#that's just how these two are like it's so much

[dreamscapeee222]

You're Super Affectionate

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi isn’t used to being on the receiving end of so much open affection, so at first, she’s a little taken aback by how freely you give it. You’re always reaching for her hand, leaning into her shoulder, or playfully poking her cheek to get a smile.

"You’re like a kitten, y’know that? Always climbing on me," she teases, but the way she softens under your touch gives her away.

She secretly loves when you curl up beside her, resting your head on her shoulder while she absentmindedly rubs circles on your back.

When you surprise her with random kisses, her cheeks turn pink, and she mutters, "You’re gonna be the death of me, babe."

Jinx

Jinx thrives off your affection—she drinks it up like sunshine after a storm. You’ll catch her grinning like a maniac every time you give her a random hug or boop her nose.

"You’re mine, and everyone better know it," she says dramatically while wrapping herself around you like a clingy koala.

She adores your constant touches, even if it’s just holding her hand while she works on a new gadget. It grounds her in a way nothing else can.

On days when she’s particularly restless, your affection is her safe haven. She’ll flop dramatically into your arms, mumbling, "You’re my favorite. Don’t tell the bombs."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn isn’t overly used to physical affection, especially in public, but with you, she finds herself leaning into it more than she ever expected.

Your habit of brushing her hair out of her face or resting your hand on her arm when you talk makes her heart flutter in ways she’ll never admit out loud.

She’ll pretend to roll her eyes when you surprise her with forehead kisses during patrols, but there’s always a soft smile lingering afterward. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Caitlyn secretly adores how you leave little love notes for her in her coat pockets or slip her hand into yours during quiet moments. She might even start reciprocating with her own subtle gestures.

Ekko

Ekko lights up every time you show him affection. Whether it’s hugging him from behind or pressing a kiss to his cheek while he’s deep in thought, you always catch him off guard in the best way.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he says with a smirk, but you can tell he’s flustered by the way his ears turn red.

He loves how natural you are with your affection—holding his hand when you’re walking through the Lanes or sitting so close he can feel your warmth.

When he’s stressed, your habit of brushing his hair out of his face and murmuring, "You’re doing amazing," works wonders to calm him down.

Jayce

Jayce adores your affectionate nature. He’s just as touchy as you are, so you two are constantly exchanging hugs, kisses, and playful nudges.

You love running your fingers through his hair when he’s working, and he’ll stop mid-sentence just to lean into your touch. "You’re distracting, you know that?" he says with a grin.

He absolutely melts when you randomly kiss his temple or grab his face to smother him with affection. "Okay, okay, I surrender!" he laughs, but secretly, he never wants you to stop.

Jayce goes out of his way to return your affection, often scooping you up in a bear hug or peppering your face with kisses until you’re both laughing.

Viktor

Viktor isn’t accustomed to physical affection, so when you first start showering him with hugs and kisses, he’s unsure how to react. But it doesn’t take long before he starts leaning into it.

He’ll pretend to focus on his work as you rest your chin on his shoulder, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

"You’re very persistent," he teases when you brush your fingers through his hair, but his voice is softer than usual, almost shy.

On particularly rough days, your affection is his anchor. The way you hold his hand or rest your forehead against his reminds him he’s not alone.

Mel

Mel is used to grand gestures, but your constant little signs of affection catch her off guard in the most delightful way.

She smiles every time you kiss her hand or brush your fingers against hers during meetings, subtly showing your love even in formal settings.

Mel thrives on your attention, especially when you snuggle close to her after a long day. "You spoil me," she murmurs, her tone laced with warmth.

She loves how open you are with your feelings, and she’ll often reciprocate with tender touches—a hand on your cheek, her fingers tracing your collarbone—as if to remind you she cherishes you just as much.

[chuulyssa]

it's not sukuna's fault you're so irresistible

smut nsfw mdni

aghhhh trueform!sukuna kissing you so hard, a hand caressing your face, another behind your head to press you further into the kiss, and the other two resting protectively on your hips and waist to hold you in place. so romantic, you didn't ever think the king of curses had a side so innocent to him.

trueform!sukuna who likes using his body to bring you and ultimately himself the max amount of pleasure he can derive with it. the hands on your hips slowly slide down, one to your ass and the other inside your panties. he then switches from calmly kissing you to fucking you with his fingers, and it's so sudden, you can't even comprehend the fingers inside your cute cunt.

trueform!sukuna who purposely conjures a mouth on the hand inside your panties, so when he slips his fingers inside you, he can simultaneously eat you out relentlessly while making out with you romantically. and you're so dazed, all you feel is fucking pleasure. loads of it. but too much of anything is bad, right?

trueform!sukuna whose foreplays are just another synonym for torture. his mouth(s) licking and sucking on every part of your body, hands holding you firmly in place so you can't even move away, or hit his chest, or kick him, or even beg for his cock. all you can do is wait till when he gets satisfied enough to give time for his own pleasure, and you slowly edge towards your 5th orgasm of the night.

trueform!sukuna who just can't wait to explore every inch of your body with his hands, and of course, mouth(s). by the time he's done with just the prep, you're already overstimulated, and he would have felt sorry that you had to take his dick in as well now after all that torture. all the while you don't understand how a simple kiss turned into dirty sex.

but he's just the king of curses a boy 🎀

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[fleurvi]

First Time Oral | Arcane Women

headcanons for the first time you eat them out

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, dom!ambessa, reader works at a brothel in grayson's part

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Ambessa Medarda

You've been training together. Both of you are sweaty and out of breath, and adrenaline is pumping through your veins. You didn’t plan for anything to happen, but in the heat of the moment, Ambessa let her instincts take over. She manhandles you into laying down for her, growling into your mouth as you enthusiastically kiss her back.

There's something otherworldly about the grip Ambessa has on you. You listen as she guides you on how to please her. Her rough hands direct your mouth over her chest and down her abs. She offers you praise where you deserve it, eating her out like she's your last meal. The dynamic comes naturally to the two of you. As expected, she makes you work for the praise, but she won't leave you unsatisfied.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

Another ‘heat of the moment’ thing. Early in your relationship, Cait is in a particularly bad mood, and her flaring temper riles you both up to the point where the only way to calm down is to work the frustration out of each other. You pin her against a wall, telling her to shut up and pulling her into a rough kiss. She takes over pretty quickly, dragging you to bed and pushing you down.

Cait crawls over you, pussy hovering over your face. When you tell her to sit that pussy on your tongue and ride your face, she obeys. She's eager in her actions as she rocks her hips. She works out the last of her energy on you, finally calming down as your tongue draws out a sorely needed orgasm.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

Every woman has her vices. You work at the brothel in Zaun, where she's your regular customer. At first, her visits consisted of venting conversation and Grayson pleasuring you in return for lending her your ear.

One night, she comes to you, in need of far more than you usually give. She's stressed beyond words; she's so tightly wound that once you get your pretty face between her muscular thighs, she cums embarrassingly fast. Your tongue, which is usually offering her praises and affirmations, laps at her pussy, draining the frustration from her body with every flick of your tongue.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

After your third date with Mel, she takes you back to her place. You had so much fun over dinner that you couldn't possibly say no when she invited you in for one more drink. It takes you five minutes of small talk, but Mel eventually gets tired of beating around the bush and pulls you into a kiss. This isn't the first time you've kissed her, but there's something else there, lingering underneath your skin.

Mel pulls you to her room, asking you if you're ok with the development. When she gets a verbal yes from you, she gets to work on undressing you. Compliments fall from her lips as she does so, intent on making your first time together memorable and comfortable. You undress her at the same time, making sure to appreciate every inch of skin she bares to you. She's beyond breathtaking, and you make sure she knows exactly how you feel by taking charge and laying her down beneath you against the sheets.

You kiss down her body, and when you reach her thighs, you sink your teeth in. “You're so fucking hot”, You grunt, kissing over the teeth mark. Finally, you lean in, kitten-licking her clit. You eat Mel out with vigour and enthusiasm, conveying how much you've waited for this to happen.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

You two don't get much time alone; Sevika is a busy woman. Things between the two of you haven't gone much further than steamy make-outs in alleyways, just out of sight of the other zaunites crowding the streets.

When the night grows quiet, and Sevika has no responsibilities left for the day, she's all over you. She needs the skin-on-skin contact. As much as she hates to admit it, she needs you. She confides in you and asks you for help, and it's so out of character for her that you agree immediately. Just once, she wants to feel as safe and protected as she makes others. She's relatively quiet as you work, only letting the occasional moan slip through, but you know she appreciates your mouth on her by the way her thighs close around your head.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

She's nervous. She's gone down on you but rejected you when you offered to return the favour. It's not that she doesn’t want you; it's more that she's not used to receiving and doesn't want to pressure you. When you finally clock on and confront her about it, the best way to ease her mind is to show her how much you really want it.

You lick and suck at her clit as you push two fingers inside of her. You're willing to make her cum as many times as she needs to understand how much you like giving.

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thank you so much for reading!

my requests are open!

[readwritealldayallnight]

reader who is flexible / does yoga x simon who gets really flustered watching it? 👀

During those first few months of living together as flatmates, having gone from strangers who happened to have a friend in common to sharing a bedroom wall within 24 hours, you both learned a lot about each other

On your end, you learned that his presence in the flat was a rarity, gone for days if not weeks at a time before coming home. Even then, he usually was only back for short periods of time, most of it spent sleeping

You do discover that he’s an early riser however, much to your chagrin when the sound of his routine post workout shower wakes you up before the sun has ever risen

You learn that he’s a decent enough cook, but will always insist on helping in some way if he finds you in the kitchen working on something, no matter how simple or complicated the dish is

Over time you even find out how he prefers his tea in the morning and when you get the chance, try and surprise him with a warm drink waiting for him after his shower

When you know that he prefers to keep the flat a little cooler than you usually have it, you’ll turn the thermometer down a degree just before he comes home, just as he’s gotten into the habit of turning it back up for you on his way out, the gesture going unspoken between the two of you

Simon also learns a lot about you in the time since you’ve moved in

He learns all about your taste in music, a melody never not playing in the background of whichever room you’re occupying, often telling him the name of a song or artist you can tell he likes from the way his foot will tap or fingers will drum against his thigh

He discovers you’re a bit of a night owl, often hearing you in the kitchen baking some dessert or another at midnight, or talking on the phone with a friend. He never minds though. In one case he wakes up to sweet treats in the morning, and the other he gets to overhear your even sweeter voice chirping and giggling. And if one time a smile of his own graces his lips when he hears you telling your friend how you’re loving the new flat, and your flatmate “isn’t so bad on the eyes either”, then who’s complaining?

He finds out what your favourite take out food is, often surprising you with something on his return home, definitely not blushing under the mask if it earns him a hug or peck on the cheek as thanks

But one thing Simon learns about you early on, something that he thinks about not just at home but on base, in briefings, on missions, on helis and jets and trucks, is how part of your daily routine, is doing fucking yoga in the living room.

He’s been in countless situations most civilians could never even dream up, let alone withstand, and Simon under the mask that is Ghost always stays as cool and collected as any seasoned vet would

But seeing you in sweatpants, or leggings, or even worse when you’re wearing those shorts of yours, strolling into the living room with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, his pants instantly tighten every single time, knowing what’s to come (or rather who’s to c-)

Following along to your instructional video playing on the telly, paying him no mind as he sits in the adjoining kitchen as you bend into position after position, simply doing your nightly routine as you have for years now, unknowingly putting your flatmate through a torture he’s never endured before

Every time he’s lucky enough to witness you stretching your limbs, contorting your body into poses he couldn’t fathom doing himself, he finds his dreams that night filled with the very same images of you, though wearing far less clothing, and in his bed instead of a yoga mat, though he would take you anywhere let’s be honest

He always waits for you to finish your routine, be it a quick 15 minute stretch or a nearly hour long session, he remains and watches you until you leave, before he dares to stand with his arousal on full display through his pants, rushing to his room or bathroom to take care of business

He learns that he’s never felt more intense pleasure at his own hand than when he thinks of you, when he has has your face and body freshly imprinted on his mind as he finishes, imagining the heaven that it must be to have the real thing rather than his calloused fist

It’s interesting you see

You really like Simon, and you like when he’s home, like getting to know him and spend more time with him

And if you happen to learn that when you do your yoga routine out where he can see you, that he suddenly spends a lot more time in the flat than on base, coming home more and more often, no matter how short his stay is… well, who’s complaining?

[cheyisagirlkisser]

i really really need pitfighter vi being mean to reader during sex🙏

Too real she needs to blow off some steam and reader has a thing for getting degraded. They match each other's freak soooo well.

Content: 877 words, strap-on sex (r! receiving), multiple + forced orgasms, overstimulation, choking, degradation kink, dacryphilia, use of degrading names, spanking, hair pulling

Vi is deep inside your guts, her cock slamming into you over and over again without even a second of mercy.

She has pulled three orgasms out of you already, and she has no intentions of stopping yet.

Your face is buried in the sheets, the only pillow being used underneath your stomach so you can feel the way Vi is pounding into you so hard you swear her silicone shaft is gonna be imprinted into your pussy.

You try begging for mercy. Vi slams harder into you and delivers a harsh blow to your ass cheek.

"You want me to stop now? Is that what you want?"

You're too cock-drunk to answer, only gurgling out a broken little whine.

"Listen here, baby," she gathers your hair into a ponytail and yanks it back, forcing you to look back at her, "you deserve to get fucked hard for what you pulled earlier."

You whine, knowing it was true. She thrusts into you even harder after being reminded of how you looked all smug with some random creep offering to pay for your drink. She releases her grip on your hair only to dig her black nails into your hips.

"You wanna go flirt with other people to get my attention, huh baby?" She pulls out, making you think she is finally through with you, before she slams her thick cock right back into your tender pussy. Then, one of her hands leaves your hip and strikes another harsh smack to your ass, her handprint branded into the fat. making you cry out and grasp the sheets. "Well, mission accomplished."

You know you look a mess, tears running down your face and your mascara staining up the sheets. Your hair is all tangled from Vi grabbing onto it so much so she can force your head up or to just treat you like a bitch. You let out breathy little cries every single time her harness meets your ass, only to feel the raw heat of overstimulation when she grinds up against your g-spot.

You can feel your fourth orgasm of the night bubble up within your pussy. You think one this may actually give you a heart attack, but it feels so fucking addictive.

You don't even know what's wrong with you; you always do this to Vi. Go slut around to the guys at the Zaun bars so she will get jealous and wreck your pussy. It's not like it is cheating, you two are only fucking and she likes the game just as much as you do, but she sure fucks you like she hates you. Even if you don't know it yet, she owns you completely. Even if you're not her girlfriend yet, your pussy? It belongs only to her. Nobody else gets you.

She eases the shaft out of your dripping pussy and flips you over onto your back before you can even protest. She pulls you by your legs further back so the pillow underneath you is perfectly situated for her advantage, and then you realize why she flipped you over when she hand grasps at your throat.

Her other hand guides the cock back into your pussy, earning a broken moan from you that sounds almost wounded, but the greed in your eyes tells her you're not tapped out yet. Her fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing tightly as she pumps her cock deep inside you once more. Her hand reaches between your bodies, harshly rubbing at your clit and flicking at it with her calloused fingers.

You start to cry when your orgasm finally crashes over you. It is somehow even more intense than the others. Maybe it's the view of Vi's pretty face, her pigmented black makeup trailing down her cheeks or the hunger in her eyes. It is most likely the hand around your neck knocking the air out of your lungs.

Wave after wave after wave. Vi isn't lenient, even as you sob. It feels so euphoric to get fucked so roughly, and she at least knows you well enough to see the look of raw pleasure making your eyes roll back into your head. She knows just how to treat your needy pussy, how to make it satisfied until your walls are tender and your clit is swollen and abused in the best way possible. You cum so hard it truly hurts. It hurts so good.

She talks you through it all, coaxes your juices out of you in the worst way possible.

"Bet the dickhead from the bar couldn't fuck you like this?"

"Yeah, baby...cum all over my dick. You like my fake one better than his real one, huh?"

"You don't fucking deserve to cum."

When you come down, she does stop. She can see that you're finally satisfied, and so she pulls out. She doesn't even pull the strap-on off of her hips, only falls limps back onto the bed.

After a few minutes, she hears you speak up. "Vi..?"

"Yeah?" Jeez, you sound as wrecked as I do, Vi is what you're thinking.

"Can you do it one last time? Please..?"

Vi snorts and sits up. "Your stamina is so fucked," but she is already back between your legs once more.

[fushiguho]

Curiosity & the Poor, Unfortunate Cat ⭑.ᐟ

ᯓ★ Synopsis Toji Fushiguho — an absent father, a college dropout, and a panhandling loiterer who just so happens to be your father’s best friend. Obviously you have to fuck him... out of pity, of course.

Wordcount 4k

Warnings fem!reader, age gap, toji is kind of disrespectful but so are you, so much teasing it’s insane, toji has a filthy mouth (duh), rough sex, unprotected, spanking, abrupt ending, brat taming??

Author's Notes this was inspired by an anon request for toji as your father’s best friend which was so freaking fun to write (everyone say thank yew anonnnn) and this was supposed to be a drabble but i know no limits... i was also channeling a lot of my own desires here #needthat p.s. this blog is under construction, i’m in the midst of transferring my work from my previous account which was marked as explicit boooo :/

Your sheets ruffle as you discontentedly toss in bed, the silken fabric bunching haphazardly while you writhe, empty stomach caving in a ravenous hunger. Internally, you curse yourself, wishing you had eaten the dinner your father prepared earlier, but now, it’s definitely too late. You’re sure Toji has already scarfed whatever was left of it down into that perpetually endless gut of his. You’ve never stood a chance. Alas, you must eat, so with a groan of annoyance, you roll out of bed, padding to the kitchen on the hunt for satiation.

It’s the dead of night. The sacred time of day when nothing is expected of you. When everyone you have ever known is fast asleep and you’re all that remains. Darkness consumes the lifeless house as you shuffle across the carpeted floor. A night light that’s tucked at the end of the long hall flickers like a dwindling torch in the depths of a dark, endless forest. As you creep down the steep staircase, you sigh, taking notice of overhead microwave light already casting a soft, amber glow — there is someone else that too remains.

Toji.

“You can’t keep eating all of our food.” You huff, abruptly announcing your presence as you near the final step, observing the burly, sable haired man that raids your barren fridge. “I don’t even know why my father puts up with you.”

He smells your sweet, gourmand perfume before he even registers your voice. It’s utterly embarrassing how painfully his cock aches from a mere whiff of you, the sound of you. Unabashed, Toji shrugs, stuffing three, large strawberries into his greedy mouth, eyes narrowing on your pretty frame. “Your father loves me, sweetheart… couldn’t have raised your bratty ass without me.” His ravenous gaze lingers far too long, sharp eyes shamelessly flitting across your soft, exposed skin, sizing you up. “And hello to you too. What’s wrong with you young people? Does no one respect their elders anymore?”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” You grumble, bracing yourself for yet another fruitless lecture, arms crossing over your chest as you sit into your right hip. His keen eyes follow your subtle shift in stance. “And your son? Where is he?”

He scoffs. “With his mother, thank you.” Toji rolls his eyes, reaching for another strawberry. “You sure you don’t have homework to do or something? Always pesterin’ me. I’m old, damnit!”

“I graduated three years ago, thank you… though you can’t say the same,” you snide, rudely pushing past him to peer into the refrigerator, “and you're like forty-five… you should've gotten your shit together yesterday.” You add, growing progressively annoyed with his lingering presence. “Did you drink all of the milk again?”

“Heh, oh yeah. Whoops,” he goads, popping the p, “and I’m not that old, you brat.” He mumbles, esteem crumbling at your assumption.

He’s grown accustomed to your biting criticism, though in the beginning, he would almost always quarrel back, which inevitably led to the two of you in a needlessly heated and borderline flirtatious feud. Now, he’s learned to actively ignore your insults but god, he would only be lying if he said your petty, condescending remarks didn’t rewire the chemistry of his brain.

Alas, all he offers is another irritatingly indifferent shrug, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his scarred lips — his own twisted version of remittance. Toji doesn’t give a fuck, not one. He knows your father will replace it by the end of the week like he always does, so why should he?

It has been nearly a decade since your father has all too graciously granted Toji loitering rights to your childhood home. Never has he paid for groceries, for bills, for anything. He is penniless, indolent, and baselessly forthright, but god, is he the finest man you have ever known.

After both your father and Toji’s untimely and coincidentally synchronized divorces, the two have been inseparable ever since, wallowing in their shared pity together. During his unnecessarily messy divorce, Toji lost the house and your father was gracious enough to offer him a place to stay until he secures a stable job.

That was nine years ago.

Weirdly enough, Toji has known you the entirety of your existence, but not you his. From as early as you can remember, he was always just… there, but as time passed and you grew older, things changed; the way you thought about him changed. Before, you thought of him as just one of your father’s degenerate friends from undergrad who fell through the cracks. Today, that notion still holds, but now you want to fuck him, bad.

For years, you’ve imagined what Toji is like behind closed doors, what he would feel like, what he would fuck like. If he’s the type of man that plays with his food before eating it, if he even likes to eat his prey anyway. Maybe he’s the type of predator that prefers stringing his meals along, toying with and teasing them like some cruel, one-sided game and he’s got the unfair advantage. Either way, you don’t think you’d mind.

Countless nights you’ve found yourself sprawled apart with his name on the tip of your tongue. Bare, perspiring body bowing as you brainlessly fuck yourself against one of his sweatshirts that you snagged from the laundry he doesn’t do. There is no doubt that Toji has heard the desperate cries of his name that pour from beneath your paper thin door, your pretty whimpers so incredibly loud and slutty and all for him.

If he wanted, you’d let him have in the worst possible way. You would let him pry you apart and gut you out completely, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self — drooling, stuffed, and defiled. The utter heinous things you’d commit for a mere taste of his skin is a direct contradiction of who you are and everything your father believes he’s raised you to be. You’re no angel.

Defeated, you close the refrigerator, a deep, irritated sigh dragging from your lips. This man is useless, you think. If not for his maddeningly beautiful face, you’d sock him in it, sending him tumbling to the floor so that you can finally mount him and —

“Do you wanna fuck? Is that it?”

A long, deafening beat passes. You swallow thickly. “… what?”

“You heard me. I asked if you want to fuck.” He reiterates, voice eerily calm as if he couldn’t care less about the proposition at hand. “You’re always so pissed with me, thinkin’ that’s maybe what you need... a good fuck, heh.”

His blatantly unprovoked inquiry is jostling you back into reality, because what? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did the question roll off of his tongue so quickly? So smoothly? As if it’s no big deal, as if this is just another one of his usual, overly prying questions. Is he serious?

“Toji, wha—”

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?” His head is falling to the right, a sleazy grin marring his slick lips. “You don’t think I see the way you look at me, sweetheart? Not a very discreet girl, I’ll tell you that…” a dark, gut wrenching chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, “maybe a noisy one though, hm?” He hums, quirking an omniscient brow.

Guiltily, your gaze is falling to the tiled floor, thighs pressing together as you mumble. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sure.

He laughs again. “You’re not a good liar either,” he’s creeping closer, the warmth of his breath like kindle to a rampant flame, “but you’re a pretty little thing… you know that already though, huh?” A curious hand is creeping around your waist, slyly reeling you in, the redolence of his cheap, inebriating cologne permeating the sinisterly thick air.

You expel an audible breath, taking a cautious step backward, yet he follows, taking a larger step forward, a step closer. Your skin burns, cheeks warming with crimson. He’s too fucking close and he knows it. What if someone sees? You don’t think you can bear the consequences that’d unfold if your father were to ever find the two of you like this. He would kill Toji, then you, and finally himself for good measure.

But god, do you want to find out. When it comes to human nature, curiosity always seems to prevail and fuck, are you one curious cat. There is something innately deep and pressing within your soul that craves satiation. It yearns to be known, to be explored. A deep, perpetually endless hole that aches — it longs to be filled, to be stuffed. None of your peers can do that for you, you’re convinced.

Your dark, repressed desires are only concerning your stance on feminism, but you don’t care, that’s the very thing. You want to find out. You need that, undoubtedly. Is what they say about older men true? The thought lingers as you contemplate the looming proposition. Yes, he’s your father’s closest friend. Yes, he’s far older than you with a child of his own. And yes, your perpetual obsession is only growing increasingly worrisome by the ticking clock, but truly, who can blame you? Look at him.

“C’monnn, you won’t even look at me, doll?” He frowns, a big hand cupping your chin, pulling your gaze upward. “Thought your father and I taught you better than that, no?”

Another loud, incredulous breath escapes your parted lips. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, cunt drooling.

Just the sweet, innocent quaver of your voice alone makes his cock twitch. His plaid pajama bottoms growing near uncomfortable as the fat, mushroom head leaks against the dampening fabric. What’s left of his dwindling resolve is slipping from his fingertips when you’re finally peering up at him, the coy bat of your lashes so perfectly slutty. Pretty, pleading eyes all wide and glossed over with your evident lust. God, he knows you need it.

Toji groans, conflicted for half a beat before growling a strangled and defeated, ‘fuck it’ then, his lips are slotting against yours in a delirious, haphazard kiss. Large hands blindly creep around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. “This… this is your fucking fault.” He grouses, warm tongue delving so shamelessly inside of your honeyed mouth, greedily licking his way to the source.

“Fuck me then,” you’re pulling away just barely and he can’t help but to follow, subconsciously chasing your fleeting lips, “make me sorry.” It’s quiet, breathless, your pretty lips ghosting his.

And maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but it’s still not too late to end this — to push him away and say no, this isn’t right. It’s not too late to head to bed and forget any of this ever happened, but the way he’s twirling you around to push you over the marble countertop might be a step too far and damn sure too late.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be so fucking sorry,” a singular hand is peeling your lounge shorts down, down, down your plush thighs until there’s nothing but a pool of silky fabric surrounding your ankles, baring your syrupy folds, “spread those fuckin’ legs for me like a good, obedient girl. Let me see how wet that sloppy pussy is.”

With your face snug against the marble, all you can manage is a weak, fruitless gasp of his name, the warmth of your frantic breaths condensing the frigid countertop. You’re craning your head to the side, rising to the palms of your hands to observe the burly man that looms behind you. Fuck, he’s going to kill you.

He simpers, trailing several, curious fingers from your swollen clit allll the way down to your visibly tightening hole which drools endlessly. Pearlescent gossamers of arousal cling to the pads of his fat digits, kissing his skin in a beautiful sheen of your bountiful essence. The warm, abrupt stretch of his careless fingers as they sink deeeeep inside of your slobbering hole is peerless, prying your jaw open in a pretty, guttural moan — so raw and primal and all for him.

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you, girl… sound even prettier up close,” he’s leaning down to better observe your desperate wails of rapture, pressing his clothed cock against the rear of your bare ass in the process, “got me fucking my hand like an idiot to the sound of you. How rude is that?” His breath hot and laden with lust against the crook of your neck.

Another wanton moan is belting from your gaped mouth at his confession. You can hardly help the pathetic buck of your hips, weakly fucking yourself against the stocky hand that cups your pretty pussy. The gnawing stretch of his fingers set your skin ablaze and yet, it’s not enough. You need more.

“Just f-fuck me… please? Before he gets home.” God, you are so fucking cute, bottom lip quivering in… fear? Anticipation?

Toji frowns feigndly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared now, sweet girl?” A warm, calloused palm is splaying across the thick of your hip, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” he taunts, dragging his fingers out of you to smear your prolific arousal between your swollen lips and the slit of your ass, soon bringing them up to your stupidly gaped mouth, “doesn’t it taste like it either, huh?” He prompts you to taste yourself, his long, drooling digits hanging before your subconsciously parting lips.

And god, you could fucking cum right there, cunt throbbing embarrassingly around nothing but the fleeting memory of his fingers. You hardly have the time to loll out your tongue before he’s rudely stuffing his fingers into your warm, obedient mouth. A synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from both of your slacked jaws, yours muffled by his fat digits and his so careless and plainly conquered by his ineffable lust.

You hum contentedly around his thick fingers, cleaning your own arousal from them like the good whore he always knew you’d be. Drool spills from the corners of your lips and down his burly knuckles, coating his hand in an obscene mess of your sweet saliva. His fingers are deliberately creeping farther down your slutty little throat, forcing a proper gag from the pit of your core, more of your saliva consequently cascading down his palm.

Like the nasty slut he is, he’s pulling them out of your mouth, only to plop them inside of his own, sucking and drooling down those very digits, his cruel gaze holding yours. A guttural groan belts from the depths of his chest, sable eyes fluttering shut as he hums in satisfaction. Your mouth falls wide, jaw slacked as pretty little pants of incredulity pour from it, poor cunt aching in your ever growing arousal. What. The. Fuck.

“What? Nothing else to fuckin’ say, huh?” Those same fingers are running along your cunt once more, messily smearing the sinful amalgamation of married saliva. They’re sweeping across your swollen clit before slowly sinking back inside of you, preparing you. “Always talkin’ so much shit to me. Gonna shut you up real soon, sweetheart… swear to god.”

A stupid gasp parts your lips, stomach caving in arousal at the sound of him hastily slipping out of his plaid bottoms. A greedy hand is latching to the back of your right knee, pulling your leg up to pin it against the cool marble. The sight of your pretty pussy in all of her sloppy glory makes his cock twitch, the head dripping in sinful rivulets of pearlescent arousal.

You can barely stand the way he takes his cock into his fist, idly pumping his pretty erection, a slutty grin spreading across his scarred lips. From his girthy base allll the way to the fat, leaking head, he strokes himself, but not before swiping the pad of his thumb across the drooling opening, spreading his arousal down the expanse of his monstrous length. You fucked up. Royally.

“God,” you mumble, turning back around to stuff your face into the crook of your arm in utter horror, “god, I am s…so sorry.”

And he fucking laughs. Laughs at your apology; it’s loud and obnoxious and so clearly intended to piss you off because you’re not sorry, you’re scared and he knows it. He can see the way your body trembles atop the counter, drooling cunt shamelessly exposed with your leg hiked up so rudely. The way your big, pleading eyes widen in fear as he creeps closer. Even your futile attempt to scoot away when he begins to drag the head of his cock between both of your slutty holes, almost as if he can’t decide which to ruin first.

“Nuh uh… c’mere,” he nearly growls, impertinently pulling you back before him by the flimsy fabric of your night shirt, a disapproving grunt ensuing, “tryna run away from me, huh?” Two, large hands are groping the fat of your ass, brazenly spreading you apart. “Oughta’ teach you some fuckin’ manners… such a mean little thing. Hell’s wrong with you?”

The head of his cock rests so heavily against your sloppy hole, hot precum oozing against the mess of slick that adorns your pretty pussy. Toji slaps the dense head against your lips once. A droning, helpless mewl pours from your gaped mouth, only for him to do it again, and again, and again. A lewd and deafening plap! plap! plap! reverberates throughout the dimly lit kitchen, sticky gossamers of married arousal tethering you as one.

“Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he admits, briefly dipping the head of his cock inside of you, dragging a wanton whimper from your lips, “such a shame y’er so mean to me… would’ve had you like this years ago if not for that nasty little mouth of yours.” He’s sinking inside of you yet again, but only to pull out when he’s gone too deep.

If your father were to walk into this kitchen at this very moment, he’d be utterly appalled. Horrified. You’re writhing beneath him, hips bucking so sluttily against his teasing cock. God, you have never craved something so horribly in your life; you could just die from the sheer deprivation and it’s hilarious to him. He’s taunting you like it’s some cruel fucking game and he’s got the upper hand.

Again, he laughs. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?”

“Yes, fuck.” You growl, evidently frustrated.

“Awwww you mad, sweetheart?” He irritatingly coos, leaning down to press a wet, openmouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “Is that poor pussy frustrated huh?” Another sloppy kiss between the valley of your shoulder blades, the head of his cock gliding between your glossy lips, spreading you apart. “Heh, she’s cryin’ for it, such a messy girl… drooling all over my cock like that.”

“Please,” it’s a broken, shameless plea as you crane your head, beautiful tears of desperation pricking your eyes, your pride somewhere so far gone, “pleasepleaseplease.”

A dark, breathy chuckle parts his lips, aching cock jerking against your awaiting hole. For years, he’s imagined you just like this — begging and crying for his cock like some insatiable whore. If anything, he’s denying himself; though, what’s left of his restraint quickly perishes at the sight of your sobbing hole tightening around nothing, kissing his shaft in a gleaming, warm mess.

He almost can’t help but to sink inside of you again, instead this time, he’s giving you everything, all of his twitching cock. The abrupt intrusion forces an incredulous gasp past your lips, a low, throaty groan dragging from his slack jaw in tandem. And just as he thought, your greedy pussy is swallowing his fat cock to the base effortlessly, almost as if it was hand tailored for you.

You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run — to clamber across the countertop and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move. He’s got you pinned to the marble, a heavy hand at the rear of your neck, the other splayed across the thick of your hip, pulling you back onto his cock. It aches. The delirious stretch of his cock and how it steals your breath away, your mouth sagged, yet nothing is uttered. For once in your life, you’re speechless.

“Is this really all it takes, huh?” His hips are reeling back, the shiny essence of your arousal sheathing the entirety of his cock. “God, is this all it fucking takes to shut you up? A cock in this slutty little pussy, huhhh?” The bruising snap of his hips as he pummels forward nearly has you gushing down the length of him all too soon. “Answer me… and use your big girl words, c’mon sweetheart.” 

A loud, desperate gasp of air is all you can manage, bottom lip trembling as you attempt to say something, anything. The hand that holds your neck is threading throughout your mussed hair, forcing your gaze onto his and he can’t help but to laugh at your stupid expression — drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, thick brows knitted so tightly as your pretty eyes threaten to cross. Of course you can’t fucking speak, you’re drunk.

“My goodness, I wish you could see yourself… you’re so stupid on it,” he admires almost endearingly, a warm, mindless thumb grazing your bottom lip, “that perfect fucking face, god. You are so pretty taking it, such a goooood pretty slut for that cock, fuck.” The near possessive growl that belts from the depths of his lungs is like nothing you have ever heard — so filthy and shameless and ridden with his unbearable lust.

Toji is completely losing himself in the wet, endless abyss of pleasure that is you. Babbling nothing but loud, reckless praises, your pretty name spilling so willfully from his slutty tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously jerking you back onto his cock. His big, greedy hands tighten so possessively around your pretty waist, meeting himself halfway. The obscene plap! of his achingly full balls beating up your quivering clit with each ensuing thrust.

“Thaaat’s it, you’re so good, that pussy is so fucking good… takin’ it soo deep for me.” He mindlessly blabbers, a large hand creeping beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sweeping across your soft, perspiring skin.

Every coherent thought you have ever had is long forgotten, poor mind completely barren. He’s the only thing you can hear, think, feel — the greedy hands that wordlessly command you, the warm stretch of his drooling cock as it wholly splits you apart. Even the fat, curious thumb that’s sinking inside of that other poor, neglected hole of yours is prying your lips open in a helpless mewl of pleasure.

“It’s sooo good… sooofuckingooood, oh my god.” You snarl, teeth bared and his jaw nearly unhinges — you sound so fucking pretty. “I love it, I love it, I loveee your c-cock.”

“Yeaaah, sweetheart?” He coos, heavy head deliriously falling back to dangle between his broad shoulders. “God, you needed this, didn’t you? Look at your hips buck like such a nasty slut.” A loud, ear splitting smack! lands against the fat of your ass. “Do you dream about it after you fuck yourself and cum all over my clothes, huh?” Another smack! to the other cheek, your poor cunt consequently squeezing down the base of his cock. “No fucking shame either.”

You possess half the brain to respond, not sure whether to shake your head or nod, too far gone to even make sense of anything anymore. Moan after unrestrained moan spill from both of your raptured tongues, the two of you sharing a few synchronous gasps of air or delirious cries of overwhelming pleasure. It’s the most debauched, yet utterly erotic thing you have ever experienced, but then, there’s a loud, roaring voice that’s stilling Toji’s hips.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Fuck.

© fushiguho.

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[caitlinsnicket]

sevika relationship headcanons

warnings: smut by the end, that's probably it

a/n: i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She would never tell you this—not in a million years—but something stirs inside her chest whenever she manages to tower over you in any way.

You might be resting against a wall, and she comes by your side to say something, her arm staying just a few inches above your head (and you pretend it doesn’t do something to you deep down). When she realizes how close you are, it’s like a punch to her gut, and she quickly makes some excuse to leave before you notice her dilated pupils.

After the two of you get together, she loves to tease you and make sure you’re aware of the difference between the two of you (pervert). If you ask her about it, she’ll just say she likes how strong it makes her feel. But it’s not just that: it’s how much cleavage she gets to see, how much of your scent she gets to breathe in, and how easy it would be to just throw you over her shoulder and carry you off wherever she pleases.

She won’t ask you outright, but she always pats her lap to invite you to sit on it—whether it’s during one of her games, at a party, or during a meeting to organize something. She wants to have her hands on you at all times, making sure you’re content and pretty.

There are also the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you and nothing bad is going on. She’ll climb up until she’s almost on Piltover, your hand in hers. She’ll sit down against a pillar, pull you to her until you’re sitting between her knees, her chin resting on the top of your head, lighting up a joint if she feels like it.

She can feel your heart beating against her chest, nothing else happening, and she wonders if this is something she can actually do—something she can actually deserve. But the lights are shining, children are playing and laughing, and you’re almost purring in her arms, so it’s okay.

Even after she’s used to the relationship, she gets flustered when you hold her by her waist, run your hands over it, or simply rest them there. It’s not just the promise of further touches (God knows she loves those), but also the possessiveness she sees in your eyes. It’s different from what she’s used to—not just being needed, but also wanted.

She loves to watch you fuck yourself on her strap, smoking a joint with her mech arm while her other hand plays with your ass.

She’s an active participant as well, but there’s something so thrilling about your desperation and your need for her.

When she eats you out, she always goes overboard, and you end up pulling her hair really hard. She stops what she’s doing and glares at you before telling you to go harder, then dives right back in.

She likes to pull your lips apart just to watch you clench around nothing.

She loses it when you wear those short, skintight skirts that barely cover your ass in public, your eyes making it clear that whatever you’re doing, it’s on purpose.

She sits you down on the stool in front of her, spreads your legs, and fingers you right then and there until you’re clutching her arm for dear life, trying to suppress your moans.

She licks her hand clean before taking you home.

[navybrat817]

Back Off, He's Mine

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You put an agent in her place after she flirts with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 2.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader or Bucky), protective vibes, catty behavior, possessive vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an anon ask asking for Bucky's wife to stick up for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at you from across the break room table, his pretty blue eyes not blinking as you looked back at him. The two of you were locked in a lengthy staring contest and you didn’t want to lose. But as the air in the room began to dry your eyes and he flashed you a beautiful smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking. And the moment you did, he struck.

Snatching the last bit of the beloved pastry right from the middle of the table.

“Damn it,” you muttered, crossing your arms when he chuckled. “You cheated.”

“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, making a show of taking a slow bite. Your eyes followed his tongue licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. The bastard made eating look sexy and he didn’t even take a full bite. He was taunting you. “How did I do that?”

“You cheated by existing.” You gestured to him, your smoking hot husband in his black t-shirt and tactical pants. To the person who made those clothes, you saluted them. “And you have serum in your veins, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have to blink as much as I do and that’s an unfair advantage.”

He chuckled again, graciously passing over the last small bite of the pastry. Your eyes lit up in thanks, popping it in your mouth with a moan. It was true love to share food like that. “I don’t think that’s how the serum works,” he teased. “And you’re a goddess, so isn’t that cheating, too?”

“Okay, but I’m not actually a goddess,” you countered, though he did make you feel like one.

His eyes softened, leaning across the table and crooking his finger. “Yeah, you are,” he whispered, kissing your lips once you met him halfway.

Before you could deepen the kiss, a shrill voice rang out in the breakroom. “Sergeant Barnes! There you are!”

Bucky’s cheek twitched as he settled back in his seat. The voice echoing in the room would’ve been enough to make anyone wince, but his enhanced hearing made it worse. He worked hard to block out noises so he’d be comfortable, and your eyes instantly narrowed at the person who brought him discomfort.

You recognized her after a moment, a pretty woman who would likely fall out of her top if she sneezed too hard. She hadn't worked there long, but she had her eye on Bucky from the start. She always flirted with him, tried to stand close to him and push her chest close, and he always dropped in the conversation that he was a married man. Apparently she didn’t get the hint that he wasn't interested. Either that or she was into taken men.

“Hi, agent,” Bucky politely said.

“Agent. Always so formal,” she giggled, dragging a chair over from another table and taking a seat without asking. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Barnes. You're a hard man to track down.”

Bubbly agents didn’t bother you in the slightest. You appreciated anyone who could stay upbeat in the line of work you dealt with. It wasn’t the enamored look in her eyes either that bothered you because you understood people wanting Bucky and you were secure in your relationship. No, what bothered you was that he had clearly been kissing his wife and she pointedly avoided looking at you after interrupting. That was just rude.

It also bothered you how uncomfortable Bucky looked when she moved her chair closer to him, his shoulders stiff and smile not reaching his eyes.

“Been spending some time with my wife,” he said proudly, reaching across the table to take your hand. You dipped your head down with a small smile, your heart still doing that funny flip like it had since the moment you met. He even managed to clear out the room so you two could be alone. “We were just finishing up.”

She didn’t spare you a glance as she set a hand on his metal arm. His cheek twitched again, squeezing your hand. It took a lot of effort for you to not knock her back from the table for touching him without his permission. “Excuse me,” you began, your tone even. “I don’t-”

“Do you think you could spar with me later?” she cut you off and either didn’t see or ignored your glare, leaning forward in her seat to make her chest stick out more. Bucky didn’t look. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of moves and you’re so good at them,” she added, her eyes on him like she wanted to eat him up.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

“I don't think…” he stopped when her fingers trailed higher.

“Please, Sergeant?” she pouted.

Your eyes went back to your husband to get a read on him and make sure he was okay. He wasn't. His smile still didn't look right and his back was ramrod straight. Squeezing his hand seemed to ground him since he breathed a little easier, though your anger was simmering.

“I, um, don’t mind sparring if you really need the help,” Bucky began, gently pulling his arm away. “But you interrupted my time with my wife.”

Her smile faltered while yours widened. Bucky didn't like anyone cutting you off, whether that was your time together or interrupting you speaking. “What?” she asked.

“Hi there. Been sitting here the whole time.” You wiggled your fingers when she finally looked your way. “Excuse us for a second,” you said, avoiding her stare the way she avoided yours. “Bucky, do you think you can wait outside? This agent and I need to have a little chat.”

Your husband looked like he was trying not to laugh and you would take laughter over discomfort any day of the week. “Be nice if you can,” he teased, pressing a featherlight kiss to your hand. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, something unspoken passing between the two of you.

Defending each other was second nature, always would be.

Bucky didn’t immediately leave the room when he stood up. Instead he rounded the table so he could bend down and kiss your mouth, too. You smiled as it lingered, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t keep me waiting out there long, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.

“I won't, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

Straightening up, he gave a small nod to the agent for her sake. “Come find me later if you still want to talk about sparring. Maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Okay, Sergeant,” she smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. That look wouldn’t last.

You waited until Bucky was gone to face the agent, who stopped smiling the second your husband was out of sight. Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and asked point-blank, “You trying to fuck my husband?”

The wide-eyed expression was priceless when she realized you weren't asking as a joke. “What are you... I just asked him to spar,” she tried to brush it off.

“Please, don't insult my intelligence,” you said. It was beneath both of you to do so. “I get why you want him. Besides being one of the sexiest creatures to ever exist, he’s a good man. Polite, probably treats you with respect. More than most of the men around here.”

She shifted away from you and nodded. “He's a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agreed. They didn't make men like Bucky anymore. “And I’m not going to tell you to stop hitting on my husband, but I highly suggest that you back off. At the very least, don’t throw yourself at him right in front of me. It’s sad.”

“Why?” She had the nerve to smirk. “Worried I’ll steal him away?”

You smirked, too. She had balls and you respected that, but this wasn’t a battle she’d win. “Steal him away? You make it sound like he’s a toy and he isn’t. He’s a man, my man,” you said, holding up your hand so she could get a good look at your wedding ring. “And you are not a threat in the slightest. Our bond is much stronger than that.”

Her smirk went away fast, replaced by something sad. You almost felt sorry for her until she said, “Jealousy isn't a good look on you. It’s kind of… ugly.”

You scoffed. If she wanted to play, you’d play. “Jealous of what? You hitting on a married man who doesn't want you?” you asked, not feeling guilty in the slightest when her face fell. “I’m not telling you to back off because I'm jealous. I told you that because you’re only going to embarrass yourself if you keep trying and you’re going to make my husband more uncomfortable than he already is. I don’t like people making my husband uncomfortable.”

An unspoken threat hung in the air long enough that she swallowed. “And how exactly did I make him uncomfortable?”

“Besides you hitting on him, you touched him without making sure it was okay to do so,” you answered, letting a bit of venom seep into your tone. Bucky went years without autonomy and consent was important to you. He suffered enough and didn’t need to deal with things like this. “I’d hope as an agent you’d be able to pick up on subtle body language cues enough to know that he didn’t want you touching him.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t want me touching him? Are you a mind reader or something?” she sneered, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her shirt. “If he really didn't want me touching him, he would've said so. And guess what? He didn't say a word.”

You saw red, your hands curling into fists. For her to ignore the nonverbal cues… “I know my husband. I know Bucky. He doesn’t want you touching him nor does he want to start anything with you because he’s extremely faithful. He won’t throw away a loving, trusting marriage for a quick fuck or doomed affair,” you stated. She bristled, but tried to recover. “If you make a pass at him, he’ll reject you. He’ll do it as respectfully as he can because he’s a good guy, but he will reject you. That’s a promise.”

“Because he loves you so much. Jesus, what makes you so special?” she spat, surprising you both. But the longer you looked at her, the more she deflated under your stare. “I mean… He doesn’t say much to me, but when he does it’s always about you. ‘My wife this’ and ‘my wife that’ and he’s always so… proud.” She shook her head. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

You did feel a little sorry for her now. Crushes hurt, but better that she hurt now and heal than to keep pushing and hurt more later. “I’m not special. We just love each other, that’s all. And, trust me, I’m aware that I’m very lucky to have him. Someone who gets me and will fight for and beside me,” you said, a loving smile touching your lips. You hoped Bucky was listening outside the door. “There’s a guy out there waiting for you, but that guy isn’t Bucky. So don’t lower yourself by trying to go after someone who’s taken.”

She side-eyed you, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “And what if I don’t stop?” she asked.

You giggled humorously, all sympathy gone. The agent actually looked nervous at that sound and you were glad because you weren't going to play nice. “Well, if you don't back off, Bucky could make a complaint about you harassing him or at least request that you’re transferred. Maybe fired since you’re still in your probationary period,” you began, looking at your wedding band when she began to protest. “At the very least, I could have your schedule rearranged so you can spar with me. You see, Bucky taught me a few moves and if a bone or two breaks, well…”

It wasn't an empty threat either. Bucky loved fighting for you, but you could hold your own. It turned him on.

Her eyes darted to the door when you stood up and stretched. “Listen, you don't need to-”

“But do you know what I'm going to do for now?” you asked, cutting her off the way she cut you off. “I'm going to take my husband to one of the interrogation rooms and suck the soul out of his body through his incredible cock,” you smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the sputtering sound she made. “And after he recovers, he’ll have the choice of bending me over the table and either eating or fucking my pussy. He’ll probably choose both. He’s pretty insatiable.”

She got to her feet, too, and you half expected to see smoke come out of her ears. “I don't need to hear–”

“What? Does hearing that Bucky is going to fuck me and not you make you uncomfortable?” you asked innocently before you got close to her. “Shove your tits in my husband's face again or touch him without his explicit consent, and I won't just make you uncomfortable. I’ll make your life a living hell.”

While you lost the staring contest to Bucky earlier, you very much won against this agent. She stood perfectly still and averted her gaze as you pushed your chair in. “Is that a threat?” she mumbled.

A cliche question, so why not give a cliche answer? “It’s a promise,” you smiled, heading to the door. “Oh, if he does decide to spar with you, I expect you to apologize and behave yourself. I’ll hear about it if you don't.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, waiting for you as you exited the room. He looked over the moon. “We’re going to one of the interrogation rooms, huh?”

You giggled, taking his hand as your cheeks warmed. “Of course, that's what you took from that.”

“How could I not?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Thanks, baby. I thought I dropped enough hints that she’d back off.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. He deserved to be comfortable at work. If some guy kept hitting on you, he would've stepped in, too.

“You think she’ll back off now?”

“I think so, but you tell me if she doesn't,” you said. You’d keep an eye on her, too, just in case. And if she pushed again, you’d put her back in her place. Maybe you’d make her listen while Bucky fucked you. With his permission, of course. “So, which room should we go to?”

He chuckled, the sound a happy one in the hall. “Room B. We can be as loud as we want,” he replied, tugging you closer. “I’ll show you just how special you are to me.”

Heat filled your body, anticipating how good it would feel to have him fuck your throat and more. “My body is ready, Sergeant,” you teased, shrieking when he picked you up and ignoring the whistles from other agents that walked by.

They were used to the shenanigans of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by now.

And you couldn't wait for more.

Just like we deserve a loving Bucky, he deserves love, too. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?" 

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere." 

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams. 

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs. 

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on. 

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go. 

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin. 

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him. 

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung. 

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd. 

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye. 

"jisung?" 

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan. 

"yeah?" 

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?" 

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy. 

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?" 

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too. 

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer. 

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve. 

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself. 

"haechan…" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly. 

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other." 

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs. 

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…" 

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think." 

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness. 

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not." 

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?" 

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course." 

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her." 

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like." 

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more. 

-

you were in the crowd today. 

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted. 

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me? 

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper. 

"haechan?" 

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –  

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me." 

oh. 

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?" 

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you. 

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile. 

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to. 

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?" 

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine. 

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about. 

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something." 

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?" 

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails. 

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?" 

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for. 

–

you don't know how you ended up here. 

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss. 

"hyuck?" you murmur. 

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing. 

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient. 

"what's wrong?" he asks. 

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.  

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough? 

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes. 

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?" 

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again. 

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…" 

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly. 

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." 

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies." 

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. 

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can. 

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest. 

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you. 

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends. 

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark. 

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass. 

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly. 

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile. 

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm. 

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life. 

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain. 

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–" 

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow. 

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —" 

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips. 

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly. 

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand. 

but he doesn't respond. 

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly. 

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?" 

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here." 

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you. 

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out. 

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance. 

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly. 

his smile blooms. 

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing." 

"that's cruel," you mumble. 

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…" 

"and would he tell you?" 

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in. 

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes. 

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling. 

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship." 

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know." 

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him – 

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you. 

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this." 

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?" 

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this." 

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?" 

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing. 

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist. 

"slow down!" 

you'd know that voice anywhere. 

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips. 

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened –  the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face. 

he raises his eyebrows. 

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard. 

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question. 

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?" 

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream." 

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile. 

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time. 

—

"we need to talk." 

there was something wrong with haechan. 

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them. 

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing. 

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly. 

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly. 

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again." 

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests. 

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right. 

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes.  "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again. 

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more." 

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes. 

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore." 

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy." 

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time. 

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break." 

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't." 

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —" 

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister." 

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in. 

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone." 

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand. 

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that." 

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —" 

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on." 

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?" 

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?" 

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you. 

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him. 

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves. 

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?" 

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know." 

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?" 

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it. 

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time. 

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all. 

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door. 

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door. 

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again. 

he's relieved he did. 

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in. 

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones. 

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take. 

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow. 

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?" 

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else." 

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges. 

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely. 

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once. 

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison. 

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight." 

you still. 

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —" 

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders. 

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…" 

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste. 

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?" 

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go. 

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this." 

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression. 

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…" 

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away. 

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands. 

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head. 

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late." 

"hyuck, listen to me." 

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that." 

his fingers falter, but he stays silent. 

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?" 

he looks up then. "really?" 

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it." 

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe. 

since when did you start feeling safe with him? 

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss. 

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?" 

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore." 

there's a pause. 

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please." 

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles. 

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?" 

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?" 

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears. 

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me." 

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep." 

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath. 

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now,  hanging onto your every word. 

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away. 

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do." 

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him. 

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest. 

"it's been awhile," you murmur. 

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –" 

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft. 

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts. 

"everything okay?" he murmurs. 

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now." 

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him. 

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair. 

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger. 

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud. 

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside." 

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core. 

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands. 

"have you been fucking anyone else?" 

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please." 

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…" 

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you." 

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good." 

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name." 

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg." 

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours. 

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…" 

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself. 

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun. 

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex. 

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more. 

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him. 

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming. 

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face. 

he looks at you, and you look at him. 

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again. 

"you alright?" he mumbles. 

you nod. 

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile." 

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze. 

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?" 

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel. 

"can i take you somewhere?" 

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand. 

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way. 

"you good?" he murmurs. 

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real. 

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?" 

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along. 

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-" 

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand." 

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?" 

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head. 

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine. 

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-" 

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous. 

"yeah?" 

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet." 

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

-

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself. 

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands. 

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat. 

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-" 

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms. 

"hyuck." 

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined. 

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly. 

"what?" 

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again." 

"hyuck, was this a date?" 

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do." 

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me." 

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life." 

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head. 

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?" 

there's silence. 

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me." 

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either. 

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance. 

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him. 

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep." 

"you are," he breathes. 

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?" 

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future. 

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. 

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers." 

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version. 

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔

𝑶𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑩𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒐!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex (don’t do that folks), smut, cute farm things, size kink, reader has big gorgeous breasts, rough sex (if you squint), lots of cum, dom dynamics (kinda), etc.

𝟔𝟎𝟎+ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!!! 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒! 𝐈 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

Once the first snow stuck to the ground you were packing your stuff to visit your grandparents at the farm. The snow covered everything and you loved spending time with your grandma it was a tradition. Placing your foot out of your car you were smiling wide as your grandma greeted you holding a cherry pie. Your favourite. Running into her arms you hugged her tight. You were telling her everything, how you were and how happy you become since it was a long time since you actually visited the family farm. Several miles out from the city, the nature hit differently. Now– especially close to Christmas. You promised to decorate your grandparents house and cook many delicious meals with your grandma. After all… she was like your mom. A golden soul-

“Logan! Come in! Would you like a slice of pie?!” Your grandma called from the kitchen. The backyard door was open, so you peeked out seeing an older man cutting down several logs of wood. He wore a very cozy jacket- the tallest man you have ever seen. His hands wrapped around the end of the axe and he swung it effortlessly making you jump slightly. “I’m alright Mrs Harper just gonna finish this wood for ya. Laura is comin home from school soon.” He grunted out, you bit your lower lip. You swore that he had the most attractive physique you’ve ever seen despite the greying beard and the silver grey hair. He was so strong, the long legs of his- your thighs pressed together unaware you were actually staring he stopped cutting the logs giving you a gentle stare back. You were like a ray of sunshine– your eyes and the apples of your cheeks. Your height alone made his cock heavy in his jeans. He didn’t know how to feel whether to simply kidnap you and fuck you silly or to just stay away from you. Option number two was more suitable and it was rare that women would look at him and acted the way you did. Women avoided eye contact with him especially the younger ones because well- he was trice their age just like you. He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Y/N! It’s cold come in” your grandma grabbed your arm gently yanking you inside the cottage. Logan smirked softly to himself. Thinking to himself you were certainly a very young flesh and he shouldn’t even think about anything- but you attracted him.

“Alright I’m done Mrs Harper” he came inside the cottage placing the keys from the barn on the counter. You kept your gaze down on your coffee warming your hands around the cup. “Thank you so much Logan.” Your grandma smiled. “Are you sure I can’t give you some pie to go?” He shook his head slowly eyes on you. Gosh you felt his gaze burning the back of your head. “I’m sure Mrs Harper you have yourself a good evening. Both of ya” surely this man had manners, and that was even more attractive. “Goodbye Logan! Tell Laura she’s more than welcome to come here and spend time with my granddaughter!” Logan smiled nodding his head “Surely.” Once the man left you took a deep breath. Your cheeks burned. “He’s a good man. But very, old for you.” Your grandma cupped your cheek and you nodded. “I wasn’t thinking differently.” You lied taking a gulp of the warm coffee. The warmth of the coffee leaving a pleasant feeling in your chest as you chatted away with your grandma until your grandfather returned home.

Early in the morning you attended the animals, of course you fed them and changed waters for them. You cuddled few chickens and collected the eggs from the hens and cleaned out their coop. Once the animals were taken care of you visited the horse stalls. Holding a bag with sliced carrots you fed your favourite before an exciting thought occurred to you. You could ride your horse- you haven’t got to in a long time and the morning ride could definitely refresh your mind. Saddling your horse you greeted your grandfather as he entered the stalls smiling wide as he thanked you for all the work you’ve done the entire morning. Galloping out the stalls you waved to your grandma, giggling as your horse nodded its head and jumped over the wooden railing. You rode him through the snowy field and your soul felt freed. It was so amazing that one moment you thought you were flying until you saw a truck drive by, you stilled your horse. It was Logan- it seemed like he was returning from town. “Good Morning!” You called as he slowed down. He wore specs, you blushed as he greeted you back “Mornin, didn’t know you can ride.” He parked his truck on the side of the road you mesmerised by the sight of you sitting on that beautiful horse wearing a jacket with simple jeans but the sexiness and good energy radiated from you creating warmmess all around you. You nodded eagerly “Of course I can. I grew up here, he’s mine” you caressed your horses mane. Logan observed you, how beautiful you looked and those thoughts quickly changed because his eyes fell to your chest. You were indeed ‘gifted’ by Mother nature. “Who’s Laura?” You asked him “My daughter” he responded lighting a cigar. The smoke escaped through the window of his car. “Are you married?” You wondered no agenda behind it of course you stayed respectful. “I’m not sweetheart, are you?” The question made you giggle. “No Mr, I’m definitely not married.” Logan smiled small putting the cigar between his lips still sitting in his truck. Your horse was becoming impatient so you said your goodbyes. It was a short conversation but he called you a sweetheart and that woke butterflies in your belly. Logan thought of you.. oh he thought of you more than he actually should. So he did anything to busy himself- not to think of you. Just a man after all… and you? This young happy woman. For him to ruin.. later.

You wanted to meet Laura. Your grandma said that she’s a young girl and that she loved animals. Knowing you’re great with kids you finished your evening by attending the animals again lastly giving your horse a gentle brush and you plated his mane. You were just a farm girl thinking big about men and how one day you wanted to get married. Unfortunately not having a good luck with men only once and that one broke your heart so you broke up two years ago. Work occupied your mind and truly you haven’t even registered that you were walking to the lake nearby the farmhouse. Seeing the lights in the cottage across and the truck parked near you figured it’s Logan’s. Life was different out here… it was so good. The peace and quiet. Closing your eyes smelling the fresh winters evening breeze– it was freeing. Your grandma called for dinner so you let the thoughts about the charming Logan be for a moment and you walked back inside your farmhouse. The next morning was the same, work with the animals and then cooking with grandma. You were picking the winter apples for apple pies since the bake sale would be on Saturday. You helped as much as you could and to busy your mind. “Look who is visiting today!” Your grandfather brought a basket full of apples holding Laura’s hand. She was a little girl.. with dark beautiful hair and dark eyes. She smiled at your grandma- you greeted her and soon you two were getting along. She wasn’t talking much but understood quite well. “Where’s your daddy today?” Your grandma asked softly. “Hunting” she responded tasting some of the sliced apples. You frowned “Hunting with a shotgun? Like hunting animals?” You were so against it but people did it of course those ones who owned a license for it. “Yes.” She nodded and you put the dough down. “Are you hearing this?” You let out a frustrated growl. “How can someone hurt innocent animals!”

“You are A BAD MAN MR!!” You ran up to his truck pointing at him. “Am I?” He gruffly responded getting out. “You shoot animals!” You scowled. “And?” He gave you another response fuelling your frustration. “Yes! Did you shoot any today?” You asked following him around the truck. “Maybe. Now whatcha doing here little girl? Go back to your horses. Are you even good at something different? Callin me a bad man.” He tsked. “Well yes I am!! Now that’s also rude!” You responded clearly angry with him. “Like what? Fucking?” He arched a brow lighting a cigar leaning against his truck. “Excuse me?!” You gasped, your cheeks growing hot. “Well you ride a horse good can you ride some cock too?” You couldn’t believe the way he said it. “Maybe” you closed the distance between you two bravely looking up at him. “I don’t ride strangers cock, a man at your age.. you’re not my type Mr.” Logan took a hit of his cigar blowing the smoke in your face. “So why the starin and fuck me eyes n’all?” You pressed your thighs together. “I can smell you princess. That pussy is wet” he motioned with his eyes and you pulled the cigar out of his mouth throwing it. Getting on your tiptoes you pressed your lips against his, Logan responded hungrily sweeping you off your feet carrying you inside his cottage. Throwing you in his bed he unzipped his jacket breathlessly looking at you. His stare was filled with desire, darkness.. and you were still too dumb to understand it. Your brain just couldn’t wrap around it- why did men look at women this way especially when they needed ‘some’– they were like hungry animals you feared you were about to be devoured like a prey.

“That’s it babygirl” Logan guided you on his cock, his eyes were glued to your breasts which threatened to jump out of your blouse as you shamelessly bounced on his thick veiny cock. You held his shoulders for support and those big calloused hands roamed your thick thighs. “F-fuck” he shuddered holding fistfuls of your ass before letting go and slapping it making you yelp and moan even louder. “I-I c-can ride so good just like my horsey” you babbled as he hummed letting you rise your hips up and take him back right inside of you bouncing up and down his cock. He was so hard, your ridged walls welcomed him coating him in your juice and that caused you to whimper out. “Too dumb to understand when a man wants you princess” he breathed slapping your ass again making you mewl clenching around his cock. “Argh I should be fucking you so good right now” he tsks drawing fast circles against your clit making you lose the current pace. You were not able to ride him as he continued to please your clit like that. “M’so close..” you sobbed. Your breasts bounced as you started to ride quicker, your core blooming with warmth approaching your climax but Logan seemed to be displeased. “Fucking yourself on oldman’s cock and being dumb about it too” flipping you over so he was on top of you- making you cry out. He sheated himself entirely into you your toes curling and you helplessly moaning as he began to snap his hips into you. “that’s right baby, cry around old man’s cock. So dumb because of some cock” you nodded truthfully.. you only had sex once and now you didn’t know how to breathe since he was filling you out so good.

One orgasm later, you cleaned yourself in the bathroom gosh you were so full of him seed. Blushing furiously, when he came to the bathroom. His body was littered in scars, smoking a cigar it rested lazily between his lips. Standing by the sink, you shivered when he stood right behind you hovering above you “already leavin?” Asking, you nodded touching the sink. His big calloused hand traveled over your side to your belly down to your sex. He smelled the mess on it.. and in it. You both made so much mess. “Could think of ways to make you stay buttercup..” you swallowed looking at him in the mirror. You felt his hot erection on the curve of your butt and soon he was sinking back inside of you from behind. This way you never had it this way- it felt so much more deeper and dizzying. “Oh gosh..” leaning your back against his chest gripping his big forearm he grunted snapping his hips into you clapping his front against your ass. The cigar still burned between his lips and your eyes rolled back into your skull. The endless lines of moans and whimpers Logan found himself wrapping his arms around your front both hands grabbing a hold of your breasts. “F-fuckkkk” he breathed speeding up his thrusts fucking into you, with not just vigour but joy. The way your walls hugged his cock was out of this world “feels so good baby.. letting an old man fuck your pussy like this” you whined trembling with approaching orgasm and as his thrusts grew rougher your were hit with an earth shattering orgasm. The tip of his cock nestled against your sweet spot and you couldn’t last any longer, you clenched and milked all of him until he was forced to still his hips leaning on the wall above you with his hand letting out hungry growls and moans against your ear filling your core with another load. You believed that your legs turned to jelly as you collapsed against his chest your head lolling back against his right peck. “You gonna come back buttercup..” you nodded with a small smile. “Maybe.. but promise me you won’t shoot any animals” he nuzzled his nose against your own before capturing your lips in a deep lusting kiss. You felt his cock grow in your core stretching it again, and you knew you weren’t going to make it back to the farmhouse anytime soon.

-

(Any mistakes or typos I apologise in advance)

[no-144444]

sweating- o.piastri

summary: oscar has been acting strange

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Brown! reader

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Zak had been worried about Oscar for a while. The far-off looks in meetings, the silence at dinners, the constant stares he was getting, all of it. He’d even been so worried, that he came to you, and you’d told him that Oscar had been just fine at home, so it must be something to do with work. 

It was a strange thing, to be dating your boss’s daughter. Oscar had in fact fallen for you within seconds of meeting you back in 2022, his first visit to MTC, before everything else happened. You, a legal trainee on the McLaren legal team, was the one running him through his contract, and he was very thankful that his lawyer was there to ask questions, because he was just focused on you. As he joined the team, you two got closer. About half way through his rookie season, he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, and you had said yes. What ensued was a few months of sneaking around until you finally told your dad, who supported you two, but from afar. He liked Oscar, would he have preferred you pick someone that wasn’t his driver, yes, very much so, but he didn’t have a say in your life. You were an adult and if you wanted to go get your heart broken by an F1 driver, that was up to you. The one thing Zak hadn’t accounted for was the fact that Oscar was a sweetheart who was genuinely head over heels for you. He saw it when you were in the paddock, how Oscar smiled a little brighter, how he made you a priority all weekend, how he performed better. 

So what the fuck was going on with Oscar now? 

Zak was worried that he was planning on breaking up with you, or maybe he was just going through some mental roadblocks at work, so he called him into his office. 

Oscar awkwardly took a seat across from him, waiting to be addressed. 

“Are you alright, Osc? You seem a bit… off lately,” Zak asked, nothing but concern in his voice. 

Oscar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, but even he knew it sounded wrong. This is really not how he wanted this to go. He was insured of Zak’s worry by the way his brows furrowed. “You can talk to me kid, you know that right? If it’s about Y/n or-”

“It’s not about Y/n,” Oscar assured him. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Oscar, talk to me, I’m here for you. If you’re going through something-”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask for your blessing!” he admitted, speaking far too loud and far too fast. Oscar looked up to see Zak’s face blank, his jaw slightly dropped. “I’m so sorry-”

“You have it,” he said. Now it was Oscar’s jaw that dropped. “Of course you have it,” Zak’s lips turned into a smile. “She adores you. You clearly adore her. I love you, my wife loves you, my sons love you. Of course you have my blessing.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “God, I was terrified.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe?” 

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Zak was very happy when he woke up to a call from the two of you, engaged, a few weeks later.

oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, zbrownceo, landonorris and 348,928 others

oscarpiastri: awesome season, can't wait to marry this girl though :)

comments

landonorris: OMFG YALL ARE YOUNGER THAN ME PLZ SLOW DOWN -> oscarpiastri: no more papaya rules 🤷

pierregalsy: too young -> kikagomez: bitch -> user92: lmao he's never said that before

zbrownceo: Congrats guys! Can't wait to walk you down the aisle!

charlesleclerc: MY SON IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!! -> oscarpiastri: thank you adoptive father :)

user93: god she is GLOWING

user12: these are the cutest photos ever!!!!!!!

user8: THE RINGGGGG

lilymunihe: OMG I'M SO EXCITED!!!! ->youruser: OMG LOVE YOUUUUU

user98: they're so in love it's actually sickening

logansargeant: no ring picking creds? -> oscarpiastri: I don't think grimacing at every ring I chose was very helpful -> hattiepiastri: nah, but it was funny

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[simpjaes]

ELABORATE ON OBSESSED!WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU WALK ON!HOUSEHUSBAND JAKE PLEASE!!!!!! MY MIND IS GONNA EXPLODE – byeol

i'll be the husband jake plug no worries. warnings: jake is suppppppppperrrrrrrr needy omg.

It's normal, natural to him to do these things.

You're so tired after a long day, he gets it. the days feel longer to him sometimes though, despite your tired feet and aching back. You're his wife, he needs you.

So what if he's unemployed? He's employed to you. Will do anything for you. everything for you. happily and willingly, with so much love in his eyes every single fucking time he hears that lock on the door click open.

Time to reiterate. He needs you.

It's been weeks. He gets it. Stress, big promotion you're going for or something. He can't say he cares too much lately due to the neglect he's been dealing with.

After all the cleaning, he massages you, bathes you, tucks you in, kisses you gently, and doesn't dare ask for more from you. After all, you're expected to do so much, from so many people. Not him. Not ever. Until now. He's a man. For three days now he's been trying to remind you. Trying all sorts of subtle tricks. Some blatant ones too. Generous groping that goes rejected. A few heavy makeouts dwindling to a pop kiss and a tired "goodnight." More subtle ones, where he simply tries to dress well for you, clean far better than usual, make your favorite foods. He knows it's not because you don't want him but...you're so stressed. He could kill two birds with one stone if you'd just... "Baby." He had said last night, sinking under the blankets and prying your legs apart. "Just rest, this is all i need." He continued, implying that he would be perfectly happy helping you relax with some bedtime head. You had closed your legs on him, pinching your brows together with the same stressed out face. All day today, his brows have been equally knitted together. Stressed. Fucking horny. Is it cringe for him to do this? Yes. Does he care? No. Fuck no. And so, you come home just like any other day to the smell of dinner. It's sweet smelling, which is an indication that your husband wants something. Never does he serve dessert for dinner, but tonight feels like a welcome change because everything else just started not only feeling, but tasting too mundane. You were more surprised when you werent greeted by Jake at the door. He didn't take your things, or slide your jacket off of you. Which, that's fine. You don't need him to wait on you hand and foot. He just tends to like doing that for you anyway... You search in curiosity for him, following the sound of clanking pots and pans. The sound would give you a headache if it weren't for the image of him as you enter the kitchen. There he is. Hair pinned back with one of your headbands, apron on... only an apron. Cock lending quite a large tent as he turns to you. You know he's trying to smile genuinely, but you see a hint of pain behind his eyes. Desperate pain. Almost like he's begging you for something. Anything. And he is begging. Only when he drops to his knees and looks up at you with those eyes do you recognize how terribly you've been neglecting him. So much so that you didn't even let him eat you out, which wouldn't have expected anything on your part aside from an orgasm. This moment feels almost emasculating for him, you can imagine. Like you've deprived him of everything he needs from you in order to maintain order in this household. Arguably, you have deprived him. You can tell by how big his cock looks peeking from the hem of the apron, and those sad glassy eyes looking at you as if this is a last resort. "Baby, ple-" Jake starts to plead on the floor, the dessert he was cooking long forgotten. You're speechless at the image, finally feeling a tingle between your legs for the first time in months. You feel so apologetic alongside the tingle, realizing how much suffering he must have gone through to be doing this. After all, there's no way in hell you could have satiated this need within you without him. How he's managed to do it all this time is beyond you. ''Jake," You interrupt him, dropping your hands to his cheeks and tilting his face further up to you. "What do you need?" You see those glassy eyes become more tearful, probably from happiness by now. No words and no apologies need to be said at this moment. He sees your realization, and understands the lack of seeing to his needs to an extent. But this... this can't happen again. Nothing is to be said after that when Jake immediately goes for your pants, missing the taste of you so badly. He was right in knowing that even just the smell of you could satiate him. And it does, his cock heavy and leaking just from the sensation of the apron rubbing against him paired with the scent of your pussy that has been long neglected.

And he devours you, getting off at least twice there on the kitchen floor with his palm desperately working himself to each high. You could tell he didn't want you to feel like you needed to do anything for him but...let him. God, fuck, you feel so guilty.

So you make up for it. Right here, sliding down on him raw, letting the mess he's made of himself make a mess of you too.

"Baby, wait-" Jake chokes, working against his words by helping you slide down on him entirely. "Fuck, you're-"

"Shh." You sigh deeply, realizing how much you needed this too. "Just keep going," He does. Fucking you so desperately that you believe he cums in you at least twice from you adjusting alone, messing your thighs with sticky fluids, the kitchen floor, and himself. So much of it, you're so full of it already. Plan B isn't such a difficult thing to buy anyway. Especially after he chooses to keep fucking you, as if he worries he'll never get to do it again.

[sunniques]

— lascivious addiction

cw/tw: hoon is still mean and manipulative, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, size kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie

pt2 to this. minors do not interact.

Your face is hot as you press it against Sunghoon’s pillow. The cool air is hitting your cunt, and you can feel how wet you already are. Being bent over and spread out is embarrassing, but for some sick reason it only turns you on.

“See this?” Sunghoon says as he spreads your ass, giving the four people an unobstructed view of your pretty holes. “This is mine.”

You cry out when he slaps your pussy. More arousal drips out of you, and the groans coming from behind you make you clench around nothing. Sunghoon eases two fingers into your tight pussy, smirking when you whine out his name. His other hand trials up your naked body until it's latching onto your hair. He roughly yanks your head back as he curls his long fingers into your most sensitive spot.

“Isn’t that right, angel?”

“Yes!” You mewl, moving your hips to fuck his fingers deeper into your pussy.

“Yes, what?”

Your face is burning, but you feel too good to not give into Sunghoon's indirect request. “Yes, daddy!”

The groans and dark laughs make you tighten around Sunghoon’s fingers. He lets go of your hair to caress your ass, tossing a smirk to his depraved friends and your friend that lended you two her room last week. It’s so funny. Your friend has a neutral face, but anyone can tell she’s entranced by the way your little hole sucks in his fingers greedily. Heeseung has a filthy smirk on his face that shows no trace of shame or anything close to it. Jake’s face is bright red, but he can’t look away despite how embarrassed he feels. And Jay’s dark gaze is intently fixed on your dripping pussy like it’s the prettiest thing in the world.

All of the men in the room are hard. Painfully hard.

Sunghoon is so mean. They all know he’s doing this to show off and to make them suffer. Forcing his friends to look at something they’ll never have is like sweet torture for them and thrilling for the man fucking his fingers into you. Sunghoon’s boner is starting to hurt from how much he's enjoying this. Just knowing that all his horny friends are so close to the tight little holes they’ll never touch, lick, or fuck has his thick cock straining against his pants.

Long fingers work your pussy just right to get you nice and soaked, and all you can do is mewl and whine into Sunghoon’s fluffy pillow. Everyone in the room can hear how wet you are. The lewd squelching coming from your stuffed cunt is mixing in with your needy moans loudly and obscenely.

Sunghoon bites his lip when your legs start to tremble. You’re so hot, and the fact that you’re willing to go along with all his filthy desires makes you even hotter. When he sees you fisting his sheets, thinks he’s teased you long enough. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out to let everyone watch how your tight little pussy tries to suck them back in before clenching around nothing. Sunghoon doesn’t bother to stifle his mean laughter when he sees his friends squirming.

It’s hard for the guys to ignore the way their cocks are throbbing in their pants. You’re so fucking pretty, and they can see how tight you are which only makes everything so much harder—literally.

“Think you deserve my cock?”

Heeseung wants to answer for you because damn it if you aren’t the epitome of a good girl. You’re so desperate and needy and exactly his type.

“Yes, daddy,” you moan, too turned on to be embarrassed anymore. “I’ve been such a good girl for you.”

“Has she?” Sunghoon directs his question to his friends.

Jay swallows thickly before responding in a hoarse voice. “Fuck yeah.”

Sunghoon hums before finally deciding that his dick is starting to hurt a little too much. So he manhandles you until you’re facing the other four people in the room with your pretty ass up in the air. He gets behind you and quickly gets his dick out of his pants. For a while, he slaps and slides his cock against your slippery pussy. He can tell everyone is getting impatient, but he doesn’t give in so easily. Not when he’s having so much fun.

Your friend feels stupid and fucking nasty. After coming back and literally finding you getting rawed on her bed, she never thought she’d speak to you or Sunghoon again. But when that pretty face asked her to wait outside while he finished using your little pussy, she agreed without fully thinking it through. That night, she was forced to listen to your wanton moans and Sunghoon’s filthy words as he fucked your brains out.

When Sunghoon reached out to her again, she didn’t imagine it would be for this. And once again, she agreed to participate before fully thinking it through.

Finally, Sunghoon grabs your hair and yanks your head up, forcing you to lift your body and press your naked back against his chest. All three of his friends groan at the sights of your pretty tits. God, do you look amazing.

Sunghoon grabs your chin and forces your face forward to make sure you don't stop looking at them. Goosebumps cover your skin when he whispers in your ear: “Let’s give them a nice show, baby.”

Everyone remains silent as Sunghoon pushes his massive cock into you. The way your cute little cunt is stretching beyond belief to accommodate his dick looks painful, and none of them have ever seen a hotter sight. Your moan is loud and nasty—downright pornstar worthy.

Sunghoon smirks at his friends before biting down on your neck and roughly fucking his cock into your hot cunt. You cry out loudly, pussy pulsing from being split open and the heated gazes on you.

None of the men move to touch themselves even though they desperately want to. This is their punishment for Heeseung trying to covet something that is clearly not his. Jay and Jake were mostly there as collateral damage, but Sunghoon always made sure to cover all his bases. It was also the perfect opportunity for him to make sure you sever all ties with the one person who almost stopped him from having you.

Now they were forced to listen to your sweet moans. Moans that each one of his friends want all to themselves. Every one of them wants to split you open, to absolutely ruin you. What they wouldn’t give to be able to take Sunghoon’s place. To be the ones to make you beg, make you cry, make you cum. 

But since it’s a punishment, all they can do is watch.

“Daddy, harder!” You beg, moving your hips to meet Sunghoon's rough thrusts.

The way you arch your back and moan louder is so filthy and hot—fucking obscene. Just like Sunghoon ordered you to do. And damn it if you aren’t putting on a filthy show. One that’s making him so, so proud.

Once again, your friend is the victim of jealousy and shameful arousal. You look so good getting split open by Sunghoon’s fat cock. He’s so rough, and she can tell it feels so good because his cock is covered with your cream. She’s not sure who to feel more jealous of at this point, and all she can do is squeeze her thighs together to relieve the ache in her ruined panties.

“You’re going to break her, Hoon,” Jay groans, eyeing your messy pussy as his friend’s heavy balls slap against it with every thrust.

“That tiny pussy can take it,” Heeseung says as he licks his lips. “Fuck. Just look at how it’s stretching open.”

“God, Y/N,” Jake whimpers, looking something between guilty and horny. It’s cute. 

Sunghoon laughs against your neck. “Hear that, baby? The boys love how nasty you are. Why don’t you be a good girl and show them how pretty you look when you cream all over this cock?”

And so they watch with envy as you convulse and squirt all over Sunghoon’s girthy cock. They don’t take their eyes off of you even as you desperately ride out your orgasm until he shoots a thick, creamy load deep inside your pussy. He fucks it back into you, loving the feeling of your mixed cum dripping down to his heavy sac.

The room is permeated with the musky smell of sex. It’s all so erotic that the three boys are close to cumming in their pants. But they control themselves and savor the sight of Sunghoon slowly pulling out of you. Cum slowly drips out of your messy pussy and onto the sheets. 

“Don’t think we’re done yet, baby. These idiots still haven’t learned their lesson.”