everyone that has never believed in him, considered him a shame and neglected him. No, not him. His inner child. 

Seungmin grabbed the red carton of cigarettes, the crimson wrapper unfolding itself when he opened the lid and grabbed one of the deathsticks whose orange ends were looking up at him. He picked one up, putting it to his lips and patting down his sides in search for a lighter but to no avail. He sighed out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards Hyunjin by flicking his pointer finger upwards, the blonde boy reaching over to his pocket and retrieving a white lighter that he put on the glossy mahogany table and scooted across it, Seungmin grabbing it as it nearly fell to his feet. He thanked Hyunjin by lazily saluting with two fingers before igniting the cigarette, the deep purple fading out into a light orange at the tip of the flame, the smoke evaporating around Seungmin as he puffed, exhaling straight ahead of him, poor Jeongin beside him coughing. 

“What’s even the purpose of these?” Jeongin said, grabbing the packet and examining it closely, twisting and turning the small box.

“What’s the purpose of your life?” Seungmin answered with an evil laugh, you wanting to bend over the table and smack him across the face for talking like that to the youngest. Jeongin shrugged his shoulders, smirking at Seungmin.

“Touchè I guess” he said, a smile hiding his pain. “Can I get one?” he said as he nudged Seungmin on the shoulder, the boy already taking his second puff. Seungmin didn’t answer, simply placing the cigarettes and Hyunjin’s white lighter in front of him. You stared at Seungmin in disbelief for a moment before throwing yourself over Hyunjin’s lap, grabbing the two objects and clutching them tightly in your hand. Hyunjin flinched at the sudden commotion, all the boy’s eyes were on you, tilting their heads like confused puppies. 

“Don’t you even dare Yang Jeongin” you said, him looking at you with twinkling innocent eyes. He nodded and you turned your head back to Seungmin. “And you, no actually all of you, quit it” you said, a moment of silence flew by before all of them bursted out in laughter.

“fucking,,, tell that to your boyfriend first” Minho said, him finally awake from his trance “if you manage to get him to stop then we’re all with you y/n” he said, laughing, his two front teeth poking out like a rabbit. You sighed, looking at the four boys but noticing Chan was missing. 

“Where’s Chan?” you asked, Seungmin shrugging as he exhaled grey smoke again.

“He hasn’t arrived yet,, don’t know what he’s up to” he answered, putting the orange end to his plump lips, pink in color but this being impossible to see in the changing neon lighting. “I wonder how Lixie is doing,,,” he added with a sigh. Good you hoped, the last three months have been nothing but a downward spiral to hell for the boy, everyday the gleam from his eyes got duller and duller until they were matte with fatigue. You remember a distinct moment that happened in the first couple of weeks in the club, you still getting to know the peculiar characters that moved around in this place. Felix was sitting in the bar, you sitting right next to him, the whole conversation was difficult to hear due to the music and chatter from people but you guys made do. 

“You know that song? By Radiohead?” he said. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Which one?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink that was unfortunately made by another bartender, Changbin not being there yet. 

“That one where they sing ‘I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’” he said with a giggle, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of the poison in his glass, decorated with lemons and limes. You laughed with him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was just spewing random words at you from being intoxicated. 

“Yeah, what about it?” you said, the young boy’s smile fading away as he gulped, placing down the drink. 

“I don’t know,,, I often listen to it on the bus or home alone,,, it tells me something but I can’t place my finger on what exactly” he said with a loud sigh, resting his cheek on his hand that was bent against the dark wooden bar. 

“Isn’t it the lyrics?” you said, “the fact that you want to be perfect in every way?” Felix hummed for a minute before nodding his head slowly. 

“It’s not even that I want to be perfect because that’s what society taught me,,, it’s because I live in a false reality where I believe that people will love me and appreciate me more if i tweak everything” he blurted out, going silent and sipping his drink slowly. 

“I’m happy that you know that it’s false but,,, what’s stopping you?” you asked, looking at the boy whose eyes were gazing at the wooden stick inside his drink, stirring it over and over again. 

“Because,,, if I stop,,, I won’t be sick enough” 

The both of you got silent after he remarked those words. Felix got silent because he thought he’d said something wrong. You got silent because you knew how that felt, that someone was going through your struggles. 

“You don’t prove anything by that Felix. I k-know this is gonna sound stupid and you’ve heard it so many times but,,, just know that I love you no matter how you look. I’m happy that you’re here Lixie” 

You looked at him and his dark brown eyes met yours, glittering once again, rounded as if he’d heard the best news of his life. He opened his arms and you stood up on the floor, hugging him and squeezing him by the sides.

“I’m happy that you are here too y/n” he whispered in your ear, barely audible from the loud bumping of the music. You pulled off the hug and shimmied up the bar stool again, putting the transparent glass edge to your lips and feeling the liquor trickle down your throat. 

“I was thinking of getting those words tattooed on me but now that I think about it, I want those words tattooed on me but with a big red x over it.” You smiled together with him, his dimples being carved into those freckled cheeks along with his bleak eyeshadow, his lips a cherry tint. 

“You should.”

“Oh fuck-” you cursed as you woke up on your living room floor that was covered in dust and crumbs that was a trail all the way to the kitchen. You sighed every time you were back in reality, in the cursed world that wanted nothing else but to crush you under its fingertips. A patter was heard from outside, gentle raindrops decorating your windows as they were falling from the dusky skies. The rain was at least better you thought, in the sun you felt immense guilt for not being as happy as everyone around you, scrolling through your phone and seeing pictures of old classmates on trips and drinking out in the basking sun, wearing sundresses and hats. Being picturesque.

You made your own fun. Late wine nights and therapy appointments early in the morning where you get drilled with information that you could actually use to get better but you decide to cancel it all out. It was impossible to take in. Or maybe you wanted this now? Like Felix said, you wanted to remain sick enough even if there is no such thing. It used to be about not wanting to leave your comfort zone as odd as it sounds. You had struggled with your mental health for as long as you could remember and getting better would mean that you would have to make active changes in your life that at the moment didn’t seem appealing. But now it wasn’t about that. It was about Changbin. Getting better would mean that you would have to leave him, not only him but all the other friends you made at the club for the last months. They felt closer than family especially since you’d barely had one in the past. You wanted to stay by Changbin for forever but did you want to suffer for just as long?

Little did you know, Changbin didn’t. 

You stood up from the wooden floorboards, stepping closer to the balcony door and seeing the rain cover the streets, lonesome people walking with umbrellas and rain jackets through the storm, probably on their way home to a delicious home cooked meal, a comfortable bed and a stable mind. You only had one of those things but you, in contrast from before the club, didn’t get jealous when you saw those people down at the rainy street. You had your own happiness that was Changbin.

Every time you said his name your heart started racing, your knees almost bent underneath you as you walked back to the couch, no lights turned on in the entire odorous apartment. With a thump you fell with your back against the comforting material, once again being swallowed by a fort of pillows and clothes that you haven’t been bothered to put away. The tv display stood blank, your silhouette reflecting in the matte sheen of the screen, your face almost hanging low with boredom. What was there to do when you weren’t in Changbin’s secure arms? 

It was as if his name rolled off your tongue. Smooth as butter, sweet as syrup. You closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, tickling the sensitive skin on your face. Underneath your lids pictures flashed by in bright colors, not from imagination but from memory. The pictures radiated their energy through your entire body, sending shivers down to the tips of your toes as you saw the faces of your best friends and boyfriend, their smiles creating red apples on their cheeks. 

You wondered how many of those smiles were fake. 

A wave of arousal shot through your body as remembered the events that took place before Jisung had a chance to ruin them, how Changbin grunted next to your ear, his hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispered, the movements of his hips going from rolling to pounding, the room filling with the lewd noises of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your tiny whimpers, pleading him to make you cum. You couldn’t help but to rub your legs together, shifting in the grey sofa that was decorating your trash pile of a living room, the other decor pieces being empty bottles and white used tissues that were tiny houses to your tears. You peeked down quickly, seeing that you were still in your party clothes that consisted of a shirt and a short skirt that was sitting kinda lopsided on the base of your hips, hugging your skin tightly. With a rapid hand you removed the garment by unzipping it by the side, kicking the fabric towards the end of the couch with your feet that were bare, you managed to toss your sneakers away whilst you were deep in your imaginations. Except for the bright colors in your mind, the rest of the apartment was dark, not a single light being switched on. Your light source for many of your lonesome nights were the grey poles on which a bulbous light hung, a so-called street light. The blue cold light shone inside, deep dark shadows being casted on the walls by the trees that decorated the sidewalk. 

Lines started to blur between the real and the fake, not sure if you actually felt Changbin’s hands wrapped around your neck or if it was just yet another illusion your mind has decided to put forward. You could feel the warmth from his hands surging down your neck, soothing your heart in a comforting way. It was as if you were being held in a way that made your blood run south, loved and aroused at the same time. It was as if a ball of warmth bubbled inside you, encapsulating you in its aura of happiness and distraction, your hand teasing the the skin on your lower abdomen before it plunged beneath the small pair of cotton panties that had been violently pulled off by your boyfriend some time ago, exactly how much was something you couldn’t tell, the universe simply didn’t allow time. 

Time is an arrow. 

It always goes forward. 

Under the thin elastic your fingers started moving on their own, like they knew what to do, almost imitating what Changbin had done so many nights prior to this one on that murky couch. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he missed you right this moment. Was was he doing? What was he thinking? You wondered if he thought about you whenever he pleasured himself, if it was your name that echoed in the four empty walls of his broken down apartment whenever he came. The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock as he groaned made you sweat, the skin on the underside your knees sticking to each other as your knees were bent, soles flat against the frowning sofa. Automatically you spread your legs, one resting against the wallpapered surface as the other one hung out from the edge of the sofa. With your middle finger you felt the slippery surface, gathering your slick as you swiped up your finger, coating the sensitive bud in stickiness. You clenched around nothing, thinking about how Changbin whispered his praises in a sweet tone like a serenade.

“You’re doing so well y/n, fuck,,, you’re so pretty princess”

You nodded despite there being no one to see, small whimpers forcing their way out of your throat as two fingers circled your clit, spreading one pussy lip with a third finger, widening the area of contact. Your spine arched at anticipation, a faraway feeling approaching with quick strides as you squirmed your hips, butt digging into couch cushions as your gently pinched your slick-covered clit. Your hole was practically begging for more, velvety walls throbbing for pleasure that you didn’t mind giving, slowly inserting your middle finger, followed by a second finger, hissing at the initial stretch and getting used to the feeling, wiggling your fingers inside just like Changbin always does but his fingers filled you up better accompanied by the small marks he left all over your torso and tits, sucking on your delicate nipples with his wet tongue, leaving a trail of saliva as he licked around the valley of your tits, the ticklish feeling causing you to throw your head back. 

“f-faster binnie” you said into thin air, there being no one to answer your request except your fingers that started going faster in and out of your squelching hole, using your thumb to nudge on your clit, desperately trying to move it in circles and moaning as pleasure built up in the pit of your core. You licked your lips, coating them in a thin sheen of spit, imagining his soft lips pressing up against yours, his tongue coaxing yours as he licked your bottom lip, nibbling on it before slipping it into your mouth, the soft surface meeting yours, a languid kiss being exchanged as he panted into the kiss, you whining gently in between breaths. Your hair stood in a mess as you rubbed your head against the fluffy pillow under you, a couple of stray pieces sticking to your forehead that was covered in a lustre of sweat, reflecting in the small amount of light that was looming in the room together with you. Your mind blurred with lewd scenes with him, curving your fingers inside you in order to reach your g-spot and being startled by your own moan when you did, it simply felt too good, especially when thinking that it was his fingers that plunged into your wetness. 

“Just a little bit more y/n,, o-oh shit,,, f-fuck i’m gonna cum”

His voice ringed in your ears, it didn’t have to be loud to be memorable and make your head spin with pure amativeness. Your fingers started to hurt from how vigorously you were pumping them inside yourself, bringing yourself to the edge as you imagined that it was Changbin’s cock, twitching and begging from release, wishing he would cum inside you and paint your walls in his milky white cum, the hot liquid oozing out of your swollen pussy. Your clit throbbed, your breathing getting uneven between your parted lips, your hand being slightly restricted by the fabric of your underwear. 

“Cum for me baby”

It was an automatic response. Your hips convulsing upwards, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls as you continued to tease your clit, pulling out your fingers and rubbed the swollen bud up and down into overstimulation until you it hurt, your eyes tightly squeezed, small droplets of tears teasing the corners of your shut orbs. The high washed over you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every body part rushing with adrenaline before coming down in a state of repose. Slowly you withdrew your hand from beneath the fabric, the elastic snapping gently against your skin, fingertips glistening with your juicy release that now also coated your panties as it rubbed against the inside fabric. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurry before focusing correctly, seeing nothing but darkness and vague outlines of objects. Night had fallen. You sighed, you were alone.A part of you wished at Changbin had been there whenever your glittering doe-eyes sprung open, your plushy lips being met with his but alas you couldn’t get everything in life.

Except that you couldn’t even get anything. At all.

“Binnie!!!” you shouted as soon as you opened your eyes as you woke up on the floor, looking around confused as your voice echoed in the room. You rubbed your eyes, the familiar automated voice and its words still stuck in your head.

“Uh? Over here y/n”

You heard his voice, the sweet tune hitting your eardrums, you looked at the direction of the sound and noticed that you were lying on the main dance floor. No music. No people. You stood up with wobbly knees, looking around and being shone on by a spotlight on the ceiling, watching Changbin drying off a couple of glasses with a kitchen towel, a brown apron sitting snugly around his waist, another piece of useless fabric that hid his well-sculpted body. 

“W-why is there no one here? Are we glitching again?!” your voice panicked as your gaze was busy, landing everywhere from the meaningless neon green exit sign pointing to nowhere to the colorful transparent liquor bottles on the shelves behind your lover. Changbin let out a little snark as he put the glass down, throwing the cloth over his shoulder and leaning on the wooden bar counter.

“No y/n, sometimes many people are busy and that’s when you don’t teleport here,,, you know that already”

You let out a small “oh” in realization before walking over to the bar and throwing yourself into a chair lazily, tapping the table with your pointer finger twice, a quiet signal for help. The kind that alcohol provided. Changbin didn’t say anything, simply scooping some ice into a low glass with pretty carved out details at the bottom, the black haired boy filling up the glass with whiskey, the brown liquid seeping between the cubes of frozen water. It was oddly silent in the club, not from the fact that there wasn’t anyone else there but there was this awkward feeling between the two of you, as cold as the ice cubes that the champagne bottles were resting inside a iron bucket full of ice underneath the bar on one of the shelves. 

“So uhm,,, was everything alright yesterday?” he asked in a low voice, peering at you through hooded eyelids as he tilted the glass, pouring another liquor bottle and pouring the substance in. 

Memories of the night prior flashed past your eyelids causing you to almost choke on your saliva. Changbin looked at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows as he put the glass on the coaster in front of you, watching you gulp down the poison. He had something on his mind, the words were basically danging off his pink lips but he hesitated, something stopped him every time he tried to open his jaw and let the words pour out in a puddle of word-vomit on the floor. The words were lodged in his throat like a boulder, he didn’t know how to say it.

“Something wrong binnie?” you asked with a confused expression, your eyes filled with concerned. What if something had happened in a universe you couldn’t even reach, the boy wandering alone with his concerns? 

You took another sip from the glass, frowning as the alcohol stung your tongue and descended down your esophagus like a ball of fire, observing the contents that you were drinking partly because you were interested in what concoction your boyfriend had made but mostly cause you didn’t want to look him in the eyes in this frigid atmosphere. He shook his head, giving you a non-verbal answer. 

You didn’t believe him. 

By the way his jaw clenched to the awkward posture as he stared at you, he had something to confess and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, thinking that maybe it would be easier to not ask about it anymore and live in oblivion. 

“Come on~ I know you well enough to know that something isn’t quite right” you said, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, eyeing your boyfriends godly figure, practically drooling over him on the spot. 

“Hmm,,, y-yeah ok,, I do have something to say but,,, I’m not sure how to” he started, your heart starting to beat faster with each syllable he pronounced, thinking that this was the end of your world because he was indeed your entire world. The reason you still smiled.

“Just say it baby, I won’t be angry” you said but not sure if you could keep your promise. 

“I got a place at rehab” 

You started laughing sarcastically, the boy standing perplexed behind the counter. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” he asked shortly after. 

“You obviously said no, right?”

Silence erupted throughout the establishment, your smile was wiped off your face as you waited for an answer but you felt the tears start bubbling up in your glossy eyes as the silence went on, brimming and coaxing to fall down onto your warm cheek, his expression was blank, a canvas without a paint. In a rage of fit you threw your glass at the nearest wall, the glass shattering in a million pieces just like your heart, impossible to glue together. 

The ice cubes melted on the floor, liquid splattered on the dark glossy floor. There was no saving the broken pieces, it was simply to throw it in the trash. You couldn’t blame Changbin for being startled, backing to the wall that displayed the bottles of alcohol, small lights above them causing the flasks to reflect tiny fractals.

“What the fuck do you mean Changbin, huh?!” you yelled at him, salty tears streaming down your cheeks, hanging off your quivering lips. He could only exhale loudly from his nose, his dusky complexion losing its color the more stressed he got. 

“No, what do you mean? Are you actually serious about letting me rot in my life and not take help when I’ve finally gotten it?” he said, his tone growing louder with each word, him practically growling like a feral wolf. You couldn’t believe the word coming out of his lying mouth. Rot in his life? Why? He had you now. You were all he needed, right?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?” Your voice was expressionless, a string tinted red with betrayal laced in your tone. 

“I was scared.”You scoffed, feeling the frustration in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight, tears glittering in the bright lights that were on currently, shining down on you as if another dimension had opened. 

One without Changbin. 

With dark eyes you looked at him, a dumbfounded smile causing the corners of your lips to turn upwards, tasting the salt of your sadness as a droplet rolled down and into your mouth. “

I never want to see you again Changbin”

“Don’t say that y/n, p-please don’t say that.” 

His voice was drowsy like he hadn’t slept in days, your theory being more believable as you saw the dark bags under his blank eyes. He had been worrying, worried for your reaction. He took off the apron and put the kitchen towel on the nearest surface before hurrying to exit out through the gate and took strides towards your standing figure but you distanced yourself every time he got closer. You felt yourself getting smaller and smaller as his shadow towered over you, his face not showing compassion but rather irritation. 

“GET AWAY!!” you screamed in a ear-deafening screech, him barely flinching as he had seen worse things in his life than his heartbroken girlfriend getting pressed up against a wall with dark streaks of makeup and tears staining her face, plagued by treachery that was brought upon by the only one she trusted in her life.

Maybe this was deeper than just your boyfriend leaving you. Maybe this was a silent cry to stay and not leave like your father once did. Sure, he was around in your childhood but that’s the thing; he was around, never actively invested in what happened in the life of his child. You didn’t like to look into it. Hell, you barely wanted to talk about it but you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was the reason as to why you had a difficult time with goodbyes. It replayed memories, memories you’d rather forget. Or wish you never had in the first place. 

“The fuck-” said a recognazible voice that belonged to Minho, the male staggering out of the toilets in a hungover haze, scratching his hair as he yawned.

“Huh,,, how long have you been there?” Changbin said, him turning his head to look at Minho whilst standing mere inches from you, sandwiching you between his body and the dark walls. 

“I have no idea,,, just woke up and heard a scream” he replied lazily, still not really registering the situation that was unfolding in front of his very own eyes. You glared at Changbin before pushing him by the shoulders, thinking you would make a big impact but him only losing his balance for a few seconds, with fierce steps you bolted to Minho, the boy sliding his hand down into his pocket the closer you got causing you to stop dead in the tracks. 

You’d rather be heartbroken than deceased. 

“Did you know about this? Did you know that this motherfucker was going to fucking rehab?!” you yelled hysterically towards the boy that picked up a packet of cigarettes instead of a switchblade. He smirked as he put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you for a second throughout the entire process, almost hypnotizing you with his looks. 

“Yeah,,, we all knew” that devilish smirk only signaling that he liked the pain he saw in other people, the white lighter in his hands flicking and emitting an orange and purple flame that slowly burned the tip of the deadly stick. 

You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs, break every single one of the bottles on the shelves in a fit of rage before breaking Changbin’s heart, shatter it in pieces and step on it like glass even if it would make shards stick to your wounded and bloody feet. But that’s life. You can never hurt someone without getting hurt back. 

“And so you all decided to be on his side? To defend a liar was the best your stupid fucking head could come up with?” you couldn’t even filter your words, whatever came to your mind rolled off your tongue as smoothly as the words “i love you” once had. 

“Hey y/n! Don’t say that! He had nothing to do with it” Changbin roared, stepping closer with his heavy black boots that could probably smash someone against the concrete by the telephone booth where thousands of stray souls wandered every hour of the short 24 hours we humans have in a day. He put his hand on your arm but you shoved him away, freeing your hand from his grasp and yelling inaudible words at the boy. 

“And that’s why you don’t date a psycho, am I right Changbin?” Minho laughed, lodging the cigarette between his pointer- and middle finger, blowing the smoke towards you as a careless gesture. Changbin looked done, rolling his eyes at the other boy before shaking his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy manner as he moved. 

“Not now Min” he answered simply, keeping his composure but you on the other hand were boiling with anger, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. You let out a half laughter filled with sarcasm.

“Somehow the real psycho has the audacity to say that to me, huh? Who the fuck do you guys think you are? You guys think it’s cool to live like this?” you said, your voice becoming frail at the end of your sentence, breaking as new tears weighed on your eyelashes and dropped down on the floor beneath you. 

“No we don’t y/n and that’s why Changbin is getting help. Don’t you see it? You are hurting him by keeping him here.”

Minho’s words stung more than a thousand needles piercing through your raw flesh. 

He was right.

The entire relationship rested on a foundation of suffering that you fed with repeatedly withdrawing from help that could make you blossom into the person you once were. Deep down you knew that this relationship was impossible, you knew it before you even fell for him but the thing is that you didn’t choose to fall in love, it happens. There’s a reason as to why it’s called ‘falling in love’, because once you’ve jumped you can’t expect to stand on the top of the cliff again. Only at the view from halfway down do you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right time and space. 

You looked at Changbin that held his hands out, wanting to hug you and make everything feel alright, like it was before and you couldn’t help but to melt at how his eyes rounded, twinkling by the thousands of lights around the room and reflecting in his teary eyes. With the arm of your sleeve you wiped off the tears, makeup rubbing off on the fabric but you couldn’t give less of a thought before Changbin wrapped his hands around you, tears falling at a rapid pace as you sobbed into the neck of your boyfriend, breathing in his musky scent that infiltrated your bloodstream and made your heart stop for just a brief moment before pounding harder than before, powered by longing. 

“I’m s-sorry Changbin” you said in between sobs, words coming out in broken syllables, it was difficult forming a sentence let alone an apology. Changbin shook his head as he put his hand on the back of your neck, descending down and rubbing your back soothingly.

“Don’t apologize y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong” His voice ran down your spine, the boy pulling away from the hug and holding you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I love you and I will never forget you”

You nodded, your face in distress with tears and snot, puffy eyes looking back at him. 

“W-when are you leaving t-then?” you asked timidly to which Changbin responded by breaking eye contact.

“In two days.” You sighed, not sure if you should be sad. What kind of partner tells you that important of an announcement just two days prior? But you understood, he was just as scared as you. 

Scared of the unknown. Alcohol had been a part of his life for a long time, it was his comfort and now suddenly he needed to adapt to a life without it, a life in sobriety. You weren’t the only scared one. The both of you heard Minho picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, throwing it in the trash as he smoked, not even needing to remove the cigarette from between his lips in order to exhale the smoke, grey clouds billowing out of the corner of his mouth and filling the area with the scent of over 70 harmful substances. 

In the distance you heard footsteps coming from the dark room that was pretty much the only private space in the building, Felix and Jisung walking out, their expressions changing from happy to confused upon seeing your face and Minho cleaning up. 

“W-what,,,” Jisung started but Minho put his pointer finger to his lips before removing the cigarette from his lips and mouthing to the younger boys.

“He told her”

Both Jisung and Felix nodded slowly, their eyes big as saucers as they mouthed a small “oh” back before casting a glance at the two of you, two bodies melting in a touch that could be the last one.

“What will I do without you Changbin?” you said, looking down at the ground. He sighed before smiling at you. 

“What you’ve always done y/n,,, fight for yourself because one day you will make it” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand and swiping his thumb across the tears on your cheek, the dampness remaining on the rough pads of his thumb. 

“B-but don’t worry y/n! It’s in two days,,, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow” he said, you seeing that the boys nodded their heads in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright,,, I’ll trust you,,, I always do”

“You guys can go and I don’t know,,, talk in that other room,,, we’ll take care of stuff out here” Minho said, flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette one last time before throwing it in the sink, the boy standing in the bar together with the the other two boys. You and Changbin nodded, making your way past them and entering the dark room that had now become a place where only memories live. With hesitance you sat down on the couch, Changbin doing the same. You glanced over at him, slowly tilting your head against his shoulder and exhaling loudly through your nose. 

The momentary silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. 

Silence was what this place needed, moments away from everything related to partying and drinking until your liver failed. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he said with a laugh, you giggling with him.

“Of course I do, it wasn’t even that long ago but,,, it feels like forever.” 

He nodded, glancing at your hand for a moment before grabbing it, his warm hand wrapping around your cold one, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t want you to leave binnie,,, t-this is unfair.” Tears started bubbling up in your throat again, your breathing getting unstable as your gaze was fixed on the ground. 

“I don’t want to leave either y/n but,,, what if we meet in the right dimension? What if that’s what happens? That when you,,, start loving yourself for who you are,,, maybe that’s when you meet the one that will continue to heal you?”

Changbin’s words made a lot of sense. Nobody knew what happened to the people that descended to the real world again. What adventures they were on or who they were loving at this point in time so maybe that did happen. It made you smile, your heart filled with hope, something you hadn’t felt since he said those doomed words earlier. You turned to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours to the point where you could feel his hot breath brushing up against the apples of your cheeks. He leaned in, attaching his lips on yours one last time, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the knuckles of your hand. You kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth in a deep exchange of saliva intertwined with yearning. The kiss formed an even pace, you tilted your head to the side causing the kiss to get intense, his wet tongue gliding against yours, your pout swelling as he bit your bottom lip, blood rushing into it. He could almost feel yours eyelashes fluttering against the bridge of his nose. He pulled away, landing a final peck on your soft lips before nibbling the inside of his cheek in nervosity, unsure as to why he was nervous in the first place. Maybe the thought that he would never kiss you again. You put your hands around him, rubbing your dark tinted cheeks against his shirt that was luckily in a darker color as well. He smelled like home, like comfort.

A murky scent mixed with tobacco and ephemerality.

 You haven't seen Changbin since that day. 

“How have you been y/n?” said the woman sitting opposite you, tapping her pen against the A5 block of secrets that rested against a folder that has your name on the side, filled with results of various psychological tests. You shrugged your shoulders, looking out the window where the ivys growed over the glass.

“I’ve been alright,,, although I miss someone” you answered, your eyes meeting the curious ones of your psychologist that observed your body language, your foot shaking in the air as your legs were folded on top of each other. 

“Who do you miss y/n?” she asked. You thought about telling her the truth but then had you ever done that in this office?

“Doesn’t matter,,, Just someone” you answered shortly to which the lady nodded. 

“Longing is a very difficult feeling, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it since the only thing that will cure it is seeing that person again but of course, that’s not always possible” she said, you observing the marbled pattern on the vinyl floor. You agreed, not knowing what else to do before she started talking about something else that was connected to your well-being, wondering how you are coping with still being on the hunt for a job and having your mental health to care about in the meanwhile. 

The session ended as it always does. By you walking out of the office with an orange post-it note where the next appointment was scheduled in messy writing and with a warm goodbye to your psychologist that was a nice person. It was just that you didn’t really care for her advice and you yet again felt horrible for not taking the help you got when other people in the world couldn’t afford the same experience. The wind hit you in the face as you exited out to reality, out from the solace of the office and the building that held countless of skin-crawling memories. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, walking with quick strides towards the convenience store in order to buy gum and something sweet that could stop the world from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at all times. A bell above the door tinkled as you stepped into the store, the grey welcome mat being a soft surface to step on with your sneakers. You casted a glance at the staff, seeing the gum you always bought by the cash register and the back of a young man in a black jacket with a baseball cap, looking upwards at the cigarettes and talking to the cashier in a husky voice. You walked past aisles of various snacks and other necessities, hearing the man talking in a voice that made your head spin, sending you into a deja vu feeling.This voice, this very voice was familiar. 

“That one,, yeah,,, thanks! Oh,, just gonna grab something real quick” he said, his footsteps getting closer to you that were hunched over, looking for the banana milk on the lower shelves and squinting your eyes as tried to look further back to see if you missed a bottle by mistake. Your eyes lit up as you saw it, stretching out your hand but in that moment you didn’t feel the cool plastic layer of the yellow manufactured drink but instead a slightly warm hand that was bigger than yours, clad in a couple of silver rings. You quickly apologized and peered upwards, your eyes landing on a couple of dark hooded eyes that made your heart start to race. The lips were plump, a bit dusky in color from the cold weather. A sharp jaw that led to a prominent chin. A triangular nose that connected to a pair of strong bushy eyebrows. A face you had so longed to see. A hand you hadn’t held in what felt like an eternity. There the two of you were, holding the same bottle of banana milk in the flickering light of the store, the coldness emitting from the refrigerated shelves.

It was him.

It was Changbin. 

He was right. 

Only when one decided to heal was it destined for you to meet in a dimensions that was real. A dimension that didn’t consist of an odd phone number and a crimson telephone booth. A world away from the loud music and booze and instead entering a world that had earlier been dark but now got lighter, your tunnelvision ending and objects getting their color back. The world seemed real again. Alive like the way scent of a rose made its way down your lungs and into your blood, feeding the feeling of love from within.

You met him. 

In a different place, in a different time. But you met the same person.

The person you were destined to meet. 

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​