#they could have flings if they were smart enough.

[johnnyinmysilverhand]

bumble and anessa could have some side lesbianism going on if they weren't so focused on revenge and killing

[moonriizing]

urs | p.sh (18+)

You weren't supposed to want more, but you did. What started as a casual fling became more complicated when you found yourself caught between your desire and the reality that Park Sunghoon's heart belonged to someone else.

Genre: college au, situationship, smut Pairing: Park Sunghoon x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD. I'll come back to do that when I can lol. Notes: 10k words. Listening to urs by NIKI. My first Sunghoon fic and it's written on a whim! lol. I wrote this instead of working on my overdue wip lol. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

You first met Park Sunghoon at a frat party you had no real interest in attending. It was the first night of the semester, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was exactly what you needed. It was the kind of night that made you feel young and invincible, where bad decisions were just part of the fun. And tonight, you were on a mission: hook up with a hot guy.

It was a promiscuous mission, you knew that. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t that kind of girl because you were! But you weren’t the reckless, messy type. No, you were the smart kind of promiscuous. The kind who could have fun without losing control. You were practical about it—always sober enough to make sound decisions, always keeping your boundaries clear. Simply put, you were the best type of promiscuous.

As a college girl with ambitions, you couldn’t afford to get tangled in romance and all that commitment nonsense. Too much work. But you had needs, and fulfilling them meant nights like this—scanning the crowd for a guy who could tickle your fancy, no strings attached.

That was how you spotted him.

Tall, handsome, but oddly out of place. While the rest of the party thrived on the chaos, he stood by himself in a corner. He had a cup in his hand, but it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—his posture slouched just enough to suggest he wasn’t a part of this. He had that bored, almost irritable look on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was only here because someone dragged him along.

You were not the type to hesitate, so you didn’t. You’d done this enough times to know exactly what you were after, and right now? You were after him.

“Is this your first frat party, or are you just too cool for it?” you asked, leaning in just enough to get his attention.

He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over your face for a second before landing on your lips, then back up to your eyes. Up close, he was even more good-looking—long lashes, sharp features, lips that curled just slightly at the corners like he was already amused by you, and a couple of beauty marks on his face that made him even more striking.

He was definitely your type.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you added, taking a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact.

“That obvious?” he asked, his voice low, almost melodic.

You smirked, liking the way his voice was as perfect as his looks. “You look miserable,” you pointed out, still grinning.

He chuckled lightly, amused but not exactly thrilled. “What about you? Having fun?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t. But right now, I think I might be…” You let your gaze wander, deliberately slow, from his face to the exposed skin of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

Sunghoon smirked, his gaze trailing over you in a way that was appreciative without being too obvious. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied suggestively.

He flirted right back!

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. You took it and gave him your name.

Your eyes locked with his—now more curious, sizing him up. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you staring each other down, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts with your hands still joined. Then you saw a flicker in his eyes that made you come to an agreement with your own intuition.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked with his. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting in surprise—visibly caught off guard by your suggestion. His grip on your hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You kept your gaze steady, showing no hesitation and letting him know you were serious. A few seconds of silence passed where you almost thought he’d say no, but then he exhaled a soft laugh.

“Are you always this forward?” he asked, amused now.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Only when I see someone I like.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

With that, his smirk widened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he set his cup down. “My place or yours?”

And just like that, you were out of the party and heading to whatever the hell came next. No strings, no pressure. Just the way you liked it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when the tsunami that would come crashing in began to take shape.

You didn’t mean for it to happen again. It was supposed to be a one-time thing—fun, uncomplicated. But he was phenomenal, so it happened a second time. And a third. And eventually, you just lost count.

Maybe it was because, other than the fact that he was really good at it, he was also easy to be around. He wasn’t like the others—the ones who got clingy after a night or acted like they were doing you a favor by sleeping with you. Sunghoon was different. He never overstayed his welcome, never asked for more than you were willing to give, but he wasn’t distant either. If anything, he was… nice.

Not in a fake, trying-too-hard way. Just nice. Made you feel comfortable, always made sure you finished before he did, and never left without saying something witty that made you roll your eyes. He had this way of being detached but not cold, like he had mastered the art of keeping things casual without being an asshole.

“You know,” you mused, sprawled across his bed, still catching your breath, “my first impression of you was that you were boring and miserable. Turns out you know how to make a girl have fun.”

Standing by his closet, Sunghoon threw you an amused glance as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Yeah? I aim to please.”

You smirked. “That sounds like something a guy who thinks he’s good in bed would say.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you, looking almost too put-together for someone who had just spent an hour between your legs. “And? Am I not?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re alright.”

He scoffed, tossing a pillow at you, which you barely dodged. “You’re a bad liar.”

You grinned, stretching lazily. “Well, I can’t have you getting a big head, can I?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Too late for that.”

It was easy. Too easy. Maybe that’s why you let it keep happening.

Behind closed doors, there was no restraint. It didn’t matter if it was your place or his—once the door was closed, your hands were on his neck, his lips found your skin, and clothes barely made it past the foyer before being discarded.

Sunghoon was incredible in bed. He was controlled, precise, yet somehow still desperate when he kissed you, when he pressed you against the mattress, when he groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. And you? You had mastered the art of making him unravel.

You knew exactly what made him weak, how to turn his composure into incoherence, how to make him grip your waist a little harder or breathe your name in a way that made your stomach flip. It was exhilarating, effortless—two people who just fit perfectly when it came to this.

But outside? You were mere acquaintances.

A nod in the hallway. A fleeting smile across the quad. If you happened to pass each other at a party, he’d tip his cup in your direction, and you’d lift a brow in acknowledgment. No one knew. No one suspected a thing. And you liked it better that way. You were both civil and could control your urges.

Except for when you couldn’t.

Like now.

You were leaving class when Sunghoon caught your wrist, pulling you into an empty lecture hall.

“What—”

He kissed you before you could finish, his hands already gripping your hips, pressing you against the nearest desk. The kiss was hot, urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“Wow, I think you missed me a little,” you teased when he finally pulled away, breathless.

Sunghoon scoffed, but his fingers traced the sleeve of your dress like he wasn’t done with you yet. “You should wear this more often.”

You smirked. “What? Hoon, you did not pull me in here just because I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s a really nice dress,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck. His hand slipped under your dress, squeezing your thighs firmly. When the familiar warmth started creeping up your chest, you held his hand to stop him.

“This is not a good idea,” you told him, smiling at the puppy-like look on his face.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he regretted his own impulse. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then you heard the sound of voices just outside the door.

In an instant, Sunghoon stepped back, running a hand through his hair like nothing had happened. You casually adjusted your dress. When the door creaked open, and a couple of students poked their heads in, you and Sunghoon were already on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this Professor Smith’s class?” one of them asked just as you spotted the same name written on the board in front.

“It is,” you said smoothly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you strode past Sunghoon without so much as a glance.

Outside, in the open air, you felt his presence behind you, his steps easy and unhurried. As you reached the main path to the quad, he finally passed you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly.

“See you around,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You smirked, not looking back. “See you around.”

But even with all of that, you could tell he was drawing a line between you. He didn’t have to say it. You could see it in the way he never texted first, the way he kissed you like he meant it but pulled away too quickly after. The way he made you laugh but never let the moment linger too long.

And maybe you should have done the same.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You really didn’t. But it was hard not to when, in between the sneaking around and the mind-blowing sex, Sunghoon was just... Sunghoon. Nice and thoughtful in a way that made it almost impossible to keep things casual.

Like when the lightbulb in your room went out, and he arrived at your place with a new one, climbed on a chair, and replaced it himself.

“I was gonna do that, you know,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall, watching him screw the new bulb into place. “I’m just a little busy these days.”

He climbed down, dusting his hands off. “Yeah, but can you even reach that high?”

You rolled your eyes, but when he patted your head like you were some kid, you didn’t swat his hand away. Instead, you found yourself watching him as he moved around your space so easily.

Or the way he always refilled your bedside tumbler before he left your place. You didn’t even notice it at first, but one morning, you woke up, throat dry, and reached for it instinctively—only to realize it was full. Ice-cold. Like he had just topped it off before slipping out.

And then there was the night you were cramming for an exam, drowning in highlighter ink and frustration, when your door swung open, and Sunghoon walked in like he owned the place.

“I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” he announced, dropping a thick stack of papers on your desk.

You blinked up at him. “What is this?”

“My old notes,” he said, ruffling your hair before plopping onto your bed like he had all the time in the world. “They’re neat. Better than whatever middle school doodles you have going on.”

You flipped through them, and he wasn’t lying—his notes were immaculate. Organized, highlighted, complete with diagrams. You stared at them, then at him, sprawled out on your bed like he had no idea what he’d just done.

“You didn’t strike me as a guy who took his studies seriously,” you teased, although you didn’t really think that way about him.

Sunghoon smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Why? Did you think the only thing I knew how to do was make your legs shake?”

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop the warmth creeping up your chest. “Be real, Hoon. You’re not that good.”

“Liar liar, pants on fire,” he lilted, his eyes shifting back to his phone.

You fell for him because hookups weren’t supposed to be this thoughtful. Hookups weren’t supposed to linger after sex to fix your lightbulb or make sure you stayed hydrated. They weren’t supposed to look after you in ways so small, so casual, that you almost missed them.

You caught yourself wondering. Did he care about you more than just a hookup? Or worse—did you want him to?

You were at a café with your friends when his name came up. 

It started casually enough—half-listening to the conversation while stirring the melting ice in your drink, until one of them, Lily, suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, I saw Sunghoon at your apartment complex the other day. Didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

Your hand stilled, heartbeat picking up pace at the sudden mention of his name. You blinked once, twice, before mustering up an easy shrug. “Huh. Neither did I.”

Lily laughed, oblivious. “Right? He was coming out of your building. I was gonna say hi, but he looked like he was in a hurry.”

Across the table, Tammy tilted her head. “Maybe he was visiting someone? From what I know, he lives with Jake in a different neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. Then, as if the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Oh! You and Jenna are neighbors, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know any Jenna.”

“Jenna! The girl who won the poll for prettiest student last year!” she explained, her expression turning conspiratorial. “She’s Sunghoon’s ex.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Lily went on, oblivious. “Guess he’s still hoping she’ll take him back.”

The words landed like a slap. You almost asked her to repeat herself, but the way Tammy nodded in understanding told you that you heard right.

“Yeah,” Tammy said. “They were together for two years. I heard he was really sad when they broke up.”

Lily clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did get back together. They were that couple, you know?”

That couple. The ones who belonged together. The ones who had history, real history—not just stolen moments behind closed doors.

You swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “Didn’t know you guys were keeping up with Sunghoon’s love life like this.”

Lily nodded. “Jenna and I used to hang out when I was still in the council.”

Then she started rambling about their history, how Jenna broke Sunghoon’s heart, how he never really moved on. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but your mind was stuck on every moment you spent with him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, how he never let you walk home alone, the way he looked at you sometimes—like maybe you were something more special to him.

But you weren’t. You weren’t the one he wanted. You never were. And just like that, the guessing game was over.

He didn’t want you like you wanted him. You were genuinely just a fling.

Still, you smiled, made some joke that had your friends laughing, and sipped your drink like nothing was wrong. Like your stomach hadn’t just dropped to the floor.

Later, when you saw Sunghoon again—when he let himself into your apartment with that lazy smirk, hands already reaching for you—you didn’t hesitate. You let him touch you, let him kiss you like nothing had changed.

Because for him, nothing had.

And if he didn’t know the difference or couldn’t see the shift, then you sure as hell weren’t going to show him.

Does it make sense to want your ex back and exclusively sleep with someone else? NO.

It was stupid. Sunghoon was stupid. That was what you told yourself every time the thought crossed your mind—every time you caught yourself comparing.

You never voiced it out loud, though. Not to your friends, because Sunghoon was popular, and they’d pry if they knew you were sleeping with him. Not to him, for obvious reasons. And mainly because you had pride. You were the one who said you wouldn’t get attached—the one who laughed at girls who caught feelings for a fling.

But knowing better didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

His ex was his senior, a fine arts major. Pretty. Smart. Talented. One of those girls who just had it. The kind people didn’t get over easily. You told yourself it didn’t matter. If he wanted her back, that was his problem, not yours. It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon were anything.

And so the days with him continued to be easy and light.

You spent more time together, and the more you did, the more you noticed his quirks—his own brand of annoying charm. Like how he always picked up your keys instead of his whenever he left your apartment, or how he liked to roll his sleeves and ruffle his hair absentmindedly.

One evening, lying side by side on your bed, you scrolled through your texts, absentmindedly opening your chat with him. A dozen images filled the screen, almost all of them mirror selfies. Some in elevators, some in his room, one even in a convenience store.

“You like yourself a little too much, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your phone so he could see.

Sunghoon barely glanced at it. “What?”

“These,” you said, scrolling through. “Almost every picture you send me is just you.”

He smirked, resting his head on his arm. “What, you don’t like them?”

You huffed. “You’re hot and you know it, is that it?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. The glint in his eyes was naughty and suggestive. His next words, even more so: “Would you rather I send you something else?”

He was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“Maybe,” you said, feigning deep thought. “Like a cat picture. Or, I don’t know, an interesting rock.”

Sunghoon snorted. “An interesting rock?”

“I like rocks.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re a narcissist.”

He only grinned, as if he didn’t mind the label. You shook your head, rolling onto your stomach, but your lips twitched when your phone vibrated a second later.

A picture. Of a rock.

You bit back a smile, and Sunghoon, watching you, caught it anyway.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing,” you said, tossing your phone aside.

You had never once felt insecure about what you had with Sunghoon, but after what you heard from your friends, you started to notice the little things. It almost seemed like outside the four walls of your apartments, you were nothing to each other.

You used to think he was just a lazy texter. His replies were always short, sometimes delayed, sometimes just emojis. But knowing what you knew now, you wondered if he just wasn’t interested enough.

The thought crept under your skin, making you overthink the things you once brushed off.

Before, when you texted him to come over and he said he couldn’t, you didn’t think much of it. But now? Now, you wondered if he was with her when he wasn’t with you. If he looked at his phone, saw your message, and made a choice.

Yet, you kept crawling back for more.

You were an intelligent woman. You knew this was foolish. You knew how it made you look. But it was fine, because no one else knew how you felt—not your friends, not even Sunghoon himself. It was fine because you were foolish only in your own eyes. There was no need for anyone else to know.

Despite the foolishness of it all, you were happy. You were content enough to be able to spend time with him, to be touched and worshipped by him, to know you had the power to tease out a part of him that not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Sunghoon,” you sighed, fingers pressed against your temple as you looked out of the car window. “We’ve been circling this block for ten minutes.”

You had tagged along with Sunghoon on a quick trip to pick up some pieces for his department’s upcoming art exhibit. It was unplanned. You were outside the campus after class when he spotted you and asked if you wanted to join him. Since you didn’t have anything planned for the day (and because you could never say no to a chance to hang out with him), you got into his car and let him drive without even asking where you were going.

But Sunghoon, as it turned out, had a terrible sense of direction.

“I swear it was supposed to be around here,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping aimlessly at his phone.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

He shot you a glance, sheepish. “Well, I meant it twenty minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs. The map app on his dashboard kept recalculating, rerouting him to roads that either didn’t exist or led straight to nowhere. And when he finally admitted defeat, pulling over to rethink his next move, you both stepped out and realized something.

The ocean was right there.

Waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm but not overbearing—the kind of day that practically begged to be wasted at the beach.

“…Screw the errand?” you offered.

Sunghoon stared at the water for a moment before shrugging. “Screw the errand.”

And just like that, the detour became the destination.

The day unfolded spontaneously. You bought overpriced street food from a vendor by the shore, eating as you walked, laughing when Sunghoon scrunched his nose at the spicy kick of the sauce. He had an annoyingly specific taste in food and the smell, but he still let you shove a piece of yours into his mouth.

You found a little souvenir stand and tried on ridiculous sunglasses, taking pictures of each other in frames shaped like hearts and palm trees. Sunghoon snapped candid shots of you when you weren’t looking, and though you pretended to be annoyed, you never asked him to stop.

At some point, the tide crept in, and you played a round of rock, paper, scissors and dared the loser to get into the water. You weren’t even surprised when you lost. You sucked at this game.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you grumbled, kicking your sandals off. “By myself, no less.”

“Hey, it’s a game. We both agreed to this,” he retorted, stepping back. “And I can’t go in there. I’m wearing jeans.”

“And I’m wearing a skirt,” you countered, already wading in, your hem darkening as the waves reached you.

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, probably wondering if you were actually sulking over a punishment you’d happily agreed to before you lost the game. Of course, you weren’t, but it was fun to tease him and see what he’d do.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said after the scowl never left your face. In a moment of impulsive surrender, he walked straight in after you, the water soaking up his pants. You’re actually unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head as the chill hit him.

You grinned triumphantly, making him brush his hair back in playful exasperation. Then, shaking his head in defeat, he said, “I knew it. It was a farce. You knew I was gonna give in!”

“You fell for it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t blame me,” you added, flicking water at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you, unimpressed, before flicking some back with just the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, come on,” you taunted. “Is that the best you can do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly—just enough of a warning before he sent a full splash your way, drenching your arms. You gasped, stumbling back with a laugh.

“Oh? So that’s how it’s gonna be?” you shot back, scooping up water with both hands and throwing it right at his chest.

He retaliated, sending another wave toward you, and suddenly it was war. One splash turned into another, then another, until you were both breathless, clothes sticking to your skin, hair a mess.

Sunghoon pushed his dripping bangs back with a huff. “This is your fault,” he said, smiling his usual warm and blinding smile—the smile that made his eyes crinkle, the smile that revealed dimples carving deep into his cheeks, the smile that could make anyone think Sunghoon had never forced a grin in his life.

He was beautiful, and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper, with no way out. You were falling so deep that it made your heart ache a little—the way you liked him, the way you wanted him to be yours, the way you wished today could last forever.

As the sky started to turn amber, you collapsed onto the sand, watching the sun lower itself into the horizon.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, curling at the shore. The air smelled of salt, and the golden glow of the sunset painted the world majestically. You sat side by side, talking and laughing about random things, content to share the warmth of a single jacket.

Then, somewhere between the soothing sound of the waves and the silly jokes, the conversation drifted deeper.

You talked about things you never had before—about college, about dreams and ambitions, about the way people always say you’ll just know when something is right.

“How do you know for sure that that’s what you wanted to pursue?” he asked while you were tracing idle patterns in the sand. “What if you think you know, but when you get to the end of it, you realize it was the wrong choice?”

You looked out into the ocean, tilting your head slightly, considering. “I didn’t really know it was the right choice. I don’t think anyone ever really knows,” you admitted. “Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you just choose something, and later, that choice becomes the right one.”

You turned to look at him only to find out he already had his eyes on you. The admiration in his gaze was subtle, but it was there. Seeing that made your heart trip over itself, it made you forget, for just a second, that this wasn’t real.

And when he leaned in, when his eyes flickered to your lips and your breath caught, you stopped thinking. You knew what was coming. You knew he was about to kiss you, but somehow, for some reason, this time felt different. Like this kiss was gonna determine a major point in your relationship.

But before anything could happen, Sunghoon’s phone rang, jolting you both out of the trance. You both looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat like you’d caught yourself doing something you shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous because you’d done nothing but kiss him in the past few months.

Sunghoon cleared his throat as he picked up his phone on the sand then answered the call with a quiet, “Yeah?”

It was the committee for the exhibit and you watched him talk on the phone for the next few minutes, explaining what had happened and why he couldn’t finish the errand. By the time he hung up, the sky had darkened completely, and the air had turned crisp.

“It’s late,” he said, brushing sand off his hands. “You okay with crashing at my place?”

You blinked. “Your place?”

“Our old family house. It’s not far from here.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. “Sure.”

The car ride was quiet, thick with the tension that had been ignited by the near-kiss at the beach. Neither of you spoke, but your gazes met every now and then—quick glances, fleeting and heated, before darting away like you hadn’t been caught.

Sunghoon was the first to break. His hand drifted from the wheel, finding your thigh in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He squeezed, testing, and when you didn’t stop him, he grew bolder, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin. His fingers traced your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, inching higher into your inner thighs and lightly brushing your sex.

The heat of his touch burned through you. While you sat there feeling hotter as your heartbeat hammered wildly in your chest, he remained composed and quiet, his face unreadable save for the occasional twitch of his jaw. He kept his eyes on the road, but the way the car gradually picked up speed as he stepped harder on the gas told you everything you needed to know.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until the car rolled to a stop in their driveway. He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of himself before stepping out and opening the door for you like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The lock to their house’s main entrance clicked, the door creaked open, and the second you stepped inside, all restraints snapped.

You barely had a moment to take in the house before his hands were on you, pulling you in, mouths crashing in a kiss that was desperate, needy, and greedy. He backed you into the foyer, hands mapping the curve of your waist, and the shape of your hips.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling, tugging, holding on for dear life as the heat of his touch woke something primal in you. He barely broke the kiss as he guided you further inside, not caring where you ended up as long as you got there together. You went past the foyer and the living room, but all you felt was the press of his body, the way he kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin.

He pushed a door open, urging you inside but you hesitated, pulse hammering.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed between kisses, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your parents—”

“They’re not home.” His voice was low, steady, but his eyes burned through yours.

You barely had a second to process before he kissed you again, silencing every last doubt as he pushed you inside the door he had just opened. When he clicked the lights on, the glow of a bathroom light flickered on, reflecting off the tiles and the mirror above the sink.

“Figured you’d hate the taste of the sea on my skin,” he murmured, grinning as his fingers grazed your hip. You were suddenly reminded of the saltwater clinging to your skin, and the sand on your legs, remnants of the day you’d spent together.

You swallowed, nodding. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, you knew washing up wasn’t gonna be the only thing happening in here. 

You shamelessly ogled him—his bare skin, damp from sweat and seawater, and his lean build with well-defined muscles that you’d seen several times before but still found alluring. He caught you staring and smirked, stepping closer, close enough that his fingers found the buttons of your top.

“Did you know I’m good with buttons?” he asked softly, making you giggle.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your skills,” you said, watching him.

His fingers were deft, undoing your buttons slowly, teasingly. When he was done, he gently tugged it off, letting it fall on the floor. His hands didn’t leave you, though. They skimmed down your arms, and your waist, examining every curve like he had it memorized and wanted to see if anything was different.

The next thing you knew, warm water was cascading over your bodies, steam enveloping you in the small space. The spray soaked your hair, trailing down your spine, but you barely noticed because Sunghoon was there—his hands smoothing over your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your jaw, his canines grazing your skin ever so slightly.

“We’re supposed to be washing up,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

“We are,” he murmured, his fingers sliding down your stomach, inching lower. “Just making sure we’re doing it thoroughly.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but it faded into a sigh when he pressed you back against the cool tiles, his mouth finding yours again. He didn’t stay for long, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, all the way to your chest where his kisses turned a little more intense. He sucked and squeezed, sending a pleasant ripple through your body that made you arch forward for more. The water drowned out the sound of your quiet moans, the warmth of his mouth making every touch feel more heady, more intoxicating.

When did he take off his pants? You didn’t even notice until he pressed his body against yours and you felt his manhood pulsating against your torso, hot and raging. He kissed your lips again, shoving his tongue inside as his breathing turned rougher.

“Turn around,” he rasped in your ear, and you obliged, finding yourself face-to-face with your own reflection.

You pressed your hands against the glass, your entire body tingling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck as you felt his tip prodding your pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, biting your ear. “Do you have any idea how you drive me crazy all the damn time?”

You were about to respond when he pushed himself inside you, making you let out a throaty gasp instead. Sunghoon stayed still, shushing you gently and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s alright. We’ve done this before,” he chimed and you could see him smirking in your reflection. 

“You’re used to this, right?” he asked, moving delicately so you could properly adjust to his length and girth. “Right, baby?” he asked again, and the lilt in his voice made you close your eyes and nod.

“That’s right. You said you love it, didn’t you?” 

You could only let out a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “Yes, Hoon. I love it,” you whispered back.

“Good. I know you do,” he chimed, gently bending you forward. “I know you’ll love this too,” he added before his hands settled on your waist and he started thrusting into you.

His pace was urgent, with enough force to make your knees weak each time he slammed into you. You didn’t even bother to stifle your moans anymore, letting them out completely, not caring if there were neighbors nearby who might hear you. You were lightheaded with lust, spiraling into the titillating euphoria that Sunghoon never once failed to deliver. Your entire being came alive and you were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice your knees buckling underneath your weight.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he helped keep you up, pulling out to give you a quick break and to turn you face-to-face with him again. His grin was unmistakable, pleased to see your fucked-out expression. “So so beautiful,” he said, sweeping your hair out of your face.

He pressed you against the cool tiles, his lips crashing onto yours, urgency overtaking everything else. You gasped when his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him. The water poured over his shoulders, down your back, as he moved with reckless need, his breath ragged against your ear. 

“More, Hoon. Please, more,” you pleaded, as if he wasn’t already ramming mercilessly into you making every nerve in your body dance in pleasure.

“You’re so horny for me,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers gripping your thighs as he lifted you against him. “Can’t even wait till we got to the bed, huh?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed into you, the heat of the shower only amplifying the sensation. “This was your idea,” you whispered, but it came out shaky, wrecked.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I know. But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, voice smooth as his lips traced down your throat. “You want me so bad. You’re begging me for more, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t answer—not in words, at least. But when you tightened your grip around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, he took it as confirmation.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered when he hit a delicious spot, holding onto him tighter. “Hoon, you fuck so good.”

He grunted, spurred on by your admission. He was fast, desperate—like he couldn’t get enough, like he had to claim every inch of you right then and there. When he finally tipped over the edge, dragging you down with him, he held you through it, his lips pressing on your temple as your body trembled in his arms.

The moment was fleeting, but the desire didn’t leave just yet. You could still feel it in his touch even as he set you back on your feet. The moment you stepped out of the shower, Sunghoon grabbed a towel, barely bothering to dry you properly before he lifted you off your feet, carrying you out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into what you only assumed was his bedroom.

This time, there was no rush.

He laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin, his touch softer now, more reverent. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes tracing over every inch of you, dark with something more than just lust. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

Your breath came uneven as he leaned down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, lower—each one dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin.

“You,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then take me,” he added, just before he filled you up again.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent, or desperate. It was slow, deep, and overwhelming in the most delightful way. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your face, whispering in between kisses.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” he murmured, moving languidly. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so well.”

Every whispered praise sent shivers down your spine, made you cling to him even tighter, and made the pleasure build until it was unbearable.

The night was young and it was not gonna end just yet. And so the hours blurred into moments of euphoric highs, fleeting clarity, and intense need to ravage and be ravaged. His name was the only thing you could say—over and over—until you were both left breathless, tangled together in the sheets, completely undone.

In the morning, you probably wouldn’t remember every detail of tonight, but you’d remember this—remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. In the dim glow of Sunghoon’s bedroom, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, lips swollen from too many kisses, you let yourself forget. Forget the rules. Forget that this was never supposed to feel like more. Just for tonight, he was yours, and you were his.

The morning light streamed in through the sheer curtains, hurting your eyes a little. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, until the scent of Sunghoon’s shampoo on your skin and the warmth of the bed beneath you reminded you where you were.

You turned over to find him already awake, his arm tucked behind his head as he looked at you with a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His fingers skimmed down your arm. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

A slow blink. Then, a scoff. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his gaze flickered down to your lips. “You drool a little, though.”

You smacked his arm. “I do not.”

His laughter was low and teasing, as he caught your wrist then tugged you closer. His body was warm against yours, and his breath was even warmer as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“We should get up,” you said, but neither of you moved.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his soft kisses trailing down to your shoulder. “In a bit,” he added before reaching to cup your cheek and kiss your lips.

One thing led to another and suddenly, you were underneath him again, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The morning air was cool, but his hands were warm as they skimmed down your waist, his touch slow, and smooth. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured against your lips, smiling when you shivered under him.

“So are you,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Guess we’re even, then.”

His hands slid over your bare skin, his touch reverent. He kissed you deeply, guiding you through the lazy tangle of limbs and soft gasps, dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you finally got out of bed, Sunghoon had already dug through his closet, tossing you an old hoodie and some sweatpants. You pulled them on and followed him down the quiet hallway.

The house felt still—too still. Only then did you notice the dust gathering on the bookshelves, the faint scent of time in the air.

“This place has been empty for a while now,” Sunghoon said casually from behind you when he noticed you looking around. “My family moved a few months ago to take care of my grandparents.”

Your brows lifted. “So no one lives here?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I come by sometimes. I technically still live here, I'm just not here often.”

That made sense. There was something about the house—it felt untouched, frozen in time, like stepping into a memory. You walked further into the hall, your fingers grazing along the walls and stopping at the framed photographs hanging there.

You studied them, tilting your head. Sunghoon as a kid, bright-eyed and grinning, a missing tooth on full display. A younger version of him on a skating rink, mid-game, frozen in motion. Another picture—him and his family, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and several of him in a skating rink, different poses, taken in the middle of a routine.

“You skate?”

Sunghoon smiled, standing beside you and looking up at the photos. “Used to. I was in the national team for a while.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked glancing up at him and seeing the reminiscent look on his face.

He simply shrugged. “I had to be realistic. I enjoyed the sport but I couldn’t see myself doing it for a long time.”

You bit back a smile. “You were kind of adorable.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping up behind you. “I still am.”

“Debatable.”

He tugged at your hoodie—his hoodie—pulling the hood over your head before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The drive back to the city was uneventful, the radio playing softly in the background. Sunghoon’s hand rested on the wheel, his other lazily draped over your thigh, tracing absentminded patterns through the fabric of his sweatpants that you were still wearing. You were talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at him between songs on the stereo.

At some point, he cleared his throat. “So… what are you doing later?”

“I have a group project.” You groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I’m meeting up with my classmates later.”

“Right. Group project.” He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sounds boring.”

“It is,” you huffed. “Why’d you ask?”

“No reason.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but you caught the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. A second passed before he spoke again, this time even more nonchalant. “What about tomorrow?”

You tilted your head. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Just classes, I think.” You turned to him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Do you wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow?”

You stared at him for a moment, then grinned teasingly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but he scoffed like the idea was ridiculous. “I’m just saying we should get lunch.”

“Mmm.” You pretended to think. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

You scoffed in playful exasperation. “Dude, I was naked on top of you last night and a couple of other nights before. Surely we’re way past shy invitations for lunch dates?”

“I’m asking you to eat.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “But if you wanna call it a date, that’s fine too. Labels are overrated.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hm. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. It’s settled then,” he said, stopping at a red light.

He leaned over to kiss you, catching you off guard but only for a moment. You kissed him back, albeit a little confused. When he pulled away, he was wearing a proud smirk on his face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, shifting the gear as the light turned green again. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips.

One hour later, you reached your apartment complex, but had to you stay a few more minutes in his car because he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and touching right there in the parking lot. You had to forcefully push him away and remind him that you had classes and important stuff to attend to. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go.

After a dramatic goodbye that had him pouting as he drove away, you climbed up the building with a sickening grin on your face. You unlocked your door, stepping inside with a lightness in your chest, breathing in the familiar smell of your home. 

The past few days had been a rollercoaster for you, with all the guessing and expectations and disappointments. But now, you were feeling much lighter, much happier. The good days with Sunghoon were all you could think of, playing back in flashes—the sound of his laugh in your space, the weight of his arm over your waist in the morning, the smell of his skin at night, the way he always left the bathroom mirror fogged up because he took ridiculously hot showers.

Tossing your bag onto the couch, you leaned against the door for a moment, smiling to yourself. Sunghoon was nice, but he always drew an invisible line. Not this time. You could tell by the way he held you this morning, the way he was reluctant to part from you, and how he’d asked to hang out with you for lunch—outside, in public. It felt like, for once, you both wanted the same thing. No second-guessing, no mixed signals—you were finally moving the same direction.

Your gaze drifted to the hoodie he’d left draped over the chair, his specs on your nightstand, and the half-empty tumbler beside it—subtle proofs that he’d started leaving pieces of himself behind. You wondered if he even realized it.

And more than that, you wondered where this would go next.

The next morning, you woke up too early. Way too early.

You groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your back as you stared at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. You’d seen Sunghoon plenty of times before—hung out, spent nights together, and shared more than just passing glances. But the idea of today, of a proper lunch date, had you wide awake before the sun was even fully up. Maybe it was because, for once, you weren’t just meeting up in the comfort of your apartment or his. It would be something different. Something real.

You giggled at the thought, covering your face with your blanket and then flailing your arms and legs. 

Admitting that to yourself felt embarrassing, so you dragged yourself out of bed and decided to be productive. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make the most of it.

A jog around the neighborhood. A quick stop at the store. And before you knew it, you were back in your apartment, unpacking groceries and deciding, on a whim, to actually cook breakfast. When was the last time you did that? You couldn’t even remember.

By the time you arrived on campus, you were still riding the high of a morning well-spent. Your good mood didn’t go unnoticed—your friends picked up on it immediately, teasing you about the extra bounce in your step. You brushed them off with the excuse of getting enough sleep, but they weren’t wrong. Everything just felt lighter today.

Even classes didn’t seem so unbearable. You participated. You took notes. You weren’t counting down the minutes to leave—well, not exactly. But the closer lunchtime got, the more restless you became, checking your phone every so often even though you knew you were the only one keeping track of time this obsessively.

Then, just as you were leaving your last morning class, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: Hey pretty. Something came up. I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry. Sunghoon: I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?

Your steps slowed, but you kept moving, staring at the text longer than necessary.

Bummed. That was the best way to describe it. You weren’t mad—plans get canceled all the time, and at least he let you know ahead of time—but disappointment still settled in the pit of your stomach. You took a breath, shook it off, and responded with a simple, It’s fine. See you later.

Lunch with your friends helped a little. You laughed, caught up on random gossip, and even let them drag you to a café afterward. You weren’t dwelling on it. Really, you weren’t.

Until you stepped out of the café and saw him. Sunghoon, standing outside the campus gates. And he wasn’t alone. 

Jenna was with him.

You stopped in your tracks, heart lurching in a way you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t just that he was there, but the way he was standing close to her, the way she was talking, nudging his arm like she had every right to be in his space.

Sunghoon must have felt someone staring at him because he glanced your way and saw you. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he greeted you casually, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But you didn’t even know how to react. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked past him, barely sparing a glance, pretending as if you weren’t close. As if he was just someone you barely knew.

Your friends who saw that were confused, following behind you after quick greetings to both Sunghoon and Jenna. 

Tammy caught up to you, nudged your arm, and asked, “Where are you running off to after ignoring Sunghoon like that?”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” you muttered.

“You totally were,” Lily chimed in, linking arms with you as she leaned to speak in a quieter voice. “That’s so fishy. What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond, your mind too muddled to even try and come up with a good answer. As you rounded the corner, your phone buzzed a second later.

Sunghoon: Hey. What was that?

You ignored it, as well as the other messages that followed. 

The rest of the afternoon slipped through your fingers in a haze of self-pity. You curled up on the couch, aimlessly flipping through movies, but nothing got your attention. The voices blurred together, scenes passed without meaning. You weren’t devastated. You weren’t heartbroken. You were just... mad. Annoyed that after everything, after how good things had been, this was what it came down to. But getting worked up wouldn’t do anything. So, you forced yourself to let it go. 

Or at least, you tried. It was impossible when he kept creeping into your thoughts—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you just yesterday—like he wanted this as much as you did.

You didn’t even realize you had dozed off until the sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake.

You blinked against the glow of the screen. Sunghoon.

For a moment, you stared at his name, your heartbeat loud in the quiet of your apartment. You could ignore it. You could let it ring out and pretend you were still asleep. You could put an end to this charade, to tell him you were done and sick of it. But you didn’t.

You answered. His voice was gentle, cautious. “Can I come over?”

You should say no. You should end this here and now. Enough is enough. But… “Yeah. Of course,” you said, trying your best to sound normal.

Half an hour later, he was in your apartment, hands on you, lips on yours, familiar and desperate. And, as always, you let him in—physically, emotionally, despite knowing better. You let yourself believe that maybe, for just a little longer, this could be enough.

Afterward, you slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you returned, the room was dark, the only source of light was coming from Sunghoon’s phone on the nightstand. He was already asleep, his breathing even, his body sprawled across your sheets like he belonged there.

You reached for the blanket to pull it over him when his phone buzzed, the screen glowing against the dim light. Your gaze flickered to it, drawn by instinct.

Jenna calling...

Your chest tightened at the name. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the name flash across the screen before it faded into darkness. You could answer it. You could see what she wanted, hear her voice, and confirm everything you had been trying so hard to ignore.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into bed, curling up beside Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You knew what you had to do. Knew that when he woke up, this had to end for good.

But not yet.

For now, while he was still yours—warm, close, familiar—you let yourself have this one last moment. You closed your eyes and pretended everything was okay, even though you knew exactly what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. The space beside you was cold. 

It was over.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent the night convincing yourself that you were ready for this, ready to end things, but the second you woke up to find him gone, the ache in your chest became unbearable.

Tears welled up before you could stop them. You curled into yourself, pressing your face against the pillow, sobbing into the fabric as if that could somehow muffle the sound. This wasn’t supposed to hurt. You weren’t supposed to grieve something that was never really yours. But you did.

You let yourself fall apart, mourning what could have been, whispering prayers into the silence that it didn’t have to end this way.

And then the door creaked open. You gasped, jolting up, eyes red and blurry as Sunghoon stepped into the room, holding your tumbler in his hand. 

His brows furrowed at the sight of you, eyes widening in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to your side, setting the tumbler down before cupping your face and wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Hey—why are you crying?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you sobbed against him. He didn’t ask any more questions. He just held you, rubbing your back, shushing you gently even though he didn’t understand what had you so upset.

After a long moment, you finally managed to choke out, “I thought you were gone.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, blinking at you in confusion. Then, to your utter annoyance, he started laughing.

“What do you mean, gone?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I literally just went to shower and get you some water.”

You smacked his arm, your face burning. “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, though he was definitely still laughing.

Something about his amusement made you snap. Maybe it was the pent-up emotions, or maybe it was the fact that you had nothing left to lose—but suddenly, everything came spilling out.

You confessed it all.

How you weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but you did. How you tried to push them down, to ignore them, but they never really went away. How you had spent so long pretending to be fine with this casual arrangement, knowing deep down that you weren’t. How much it crushed you to think that he was trying to win Jenna back, how much it hurt when he canceled on you, and how stupid you felt for letting yourself get so attached.

Sunghoon stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.

You sniffled, swallowing back the last of your tears. “Well? Say something.”

And then, to your horror, he started laughing again.

Your stomach twisted. “Are you kidding me right now?”

But before you could shove him away, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard.

Your breath hitched, but you melted into it, gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment all along. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. “I like you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “You’re fun, you don’t take my shit, and you get me in a way that most people don’t. I’m always looking forward to seeing you. To hearing whatever sarcastic thing you were gonna say next. To just… being with you.”

“Then why—”

“I wasn’t with Jenna because of what you think.” His hands slid down to hold yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “There was an accident with the exhibit setup, and I had to be there. She just happened to walk out with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And the part where you’re trying to get back with her?”

Sunghoon made a face. “Where did you even hear that?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “A mutual friend.”

He huffed. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know!” You did, but you weren’t about to admit that you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting too much from him—like you were demanding something that was never part of your deal.

Sunghoon sighed, squeezing your hands. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I only have eyes for you.” His lips quirked. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t realize how much I liked you at first, but ever since we started this, I haven’t thought about anyone else.”

Your heart stuttered.

Then he smirked. “I thought we had an understanding. Did we really need a label for it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right. Labels are overrated.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, and this time, you returned it with the same amount of sweet abandon. Then he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he murmured. “And right now, I’m wondering if you’d wanna be mine too.”

You let out a sharp breath, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you just stared at him—his dark eyes searching yours, his expression completely open, completely vulnerable.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated laugh.

“For fuck's sake, Sunghoon.” You squeezed his hands, tugging him just a little closer. “I’m already yours.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else, stealing the last of your breath, and this time, you didn’t hold anything back.

[fin]

[tessasturns]

nerd!matt giving brat!reader head

100 follower special !!

warnings… oral (f receiving), matt the munch, soft dom!matt, swearing, slight degrading, hair pulling?, edging, pet names

my first actual smut fic, mb if its ass but enjoy

(masterlist) (taglist)

“so if a dataset has a mean of 50 and a standard deviation of 5, what percentage of the data falls within one standard deviation of the mean?” matt asks.

you groan as you fling your head back. “matt c’mon, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with this”

“alright jus’ this one question.” matt says as he acknowledges your whines. matt was smart, like really smart, and it was noticeable to anybody who saw him.

the collared shirt, big glasses, and the awkward persona were enough to give it away.

“matt” you complain. “we’ve been at this for hours… can we just wrap it up? my brain isnt working anymore.”

“c’mon sweetheart…just a couple more questions, we’ve almost finished reviewing this unit.” he said, trying to get you to cram for your exam tomorrow.

“ugh fine. one more question” you say, only agreeing because, truly, how could you say no to him?

minutes pass and all you begin to think about is the growing heat between your legs.

you uncomfortably try to adjust your legs to make it stop, but nothing works. you start to zone out, your mind racing with all the things the man in front of you should be doing.

sure, you’ve noticed how stunning matt is, i mean you are “dating” him.

you look around his dorm to try and find anything else to focus on.

but his messy hair, shirt pulled up to see his veiny arms, and the raspy voice were enough to make a woman go wild.

“hellooo? y/n?” matt calls, causing you to snap out of your trance. “hey?” you respond.

“i asked you a question- you’re not listening are you.” he realizes.

“matt ‘m sorry, but i just don’t understand this and i’m so tired” you whine.

“sweetheart, you have your exams tomorrow. if you don’t revise and study you won’t do your best on it.” he warns.

he knew you weren’t the smartest person, well at least not compared to him, but he knew that it was probably your daddy’s money that got you a spot at a prestigious university.

“just two more-” he starts, but notices the pout on your face and your crossed legs and chuckles.

“oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even wait ten minutes for us to finish this?” he says, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before moving closer to you.

“please matt” you whine.

“please what?” he smiles, his hand on your knee.

“pl-please touch me” you pout, knowing he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“oh, you poor thing” he coos with faux sympathy laced on his tongue.

he rubs a hand up and down your knee, your plaid skirt you wore to tease him now sliding up your thighs.

“fuck- matt don’t tease…” you mewl, your arousal now practically dripping in between your legs.

he smirked at you, loving the way you reacted to the slightest touch and the simplest of words.

“take this off f’me, yeah?” he basically whispers, running his hand over your skirt.

you do just that as he points over to the bed. “sit” he commands.

you’re now sitting at the edge of the bed in your baby blue lingerie, waiting for matt to touch you.

he gets down on his knees, slowly kissing your now slightly shaking thighs.

your pussy aches for this man, wanting him to just touch you.

he slowly takes off your panties, disregarding them on the floor as he softly spreads open your legs.

he wraps your thighs around his head, looking up at you with those submissive ass eyes.

“matt- please i need you” you beg, your fingers intertwined in his brown locks.

he smiles at the amount of power he has over you, kissing your pussy before slowly licking your clit.

you slightly moan at the sudden pleasure, your mouth agape.

he continues this subtle yet effective movement, earning more and more moans from you.

he begins to lap his tongue around your hole, causing you to grab his hair.

his tongue moves faster and faster as your hips buck against his tongue.

“y’like that sweetie?” matt asks, moving his tongue faster (if possible.)

“oh fuck- yes matt” you whine, your brain foggy. “m’gonna cum”

“ah ah ah” he tuts, stopping his movements. “i’ll tell you when you can come doll”

this only made you whine more, since you were used to getting your way.

“f-fuck matt… i can’t take it” “oh but yes you can doll. you practically begged for it, you’re gonna take it.” he commands.

you were a moaning mess on his bed. eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs shaking, and your hands gripping at matts hair in an attempt to make him go faster.

“h-holy shit” you moan. “please i need to cum”

“hmm… have you been good?” he asks.

“yes… please matt” you groan.

“atta girl, cum on my tongue babydoll” matt’s words, tongue, hands travelling your body, and piercing blue eyes were enough to send you over the edge.

you felt your body relax and the knot in your stomach snap as you released your arousal on his tongue.

“this gonna help you ace your exam tomorrow?” matt asks jokingly, as you playfully smack his shoulder.

tessa’s notes… THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! i truly didn’t know how fast i could grow over the span of 3 months, but you all made it happen and i’m so grateful for every single one of you💋. guys i literally HATEEE writing smut so i do apologize if it’s terrible, js wanted to try smth different to express my gratitude for all of you !!!

[uyuforu]

Union Asteroid in Natal Chart

Union asteroid (1585) is an asteroid discovered in 1947 by Ernest Leonard Johnson. This asteroid is considered a love asteroid, and it's often seen as an asteroid linked to our first meeting with your Future Spouse. In order to exactly know what it was about, I did some researches. I found out indeed it's about how we meet our Future Spouse, but also how we get together with them. Literally, how we are going to go in Union with them. Don't forget this post is based on observations. So take those informations lightly.

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Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Union Persona Chart Observations I

જ⁀➴ Juno, Groom, Briede in Signs, Houses, Degrees

જ⁀➴ Groom/ Briede/ Juno aspects in Natal Chart

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This post was based on real observations on people who are already married.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Aries Union can mean a fast meeting, a meeting that can happen suddenly, unexpected, it can also indicate a meeting that is like very physical. It can be love at first sight, something fast. You can have a very quick meeting, getting in a relationship very fast with this person. You can also have a very explosive meeting, it can involve fights, or arguments.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Taurus Union means it's very soft and and romantic meeting. You can have a flirt or meet your FS when you are in a romantic mood. It could be a very nice and chill meeting, in a social gathering perhaps too. You could just meet and have a very good feeling about this person. Like liking each other right away. You can be interested in your FS, finding them cute. It usually means dating right away, you are not friends, usually. Though, this can indicate slowly getting into a relationships with the person.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Gemini Union can mean you can meet in a social setting. It can be in real life or online, but you could also fall for your FS while speaking to them. You can find them funny, love their voice, find them smart, etc. It can indicate being together with them fast.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Cancer Union can mean you can meet your FS in the same place as you are, or you can meet them because of your family. They can seem similar to you, or just you can meet them and feel like you are very much alike. You can meet them in a familiar place. This can also mean getting very much close to your FS before being with them. You can start as friends. It can mean a childhood friend as well.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Leo Union means you can meet your FS and have very strong and passionate feelings for them when you meet. You can also feel so drawn to them you can chase them. You can feel such passion and excitement when you meet them, they can be your sunlight, you could not get enough of them. This can usually mean you'll chase after them, you'll not want to let them go. Whatever you do, you'll be the one wanting to be with them. And you'll have this strong burning desire to be with them.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Virgo Union can mean you can meet at work, but this can mean your FS and you will start dating after getting to know each other well. Having Virgo Union could mean you will let your FS chase you. I have noticed everyone who had it were pretty cold and not obvious they liked their FS when they met them. It can also mean having a slow Union with your FS.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Libra Union can mean you and your FS can flirt a lot when you meet. You can meet at a romantic gathering, blind dates, or for examples it can be a fun party, a gathering to meet people. You could have a thing, a crush for this person, or this can be the same for them. But you could def have a fling with them first.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Scorpio Union can mean you can meet your FS at night, or somewhere dark. Somewhere private too. You can meet them and have a big crush on them, or see them from afar first. There is something about you being shy when you meet them, you can either first observe them before meeting them. You can stalk or just already notice them before you speak to each other. This can also involve secret crush too.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Sagittarius Union can mean meeting in college, while traveling, while learning something or in foreign lands. You can meet them in a different place than where you live, even if it's in the same country as you. But it can def be a meeting that will make you learn something. Also, this means you will discover a lot about you or in general when meeting your FS. It can also mean meeting your FS after moving. This meeting can indicate a slow way to be in a relationship with FS since you may prefer to know each other well before being together.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Capricorn Union can often mean you can meet your FS at work, but usually this means during your meeting, your FS will have a higher status there than you. People who had it often met their spouse at work and they were their boss. It can so indicate office romance. Spouse can be your boss or someone higher in your work status, so you can work for them.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Aquarius Union seems to be very atypical kind of meeting. People who had this placement always met their FS in the weirdest way possible. If they didn't want to seem insane or that the meeting seemed weird, they can lie about the meeting. But it also means your relationship started in a very unusual way. You can also meet in a very unexpected way, perhaps it will be a day you won't expect to meet your FS. You can also meet them and be really amazed by your FS, thinking they are so different. Your Union can be something unexpected from people as well.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Pisces Union can mean your meeting with your FS can be linked to art, creativity. You can meet them also in secret, or your first meeting will feel very intimate, like only both of you notice something is going on. Romance will be present from the first time you meet. Sometimes the union between you two can take longer, but you'll sense since the first day you met that something was going on. It can also mean a meeting related to spirituality and religion too perhaps.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 1H Union can mean you can have a very fast meeting your FS. You can have love at first sight or a very big crush on them when you first meet them. You can also first seem them before meeting them. This placement can suggest you can find them very attractive when you will meet them. You can enter fast in a relationship, and it can also mean being married very young or fast.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 2H Union can mean you'll feel very consistent and sure about your FS when you will meet them. You can also spend a lot of money to see them, to get them, or to even just buy them things. You can be quite flirty and romantic with them, it can be a way to pursue them or chase them. It can be a sign of taking your time to know this person before being them. Moreover, you could want to show them through many ways you are interested in them. It can be very sweet. But anything related to money and possessions can be showing more. You can also feel jealous and possessive over them quite fast. You can also meet related to money, or a contract, a deal.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 3H Union can mean you'll meet your FS with a social circle, in your neighborhood, because of your siblings, friends, or because of a certain community. You can meet online, there can be something related to TV or something related to technologies. Moreover this can mean meeting at school to or library. You can talk a lot when meeting, you can also exchange a lot of ideas as well. You can meet around other people, yet only wanting to talk to your FS. Their voice can charm you as well. You can be the one declaring your love first.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 4H Union can mean meeting your FS around your house, neighborhood, your family too. You can meet your FS because of a house, and it can also mean because of you moving. You can also meet them because they know your family. You can meet them in a very familiar place, perhaps even where you grew up, or where your family grew up. Moreover, you can be childhood friend with this person. It can also indicate meeting when you are young. You can also be together quite fast, or even marry very young.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 5H Union means you'll meet your FS in a holiday setting, meaning anything related to relaxing, getting away from stressful life. You could also meet them and flirt directly with them. You'll feel very interested the first time you will meet. You could flirt with your FS directly on your first meeting. Your Union could feel very teenage love. Children can also be part of your meeting.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 6H Union can mean meeting at work, meeting through work, it can also be an union that takes time, just because both of you want to take your time, or just because things are slow. You can meet related to health too. You can feel like it's a stable meeting, and feel like you feel good and stable with your FS. It can also mean meeting your FS at school. You can be in a very long relationship before marrying.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 7H Union could mean you could be interested in your FS as a lover first. You could have a crush on them, or have the sensation you could date them. It can also mean you will do everything to get them as well. You can also partner with them at work if you have other placements that suggests that.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 8H Union can mean a secret Union, you can be together in secret. It can mean a meeting where you are just the two of you, intimate. You can have a very strong s3xual attraction towards each other, or even you can feel a spark too. You can feel so attracted to your fs they can intimidate you. It can mean also mean feeling like there are just you and your FS when you meet. There can be something taboo as well in the meeting.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 9H Union can mean meeting in college, higher studies, church, or a meeting linked to religion or spirituality. You can meet them and think they are nice, cool, friendly. You can be curious about them, but this placement can indicate it will take time to be together, since there could be a true link to trust each other and getting to know each other slowly.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 10H Union means you'll meet them at work, while working, or during a project of yours at work. You could indeed work with your FS, or you could start dating when you are working together. You could also start dating when you are doing a very important project at work. Work can be involved in this relationship.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 11H Union means you and your FS can be friends at first. You could develop a friendship before being in a relationship with them. You could also meet them through friends, but it can be meeting online, on the internet. You can start a relationship online first. This can indicate a slow moving relationship, a friendship will be required first before being in union with them.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 12H Union can mean you and your FS can get together pretty fast. It can be the feelings being so strong and the romance being so present you may not see you the reality of your connection, and so things can get fast. It can usually also means the native having a false idea of their FS while meeting them. Usually, the native will know immediately their FS is someone special when they will meet them. You can also meet in foreign lands, or also it can mean meeting because of spirituality or religion matters.

⑅ RANDOM OBSERVATIONS ON UNION ASTEROID ⑅

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Lucille Ball had Union Sagittarius 12H, and she met her first husband later in her life (she was 29 in 1940, not that it's old but at that time it was considered old to get married at 29). They also got married in secret and pretty fast.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Ariana Grande has Union Gemini 5H, she met her first husband while wanting to buy a vacation house. She also was very interested in him very fast, and had a big crush instantly.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Desi Arnaz had Union Aquarius, he met Lucille Ball in at a time he didn't expect.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Uranus conjunct Union can mean a very unexpected meeting, sudden meeting, you really could not expect meeting your FS at that time or at that moment.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Venus conjunct Union can mean you'll have a crush on your FS when meeting them. You can find them very good looking, they can look like your ideal type too. It can indicate love at first sight.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Venus conjunct Union in 11H can mean you can have a flirt with your FS online first. Or they can be a friend of yours and you can have a crush on them.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union conjunct Pluto means you'll feel transformed after meeting your FS, they will leave you a very big impression.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Sun opposite Union can mean you'll not realize first you met your FS, or that this person is your FS. You can take a long time before realizing they are the one for you.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Mars in good aspect with Union can indicate a lot of flirt and sexual tensions between you two. You re physically attracted to your FS.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Saturn in good aspect with Union can mean you'll take your time to be together, and it's actually a good thing, it can be wanting to know each other well, but time will be in your favor in this one.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union conjunct Mars can be being together fast after meeting. It can also mean you'll want them right when you meet them, you'll be sure of your choice.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union opposite/ square Mars can mean not feeling a spark right away between you two, you can also have no real desires to be with the person when you meet them. There can be some obstacles when you meet, and you feel like it's not the right time to be together.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union square Pluto can mean the meeting will trigger you to change, and you'll go in a very deep transformation about yourself.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union opposite Uranus can mean a very strange and unique meeting. You'll think a lot of people will not believe in the original story on how you met or got together.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ A couple can haver two different Union, it doesn't mean anything in particular. This is more about how you view the meeting and how you view the way you got together.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union 10H often appeared with people who met their FS around their 30's. Or around the time they were reaching a more serious stage in their adulthood.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ I know three men who have Union Leo 10H, they all chased their FS, they were also very much into wanting to be the provider, even if they weren't before. They all put their wife on a pedestal.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union aspecting Moon can mean meeting young.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union square Venus can mean you'll realize you are not truly in love with them with time, or you do not have much romantic feelings at first for them. You are not the one who is the most interested.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union sextile Rising can mean you find them physically very appealing.

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[princesssmars]

sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

[chxmpagneprxblem]

Chapter One - Surprising

Tough Love Masterlist

“I don’t know, I just kind of let her do her thing. I love the girl but she’s kind of a lost cause.” You shrugged and Leah looked up to where Bella and Jake were chatting in the booth opposite them.

“You don’t think it’s weird? That she goes from screaming nightmares to as normal as she gets in a few weeks?” Leah asked and you could only shrug again.

You couldn’t lie and tell her you knew how Bella’s brain worked. Your sister was a mystery to you as much as your mother always had been. You supposed you had been lucky when Renee lost the fight against the temptation to leave and could only mentally cope with one child. The quiet one.

Not to say you had been in any way wild. You had just been older. Set in routine and able to voice your opinion. And your opinion was that your dad was your favorite. A fact Renee never liked.

So every summer you trekked to Arizona where Bella and Renee had ended up and spent two weeks with them only to trek back down with Bella so she could spend her time with Charlie.

It had never been a particularly enjoyable time for either of you. So when Bella packed up and moved to Forks you had already expected to have distance between you both. Adding Edward Cullen to the mix only made things worse.

You could never have expected Bella to shack up with Cullen, much less go batshit insane over him. You would never forgive your sister for the torment she was putting Charlie through every day she grieved a dumb high school fling.

So you escaped her. Escaped her zombified state in the damn chair in her bedroom. Leah had been your saving grace. Harry and Charlie had shoved you both together as kids and the bond had stuck, bringing you to their door whenever you couldn’t stomach looking at Bella.

Although heartbreak was still prominent in the Clearwater home, at least Leah had a reason to be so cut up. Sam and her had plans. They had been together for years. Not a matter of months like Bella and Edward.

You couldn’t help but wonder had you and Bella been raised together would you offer her the support you so readily gave to Leah. “I think she’s found a new boy to focus on.”

Leah tilted her head from side to side as she considered your answer. You didn’t really believe the idea yourself but it was strange, how completely Jacob had turned your sister’s mental breakdown into a memory.

“The kid must have game.” Leah said and you snorted in laughter, your milkshake dribbling pathetically down your chin. “You’re disgusting, you freak.”

“You’re the one thinking weird thoughts about a kid!” You argued and Leah only rolled her eyes. “Gonna have to warn my dad what you’re up to.”

“Shut up, haven’t you got work? Those tents ain’t gonna sell themselves.” She teased and you looked at your watch before sighing.

“Cause you ain’t got a boat to be fixing with your dad, little Ms Nepo Baby.” You scoffed, shoving your way out of the booth. “You think she even noticed I was here?”

“Ah, the nepotism of the boat rental business. A true life of luxury.” Leah knocked you with her elbow. “She hasn’t noticed you once her life. Why would she start today?”

Your smart reply for Leah died on your tongue when three tall shirtless men entered the diner, staring off to the side. Leah dropped her head, her long hair falling to cover her face.

You scoffed, side stepping Paul LaHote with a scowl. Less than a year ago Paul was a minor annoyance for Sam. Someone he had a rivalry with in high school. Now they were best friends and Sam had dropped Leah and picked up her cousin. It was enough to sour your good mood.

“Don’t.” Leah grabbed your wrist when you paused. She knew you wanted to give Sam another piece of your mind. She had stopped letting you when you almost ran him over at the beach a few weeks before.

You rolled your eyes before turning to glare at Sam one last time but Paul moved between you both, staring you down in challenge. You’d like to think you won when his jaw fell slack and he stumbled against the table.

“Fuck those guys.” You huffed once Leah had dragged you out the door. “Hope they catch a cold.”

“Damn killer, take it easy. Not a cold.” Leah laughed but it was strained. “Go to work. Earn enough money so I can quit my job and become a stay at home best friend.”

“Best friend? You’re not even in my top three.” Her laugh was less strained when you both parted ways and you blew her a kiss across the car lot, smiling when she pretended to bat it away.

…

“Can you watch my lane for a few?” You looked up from the schedule you had been trying to organize and blinked at Mike who was trying to look a lot more innocent than he was.

“A few? Like say, ten minutes?” You asked and he shrugged. “Or enough time for me to realize you’re skipping the last thirty minutes of your shift?”

“I’ll do a double next Friday to bail you out if you let me go now?” He offered and you sighed.

“Your name is above the door, kid. I don’t care if you cut or not. Ain’t like I can fire you.” You shrugged and locked your computer.

“Awh, don’t be like that. Dad would quicker fire me and adopt you if he thought Charlie wouldn’t notice. Best assistant manager he’s ever had apparently.” You laughed and shooed Mike out the door, heading for his lane which had conveniently cashed up and gotten ready to hand over.

Friday night wasn’t typically busy in the store. Not many people needed last minute hiking attire for the weekend and so you had time to finish up the schedule that had been bothering you and change the displays in the store windows before you were interrupted by a customer.

Not just a customer though, your sister.

“Everything okay?” You asked her warily. Talking to Bella in the last three months was almost like talking to a wall if the wall had the ability to start screaming at a pitch only dogs could hear.

“Just looking for some new boots.” She hummed and you nodded slowly, pointing her in the direction she needed.

You weren’t entirely sure why she’d need hiking boots. Bella and the outdoors weren’t exactly well acquainted.

And yet she reappeared with the boots and shelled out the cash for them with barely an extra word. To an outsider it would be impossible to tell you knew each other, never mind that you were sisters.

You watched her leave and huffed a sigh. You’d mention it to Charlie in passing. See if he knew why she suddenly wanted to hike with all the recent bear spottings in the woods.

…

Jared was laughing. His whole body shook with it, so much so that Paul could feel the vibrations from where he paced in Sam’s back garden. He’d been stuck as a wolf for almost an hour now because every time he calmed down Jared would piss him off again.

“The only person-“ a fit of laughter interrupted Jared trying to make his point. “The only one that hates us more than Leah and you imprint on her.”

Paul dove for Jared and once again Sam got between them. Paul growled at Sam, backing off once more. He was going to be stuck as a wolf forever at this rate.

Jared controlled himself enough to phase and all three of them padded into the woods.

So what are you gonna do?

Paul sighed at Jared’s question, dropping down to his belly and putting his paws over his eyes as if it would quell the urge to go and look for her.

You need Billy or Harry on your side. It’s your only hope.

Paul lifted his head and looked at Sam who was watching Paul carefully where he lay in the dirt.

Why them?

Charlie, Billy and Harry raised those girls together. You remember how attached Rachel, Rebecca and Leah were with her. Those men will know how to get you in her good books.

Paul considered Sam’s words and huffed a sigh when he realised he had no other choice. If he wanted to get to know you then something drastic had to change.

…

Harry laughed until he was bowed over and then told him to go away. Paul understood, things were less than amicable between the pack and Leah which in turn affected Harry’s ability to help when he didn’t feel he was needed.

It was still fucking annoying.

So Paul found himself sitting at Billy Black’s kitchen table and telling the whole story from start to finish. When he relayed the last detail he sat back and watched Billy process everything.

“You boys can never do anything the easy way.” Billy sighed and ran a hand over his face. “She might hate the wolves more than even Leah. She considers that girl her sister. And watching the hurt Leah suffered because of the imprint bond, well it changed things.”

“I will do anything Billy. Just to be able to have a five minute conversation with her. It’s been two weeks and I haven’t seen her.” Paul sighed, his exhaustion ringing out in every word he spoke.

“Well, we need to plan carefully-“

The front door opened after a short knock and Paul held his breath when your voice called out for Jacob and then Billy.

“Hey, old man. Where’s your kid?” You turned the corner and paused when you took in the scene in front of you. Paul could’ve cheered when you didn’t immediately glare at him.

“He and Bella went out early. I don’t know where. Why do you need him?” Billy didn’t acknowledge that Paul was in the room and he was grateful because it gave him a chance to just watch you, absorb all the details he had missed before.

“My car is doing that stupid thing again. The gear shift keeps getting jammed in reverse.” You sighed and Paul raised his eyes to the heavens above and thanked every spirit there was.

“I could have a look at that, if you need?” He offered quietly and you looked him over, blinking as if just remembering he was here.

“You?” Paul didn’t know if the disbelief was because he dared speak to you or because you doubted his ability.

“I uh, pick up a shift or two in the garage just off the Rez. If you can spare the afternoon I can bring it up now and fix it?” Paul wasn’t sure when he turned into this quiet, meek man. He hadn’t been unsure of himself in a long time.

“I’ve got work. This afternoon.” You explained and Paul shrugged.

“I’ll head up there with you? Take the truck back to the garage and have it back to you before your shift is over.” Paul tensed every muscle in his body and begged the spirits to keep his luck moving.

“Jake won’t be back until after dark. They’ve been doing this for days.” Billy encouraged and Paul could’ve kissed the old man. Instead he vowed to serve him for eternity.

“You’re sure you can fix it today?” You asked and Paul released a breath. “Cause I can just wait for Jake if it’ll take you too long.”

“Two hours, three at a push.” You considered his answer before glancing at the clock on the wall and back to Paul.

“Are you ready to go now, then? I’ve got work in forty minutes.” Paul jumped out of his chair and it clattered to the ground causing everyone to flinch.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He picked the chair up and smiled sheepishly at you. “I’m ready when you are.”

[candylix]

a functioning member of society | han jisung

Pairing • Jisung x GN!Reader

A/N • This takes place during the events of another series called one little lie. This can be read as a stand-alone fic, but some parts will make more sense with the context of one little lie. (The reader is not the same person as in oll!)

Summary • Jisung is sick at home... or at least, that's what he tells his boss. Really, he just wants to sleep in and hang out with his cute neighbor across the hall. However, less time working means more time fighting the thoughts in his brain.

Genre • smut (with feelings!)

WC • 3k

Content • no pronouns used but the reader does have a vagina, making out, fingering, oral (reader receiving), jisung has issues

Jisung shot up from his bed. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table; it was 12:54.

He was late.

He had everything planned for today. He woke up early and called in sick to work, just so he could stay home. He was going to sleep in until 11, eat breakfast, make himself look good, and then pay his neighbor a visit across the hall. You invited him over to 'hang out' at noon, and he didn't want to miss it. Unfortunately, he forgot to set his alarm, and he hoped you wouldn't think he's the worst fling ever.

He scrambled to change out of his pajamas.

He might kill himself if he ruined this, like he'd done so many times with so many people in the past. There's only so much a dumb joke and a cute smile can resolve.

You moved in a few months ago, and ever since then, he'd been looking for excuses to see you more. You were gorgeous, fun, smart, and to be honest, way out of his league. He didn't know how he did it, but his boyish charm captivated you enough to have a one night stand. Which turned into a two night stand, and then you just started having casual sex every once in a while.

Maybe one day he'd want something more, and he could certainly see himself falling for you in the future. You were, quite honestly, a perfect match for him. You actually liked his personality instead of just tolerating it, and you were respectful of his boundaries when he avoided more personal questions. The sex was good, but your friendship was better, and for now, this was enough. Whether or not his feelings would grow, he liked to live in the moment- and in this particular moment, he was very late.

He knocked on your door, and when you didn't answer fast enough, he knocked again. Were you ignoring him? Did you get tired of waiting and leave?

He finally heard the door unlocking, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He stood leaning one hand against the door frame, trying his best to look cool, calm, and collected. Unbeknownst to him, his messy hair stood up on end and his shirt was half-buttoned and half-collared, and when you finally opened the door, he gave the impression that he just woke up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you said, and your fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it down to look more presentable.

"I wasn't sleeping... I was just sick." He faked a cough, a purposefully unconvincing performance.

"Ew, go home then," you laughed. You lightly shoved him, and he dramatically staggered back.

"How dare you! Do you know how hard it was for me to get here?" he asked, knowing full well his door was three feet behind him. "I had to climb uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, just to see you."

You looked down. He was wearing pink fuzzy slippers.

"Just get in here," you said, and opened the door wider to let him in.

You barely had time to close the door before he pulled your face towards his own. His lips met yours, and he pressed himself into your body. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you felt the ghost of his fingertips all over your back, until they finally found purchase in your hair. His tongue slipped over your soft lips, asking for entrance, and you gladly parted them for him.

Your back met the door as he pinned you against it. You cupped his cheeks, melting deeper into the kiss, and soft moans passed between his lips. He rolled his hips into yours, hungry for as much contact as possible.

Suddenly, you heard something. It sounded like... creepy carnival music.

He pulled away from the kiss.

"Sorry, that's my phone. My friend is calling me," he said, no attempt to turn it off or indication of how ridiculous this situation was. Knowing him, this was probably in his top 10 most normal things to happen while making out.

"What... why is that that ringtone?"

"One day he pissed me off and I changed his ringtone, and then I just never put it back," he explained. "He hates it, but I kind of find it endearing now, like my nightmare clown friend is calling."

The music continued to play, creepy music box melody haunting the room while sinister laughter faded in and out. You couldn't believe this is the man you invited over.

"Aren't you gonna pick up?"

He took his phone out of his pocket, and threw it across the room, landing on your couch and bouncing across the cushions.

"But it's so far..." he said, weakly raising his arm out towards the couch, as if the phone was barely out of reach.

He cupped your face, and went in for another kiss, but you struggled to kiss back. The music completely killed the vibe. You tried to get back into the mood, your hand finding its way into his hair, but his phone was too distracting.

It's only when his hand reached between your thighs that you're finally able to forget about it. You don't know when it stopped, because your mind was consumed with his tongue in your mouth and his hand on your cunt. It clouded over with thoughts of Jisung and his body, and it wasn't until he picked you up and carried you half way to your room that you came back to reality.

His mouth was still pressed against yours when he laid you down on your bed. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to go. You were too addicted to the taste of his tongue, and when he broke away for air, you chased his lips back onto your own. You could tell he felt it too, with the way the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you when he leaned further in.

He was finally able to part from you, and he peppered kisses over your nose, cheeks, chin, where ever he could reach. He lowered himself down your body, kissing you over your clothing, until his head reached your crotch. He wasted no time pulling down your pants. He licked your core over the wet spot in your underwear, savoring the taste of your arousal for him.

Maybe you would've been like this for just anybody, wet and excited for a touch, but he wanted to think this was especially for him. He didn't care if you fucked other people- that would be hypocritical, considering he'd fuck anyone that asked- but he did look forward to seeing you the most, and he hoped you at least felt that way too.

He nestled deeper into your clothed cunt, nose pressed into you, just to stall until you couldn't take it anymore. You whimpered his name, asking for him to do anything, to please touch you, and the sound of you begging for him was like a sweet melody that he never wanted to stop listening to. You liked him, you wanted him, you needed him.

"You're that desperate for me, huh?"

He finally gave in, and pulled your underwear down your legs, stuffing it into his pocket.

If there was one thing Jisung liked, it was the way you reacted when he licked up your folds, lapping up your juices and seeing you squirm. Both his heart and his dick throbbed seeing you get this worked up because of him.

Words could be deceitful. He was painfully aware of this. His thoughts haunted him when he was alone.

But when your fingers combed through his hair, pushing his face closer to your core, those thoughts vanished. He knew, at least right now, you wanted him here. Words could deceive, but actions under the influence of pure pleasure didn't lie.

He inserted one finger, slowly pumping in and out while his tongue flicked over your clit. He licked and sucked, tongue poking down into your hole, savoring the way his name spilled out of your lips. You rocked into his face, needing every inch of him on your pussy, and he happily obliged. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you gasp, and he pulled out his finger to tease your entrance. You were soaking wet, and by the way you clenched around the empty space where he once was, he could tell you were desperate for more.

He pushed his finger back into you, a second finger joining this time. His thrusts were faster, and he loved the way you moaned in pleasure when he curled his fingers. Your bucking became more frantic, and he met your desire by sucking on your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building up as his fingers rubbed into you harder. He forced them into you, completely filling you up until he reached his knuckles, before pulling them out and pushing them back in again. You twitched wildly in pleasure, and he had to hold you down with his free arm just to keep licking your folds and circling your clit.

You were trapped under him, unable to grind into his face at the extreme pleasure you were feeling, and he gave you no respite either. He inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls while he kept pumping into you, and when he pressed a sensitive bundle of nerves, you could feel your climax coming quicker. You barely had time to think before it came gushing out of you, a loud moan of Jisung's name being the only warning he got before his fingers were drenched in your cum.

He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, lapping up your juices from inside and out. Not a single drop went to waste.

All he wanted was to pleasure you. Maybe if he made you feel good every time he came over, you'd keep calling him. Maybe you wouldn't get tired of him, like so many others did when they stopped finding his jokes charming for seemingly no reason at all. At least with you, he knew how you liked to be touched.

He didn't want to feel like his friendship was transactional, but how could he not. Everyone found him annoying eventually. It was inevitable.

He didn't want this to end. He was scared. When you caught your breath, would you expect him to go?

"Jisung," you called, snapping him out of a spiral you didn't know he was having. You patted the bed next to you, and he hesitantly climbed in.

Why was it that the more time he spent with you, the worse his thoughts became? It was like his brain couldn't accept a reality where you enjoyed his company, even though you were the one that invited him over in the first place. It made up excuses to explain how this could be happening; you probably just liked sex and he was the only one available, or you just felt sorry for him and somehow this was all you could think of.

You cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes to bring him back to earth. He pushed those thoughts aside as best as he could, and snuggled into your arms.

"Are you alright?" you asked. "You looked a bit distracted right now."

"Oh, uh, just thinking about how sexy you are.

He wanted you to smile, forget about your concern, but a look he can't quite place flashed across your face. It went away just as quickly, but he can't help but read into it.

Was that pity? Disappointment? Worry?

Was there a difference?

He wished he could open up to you, especially after something as vulnerable as sex, but he didn't know how to break down that barrier that kept his anxieties to himself.

"How was I?" he asked softly, and as if he was afraid of being genuine, he added "Was that the best sex you've ever had or what?"

"You were amazing," you said, and a bit of tension eased up in Jisung's body.

"Avoiding the second question, I see."

"Maybe if you used this," you said, and your fingers move to trace the bulge in his pants.

A sudden rush of nerves washed over his body, and he realized just how hard he was. He was so distracted by his own turmoil that he didn't even notice the way his cock throbbed in his boxers.

"I will if you promise to invite me over again," he said, winking at you.

"Of course I will, you don't even have ask," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious to him.

His heart beat in his chest. Maybe, just this once, he'd believe it.

His body reacts on its own, leaning in to kiss you. It was soft and sweet, an unspoken 'thank you' that he wasn't prepared for.

It's over just as quickly as it began, breaking away to snuggle into your chest.

And then his stomach growled. He didn't eat breakfast because he slept in, and he didn't eat lunch because he was late. He hoped you didn't hear it, but he knew you had to have. Maybe you had some granola bars he could snack on. He could check in the fridge, maybe you could eat together in the living room, make a fun moment out of it...

The living room. Where his phone was. Because he threw it there when he got a call.

He should probably see what Minho needed... but he was so warm and cozy. He didn't want to leave the bed, and he definitely didn't want to leave you. But he really should.

"Hey, remember when my clown friend called?"

You winced, remembering the creepy music that almost completely ruined the mood.

"No, I don't remember. I'm choosing not to."

"You don't remember this?" he asked, before singing the ringtone, followed by menacing laughter, cut off when you covered his mouth to get him to stop.

His creepy laughter turned into giggles as he tried to pry your hands off his face.

He finally did, holding both your wrists in his hands.

"Should I go call him back? The circus might be in trouble..." he said, and then sunk his head deeper into the mattress, "but it's so nice here..."

"You probably should," you replied, and Jisung groaned.

"Ugh, fine."

He pushed himself up, leaving the comfort of your bed and the warmth of your body. He walked out of your room, turning his head repeatedly to give you his sad puppy dog eyes. You shooed him away, and he finally left for the living room. His phone was still on the couch, face down and waiting for him to rescue it.

One new voicemail. Press 1 to play.

"Jisung, call me back ASAP. It's an emergency."

"Oh, shit."

He called Minho back, and he immediately picked up.

"Oh thank god," Minho sighed.

"What happened!?"

"Ok... don't laugh."

Of course, as soon as he heard what Minho had done, Jisung erupted into a full body laugh.

He hadn't noticed you enter the living room, but you couldn't help but be curious after what you heard.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can," Jisung said, and he heard Minho sigh in relief. "But I wouldn't worry about her. Trust me, I've known her waaaaay longer than you. She'll be fine."

The conversation didn't last much longer, Jisung promising to be there 'as soon as he finished some important documents', and hanging up.

"Are you leaving?" you ask. "I was going to get you some food."

The way you looked at him, sad to see him possibly go... maybe he should've felt his heart break seeing you like that, but instead his heart swelled. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't just want him for sex and nothing else.

"Well... if you're offering food..." he said, and your face lit up. You body language was expressive, and he noticed it every time.

He knew words could be deceiving, but your actions always told the truth. He would always have thoughts about how people perceive him, if they really liked him or not, if they would leave if he became 'too much'... but with you, he wanted to trust you. He chose to trust you, even if his brain screamed the opposite.

"Nah, I'd stay regardless," he said, "he thinks I'm at work anyway, so I can spend more time here, if you want."

"That's why I invited you over, isn't it?"

If only he could express the warm tingly sensation that ran through his body when he heard those words. He felt butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't experienced since high school.

He was going to ignore what that could possibly mean for him.

Time passed, you enjoyed your time together, but he thought it was finally time to go rescue his friends. You walked him to the door, and hugged him goodbye.

You pulled away, and that's when you see it.

"Is that my underwear in your pocket?"

"Huh?" he looked to his pocket, and sure enough, white fabric was spilling out. "Oh... whoops! How did that get there? Must've crawled in when I wasn't looking." He pulled it out and shoved it into your hand.

"You know what? Keep it. You obviously want it more than me," you said, stuffing it right back into his pocket.

He was definitely going to use that later.

"If you say so," he said. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm to say one more thing.

"Just... when you're done, please wash it and give it back."

He gasped, and his hand clasped his chest in mock offense.

"I would never do something so uncouth-"

"Jisung. Wash it. It was expensive and I want it back."

"Ok, ok, I will," he said, and smirked. "You want me back here that bad, huh?"

You roll your eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute."

He finally left your apartment, and when the door closed behind him, he felt twice as light as when he came in.

taglist: (using the same taglist as one little lie since it's a spinoff, hope you all don't mind!)

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi@kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten @jehhskz @stanskzot8 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ell0thebell

@hinalara @kaicreech @lazybean246 @idoughnutreadsmut @aeliuss

@the-ninth-moon @poody1608

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic.

one.

[intro] [one] [two]

a paradox of fate.

“Shit, shit!” You muttered under your breath as your feet quickly rushed across the college campus. Repeatedly checking the time on your phone along with your lockscreen that was a picture of your schedule. You were over five minutes late due to your ignorance in paying attention to the clock whilst completing applications for part time jobs. 

Your hands collide with the door to your class, slamming it open. Earning awareness from all eyes in the room. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I- sorry! I lost track of time!” You pant, shakily walking inside. Your professor has a gentle smile upon his lips. “It’s quite alright, dear! Find a seat, it’s the first day so no harm done!” He waves off your tardiness, relief sighing out your body. 

Your eyes scan the room, hoping to see someone familiar but  no luck. Instead you lock contact with a boy who sends chills down your spine. His gaze pierced into you. His brunette locks falter into his vision when he attempts to glance away. You deem him nice-enough looking and make your way beside him. 

His shoulders tense, not expecting someone to choose to sit next to him. Not when there were multiple other choices to choose from. He figures you only did so because he looks smart. Conjecturing that you could cheat off of him. 

“Did I miss anything important?” You lean close to him, not too close to where you were in his personal space though. It was enough that your scent hit his nose like a ton of bricks. Vanilla and honey? A hint of coconut in there as well? 

He doesn’t look at you, staring straight at the board. “No, just an introduction of himself.” He whispers, leaning his chin on his clasped hands, held up by his elbows. You purse your lips out, almost frowning. “Introductions are important.” You murmur but it was inaudible to his ears. 

When class is dismissed you’re the first one to stand from your seat. Just like you entered the room is exactly how you left. Flinging the heavy doors open and scurrying to the school’s cafeteria. “[Name]! Over here!” A blue-haired girl loudly shouts, standing from a chair as her boyfriend behind her was quietly begging her to get down. You laugh, waving at her. You join the two, sitting down as your chest is still heaving. 

“I was late to my first class! What a way to start the semester.” You pout, stealing a sip of Ekko’s drink since it was the only thing on the table. He went to stop you but he knows he’d lose the argument against you. “Hah! Really? Me too!” Powder, your best friend laughs. 

“We’re like platonic soul mates!” You beam, grabbing her hand. She squeezes it, getting in close to your face. “Why platonic? We could be romantic!” She scrunches her nose with determination. You roll your eyes as Ekko clears his throat, reminding the both of you that he still sat there. “Right… boyfriend.” Her face goes sour in a playful manner, leaning back on her boyfriend. “Just kidding, just kidding…” She kisses his cheek causing you to gag at the sight. 

“Gross.” 

“You’re just jealous.” He points a finger in your face. “Whatever.” You sulk. 

“Oh, I have to get to my next class. Don’t want to be late a second time.” Powder shoots up, pecking Ekko’s lips and then ruffling your hair before sprinting off. 

Ekko and you look around, pretending to act awkward. “So…” He begins. “So.” You repeat shortly. “We’re going to have a sleepover tonight, you comin?” He tilts his head. Your eyes sparkle at the question. “Uh! Of course!!! Powder and I will beg Vi for drugs.” You blurt out, a little too loud. People look over and you just chuckle. 

Ekko shakes his head, “I don’t think she’s going to after the last time she got you alcohol.” He presses his lips together in a straight line. “Psshhh, we didn’t even cause that bike to explode.” You say while avoiding eye contact, knowing for a fact that it was the both of you. 

“I can convince Vi, she loves me!” 

“I know she does but ah, whatever. You’re going to do it anyway.” He stops himself from lecturing you, you nod in response. “Exactly. 

—————————————

[gc with Ekko, Claggor, powder, mylo and you]

mylo 👎- someone tell [name] to STOP SENDING ME PICS OF SCARY IMAGES

Claggoooo- [name] stop.

You- BOOOOO!!!

Lover stealer- please remember to get food and stuff for tonight. Everyone.

Lover stealer- even you mylo.

mylo👎- what!? Why are you singling me out???

Powpow😻- you never bring anything. You moocher.

You- literally.

mylo👎- [NAME] I DONT WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!!!

You- too bad, cry about it. Sob.

————————————————

“Please, please, please, PLEASE!!!” You and Powder are currently on your knees, begging the pink-haired girl in front of the both of you. Arms folded and an eyebrow raised. “Guys-” 

“Puh-LEASE!” You interrupt before she can say no. 

“[Name]-” “VIOLET PLEASE!!” You cry out dramatically. Powder giving her sister puppy-dog eyes. “If you would listen for a second!!!” She smacks a hand over your mouth. “I was going to say you could have my left over vodka that’s in my mini-fridge.” She points over to the black appliance. Both of your faces fall momentarily before Powder goes to the fridge, snatching the clear and blue glass bottle. 

You stand up, embracing Vi. “I love you.” You mutter in her ear, following Powder out of the dorm, yelling ‘thank you’s.’ 

“The party’s here!!” Powder bursts into the three boys’ shared apartment, holding up the bottle of vodka like simba from the lion king.

They cheer, Claggor taking the bottle and putting it in a bucket of ice they have. Beers from their last hang out in the ice. You also brought three boxes of pizza, sitting it on the stove. “I also brought my wii and just dance. We are going to get so wasted.” You announce excitedly. 

“Don’t you have a class in the morning?” Mylo prompts, and you just ignore him.

“I’ll hook this up while you guys get some food.” You say, the short brunette scoffing at your rudeness of not replying to him. 

[erodasfishtacos]

Boredom & Blind Dates [pt I]

summary: yn is a good friend, who's willing to go on a blind date so that her friend can try to pull the man of her dreams. the new bigshot doctor at the hospital she's works. the dinner isnt as charming as she hoped

word count: 5k

warnings: angst

author's note: hii! this was based off a request. the rest will be posted on patreon and there’s already another part up :)

You can subscribe for $3 USD a month here

+

Victoria was a friend that YN had made in college when they were both studying completely opposite majors but happened to be roomed in the same two-bed dorm.

They clicked instantly and just like their majors, they were also exact opposite in their personalities too but it somehow just meshed perfectly together.

Victoria was a social butterfly who did not have a fear of being the center of attention, going after whoever she wanted (and typically pulling them), and her confidence was impressive.

Despite how smart Victoria was, she had a tendency to come off a bit ditzy, and has been called an air-head more than twice in YN’s presence.

The boys in more prestigious majors like law and medicine usually didn’t find her carefree attitude as appealing.

While Tori snagged the frat boys, YN steered clear of them which worked because they had never once had a crush on the same man.

After graduation, it only made sense to move in together because Seattle was a ridiculously overpriced city but their job wages were competitive.

Victoria was a nurse, she worked on a surgery recovery wing, and complained about her job constantly because of the crabby patients and long hours.

YN worked behind a desk all day, very rarely having to interact with anyone but if she did - it was all virtual from home.

She was the head accountant for a social media marketing company which was a pretty high position for the few years of experience she had.

YN had always been serious, more mature for her age, and always excelled above everyone else in her grade.

It hadn’t been a surprise when she was valedictorian or made summa cum laude in her undergraduate and masters degree with ease.

YN didn’t party, didn’t love socializing out in clubs but would go when Victoria pressured her enough to do so, and it was fine.

YN had been so involved in establishing her career, creating a successful life, and making a name for herself that she didn’t have time for the things Victoria did.

Dating app hookups, one night stands from the bar, and casual flings that only lasted a few weeks was how Tori rolled.

Typically, at least once a month, she was bawling to YN about the latest dickhead who treated her like she was disposable but kept going for the same type.

YN had empathy to an extent, always uncorked the wine and half-listened to her rants about chivalry being dead while she was still thinking about an account she needed to work on because the deadline was coming up.

YN liked to think she lived vicariously through Victoria’s stories which worked for her because then she didn’t have to experience those things herself.

+

YN had been sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on the wide arm as she scrolled through work emails while catching up on her guilty pleasure reality show.

It was nearly ten at night but she was waiting for a reply from a customer with a time difference, work could sometimes be a whole day and night ordeal.

There was no question that YN was uptight, rarely - if ever relaxed, and did not have much time for anything other than what put a hefty sum in her bank account every two weeks.

Victoria tumbled through the front door in a way that is uniquely her - like a hurricane.

Her keys jingling, her water bottle bumping and sloshing water as she drops her purse on the floor unceremoniously with a chapstick rolling out.

She tosses all of her items in a messy pile on the ground with her bag, kicking off her tennis shoes, and nearly prances into the living room.

YN blinks over at her, the excitement of her arrival was a routine now, she no longer gets annoyed that her best friend makes an entrance like that each time.

“Babe, guess what,” Victoria squeals as she sits down right next to her on the couch, still in her magenta colored scrubs and her mascara smudged near her eyes.

“What?” YN replies as she mindlessly clicks refresh in her email, wishing for this message with the information she needs to appear.

“Our new Chief of Medicine started today! He was the head of neurology at another hospital. A literal brain surgeon which, of course I’ve met others but he’s like…the best of the best. They write news articles about him, his studies in medical journals, he’s a big deal,” Victoria is still excited as she nearly bounces in her spot, shaking YN’s laptop.

YN puts a hand up to make sure her computer doesn’t topple, still nonplussed as she looks at her friend, “What does this have to do with you? Is it just because he’s famous in the medical world?”

“No, he’s fucking gorgeous too. I didn’t think you were allowed to be as smart as he is while looking like he just walked off a runway during Paris Fashion Week,” Tori giggles as her cheeks go a bit pink, “He’s the hottest doctor I’ve ever seen.”

“Tori,” YN sighs, clicking her refresh again - nothing, “Again, what is this information leading to?”

“Well I bumped into him today, literally, in the hallway. We spoke briefly, he was polite but serious, and I felt like he was flirting with me. I feel like I have a chance with him,” Her roommate tells her, that same confidence present as ever that she can pull this big shot doctor.

“Good luck with that. I’m sure he’s married with kids,” YN replies somewhat dismissively, unamused that this is how her friend spends her time.

“Nope,” Tori quips back happily, “I googled him. He just made the New York Times list as one of the most eligible bachelors in medicine. Single as they come.”

“I thought you didn’t want to date someone who also worked in medicine,” YN reminds her, clicking refresh once again to no results.

“He’s the exception. If I could settle down with a fuckin neurosurgeon, chief medical officer like come on that would be my biggest achievement,” Victoria pulls out her cell phone, tapping across the screen.

And YN just…cannot relate.

YN only fell in love once.

Where she could fantasize about a life with that person, marriage, kids, a house but it was all fantasy as they were never official in that way.

It was crushed and YN made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t let herself dream like that again.

“Do you want to see a picture?” Victoria asks as she looks for an image to show.

As a stroke of luck, YN’s work phone starts buzzing, and it’s the client she was waiting for to email her, “I’m sure he’s as attractive as you say, Tor. I have to take this.”

Her friend mumbles something about her being in a relationship with work which is honestly not that far off at this point.

However, it gives her an excuse to lock herself in her office for a few hours to avoid the ideas of love, Victoria’s fantasy world, and think about nothing but numbers and percentages.

+

The next few weeks blend together for YN.

Every few days she actually catches up on her work.

Every few days Victoria recounts her very purposefully crafted run-ins with the chief medical officer to shoot her shot.

Victoria has always been forward, asking bluntly for what she wants but with such a seemingly intimidating man, she finally has met her match.

Her roommate deems the doctor as ‘playing hard to get’ but YN starts to wonder if she’s imagining the spark between them or if it’s truly there.

She talks about times where the doctor flat out ignores her in the hallway but brushes it off that he was extremely busy on a pressing issue.

But then there are times where he will pull her aside, gently by the wrist and ask her about how her day was going, and appear to be interested in her answers.

YN loved her friend but was wildly uninterested in these events, the only thing that kept her curiosity lingering was if she was actually going to snag the head of the biggest hospital in Seattle.

She doesn’t hear much for a week or two.

At least three months have passed since the doctor started.

And this finally appears to be a payoff when Victoria comes home with her usual hurricane routine of leaving a trail of her belongings as she comes through the front door.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Close your laptop and look at me!” Victoria announces dramatically as she rushes over to the couch, taking it upon herself to close the lid of YN’s work computer.

“Tori,” YN scolds with a grumble, she really didn’t appreciate it when her friend interrupted her work flow in the middle of her meticulously constructing a report.

“Hush,” She replies, brushing off her concerns, and patting YN’s thighs, “I need the absolute biggest, most massive favor from you ever. And I really need you to agree, I’ll owe you for eternity.”

This didn’t sound good.

YN blinks at her, expression still unamused as ever.

“Okay. I am going on a date with the chief,” Victoria squeals, high-pitched and loud, “But it’s a double-date, he was telling me he’s looking for a date for his friend. I offered you and he invited us all to dinner at The National.”

Fancy.

And YN tries to settle the itching annoyance at her friend offering her up without her approval but unfortunately it was a very Victoria-like thing to do.

Despite how uptight YN could be, she had a soft spot for her friend and would do anything within her to make her happy so instead of lecturing her about setting her up, YN agrees.

YN thinks about it as the days pass until the date, what’s stopping her from actually giving this a try?

The only information she received about her blind date was that he was also a doctor, orthopedics, and his name was Mitch.

YN dresses nicer than she had originally planned, in a form fitting black dress that shaped her chest phenomenally, making her smaller tits look full and lifted.

It also defined her backside well too, making it rounded and voluminous in a way that it normally didn’t look in her regular outfits.

YN hadn’t been with anyone in over a year, not even a casual hookup because she didn’t do those - she did commitment.

Maybe Mitch would be the one.

YN wasn’t one for magical thinking like her best friend but maybe this is what optimism was supposed to be like as opposed to her normal pessimist outlook.

Victoria dressed stunning as well, albeit a bit more revealing which was her go to, cut-outs along her ribs and the hem was nearly to her bum cheeks so she couldn’t bend over without revealing all of her bits and pieces.

YN was sure that the doctor she was pining after would take her home with her that night but she also knows Victoria is possibly looking at this to become serious.

It was all up in the air.

The National was a quiet restaurant, where business meetings were held and deals were made.

Everyone dressed in expensive outfits that made YN and Victoria’s seem a bit out of place but they blended in well enough.

Neither have been to the location before because it was reservation-only and you had to have enough of a name in Seattle to bother calling.

The fact that the chief was able to get them a table, at relatively short notice was flex in itself, showing off what clout he held in the community.

YN wasn’t impressed, per se, felt like it was a bit-show off but nevertheless it was a nice experience that she’d never likely have again after this night.

Victoria gives the hostess their name before they’re being guided towards the back of the restaurant, it lit dimly enough that it would be hard to see the menu.

As they arrive at the table, there’s two meticulous dressed men sit across from one another, both handsome in different ways.

However, one has a big smile and stands up whilst the other stays seated with a scowl that seems permanently etched on his face - light wrinkles to show for it.

The man who stands up reaches for YN’s hand, kissing the back of it, and introducing himself, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to it all week, darling. I’m Mitch.”

“YN,” She replies even though he already knows, allowing the kiss and giving him a polite smile back as he pulls out her chair for her.

Victoria walks around the table, somewhat awkward as her date doesn’t get up or offer to move her chair out, only a curt, “Hello, Victoria. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” Tori blushes easily, YN has to refrain from rolling her eyes at the interaction, she always fell for the rudest, douchey men on Earth.

This doctor was no different as he says back in his chair, shoulders broad, and back straight, head held high as he watches Mitch help YN in her seat.

“Thank you,” YN brushes her fingers against Mitch’s shoulder as he sits down, making eye contact with her date once again.

He had these sincere brown eyes, a shy smile, and his long hair was pulled back into a ponytail as he nods at her.

Mitch wasn’t her type, though she wasn’t picky, and was willing to give anyone a chance - he just wouldn’t be someone she would pick herself.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

“What’s good here?” YN asks Mitch as she opens her menu, it was a small list of entrees, most that YN had only seen on cooking shows or never even heard of.

“I haven’t been here. Styles here is a regular but that’s because he’s the big name ‘round here, well according to London Times - everywhere,” Mitch teases as he glances up at his friend.

Styles doesn’t even lift his lip in a half-smile, his eyes dart to YN before his friend, “The Steelhead Trout is good as is the Filet Migon.”

YN’s eyes trace back over the menu, heart seizing a bit as the numbers next to the entree - realizing that was the price was a bit of shell shock.

She knew that Mitch would pay for her but she felt guilty about ordering something that was well over a hundred and fifty dollars when she would never pay that for dinner herself.

“I think I’ll just get the thai salmon,” YN replies as she glances over, it was the cheapest option, not by much but still.

“There’s peanuts in the sauce,” The doctor tells her as he glances up from his own menu to look at YN.

YN brow furrows at him, lips turning down, and about to say something when he adds, “Victoria informed me that you have a severe peanut allergy and to choose a restaurant that could prepare your food properly.”

YN blinks to process before looking over to Victoria, “Thanks, Tor.”

“I’d rather not see freshman year thanksgiving happen again,” Victoria jokes but there is some real concern there from such a traumatic incident.

YN had accidentally come into contact with some type of nut that sent her into an anaphylactic shock.

They couldn’t find her epipen for a good two minutes until they did and were able to administer her medication until she could make it to the hospital.

Victoria had anxiety about food in their house for ages, paranoid about her own contact with the allergen, and always made sure everyone was aware of YN’s condition.

“I’ll get the filet then,” YN sighs, giving up on picking a cheap option as she closes her menu, and the waiter pours a red wine into her glass.

YN was not in the mood to drink, preferring to sip on her water instead as Victoria and Mitch emptied their first glass quickly.

Victoria’s date sipped more sophisticatedly on his, swirling it like a proper snob before taking a minuscule sip as if he was savoring it.

Mitch seemed very interested in YN, asking multiple questions about her work and personal life, he put an arm around the back of her chair which YN didn’t necessarily mind as they spoke.

From what YN could see, Victoria was not having as much luck with her date as their conversation appeared strained, her friend was doing ninety percent of the talking, and Harry was nodding with an expression of boredom.

After the soup and salads arrive, Mitch and Harry start to chat about something going on with the hospital protocols.

Victoria tries to add in, he doesn’t acknowledge her but Mitch does instead after an uncomfortable pause of silence between them.

YN stays quiet, unable to add anything, and after a moment, Mitch huffs out a laugh, “Enough work talk, we’re excluding YN.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at her, “Need to be the center of attention?”

“Hey,” Mitch frowns, rubbing at YN’s shoulder, “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m sorry if I just-“

“You’re fine,” YN waves her hand dismissively, giving her friend’s date a displeased glance that Harry returns the scowl just like he’d been doing all night.

Victoria is oblivious, as she tends to be, and is much too focused on keeping her date’s attention to worry about anything else.

“What do you do for work?” Harry asks her, randomly cutting off a story that Victoria was telling about a patient that eloped recently.

“I’m a head accountant for a social media marketing company. What about you?” YN returns the question with sickeningly sweet politeness.

She felt like Harry was a pompous prick, taking pride in his rankings, education, and had a better than attitude that YN really felt was unappealing.

To act like she didn’t know shit about him was the perfect way to irritate him apparently.

It works.

The way his teeth clench together as the wrinkle between his brow deepens further, he straightens his suit jacket before leaning forward to appear casual.

“I’m the Chief Medical Officer of The Hospital of Seattle, a neurosurgeon specializing in spinal cord injury as well as stroke and trauma, I own three outpatient medical practices, as well as instruct other neurosurgeons on new techniques and equipment,” Harry boasts, to be fair, it was extremely impressive.

There was no doubt that the man sitting across from her was extremely intelligent, she’s probably never been around anyone as smart as him but it didn’t excuse his attitude.

You can be intelligent and humble at the same time.

Apparently Doctor Styles did not get the memo.

“That’s nice,” YN replies as she takes a very small sip of wine, even though she was impressed, it didn’t reflect in her bored tone.

Harry scoffs, sitting back, and licking the front of his teeth.

His eyebrow was raised as he repeated in disbelief, “That’s nice? Nothing else, huh?”

Victoria’s eyes dart nervously between the two, she grips Harry’s bicep, “I think it’s the most impressive thing I’ve heard. Not to mention the medical journals you wrote for or the volunteer work.”

YN tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, tampering down a smile at getting a reaction out of her friend’s date, just as she had hoped.

“S’really not as impressive when the person needs to flaunt their accomplishments so extravagantly,” YN shrugs as she puts down her wine glass, nonchalant as ever, and acting as if she was being casual.

Tori delivers a kick to her shin underneath the table, along with a scolding look for her to drop the attitude with Harry because it was ruining their date.

YN pulls back because she did feel guilty at getting into it with this doctor who Tori was trying to pull and she wasn’t increasing the chances with the snide comments.

Harry is about to respond, his ringed fingers clenched on the table, and there were tattoos peeking out from the cuffs of his suit that were very undoctorlike, “You know what I think-?”

“Uhm,” Mitch coughs awkwardly to break up the tension that was getting thick and cloying between everyone at the table, “Victoria, where did you get your nursing degree from?”

The conversation breaks off, Victoria and Mitch start chatting as YN and Harry remain pretty much silent throughout the appetizers.

Victoria is forward, trying to touch her date when possible.

A brush of his hand here, a squeeze of his bulky bicep there.

Though Harry doesn’t shrug her off, he also doesn’t return the favor at all.

He is nearly statuesque, unmoving, and able to sit very still for long amounts of time.

Of course, maybe that is overly obvious because of how all over the place her friend was at all times, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes without needing to adjust the way she’s sitting or fiddle with something on the table.

YN wonders if this whole thing was set up for Mitch and Harry just settled for being on a date with Victoria to help his friend out.

The thought hurt her to think about because she wanted better for her friend.

YN enjoyed having a job that paid her well, more than most people her age were making but it didn’t define who she was.

Doctor Styles seemed to be his entire job as his personality.

How boring.

When Harry manages to get the topic back onto a work issue, YN cannot help but let out a yawn that she very half-heartedly tries to cover with her hand because she could only hear so much about a spinal surgery before she’s zoning out.

Victoria is hanging onto his every word, asking questions, and being overly interested in a lackluster story in his monotone, deep voice that could honestly lull her to sleep because of how bleak and morbid he sounded.

However, when she yawns, no one at the table notices but Harry.

His eyes have darted over to her a few times while he’s been talking, almost to gauge her level of interest, and when she yawns, he visibly huffs before continuing - his words a bit more harsh and a flutter of annoyance twisting into his cadence.

YN had neglected her date during this whole time, in full honesty.

Victoria and Mitch seemed to have a great conversation.

When YN talked to Mitch, he was nice enough and easy to have a conversation with but his boss across the table was distracting and apparently felt the need to constantly be the center of attention even though that’s what he called YN out for. 

It’s rude, YN knows it is when she excuses herself to the bathroom mid-story, placing her napkin on the table before swinging her purse over her shoulder, and navigating into the dimly-lit restaurant towards the back.

YN goes into one of the many stalls, a larger bathroom, and sits down.

She didn’t have to go to the bathroom but she had just needed a break because…

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck?

YN would be crawling out the bathroom window if Victoria wasn’t with her.

YN hears the door open and she just knows it’s Victoria.

She is definitely going to give YN a piece of her mind for her attitude at the table and she really can’t blame her because she was not being on her best behavior admittedly.

When YN pushes open the stall, already starting her speech, “Tor, I know you’re probably pissed but -”

However, YN stops mid-setence when she sees that it was not Victoria standing across from her.

No, instead it was Harry, leaning back against the sinks with his arms crossed and a scowl worse than anything that he had displayed at the table across his face.

“Already dating again?” He asks unhappily, the slight crack of his deep drawl gives away the jealously laying behind those words, “That’s pretty fuckin’ rich, innit?”

“Don’t you dare,” YN hisses back, defensive and straightening up, “You don’t have any room to talk.”

“I have plenty,” Harry grits out, his gaze unwavering, his hand twitching like he wants to reach out, “You fucked everything up, not me.”

The awful thing is that YN wants him too.

“That’s not true,” YN murmurs softer, trying to keep the feisty edge in her voice but struggling.

The emotions that she was attempting to hold in at the table were much harder to bottle up when they were standing face-to-face like this.

“You like Mitch?” Harry ignores her rebuttal, his knuckles were white where they were gripping the kitchen sink, “Think he’s nice? Boyfriend material?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” YN snaps back, finding her bravado a bit more.

“Come here,” Harry orders, voice quiet but sharp, demanding, and it sends a chill down her spine.

“Harry-” YN begins to argue but finds herself walking forward, her heart pounding hard enough that it hurts and her hands were shaking as she clung the strap of her purse as a lifeline as her heels clicked against the tile.

“C’mon, dove,” His voice is sweeter, more goading until she’s close enough to touch.

Her lips parted in nerves, excitement, dread.

His hand reaches out to curl around the nape of her neck, fingers lightly pressing into the sides of her throat and though it was gentle, it was possessive - rooted in the jealousy of what was going on tonight with their dates.

Harry brings her towards him by the hold he has on her, until her hands are laid on his chest, and he’s leaning down as he tilts her head up.

He brushes their lips together, once, twice, and on the third time, YN pulls back and takes a few steps away from him.

“You can’t just do that,” YN huffs, grabbing a tissue from the counter and dabbing at the corners of her eyes to prevent the tears from falling and ruining her makeup, “I’m on a date. You’re on a date. It isn’t fair to either of them.”

Harry laughs unhappily, shaking his head as pushes away from the sink, heading towards the door but before he leaves, he bites back, “I don’t think you have room to be talking about fair. You obviously don’t fuckin’ understand the concept of it. Pull yourself together before you come back out.”

YN knows it immature, proves his point but gives him the middle finger before going back to dabbing at her eyes - fuck, she wishes she didn’t cry around him.

She wondered if it was worth sneaking out the window and facing the wrath of her friend later.

+

ahhhhhhh.

let me know your thoughts. this was difficult to write but im glad it turned out how i wanted it too! what do you predict?

😙😙😙

[darlingsfandom]

You’re not in charge honey …

Anon: Hi, can you write one for Robert Fischer where he is forced to marry y/n because of his father’s wish and his father always likes y/n because he thinks she is more capable than Robert. So Robert gets frustrated and take it out on y/n to let her know who’s in charge in bed lol. sorry if the plot is too long!

TW: cum eating, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, degradation, swearing!

Not proofread !

You were smart, funny, kind and overall a good fit for Robert in his father’s eyes. In reality you would admit Robert is an attractive man but he was a spoiled brat underneath it all. When the two of your first met he was starstruck with you because he’d admit you’re an attractive piece of ass but as the two of you dated he found himself getting bored of you. You were a toy he outgrew but his father would not allow that.

“Excuse me? Did you just say I have to marry her?” Robert about choked on his wine as his father sat across the table from him. “It’s bad enough I have to live with her!” He rolled his eyes before setting his glass down.

“And here I am thinking you adore me darling!” You rolled your eyes before flinging your napkin off your lap.

“See! She’s a spoiled brat!” Robert whined.

“That’s rich coming from you!” You slapped him upside the head before his father let out a chuckle. Robert shot him a look and his father shook his head.

“You’re only bothered by her because she’s the only that puts up with your shit Robert! You don’t like that she’s dominating over you.” His father took another sip of his drink before he stood up. “You’re marrying her! That’s final. And if you try to find a way out, you can kiss your inheritance goodbye.” His father stormed out of the room leaving a pissy Robert sitting alone.

Later that evening you were in the silk sheets wearing his favorite little outfit with the faux fear that lined the top of the cleavage. Robert walked into the room and leaned against the door frame.

“What the matter ? So sad you have to marry little ol’ me ? The girl who gives you everything you want! The girl who praises you!” You sat up on your knees with a playful pout. “Must be awful having to marry the fuck who fucks you in the ass!” Robert slammed the door shut before he strolled over to you, grinned and wrapped his hand around your throat. Both of you smiled at each other before the grip tightened and you felt the air leave your lungs.

Robert watched as your eyes slowly closed before he let go of your throat making you suddenly gasp for air. Your breathing was uneasy but this was normal. His fingers traced over the marks on your neck making you perk up.

“You think you’re so cute, that you have the higher up in this but we both know who’s really in charge.” Robert pulled the strap of your lingerie making you jump when it snapped back against your skin. He licked his lips before he stripped down to just his boxers. “Now be a good girl and come suck my cock.” Robert stuck his hand down his boxers, pumped his cock enough to the get the precum on his fingers before taking his cum covered fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “That’s right baby, can’t talk back with your mouth full.”

You sucked heavily on his fingers while looking into his eyes. Robert pulled out his fingers and rubbed them across your face before pulling his boxers off. His cock was actually the biggest you’ve ever had considering one was made out of plastic , lived in your bedside table and once in a while went up his ass. He grabbed you by your hair, pulled you down and stood at the side of the bed as you laid down to wrap your lips around the head of his sticky cock. A soft moan left his lips as you sucked the head.

“See, so much better when your mouth is full of cock.” His hand smoothed over your hair while you look up at you with those oh so innocent eyes. He loved your innocent act but that’s what it was, an act but not for him no, he knew how bad you were behind the doors. How could some as sweet as you do such naughty things. You swirled your tongue around the head before slowly stuffing the rest of his cock down your throat. Your nose hit his trimmed happy trail making you scrunch your nose since it tickled.

Robert’s hand stayed on the back of your head while you sucked his cock eagerly. The sounds of you gagging mixed with his moans were enough to have you clenching around nothing. His fingers pulled on your hair making whine around his cock sending a shiver up his spine until he moved his hands to your cheeks and held them gently before he started thrusting down your throat.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, your hands gripped his thighs and he looked down at you with those dark eyes as he fucked your face. He loved face fucking you. You took it like the good girl you are. He pulled away and awed as the string of spit that connected his cock to your lips shined. You took your chance to breathe before sitting up on your knees. Robert pushed you back down before he climbed on top of you, pinned your hands above your head and held them there before he grabbed his belt off the floor to tie them above your head.

He grabbed your legs and spread them wide.

“Look at that, not wearing any panties and already dripping onto the sheets. What a fucking slut.” Robert slapped your pussy making you jump with excitement. He did it again making you yelp. “You would enjoy that.” He rolled his eyes as he spanked your pussy again.

You wiggled your hips but he pinned them back down before he sat between your legs to stroke your cunt slowly before sitting up on his knees, pulling you closer and rubbed the head against your soaked folds.

“Sir!” You gasped as he pushed the head in. Robert wasted no time in pushing his cock into. Your mouth hung open as he stretched you good. Even though you and Robert fucked a few times a week he always felt huge in you. Whines left your mouth as he held up your hips and fucked into you hard. Long deep strokes to hit that spot you liked. Robert reached between your bodies to rub circles on your clit with his thumb as you whined out his name.

“That’s it honey, taking my cock like a dirty fucking slut. Everyone thinks you’re so innocent but you’re such a dirty slut!” He wrapped your legs around his waist before he powered over you and placed his hands around your neck. Your signature smile appeared as he choked you out. Small gasps of breath were leaving your lungs as he fucked you faster, the sheets tangling below you as he looked into your eyes. You looked so pretty below him.

The bed rocked with his thrusts. Echos of his balls slapping against your cunt filled the room making you squeeze his cock. He let up on your throat before he hooked his fingers into your mouth. You greedily sucked on them . Robert wasn’t taking it easy on you. You had more tears streaming down your face until you felt him slap your face. You sucked faster on his fingers and smoothed your hair that time.

“Fuck! I’m going to cum in you sweetheart!”

You whimpered around his fingers until he pulled them out and wiped them across your breasts. He forced open your mouth before he spit in it and watched you swallow.

“That’s right baby, you take what I give you!” His thrusts were getting sloppy as he held onto your hips and coated your insides with his hot cum. “Take every last drop!” He grunted fucking his last few drops into you.

You whimpered signaling to him that you wanted him. Robert rubbed your clit fast in hard circles. You tried to close your eyes as your orgasm hit but he slapped you again making you look at him as you squeezed his cock.

“Good girl.” He pulled out of you, scooped up the leaking cum with three fingers before shoving them in your mouth. “Father always wanted me to marry a good girl, still don’t know if that’s actually you.” He pulled out his fingers as you laid there with your hands still tied above your head. Robert cleaned himself up before he even looked in your direction.

He was a spoiled little prick that you loved and in his own twisted way he loved you as well but he’d never admit it.

[bonesandchalamet]

predictable - c.fisher

masterlist

requested: y- “Can you do a conrad fisher x reader where the readers family has a house next to theirs so they grew up going to cousins for the summers (cons age), and they are in love w each other but don’t want to admit it and everyone notices it around them/teases them. maybe a flash ward to their wedding in a couple of years and everyone’s speeches are like “yeah i won the bet they would be married by now” or smth like that?“

pairings: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: fluff + jokes

a/n: I hope I did this justice anon! xx there are NO spoilers of book 2 or season 2!

you can hear his voice. it’s muffled, he sounds like he’s in your kitchen, a blessing of having the bedroom right above it, but you can hear him talking to your mother.

you don’t have time to think, you just fling your legs over your mattress and rush down the stairs at an appropriate pace. you’d just woke up, maybe not your best state to be in, but you couldn’t wait to see conrad fisher. the boy next door.

he’d gone to Princeton, smart cookie if you say so yourself, and you hadn’t seen him since last summer. in fact, you only saw him maybe once or twice outside of the neighborhood and that was getting ice cream and groceries. other than that, you live by the fence that separates your yards waiting to hear the laughter and conversations from the Conklin and fisher kids.

“just tomatoes? are you sure? I can go pick out some basil—“

“no, no laurel will kill you if you do any more yard work! I can get it.” you hear conrad protest. the fisher family was used to your parents generosity, the beautiful vegetable garden grew right on the fisher/y/l/n house line, the family was more than welcome to eat and take whatever they wanted, but it didn’t stop them from being kind enough to ask. Susannah raised those boys right.

“are you sure?”

“what’s going on?” you ask, it’s like the words floated out of you when you saw him. his brown hair a little longer than normal, his t-shirt a bit smaller on him, and he’s wearing small navy blue swim trunks. a sight to make any girl swoon for a fisher.

“oh, y/n, do you think you can help conrad get some more tomatoes from the vines? it seems to be the fisher-Conklin clan has run out.” your mother hands you Susannah’s woven basket that conrad was once holding. your mother looks at you with pleading eyes but she knows you’ll do anything that has conrad fisher involved.

“happy to.” you take the basket in your hand and gesture for conrad to follow. he thanks your mother once again and follows along out the back door. you can hear not only just your heartbeat, but the blood rushing to your ears.

being alone with Conrad was sometimes awkward. at least to you it always felt that way, because you never knew how to be around him as yourself. you were so deeply in love with him that just being in his presence was enough to make you fumble over your words.

“here I can get the tomatoes.” conrad pushes past you, his shoulder brushing against your body, you could smell his cologne, the salty ocean in his hair, and the mixture of the laundry detergent Susannah uses. it was an intoxicating smell, one to make your world spin.

“you sure? they are kind of all over the place.” you chuckle setting the basket down into the grass. you start picking the beautiful blush red ones and gently place them in the basket along side the ones conrad was picking. every so often your hands would brush or you’d about pick the same tomato. you both would blush and apologize instantly for the connection.

“would you guys just kiss already! you’re making me nauseous.” Jeremiah calls over the fence line from the pool, he’s watched about every embarrassing second of you and his brothers interactions.

“come on, con!” Steven hollers, it’s loud enough for the neighbors on the other side of their house to snicker at the boys energy for far too early in the morning.

“I don’t know what their problem is.” Conrad says and it’s only for you two to hear. he’s picked up the basket from the grass now, you’re stuck with holding a few more tomatoes that he claims would be more than enough for everyone.

“no seriously, just keep those ones.”

“we have enough inside, just take them—“

“fine,” he huffs out an annoyed sigh and watches you dump them into the basket, “can I at least make you breakfast with them?”

“sounds like a plan to me.”

that day, he made you more than breakfast. he made you feel the most indescribable feeling of love and excitement. he left you walking home as beat red as those tomatoes you picked. you could thank Steven and Jeremiah for their pressure and tease, because conrad fisher did in fact kiss you that morning.

—

FUTURE

“I’m so happy for these guys because today I became twenty dollars richer,” Jeremiah pauses, the laughter of friends and family make you both blush, “so thank you Steven for believing they would never get married. here’s to the bride and the groom!” Jeremiah holds his champagne glass up, others in the room follow.

“you really bet we would get married?” Conrad turns to his brother who passes the microphone to belly before sitting down beside him.

Jeremiah’s hands clap his brothers shoulder, “we also made a bet that you’d kiss her that summer. belly also made a bet that you’d have tomatoes on the menu, looks like you guys are the most predictable couple ever.”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Chris, I suffer of simpinitis and the only cure is you to write for Arlecchino (just a joke don't feel pressured especially if you end up not liking her also good luck if you're pulling for her)

(Genshin Impact) Arlecchino, Lynette, Xianyun, and Barbara's S/O getting scared by a spider

I don't plan on pulling for her because Clorinde is showing up, but FEAR NOT ANON! Quoth the FFXIV:

Arlecchino watches with vague amusement as S/O suddenly leaps back, nearly into her arms.

She catches them with minimal effort as her eyes slowly track tiny movement on the floor.

A spider was skittering across the floor at a slow pace, making her gaze trail back to S/O.

(Arlecchino) "Spiders are not very likely to attack humans without being provoked. And even then, that is under the most dire of circumstances-"

(S/O) "I-I know, but...they're just creepy!"

(Arlecchino) "Indeed."

With a hum of acknowledgement, she almost drops S/O to the ground as they barely caught themselves in time.

Arlecchino walks over to the spider and gently puts it in a cup before releasing it outside.

She crosses her arms as distant memories from her past came trickling in.

(Arlecchino) "You wouldn't have liked Bambi."

(S/O) "Who's that?"

(Arlecchino) "A pet spider that I once owned."

(S/O) Of course you owned one...

They were smart enough to not say that out loud, but Arlecchino had the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

She probably knew what they were thinking anyway.

Even when she was spacing out, Lynette could easily spot something moving in the corner of her eye.

(Lynette) "Oh, a spider-"

(S/O) "WHAT?!"

S/O immediately balled up onto the couch, head rapidly darting back and forth.

(S/O) "W-WHERE?!"

Lynette's ears twitched from how loud S/O was being, but she easily grabbed the spider in a cup, noting how S/O was inching away from her.

(Lynette) "It's not even a dangerous kind, just a regular-"

(S/O) "I don't care what it is, just throw it out!"

Lynette smiled and gently let it escape out the house.

As she sat back down next to S/O, her tail swished playfully, though Lynette herself was stoic as ever.

(Lynette) "What are you going to do when i'm not here?"

(S/O) "D-Don't tease me!"

Xianyun adjusts her glasses when she sees a spider on the table.

S/O almost dropped their food completely at the sight of it, while Xianyun looked slightly annoyed.

(Xianyun) "How unsightly for a dinner table."

With a small gust of wind, she flicks it away, making S/O leap out their seat.

(S/O) "GAH! D-Don't fling it at me!"

(Xianyun) "One was not aiming at you, dear. Do be careful, otherwise your plate will drop."

S/O took a deep breath of relief while Xianyun continued to eat.

(Xianyun) "Hm...One has an idea for an invention. We could construct you a machine that can take care of household pests like that."

(S/O) "...W-Would you?"

Xianyun suddenly beams with pride, a gleam of light reflecting off her glasses.

(Xianyun) "Fear not, One will make sure you are never bothered by a spider ever again! We will get started straight away after dinner."

What ended up happening was Xianyun constructed a machine that was too good at killing household pests, to the point it broke parts of the wall.

Both Barbara and S/O yelp when they see a spider speed along the tiles of the Cathedral.

(S/O) "Aw man, it's going up to the ceiling!"

(Barbara) "I-It's not going to drop on our heads, is it?!"

The two exchanged a look that said neither were wanting to find out the answer.

Accepting defeat, the two quickly exited the cathedral out onto the plaza.

(S/O) "Do you think we could ask one of the sisters to help us?"

(Barbara) "U-Um...well-"

It didn't take long for either of them to realize that it'd be absolutely mortifying to ask a sister for something so trivial.

Instead, they decided to practice their singing outside.

Which arguably, was worse since spiders could be anywhere, but it didn't seem to cross their minds as they slowly became comfortable again and laughed the situation off.

Until the next day they forgot about it and entered the cathedral, only to be jumpscared by it as it sat on the pews they were at.

[starletdawn]

palces out of paragraphs

You sit on your bed eyes glued to your notes and your a sheet of paper. You had a 6 page essay coming up and it was worth 70% of your grade. You suddenly hear a knock. you jump from your bed. “Coming!” you say loudly expecting your parents back from their date night. As you open the door weirdly enough no one is there. You hear the knock again you turn around, and see your boyfriend Jason Dean waiting for you like a little puppy outside your bedroom window. For some reason he was obsessed with climbing your window this was honestly normal behavior for him. You quickly open the window and before you can say anything he goes into your room. He immediately wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a soft kiss. “What are you doing here baby?” I say as I pull away softly. “Well, I’ve barely seen you today at school. Where have you been my love?” he responds “I’ve been working on my essay I want a really good grade,” I say softly. “Well, now that you’re done with your essay what should we do? I mean I saw your parents leave the house earlier and I was thinking we could…” He smirks now putting his hands on your hips. “There are still some things I still have to review for my test.” You sigh as you bite your lip nervously “And I don't want any distractions.” “C’mon let me stay darling” He pouts leaning in to your cheek giving it a gentle kiss. “Okay, but promise to not distract me.”Promise!” He says you go back to studying. He plays with my hair and fidgets with your cat plushie. “I don’t understand why you try so hard once we get married I’ll spoil you with everything you want.You won’t have to work for a day.” He remarked although you rolled eyes your heart flutter at the thought of you being more than just a highschool fling. “On second thought I would love a smart-ass as my lover” JD teases. After a few minutes you started getting frustrated and tired. Your hands starts hurting and you can barely keep your eyes open the worst part was that you weren’t even close to done. “You should take a break sweetheart” Jason says looking into your tired eyes “No, I can’t” I groan. “You’ll be able to get more done if you’re energized. “C’mon just take a short break and then you can go back to working.” ”Fine” You finally give in. You lay your head on his chest He caress your hair and cheek. “You’re so gorgeous my dear I could stare at you forever and never get tired. You’re honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His words, his tender touch on my skin, His beautiful eyes all caused my body to relax and before I knew it I was in a deep slumber.

The cold breeze hits your arms goosebumps on your skin. You slowly open your eyes to complete darkness. You look over to your clock it’s 2:00am and Jason is no longer here. “He must’ve left” you thought to yourself. You quickly realized that you forgot to finish your essay you panic searching inside you backpack you find the essay and you suddenly realize It’s all done. All 6 pages filled with information you found a sticky note plastered to it. It read “I used all your notes and resources I tried my best to follow the prompt and use correct grammar I hope you like it my dear. Sincerely, JD” After reading through it. I was honestly surprised I knew Jason was smart (when it benefited him) but oh shit the essay was perfect. Despite his usual bad handwriting he wrote the essay in neat writing and honestly it looked like he put a lot effort into the paper for such short time. You put your essay back into the paper thinking about how lucky you were to have such a precious boyfriend.

This my first writing I’ve published so please be nice but feedback is welcome!!💗💗

[heliads]

I’m not sure if you write for Marauders or not, but I thought I would ask. I’ve also never requested before, so apologies if I do this wrong.

My request is a Regulus Black x a female Potter reader where they fake their deaths to hide from Voldemort and destroy all his horcruxes in secret. Once they’ve destroyed all the horcruxes they reveal that they are alive to Sirius and James, and there is a cute reunion scene that’s really fluffy.

Again, sorry if I did this wrong. Thank you so much!!

oh i would do anything for the marauders (including writing for them)

masterlist

Night has fallen when Regulus Black tells you that he’s leaving. He waits until now, the final hour, as if hoping that the dark shades of midnight will hide what he’s planning from the rest of the world. Regulus will be found out, of that he is certain, he just hopes that he’ll have enough time to do some sort of good before he’s caught.

The smart thing would be to leave before anyone got word of his disappearance. Regulus is not smart when he comes to you, however, or so he admits when he shows up on your doorstep when you were just about to go to bed.

Regulus says that he’s leaving alone. It doesn’t explain why he showed up to say goodbye, or perhaps the thought of that solitude is the very reason for it. Regulus is alone except for when he’s with you. Every time that he was lonely, he sought you out. It makes perfect sense that now, when he fears the quiet abyss of death, he would want a farewell from you one last time.

You, however, are unwilling to let him go. It was hard enough having to endure the past few years estranged from him like another brother to let go. You’re a Potter, he’s a Black, and even though Sirius switched over to your side, Regulus hadn’t. Not yet. Not until now.

It had all but torn you to pieces, choosing loyalty with your brother James and his best friend Sirius when Regulus seemed so far away. Regulus had always been kind to you throughout your years at Hogwarts, the two of you closer than anyone despite how your scarlet school robes clashed with his emerald ones, and just when you swore nothing could separate you, he signed on with the Death Eaters.

Now he’s in front of you, telling you that he’s going to take down the Dark Lord or die trying. It seems like a fool’s errand, and a dangerous one at that. That’s what you tell him after you get over the shock of seeing him after such a long time, once you remember to invite him into your house and lock the door securely behind you.

The outside is blank and dark, but in your home, you’ve never felt more alive. You had wondered what it would be like to see Regulus after so much time, and it’s like you’re back at Hogwarts instead of in some small apartment close to your job. He’s here, and you’re here, and the thought that he’s about to go fling himself into the grasp of unwarranted death is unthinkable.

Perhaps that’s why you let it happen under only one condition:  that you be there too. Regulus is a brother and you are a sister and the two of you understand each other, you always have. That’s why you know without a doubt that Regulus will not stray from this quest, even though you try to persuade him from it nonetheless. It’s why he knows better than to fight when you assert that he won’t be doing it alone.

You did try to talk him out of it a little, at least. Why would it be him of all people to try to take down Voldemort? When there are so many witches and wizards fighting in the cause, why should he be the one to die?

You had not gained much by way of explanation. “It’s my responsibility,” he had said simply. 

Regulus would know about responsibility. Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters to appease his parents, who regretted the choice from the moment the inked skull appeared on his forearm. You’ve caught him staring at the accursed tattoo for hours, only when he thinks no one else is around. You know he only feels comfortable wearing long sleeved shirts so he doesn’t have to look at it and remember what he became. 

It is his responsibility to save the wizarding world, and so it will be yours, too. Regulus isn’t pleased at first when you tell him that you’ll be going with him on the quest to hunt down the horcruxes, but you refuse to change your mind. When the moon hangs high in the sky later that night, you think he goes to sleep with a smile at the thought that he’ll have such a lovely traveling companion. He tells you as much when you set off, anyway. 

He might as well be smiling about something, you won’t have much reason to do so until the difficult deed is done. You’re already leaving under terrible circumstances as is; in order to avoid detection from the Dark Lord and his followers, you and Regulus have staged each other’s deaths. When your friends come upon the scene later, they’ll believe that Regulus, a Death Eater, came by your home to kill you, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You fought back and managed to wound Regulus enough to end his life, but not before he returned the favor for you as well.

It’s a horrific sight, the illusion of both of your bodies lying side by side. Your brother will find this out later, and be sick with grief. Regulus’ brother too, even if the taint of betrayal will make the whole scene wretched with wrongness. For now, though, you have no time to think of possible reactions nor the difficulty of what you are forcing your friends and family to endure. The only objective in your mind is how to destroy the horcruxes so that the war can be won.

Regulus knows of the first, a locket in a cursed lake somewhere deep underground. He takes you there first, and it takes him weeks to sleep off the aftereffects of that awful potion hiding the locket. Whenever you close your eyes, you see the rings of fire you had to conjure up to fight back the Inferi swarming from the lake, how they had emerged from the greenish lake ready to drag Regulus into the water the second he bent his head to drink.

Regaining the locket is an awful thing, destroying it more so. It takes the two of you several days before you’re able to do it for good, and all the while the accursed relic whispers lies in your ears, trying to convince you to abandon each other. When a wave of rage so strong it almost kills you makes you black out and slam the thing with the Killing Curse, it works at last. You’ve never used an Unforgivable Curse before. It takes surprisingly little willpower to do.

Regulus talks you through that. It’s easier to address the use of Avada Kedavra than the ugly truth both of you know, which is that there will be no guarantee that either of you will make it out of this infernal quest. It took everything in you to find and destroy the locket, which at least you knew about. What of the other horcruxes? How will you survive them, too?

The two of you travel across the country, listening in to wizarding news and doing your best to find out what the remaining horcruxes could be. You share space, you share secrets. You’ve never been closer to Regulus in your entire life. The thought that the two of you went a year or two without speaking after you left Hogwarts is unthinkable now. How could you breathe without him?

After dark, he lies awake, watching the light from a charmed lantern flit across the ceiling. He says, you don’t have to do this. Stay with him. Risk your life like this.

You prop yourself up on one elbow so you can get a better look at him. The furrows in his brow are more pronounced now, and the shadows under his eyes, which have been there since the day you met him, are now dark enough to look like the hollows of a skull. Of course I do. 

As if the universe meant to reward your faithfulness, you’re blessed with a clue the next day. Regulus recognizes a Death Eater furtively walking down a street and follows him, overhearing the man tell one of his friends that Lucius Malfoy was apparently given some strange token of the Dark Lord’s. They’re both jealous that they weren’t given Voldemort’s refuse, apparently, but their complainings are like music to your ears.

Malfoy’s item is a diary, and it writes pages of frantic scribblings in an attempt to save itself before Regulus hits it with Fiendfyre which, strangely enough, works. Stranger still was trying to break into Malfoy Manor to find a journal, but all’s well that ends well. You got in, you got out, and although there are definitely some house elves under Lucius’ employ that will wonder why they heard voices in the dark that one night, no one is the wiser.

The next secret you hear is not an item but a place, the family home of the Dark Lord’s mother. The two of you comb the place relentlessly until you find an old ring buried deep beneath the earth. Just to be sure, you check it for curses, and after a great deal of difficulty, are able to remove the dark enchantment before destroying it for good.

You lie awake that night, musing aloud before you can stop yourself. “We only barely caught the curse on that one. What if the other ones were enchanted as well and we didn’t know it?”

Regulus sits up, brushing dark hair out of his eyes so he can look at you. “What if we’re both going to die because we didn’t catch something in time, you mean?” He asks.

You nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to seem like I’m losing faith, because I’m not, but– I worry sometimes, you know?”

Regulus stands, takes both your hands in his palms and kisses them. “I rely on your worries, Y/N. They keep us alive. And no, I don’t think we’re cursed. Not yet, at least. If we were, I could at least die with you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

You laugh. “That’s morbid, Regulus.”

“But true,” he muses.

He tells you he loves you the next day. It feels like it’s been a long time coming. You have never been one to declare love immediately, but it’s different with Regulus, always has been. If you were in the mood to be honest, you would admit that you have been in love with him for years, ever since the two of you were small enough to hide in your brothers’ shadows and find each other there. You have loved him since the start. You will love him until the end.

Taking down the next horcrux is almost easy, if such things were allowed to be said. You’re fuelled by the hope that this might be the end. Standing over the shattered bits and pieces of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, you almost believe it. It’s funny, you always thought that you would somehow be able to tell when you finally destroyed the last of the horcruxes, like you could feel it in the air or something.

You feel nothing when the cup is destroyed. It scares you. You and Regulus have been extremely careful to keep yourselves hidden, but you dare to poke your heads out of the shadows for a little bit to determine if you were successful or not. Although you hear rumors that Voldemort seems weakened, that his forces have started losing battles despite him being at the helm of the attacks, he is not yet dead.

It’s heartbreaking. After all of your efforts, your trials and tribulations, every injury and weakness the two of you have sustained on the quest to defeat the Dark Lord, it still isn’t enough. You listen, you spend weeks and then a full month waiting for information, but nothing comes. There is no sign that there are any more horcruxes, but Voldemort has not died. How could it be so?

You come up with a tentative solution in the end, which is to go to Dumbledore for advice. In a way, it seems almost childish– why should the headmaster have any idea what to do, other than the fact that he led your school where the two of you first met and studied? Then again, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of his age. If anyone would know how to proceed, surely it would be him.

Regulus agrees readily enough, recognizing the necessity that if the two of you cannot find a way to continue on your journey, it will never end, and before long the two of you are Apparating near familiar territory and walking up to the castle on foot. You disguise your faces with a simple charm; the two of you are supposed to be dead, after all, but all it takes is one glance at you and Dumbledore is smiling and telling you that he’s glad to see two such familiar corpses up and about.

You laugh, you can’t help it, and remove the charm once you and Regulus are safely in Dumbledore’s office and out of sight. After explaining your predicament, Dumbledore sits for a moment in contemplative silence and then says at last, “It must be the diadem.”

You and Regulus exchange glances, then look back at him. “What diadem?” Regulus asks.

“The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, of course,” Dumbledore muses. “Tom Riddle– the Dark Lord, if you like your pleasantries– was captivated by the magic of the four founders of Hogwarts. You have told me already of Hufflepuff’s cup, this is the expected companion piece. It must be somewhere within the castle, but where– but where–”

He clears his throat after a lengthy pause. “I give both of you permission to scour the castle for it. I will caution the staff not to look too closely at either of you. Take however much time you need, but I would urge you to hurry. More of us die by the day, and it would do us no good to have our friends fall as a consequence of our own dillydallying.”

You look up at him. “And what happens after we destroy the diadem? It must be the last horcrux, or the last one he’s created so far. Will that kill him for good?”

“No,” Dumbledore murmurs, “that will end the horcruxes, not the monster who made them. Once the horcruxes are gone, he will be severely weakened and search for however has been hunting down his creations. You two are lucky that you have not died already, you know. I have no doubt that he has already begun attempts to stop you from completing your goal.”

You shudder, remembering past encounters. Death Eaters had nearly caught up to you many times, and on numerous occasions, they had, requiring firefights of spells and hexes before you and Regulus could escape to relative safety.

Beside you, Regulus tenses, obviously thinking along the same lines. “How do we survive once we destroy the last of the horcruxes? How do we stay out of his sight?”

Dumbledore sighs, weary and heavy. “I will put a stop to him,” he says at last, and that is that.

You and Regulus conjure up your charms once again, disguising your faces to all students who happen to pass by. You look in towers and dungeons, empty classrooms and great halls. It’s a mad memory rush being back here, and it is difficult not to mix memory with your current situation.

When a few hours of searching pass by, though, and neither of you have found even the slightest hint of a diadem, your fond musings are replaced by desperate anger. This is your last step, surely, if you could just find the thing. It would all be over if you could merely find one diadem in one castle.

Regulus leans against a nearby stone wall, eyes cast up to the sky in a plea for help. “Where would a diadem be? In the Ravenclaw dorm, maybe?”

You shake your head. “Dumbledore said it wouldn’t be there.”

You pace back and forth, trying to wrap your head around the issue. What other sections of the castle are particularly known to Rowena Ravenclaw? You’ll wear a path into the carpet beneath your feet while you try and think, but nothing seems to work until the wall opposite Regulus suddenly shifts away, revealing a door.

You and Regulus stare at the room that has appeared out of nowhere. “Do you remember a hidden room near here?” Regulus asks faintly.

You shake your head. “James loved tracking down every secret passage, and he told me most of them, but I don’t think even he knew about this one.”

It’s nice to have a first. You smile to yourself, then take Regulus’ hand when he offers it and walk inside the mysterious room.

The chamber is packed to the gills with objects great and small. It occurs to you that even if the diadem is somewhere in here, it could take years to sift through all this junk. You and Regulus look at each other, shrug, and each take a corridor in which to search. 

About half an hour has gone by before Regulus gives a shout. “Found it!”

You race over to his side, and stand, breathless, looking at the very same artifact that’s caught his attention. It’s old, dusty, and not particularly noteworthy, but it has this terrible feel to it that all of the horcruxes had in turn.

“This is it,” you whisper. One last shot. Then, the end.

Regulus lifts his wand, summons a tendril of Fiendfyre, which goes straight through the diadem, shattering it like glass. It’s silent for a moment, and then, when the last shard of the diadem falls to the ground with a quiet crunch, you’re both rocked backward by a boom like a cannon. This, at last, you can feel. This is it.

Dumbledore is waiting for you when the two of you emerge from the room. “I’ll take my leave of you,” he says, “and thank you.”

You nod. “What do we do now?” 

For a moment, despite the burden that has now been placed on your old headmaster’s shoulders, despite all the lives that have been lost and those that will still be taken, Dumbledore smiles. “You can go home.”

Sirius used to stay the night at the home of you and your brother, you remember that from your school days. It would then follow that, with everything in peril and friends disappearing by the day, Sirius would be at James’ right now. It certainly saves a trip for you and Regulus. Dumbledore gives you their address before you leave, and he tells you to waste no more time.

As if there is anything in the world that you want more than to see your family. You and Regulus Apparate a street or two down from the house, then walk over, hand in hand. Before you know it, you’re waiting on the threshold. The lights are on somewhere in the back of the house; you can hear voices, then a shout of a laugh you remember as Sirius’. It’s more quiet than it used to be, a little more hesitant. He’s lost a lot, the elder Black brother, but he’ll gain some today, too.

Regulus squeezes your hand. “Let’s come back from the dead,” he says.

You smile at him. “That sounds good to me.”

The doorbell echoes through the house, ceasing all conversation. There are slow footsteps to the door, a pause as someone looks through the peephole, and then all of a sudden the door has been flung open and you’re engulfed in a whirlwind of a hug. Your brother is here, your brother is lifting you off the ground with the force of his embrace, and it’s been so, so long since you’ve seen him, but you’re back again, and everything is okay at last.

James’ eyes are as wide as saucers when he finally leans away to get a good look at you. “Y/N, you’re– I swear, if you’re a Death Eater using Polyjuice, I will hurt you so badly–”

You laugh. “I’m me, James. Just me. If you want proof, though, I offer up the memory of when you were a first year and totally in love with Lily and you had me–”

James cuts you off quickly. “Alright, alright. It’s you. God, it’s you.”

A figure appears behind James, and a quiet voice asks, “Regulus?”

James moves aside so Sirius can see his brother. Regulus stands perfectly still, says, “We tried to fix it, Sirius, we hurt him, the Dark Lord, we–”

Regulus told you years ago that he wasn’t that affectionate with his brother. It’s to be expected, of course, divisions between brothers rarely settle themselves sweetly. You suppose that’s why Regulus looks so stunned when Sirius reaches out an arm and hugs him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to crush his younger brother or just make sure that he’s actually real, but they both look vaguely confused when it’s over. Happy, though. Glad to be alive.

The news will come out later that week that Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore did what was promised and killed him. That means the war is over, and that means you can rest at last. You’ll get a place to stay with Regulus. The thought of leaving him now that the two of you can be together without fear is unthinkable. You don’t want to be without him, and thanks to your suffering on the path to destroy the horcruxes, you won’t have to.

Dawn breaks. And you think– you think this might be it. Not a harsh end, but a soft one. A quiet aftermath. You’ll live, and Regulus will too. That’s more than you expected during those months on the run. When the two of you went to sleep unsure if you’d wake up in the morning, your wildest dreams could not encapsulate the wonderful life you have right now. It is marvelous, and it is yours. That is all. 

requested by @bookishirishdancer, i hope you enjoy!

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

[theangelsheardyou]

In a dominant mood so here's how I think bsd men would act as subs

Atsushi

Would be a very obedient sub

Trusts you in every way imaginable

You know how parents tell you "well if your friend told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?"??

Yea that's him

If you told him to do something stupid or dangerous whether in the bedroom or not he would immediately trust that you have a plan behind it (even if you actually don't, he doesn't know that)

Other than that, he's very anxious when it comes to PDA, at least at first

But once he gets used to it, and by that I mean used to the feeling of being loved, then he will slowly start warming up to and even asking for it

When it comes to sex, he can be even more bashful and awkward about it

He mostly whimpers and whines and it's not super loud, but if it does get to that point he's very self aware and scared of others hearing him, so he covers his mouth right away

I think he'd be most compatible with a more gentle top

He can't handle very heavy scenes and I can't imagine him having a very active libido

He has sex to express love and passion, not just for a quick fling that doesn't mean anything

Outside of the bedroom, he's very quiet about what goes on in there

Dazai likes to tease him about it and you love how his pale complexion turns into a pretty shade of red

Dazai

Oh this man is OBNOXIOUS

He's the type of sub that makes you wanna fuck him so hard he actually shuts the fuck up for a second

One of the brattiest of the bunch, for some reason has to turn anything and everything into a game of cat and mouse

Also one of the horniest, believe me you'll be drained DRY after like a week or so

This man's libido is UNMATCHED

He may be taller than you, smarter than you, and possibly stronger than you when it comes to his ability,

But in every other way you are in charge And some part of him always wants to challenge that

Loves to be paraded around like a showdog (but prefers the term "trophy wife")

He's a little princess and always gets what he wants

I think he'd fit best with a dom who could handle his.....special traits

He needs someone who won't get tired of him so quickly and leave, just like everyone else in his life did

But he also needs someone to put him in his place from time to time

Dealing with dazai isn't for the faint of heart, anyone who's done it before knows that

So maybe if you're strong enough, smart enough, and a little bit delusional and crazy, you could have this cute little former mafioso wrapped around your finger like a worm on a string <3

Fyodor

Tbh this one's the whole reason why I made this post in the first place😆

This one's also a little....different...from the others

And by that I mean he's worse

His brattiness doesn't come in the form of disobeying orders or having a fit in front of your friends

No, this one will purposefully pick you apart psychologically

Trying to get this man to behave will require a labyrinth of words, a battle of the minds

He needs someone who can challenge him, because if they don't, he wouldn't bother to be submissive towards them at all, they don't deserve it.

He's one half sickly and one half pride, so taking care of him isn't gonna be easy

Of course you'd have to know going in that Fyodor's self care is abysmal and as his dom you'd have to take responsibility for his health

Taking care of his pills, his diet, making sure he eats and sleeps on time, gets enough rest, drinks enough water, exercises, that's all on you from now on

But you do it cause you love him

Sometimes he'll be bratty and arrogant enough to take you for granted, and would snap at you and tell you he doesn't need someone to baby him when you just were trying to help

But after enough time, he'll realize he was wrong, and as his health depletes, he'll slowly start to inch towards you, asking for your help

You would make sure it gets to the point where he'd have to beg. Make him realize what it's truly like to not have you "distracting" him with your care and concern

And eventually, if he's put up a pathetic enough display for you, you'll hold him in your arms, warm chest comforting him as he leans his head and torso on it

You'll watch how he shivers each time he takes a breath, his eyes are glassy and staring at nothing, his hair is drowning in grease, and it's obvious he hadn't showered in days, but you don't mind

All of this means he's vulnerable, which means he's weak, which means he's malleable.

Malleable enough for you to mold into whatever you please.

Because the only person who could dominate the demon Fyodor is someone who could become the demon Fyodor.

Whether he knew it or not, you were just as sinister as he was, possibly even more.

And every breath he took was another foolish step into your web, a plan you had conducted just for him

So he can be as proud and smug as he wants, but at the end of the day,

You are in control.

Chuuya

It's kind of hard for me to decipher what kind of sub he'd be to be honest

I want to say he'd be a brat but that term doesn't seem to describe him exactly

Sure, he's got a lot of pride, so getting him to submit to you or even to simply let you take the wheel will be difficult.

He's too stuck in his old habits, too used to having to take care of everything, so being taken care of for a change will be a new feeling to him.

He's also scared to love you, scared to let himself bring another person into his heart, afraid of instead accidentally luring you to your death as he had done with so many others.

No, he's not ready to lose another person. Not again.

He's grown to see his love for others as a trap, a ploy, a misfortune. It was like a prophecy for someone's death.

But you, you were different from the rest.

You were strong. Strong enough to protect yourself, strong enough to stand your ground. In fact, you could probably even protect the gravity manipulator Chuuya Nakahara himself.

It took a long time for him to be ready. Ready to open himself up for you. But you let him take his time. You let him think things through. And despite everything, you were there.

You both sprouted a relationship neither of you thought you could do before

And the sex wasn't just sex to you two, no, it could be a distraction, a vacation, an escape, a break, an apology, you name it.

Sex would be a big part of you guys' relationship

I like to think that Chuuya is a lot hornier than he says he is, and also a lot more submissive

Learning that he was a sub was surprising for you, especially because of, well, everything about him

But that was cool for you, as you were vers, and you had to admit you loved the way he screamed and cried under you.

The look in his eyes, the blush in his cheeks, the spit dripping from the corners of his mouth, even the small wounds he had gotten from biting his lips so hard to keep in a moan was adorable

Fucking in his penthouse was great because he had red lighting in almost every room, giving it a sexy, moody vibe.

It also reminded him of his place. He may be rich, he may be a mafia executive, and he may have a couple dozen people under his command, but no matter where or what he is, he will always be a pathetic little whore for you.

You fuck him in his room to remind him his riches mean nothing. He means nothing. All he is is a slut, and he must be reminded of that.

I think he'd be best compatible with a quieter personality to counter his loud one, but I think that loud, brash personality is most present around Dazai. Though he can have a little bit of a temper from time to time, even around you

He needs someone who doesn't care about status or ranks, Port mafia executive or not, you'll fuck him like there's no tomorrow and once you're done he'll be clinging to you like a lost little dog.

Ranpo

Brat. Brat Brat Brat. NOTHING about this boy is topping.

I mean, I do see him as a switch, but in this case, he's the brattiest brat to ever brat.

Will require you give him sweets and cold drinks whenever he asks, will make you drive him places, teach him things and even fuck him when he's too lazy to do the fucking.

He'll be obnoxious all day and then look at you like he's done nothing wrong his whole life. Spoiled little shit.

He's exactly the type of sub you would fuck into submission until you hear a sorry or any sort of appropriate apology.

He likes to be fucked lying down, sometimes sitting and leaning against something, but sometimes you'll force him to sit on you and ride you up and down even though you know he hates it. You'll never hear the end of it from him, though.

He likes to be fucked while eating, too. You'll fuck him from behind with a hand out and spoonfeeding him cake, and the rapid shaking of your bodies and the table he's up against will leave traces of cake all over his chin and cheeks. He doesn't know if he wants cake or if he wants you to eat his cake. Either way, he wants and needs you bad.

I think he'd be best fit with a top who would usually just give in to all his demands and would be patient with his bratty personality, but knows when it's been taken too far. You'd be calm and gentle with him, but come nighttime, you're a beast in bed, making sure he makes up for everything he did in the office that day.

He's not the type to apologize I don't think, he'd definitely beg if it's gotten too much for him but an apology? That's asking too much. Just take the moans and cries and leave.

However, right afterwards he'd go back to his usual bratty self no matter how bad the punishment was. In couldn't have been that harsh anyway, as you could never say no to Ranpo's cute face.

Akutagawa

When I say this man is a Virgin I mean he's a VIRGIN VIRGIN.

As in as virgin as the virgin mother mary

He hadn't even had time for sex before you came along.

You taught him everything, even things about his own body that he didn't even know. Like how he doesn't like the feeling of frotting because he doesn't like how another man's dick is on his own. Or how he likes when you pump his cock slowly, especially since he's so new to the game that he couldn't handle more even if he tried. Poor boy😔

He finds it odd, the feeling of being pampered. Being provided with food everyday, a warm place to live, constant affection, he didn't know what to do with it. It was as if he was an alien studying earth and experiencing the most mundane things for the first time.

And the weirdest thing about it was, he liked it. He liked the feeling of being taken care of, being provided for and pampered, and it was odd. He wasn't sure if he even deserved such wonderful feelings.

When it comes to sex, you better believe this man's got some weird shame thing related to sex

He sees it as a filthy task that he, unfortunately, likes to partake in.

He's ashamed even bringing it up, let alone asking for it.

But once you get the memo you take action and calmly and gently take care of him

Akutagawa's been used to violence, been used to screams of pain and agony, but this? It's soft. It's sweet. It's tender. He's not used to it but part of him wants to be. He's never been so happy in his life.

He's not the type to whine and whimper so much like Atsushi, instead he'll let out a low grunt here and there and maybe throw in a moan somewhere too.

He's into the wildest things, most of which involving your ability with his. It's probably some weird psychological thing where he's associated his ability strength = worth thing to the bedroom which......isn't healthy.

But once you're done his sickly little body is spent, his already damaged lungs trying desperately to keep moving. You hold him over your shoulder, as being carried bridal style would mess with his pride. Arm wrapped around your shoulder and tugging at you inner arm, he leans into you the way he's never done for anyone before.

He feels odd now, as if he's just discovered something new. Learning and even participating in sex has left him with many questions, that hopefully you could answer.

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - Thank you to those who enjoyed my last post! I'm really excited to bring you some spicy content as well >.> Enjoy <3

Words: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Explicit smut, body worship, cunnilingus, strong language, tending to wounds, blood, light mentions of domestic abuse, Vigilante!Reader

The devil's not supposed to have a heart. That's why these no-name, no-face, no-strings-attached flings had worked out. Somewhere along the way, he seems to have forgotten that.

Panting, half-bent at the waist against the pain radiating in your shoulder where the bullet had penetrated, you watched as the—understandably—terrified woman ran for her life back towards the city proper, leaving the pier behind with haste. A groan from below made you snarl, anger coiling in your injured body like a snake. A booted foot kicks out at the squirming man, and your attack silences his pathetic whimpering.

The sudden kick caused a sharp pain to flare through you, and you curse under your breath, stepping back away from the now-unconscious man, taking stock of the situation. A split lip, gunshot wound, and what was certainly a few bruised ribs were the least of your problems tonight, however. Oh, no, that would be the motorboat speeding off under the cover of night, and with it your intended target.

This was all wrong. So fucking wrong. You should have been faster. Smarter. Then maybe the bastard wouldn't have gotten away...

Kidnappings weren't a common occurrence in the Kitchen. Spriting away an entire person wasn't an easy feat with a population dense place like this. People heard things, saw things. Friends went to the cops when they felt something was wrong. Broken routines didn't go unnoticed. Sure, they still happened, but most petty criminals weren't brazen enough to try something so bold, day or night. Only the truly hardened, or those without anything to lose considered it at all. Even then there were so many factors that could go wrong during the attempt, most didn't take the risk.

Conrad Clausen had tried anyway.

A career dirtbag and misogynist of the highest order, the bastard had thus far successfully and consistently toed the line of legal technicality against his ex-girlfriend, McKenzie Grissom. Conrad, infuriatingly, made full use of his minor in criminal justice to make her life a living hell after she'd filed for a restraining order, finally fed up with the abuse. Civil suits and private investigators, exploiting services written in her name, and more. The poor woman couldn't catch a break.

The last straw was when she'd come to the Domestic Violence Resource Institute, straight into your protective jurisdiction, looking for help in the wake of his vindictive crusade. That hadn't sat well with him at all.

You should have seen the signs coming, the moment all of his manipulative tactics suddenly ceased for over a week. Should have known something was up. He wouldn't have given her up so easily. You hadn't thought he'd go so far as to enlist his best friend into the plot of kidnapping and doing who-knew-what to poor McKenzie, but here you were, standing over the dude in question. He'd even brought a gun, the very one responsible for your shoulder freely bleeding.

If only you'd managed to get Conrad himself, but he'd given you the slip. With no way of catching up to him, and no knowledge of where he'd hide away to plan his next move, you stood there above his friend's unconscious form, seething.

On paper, this was a success. McKenzie had been saved, and you'd managed to apprehend on of the kidnappers involved. But Conrad was smart and wicked and cunning, and now on the loose. A rabid dog off his chain and unpredictable in what he'd do next. He'd be more careful, more patient, the next time he tried to take her and oh...you knew for certain he would try again. Men like him wouldn't ever stop, no matter how many times it took to get it right.

In the end, you'd accomplished not much at all, and the tension in your shoulders and back felt suffocating.

You needed to move. You needed to do something. Anything.

Biting back the urge to scream, you stoop down and fish Conrad's friend's phone from his jeans pocket, dialing 911 with swift fingers. The Hudson River beside you brought with it a chilly breeze, as you waiting through that first ringing of the line. A woman's calm voice answered moments later.

"911, what's the address of your emergency?"

"There's been an attempted kidnapping at Pier 92. One of the men responsible is unconscious and will need medical attention. The other just got away in a motorboat. Send in some units." Is your reply in monotone, not waiting for her response before ending the call. You weren't worried about the report being ignored. Some precincts may be corrupt, but the 15th was alright in your books. They'd follow through.

Tossing the phone aside, you step over the man's body and roll back your shoulders, trying and failing to alleviate some of the tension that had settled there. Your dark suit chaffed despite being tailor-made to fit you perfectly. Months of sewing it yourself had meant it shouldn't be this uncomfortable, which only served to further set your nerves on end as you tromped through the darkness back towards your motorbike.

The last 10 minutes play back through your head in a spiraling loop. Picking apart your decisions, playing a depressing game of should've-would've-could've until self-loathing joined the anger and resentment that kept your muscle tight and high-strung.

Breathing labored and heavy, you make it to your bike, jamming the helmet on your head and starting up the engine with a rough twist of your wrist. It roars to life with a thunderous growl that echoes beneath the concrete pier caps overhanging above.

Knuckles white beneath your black gloves, tightly gripping the handles, you rocket forward in search of the next crime-in-progress. Hopefully Hell's Kitchen would deliver.

A quiet night was typically a good thing when it came to your nightly activities. It meant the city wasn't at war with the scum that coalesced in its dark corners. It meant peace and safety to those that lived there.

Tonight, though, you loathed the peace.

The door to your foxhole swung open with such force, you're surprised it hadn't fallen off its hinges. Barely giving it any attention, you stomp with a fury inside, hearing it slam shut behind you. The noise was good. Loud. Angry.

Down a set of stairs takes you to the relatively open space that had become your landing point at the end of your vigilante patrols—with the building mostly gutted it was difficult to tell what it had been before, maybe a spacious storage closet? Complete with a semi-comfortable cot and a few cupboards and shelves with storage for your medical kit and suit repair supplies, it was a home away from home that kept your identity safe from those who might have followed you. Despite the space, it still felt stifling amidst the chaos in your head.

There'd been nothing to help you release the tension from your failure that night. No muggers to beat within an inch of their life. No burglars unlucky enough to cross your path. Every alley way and street corner you could think to look had been confoundingly crime-free. Fucking nothing.

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you pace back and forth in the dingy yellow light from the standing lamp in the corner, chest rising and falling in pain and rage that built higher with each sharp ache in your ribs and the dried blood pulling away from the makeshift bandage on your shoulder. Careless. Slow. Useless. That's what you were. McKenzie was in more danger now than she had been before. Conrad would wait for a better time to strike, and next time you doubted you'd be so lucky as to be there when he did.

The mental image of the smarmy bastard getting what he wanted was your breaking point. A guttural yell spat past your lips, and your fist shot out to punch at the nearest wall with as much strength as you could muster.

The drywall caved into a hole with the force of the hit, and you were just lucky to have missed the stud behind it. Pain radiated from your knuckles immediately after, but at least it was something to focus on other than your tumultuous thoughts. In the moment, the violent impulse had felt good. You drew your hand back, half-tempted to repeat the action.

"What did the wall do to deserve that?"

Alertness raises the hairs on the back of your neck within a split second, but recognition follows just as quickly behind it. Closing your eyes, you somehow manage to resist the urge to punch your visitor. In all your anger, you hadn't noticed another presence in the room. Rookie mistake. Had it been someone looking to harm you, they'd have had every opportunity.

Drawing your hand back down to your side with measured calm, you turn your head just enough to spot the red-suited vigilante leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. The opaque, blood-red lenses of his mask somehow managed to exude a tempered curiosity, gaze directed a few feet to your left. His lips were upturned in the barest hint of a grin, posture relaxed and at ease, a stark contrast to the coiled tension of your own.

If he noticed or was put off by your visibly wrathful mood, he gave no indication.

Jaw set, you turn and walk with purpose to the row of shelves off to his left, unclipping your arsenal of equipment from around your waist and thigh holsters. They find their places with heavy clunks in the empty spaces.

"Why are you here?" Your question comes out dripping with malice, though you're not entirely sure if any of it was truly directed at him, or the shitty night you'd just endured. It took everything in you not to yell at him to get the hell out.

Instead of answer, his head tilts in that way it always did. Several seconds pass before a frown settles his mouth downwards. "You're injured."

"No shit." Another flash of annoyance, another clunk onto the shelf.

"I smell blood," he remarks, pushing away from the storage cupboards as he zeroed in on the front of your suit, "and gunpowder. You were shot?"

"I'll live." When he tries to come closer, you push past him to remove the exterior protective jacket of your suit, painfully shrugging it off and tossing it onto the cot that would be your sleeping arrangement for the night. No need to bring your anger home and risk your own apartment's walls.

A tight-fitting black shirt was underneath the outer jacket, and you waste no time in removing it, unbothered that the other vigilante was mere feet behind you. Nothing he hadn't seen before—minus your face, of course, the mask always stayed on—but you were growing restless with his presence there the longer he remained. You hadn't expected company.

The shirt joins your jacket, and you're left with your sports bra and the makeshift bandage you'd cobbled together at some point during the night. The cloth you'd torn and packed against the wound had stained a deep red, saturated, but at least it had done its job and stopped the blood flow. It would need to be replaced with something clean and proper, though. Removing it now would hurt like a son of a bitch, but you'd grit your teeth and bear it. It's what you always did.

"Let me help." The devil's smooth voice is closer than you'd expected behind you, but you shift away from his soft touch on your shoulder with a barely-restrained growl.

"Why are you here?" You ask again, tone demanding that you'd get an answer this time now that you're facing him directly. In reality, you knew why—there was only ever one reason he showed up here—you just wanted him to man up and say it. He needed release, and as the only other operating vigilante in the city, the only other person who could really understand what he took on when he donned the mask, you were the one he sought out.

No names, no faces, and no feelings involved. Just sex. A way to release all the pent up emotions of dealing with the worst that Hell's Kitchen had to offer. It was the only method that didn't involve hurting other people the two of you had found worked just as well. Sometimes there was no other way to really purge oneself of the rollercoaster of emotions that came with trying to protect this city—a city that, sometimes, felt like it hardly wanted the help.

Maybe his night had been just as shitty as yours. Maybe he hadn't gotten all the adrenaline out of his system from his last fight. Or maybe he just felt like a quick fuck. Whatever it was, this whole situation was very off-script to your typical encounters.

He hadn't reached out to you at any point during the night. And you certainly hadn't called for him to meet at your foxhole. Him showing up out of the blue was unusual. You would have suspected something wrong had brought him here, but the absence of his all-business and terse persona made that unlikely. Your penetrating stare was strong enough that you could almost envision burning a hole through his mask.

His silence was prolonged, so you tried again, stepping closer and encroaching on his space. He didn't move back. "Well?"

Another brief pause, and the devil's head dips down further. And despite still wearing the mask, you can't help but feel like he was looking right through it to look at the person beneath. "You needed me."

"I didn't call for you."

"You didn't have to." His matter-of-fact reply was laden with something...so wholly unlike the devil you knew. Dare you call it...gentle?

That was certainly not a word you'd ever have associated with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. All you can do is blink back, unsure of how to respond. Despite possessing heightened senses—the limits of which you were still uncertain of—you doubted he had a vigilante-in-distress sense kicking around in that brain of his.

Irritation swirled through the veins within you. His proximity itched at your nerves in so many ways. You wanted to shove him across the room. You wanted to scream your lungs out, punch and kick at the one person who could meet you on equal footing until your body gave out from exhaustion. Violence was second-nature, instinct as much as reflex.

Sex with Daredevil was a violence in its own right. Rough and unrestrained in ways that felt very much like the fights you threw yourself into against the bad guys on the streets. He'd give as good as he got. He'd meet your ferocity with that of his own, capable and willing to surpass it at times. Both of you, embodiments of wrath and rage, colliding.

You hadn't called him, but here he was. Might as well get some use out of him.

Violent intent morphed cleanly into physical need within the span of a few heartbeats. Lust born from seething anger simmered just beneath your skin, taking the tension that had settled in your limbs all night and turned it outwards, leaving you nearly shaking before him.

"So...you're here. You gonna take care of me, devil?" Is your coy question, one brow raising as you lean back against the cot pressed sideways to the wall, hands gripping the thin mattress to either side of you, nearly-naked chest on display for his eyes to gaze upon. It's almost embarrassing how much you trembled at just the anticipation of him manhandling all of your stress away.

The concern that had settled into his mouth lifted into something more amused, edged with cockiness. "I always do."

You expect him to erase all distance between you, claim your lips with his in a kiss as unforgiving as his sense of justice, shoving you back onto the cot. But to your surprised dismay, he gently pushes away from you and heads back to the cupboards. A deep frown marks your face, but logic hits a second later. Your wound. Ugh.

Your eyes track the way his body moves within his own red suit, leaning down to open the drawer with your medical supplies in it. Whether it was a lucky guess that he picked the exact drawer you kept it all in or if he somehow just fucking knew, you were too wound up to ask. But he's back in front of you only a moment later, setting the things he'd need beside you on the cot.

With barely a wince, you lower yourself down to sit on the edge of the cot, allowing the devil into the space between your legs as he knelt. A stirring deep down screamed to wrap them around his waist and draw him in where you'd rather he be occupying himself, but for now you behaved. Something told you if you didn't let him at least help with your injury, he'd leave you high and dry.

Ignoring the way you simmer in your own clouded lust, he reaches up to gently peel away the torn wrap now soaked in red. The blood that had previously dried and stuck to the edges of the wound now broke open with a sharp pain, and you bite into your lip against the feeling, focusing on evening your breathing through it.

Gloved fingers drift to your back, searching with a tenderness that shocks you.

"The bullet?" He asked, breaking the short silence. Setting the ruined rag aside, he soaked another with antiseptic.

Your voice comes out clipped and sharp. "Dug it out earlier."

He hums in understanding. You bit back a curse as he applied the material to your open wound, the sting raging its ugly head and gnashing its teeth. Hands that so efficiently bloodied the criminals of Hell's Kitchen were patient and steady on your skin, tending to you with that same gentleness he'd spoken with before. This was all so damn confusing.

Your eyes track across his mask in an effort to focus on something else. Past the red-glossed eyes and down to the stubbled jaw that was all you could see of the man underneath. You knew it would feel delightfully rough if you ran your fingers across it...

"What happened at the pier?" The question surprises you and when you stare at him in prolonged silence, because how in the hell could he have known where you'd been, he gives a little shrug. "Saltwater. I smell it on your suit."

You slowly shake your head, ignoring the subtle reminder that he could perceive so much more than you could and deciding to let him distract you from the pain of his ministrations with conversation. You didn't typically talk much during your moments together, but given the circumstances, you'd let it slide this time.

"Kidnapping, almost. Saved the girl, but the bastard got away."

"How?" He questioned, head cocked to the side, gaze still affixed to where he was tenderly cleaning the wound.

"Had an accomplice and a boat waiting. His friend kept me occupied while he made his escape. He popped off a lucky shot and I couldn't go after him once he was away from the pier."

"Tough night." The vigilante muses. "Who's the perp?"

"An asshat named Conrad Clausen. Head of an IT firm, knows his way around the law. Abusive ex. Controlling." Hands clench tightly in your lap. Just the sound of his name got your blood boiling further. You frown harshly, head shaking at your own incompetence. "I only made things worse, somehow. He'll come after her again."

"You'll track him down before that happens." The absolute certainty in his voice gave your pride enough of a spark to break through all the muddled self-loathing and lust that drove all of your thoughts right now. Even if you weren't so sure about your odds of nailing the dude before something could happen again, Daredevil's confidence in you wasn't unwelcome. "And if he's unlucky enough to cross my path before that, well...he'll wish he hadn't."

You couldn't count on both hands the number of unfortunate souls you'd stumbled upon after the devil had gotten to them. That was an understatement if you've ever heard one.

Unwilling to say anything more about it, you only hum, getting used to the stinging of the antiseptic just as he was satisfied it was cleaned to the best of his ability. Setting aside the rag, he dug through the kit again for the padded bandages. Peeling off the adhesive edges, he brought it to your shoulder, probing it gently around the wound.

Your heart thudded heavy in your chest, wishing that his gloves were off so you could feel the skin-on-skin contact. It took everything in you not to drag him forward by the neck of his suit and demand his attention in other, more sensitive places. The sudden grin that lit up his face drew your attention.

"Easy there. Your heart starts beating any faster and you might pass out."

You huff, appalled that he could indeed hear the damn thing pounding away like a drum in your chest. Because of course he could. Your glare could set fire to a building. "I've had a hell of a fucking night, and now you're taking your sweet ass time to patch me up."

"Why the rush?" He asks, tone clearly giving away his mirth.

"Careful, devil. I've got no patience for foreplay." Your words come out as a frustrated hiss, the first of your mental restraints beginning to fray. You'd been riled up for far too long, and your only potential outlet was kneeling there not touching you in the ways you wanted. Fists clenched into the thin cot mattress.

"Clearly." The venom in your words does nothing to put a damper on his smile.

With a few more gentle presses around the edges of the bandage, he pulls back to assess his handiwork. You're courteous enough to let him replace all the medical supplies back into the first aid kit before he stood and turned away to return it to its place in the cupboards.

Hungry eyes raked down the lines of his suit, taking in the way his pants really did wonders for his ass, and you felt the last of your dwindling patience crumble away. The devil sure knew how to be incredibly tempting.

Lifting up from the cot, the distance between you and him is a meager two steps. You traverse that in less time than a single draw of breath, grabbing his arm and turning him to shove him back against the cupboards.

He's still wearing that infernal little smile as he faces you, eyes hidden behind red lenses. "As your attending nurse, I'd suggest not moving that shoulder-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Shoving aside all pretense, you take hold of his suit collar and drag his mouth down to yours. It's crushing and needy, and had you been in a better headspace, you'd balk at just how strongly it screamed of desperation. But the clouds of unresolved failure, loathing, and rage that had settled on your soul seared a straight path through anything and everything else.

Sharp reflexes mean he's quick to reciprocate, though you can still feel the infuriating shape of amusement lift his mouth as he let you kiss him with nothing short of fury. One hand draws up to press at the back of his covered neck, wanting there to be no space between you.

Gloved hands settle at your uncovered waist, but pull you no closer than what your untamed lust already demanded. Too wound up to question why he wasn't meeting you with an equal ferocity, your tongue licks across his bottom lip with purpose, a request as much as a command. Without hesitation he lets you in, tangling his own with yours in a familiar dance.

He's intoxicating, you can't deny. Daredevil wielded an intensity that no other man had ever come close to matching. His attention, when directed at you, was full and overwhelming. A great wave of physical sensation that he let crash over you without apology. Some nights, it was all you could do to keep your head above water and survive the torrent. Others, his ocean storm met with a hurricane of your own making, and your foxhole was the no-mans-land where war waged under stale sheets and pale yellow lamp light.

Tonight, the tides were low, the waters strangely calm. In no mood for serene seas, you maintain your grip on his suit, dragging him backwards and away from the cupboards to be closer to your cot somewhere behind. You wanted it now, whatever he was going to give you.

Your calves hit the edge of the cot, but before your momentum can bring you tumbling backwards together, his hands tighten against your waist and hold you to him. His mouth unfortunately parts from yours.

"Why-?"

"I said I'd take care of you, so let me." His words are breathless and pleading, his masked forehead settling against your own. "Please?"

Confusion mars your expression as you stare into the red tint of his mask's eyes. This close, you could faintly see the dark eyes of the man beneath flicker back and forth with subtle movement. You'd never known this devil to be anything but full of vindictive rage. Righteous purpose, barely contained in the confines of a man. There was playful flirting on occasion, but nothing close to this...warm affection that you were now being confronted with.

Anger flaring, you found yourself nodding, but you'd get what you wanted. If you had to fight tooth and nail to get it, so be it.

"Say it." He urged.

"Fine. Take care of me." Your hands snake down his chest, ghosting over the hardened indentation of his cock from underneath his pants. He huffs a breath at the tease. "But don't make me wait for it."

Another grin splits his lips, before he reaches down and wraps his hands behind your thighs, lifting with an ease that stirs deep in your belly. Instead of your back being pressed to the wall like you expected, like you desperately hoped for, he instead fell carefully to his knees atop the cot, lowering you down onto the covers beneath. This new position slotted his hips directly against yours, that bulge you'd caressed before now flush against the heat of your cunt through layers of clothing.

You gasped, feeling the first true licks of sensation you'd been craving since he'd shown up. Lifting your hips up, seeking more, you're kept in place by the unrelenting strength of his own pressing down. Feeling the skin of his fingertips drift along your jawline—so focused on his body being pressed to yours, you hadn't noticed he'd taken the gloves off—you startle and snap attention back to what little of his face you can see.

Lips slightly parted, the gaze of his mask so centered onto your expressions, watching and observing with a tilted head, as if savoring the sight of you beneath him as his fingers dip down below your jaw and along the exposed skin of your neck. The mask dips, and you swallow as his fingers pass along the hollow at the base of your throat, then further down towards the sports bra still covering your breasts.

You're swift to lift up, hands reaching for your bra to discard, but the man is quicker, snatching your hands before you can touch the fabric and pressing them into the cot above your head.

"Devil-" You start to warn with a growl, electing not to finish the sentence as he slowly shakes his head.

Anticipation coils with your frustration, but at this point you're not sure which one is winning out. Still, you give a valiant effort in removing your wrists from beneath his grip, desperate to take what you want as fast as you can get it, but he doesn't relent. Completely at his mercy.

What he does offer, you take as if you're starving for it. The kiss he leans down to give you takes on that ravenous intensity as you engage again, but he keeps his pace slow and purposeful. And when you are just beginning to feel light-headed and in need of air, his lips slant down past your lips, over the curve of your chin, setting on a meandering path down where his fingers had trailed just moments before. The stubble on his face scratches with a pleasant sting.

The scrape of teeth along your throat earns him a low whine, a gasp following closely as he switched to the wicked, wet heat of his tongue. You feel the burning fire of each little circle he paints upon your skin, scorching you and simultaneously fanning the flames of need. Lower and lower it goes, finally reaching the top hem of your bra. Your skin practically hums in anticipation of the removal of the last barrier blocking that talented tongue of his from where you wished he'd put it to use.

But rather than remove the offending garment, he simply ghosts down over it to your stomach, continuing on as if there had been no interruption at all.

You keen a pathetic little noise, low in your throat, pushing again at the strong hand restraining your wrists. Still, he doesn't give.

"We have all night, sweetheart." It's barely more than a whisper against your abdomen, but still it sends a shiver down your spine. It's all you can do to ignore the way his term of endearment—he'd never called you that before—now ricocheted between your ears, stirring your belly further with each bounce.

His mouth traverses the last few inches of your belly, and despite all of the tension still coiling in your muscles, shoulders and back, there's this growing sense of peace radiating from your bones beneath. As if your body knew, given time, it would have what it wanted.

Wielding impatience as a weapon, you fought for faster gratification, wanting an immediate relief to your internal chaos. Daredevil's pace never quickened, savoring your skin in a way he'd never done before. Despite his determination never to kill, the bitter darkness that spouted from that mouth was really something. Who knew the same one could feel so soft against skin? Honestly, you were floored by the way you silently craved for him to take all the time he wanted to explore your body, lavishing it to his heart's content. No man had ever left you feeling this wanted.

Hands made for fighting traced your skin with softness, like it was delicate paper beneath his fingers. Hot breaths swept tingling waves of toe-curling want across the scar-littered canvas at his disposal. There was something like reverence in the way he caressed you.

And that scared you the most. This...thing between you and the vigilante, it wasn't supposed to be about feelings. The heart wasn't supposed to have anything to do with it. He'd been fine with that, and so had you, when it all began. This, though...this felt like something entirely more.

What changed? Why was he being like this tonight? He touched you as if he actually cared. As if this whole thing wasn't a transaction.

He touched you like a lover.

The shift in trajectory of his mouth is what finally forced you out of your own head and back to the present. His hand not holding down your wrists had been swirling gentle circles into your side, but now it slowly rose at the same pace of his tongue. And when he finally reached your bra on the way back up, his fingers dug beneath the band and lifted.

You squirmed in place, thankful that your breasts were free from their confines. You want nothing more than for his hand to take hold of the flesh and squeeze until the pain nearly edged against the pleasure, but his fingers drift no more than feather-light trails along the underside.

Arching your back and attempting to press yourself into his touch gets you no closer to your desires. He merely presses a soft kiss into the valley between your breasts. It becomes painfully obvious that to get what you wanted, you'd have to go at the vigilante's pace.

"Please..." You whimper, deciding you're not above begging if it helped to speed this process up in any way.

It earned you a low, male noise at the back of his throat, nearly reward enough. A half-hearted rut of his hips into yours made your eyes close in pleasure. Confirmation that he wanted this just as bad as you. Perhaps you'd push to see just how far his own patience would run...

Eyes shot back open, mouth parted in a moan as his tongue finally—finally—found its way to the peak of one breasts. Circling around the tight nub and sucking it into his mouth to taste in full. His hand rolled the other between two fingers, tugging and pinching whenever he felt like it. You writhed beneath his ministration, wanting more but having no way to grasp it.

There was no respite to his touch, endless and yet so ridiculously restrained. Like a meal to be savored, he took his time swirling the nub from various directions, tongue mindlessly circling in whatever way felt right.

And god, did it feel right, you thought through a haze of pleasure.

You think you hear him murmur something into your skin, but your own panting breaths muffled whatever it might have been. Given his unexpected intimacy tonight, you don't dare ask him to repeat it. When he doesn't seem to wait for a response, mouth switching to your other breast and giving it the same attention, you lack the attention span to give it further thought.

Another impulsive arch of your back has your clothed cunt brushing against the crotch of his pants, earning a stuttered groan from the devil. It must be torture, being so hard in that tight costume. He hardly acknowledges his own need, so focused on you. A throb pulses through you, deep to your very core.

Part of you wonders if he could hear the way your heat aches for him, or perhaps could smell the spike of arousal that accompanied it, because his fingers reach down to start undoing your own pants, shaking just enough for you to take note.

One-handed, it's a little difficult for him to accomplish—the plea for him to let you go is pointedly ignored—but with a little shimmy and lift of your hips, they're pulled down to your knees, exposing the wetness that begged for attention. Daredevil's sharp inhale and barely restrained growl is proof enough that his senses are going haywire with all of the intense stimulus.

You'd never wished so much in your life to be able to hear someone's heart beat. Was his just as fast as yours, pounding away at the sight of you laid bare?

Calloused hands glide with fascinated purpose across the exposed skin of your thigh. A glance at his mask confirms that he was focusing intently on your lower half, head tilted and gaze a little to the right of your center. Slowly, those fingers ascend closer to the apex, and you feel yourself holding your breath for their inevitable arrival.

The wait is agonizing, each second a torturous minute in your own mind. Your hips squirm, desperate and needy. Fuck, you just wanted it now.

Daredevil leans in close, lips brushing over yours in the chastest kiss you think you'd ever had.

"Breathe." Is his whispered reminder against your lips, panting lightly himself. All the while you can still feel his glove trailing your thigh absentmindedly. "Relax, sweetheart."

A stuttered pair of in- and exhales is all you can manage, body so strung up on the line that you think one good pull would snap you in half. His lips press to your own once more, guiding you through a methodical, easy kiss. It's the anchor point that keeps you from flying apart. A rock to cling to, weathering the storm.

You're thrown head-first into the current the moment his meandering touch reaches your wetness.

A sharp gasp into his mouth morphs into an elongated moan when two fingers slide easily through the heated arousal coating your entrance. A physical ache tears through your body as the appendages circle around your clit, teasing and promising so much and yet avoiding it all the same. He denied you again when your hips rose of their own volition, seeking a true release.

An absolute bastard, the devil could be. And willingly at his mercy is where you'd put yourself. Fool. You were a goddamn fool.

Each swipe of his fingers pulls another shuddering twitch out of your assaulted nervous system, the stimulation overwhelming and yet not enough. Despite all that, you still notice the devil's throat bob with a heavy swallow, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Knowing the way his senses work, you wouldn't be surprised if he could taste your need on the air.

"Don't...tease..." Words are getting difficult to speak, brain so focused on chasing that blessed release. Pulling your hands again gives you about an inch of movement, but then the devil's hands tighten again, preventing all further resistance. As if in retaliation, his thumb lowers to swipe right across the hood of your clit, eliciting shocks of incredibly intense pleasure so suddenly. Head thrown back into the cot beneath, a curse escapes you—breathless, no more than a hiss, ending in a pathetically desperate keen that would have been embarrassing in any other setting.

You expect some teasing remark from the devilish maestro currently playing your strings, but he only hums low in his throat. As if watching you get wound up so tight by his own hand was equally satisfying. His pace is steady, the pressure just enough to give you want you wanted, without really getting you anywhere.

Your inner muscles clench around nothing, thighs squeezing against his hips that prevented them from completely closing. The devil groans, nearly too quiet to hear, and you're so close to outright begging him to have mercy at this point. That all depended on your ability to actually form the words, of course. Stuttered moans were about the only thing you were currently capable of voicing at the moment.

Something shifted. This time you heard the way the vigilante's breath stuttered in time with your own, need coloring the way he swore under his breath. Your wrists were released as he snatched his hand away—the unexpectedness of it meant you were too dazed to take advantage of your newfound freedom.

Your own warnings are the rough scratch of his jaw along the skin of your inner thighs, and the way he grips them from the top. You have all of a half second to register what that meant.

The moment the wet heat of his tongue meets the needy drip of your cunt, recognition shoots immediately through your body. Back arching off the cot with a moan so broken that at first you didn't realize it was you, your now unrestrained hands scrabble for the back of his helmet. Where his fingers took their time, his tongue held nothing back, licking and swirling along all the folds that had you seeing white. If the vigilante had an instruction manual on completely taking you apart, he was following it to the damn letter.

His helmet was smooth at the back, giving you nothing to latch on to. The short, rounded horns at the front weren't enough to get a full grip upon, but they were your only possible leverage. The heels of your hands pressing them closer to your entrance, you attempt to lift your hips to seek more. His hands are like vices at the tops of your thighs and hold you in place, content to ravish you at the pace he chose.

The small foxhole echoes with your breathless litany of curses and a shaking moans. Beneath it you can hear the wet sounds of the devil's tongue working your core, his teeth making their debut when he scrapes it along the outer folds. The full-frontal assault of pleasure has you soaring closer to climax faster than you were used to, filling you with a strange sense of alarm.

There's no warning as you hurtle straight into your orgasm, throat constricting around a whine as your muscles contract with pulsing pleasure, limbs shaking in his grasp. His mouth never stops working, lapping at the arousal that he's worked so hard to produce. The thundering rush of blood behind your ears muffles, as the seconds tick. Overcome by a floating sensation, you feel all of the tension wash away like the ebbing of a tide. Warmth envelopes your body, peace just behind it.

Overstimulation cuts through the haze like a knife.

Nerves flashing in warning at the continued attention of the Daredevil's tongue, you're yanked back down to reality and twitch underneath his grasp with rough jerks. "D-devil...!" You manage through a hoarse whisper.

"One more." Is all he mutters, breath fanning across your engorged flesh before his tongue drove into your heat with purpose.

He's merciful enough to give your clit momentary respite, focusing instead on licking a full stripe up the folds that were slicked with his saliva and your own arousal. The subtle vibrations of his pleased groans only serve to wind you up further. The cot moves a little, and a glance down confirms that his hips slowly and steadily dig into the bed to alleviate some of his own ignored need.

All attempts at sitting up, at trying to lean down to reach the crotch of his pants pressed flat into the cot, are foiled by the position he has you in.

Any thoughts of reciprocation go out the window when his mouth pressed to your clit once more and sucked. The nerves, having settled somewhat from the first orgasm, now flared with renewed pleasure. Shocks of overstimulation still lingered, but the promise of another climax was outweighing everything else.

This time, it's slower to build. Sharp snaps of intense pleasure course in unpredictable pulses. Rising with haste, before pulling back, edging the sweet release. Your cries take on a high-pitched, borderline sobbing quality. One hand still pressed to the back of his helmet, pushing him as close as he could be, the other covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle all of the noises being pulled from your lungs.

Clearly, the devil took issue with that.

Without stopping or even looking up from his work, one hand unlatched from your thigh and pulled on the crook of your elbow. Fingers thread through yours as he finally gets hold of your hand, keeping you from pulling away and simultaneously giving you something to grip while he drags you towards euphoria again.

Later, you might question where all this intimacy was coming from, but for now you just wanted to cum.

So close now. Perhaps sensing this, Daredevil zeroed in on your clit. A snatch of teeth against the sensitive bud was followed up with that devilish tongue, licking and suckling away the pain, promising pleasure. Your free thigh presses in, trapping his head between your thighs as you press upwards into his mouth, moans hitching with each rushed breath.

The second time feels more intense, somehow. Subtle in its arrival, and yet filled your shivering body with such immense satisfaction and relief that you barely utter a sound as it crashed through you. That is, until the need to breathe hits, and you suck air into your lungs greedily.

The vigilante's pace slows as you ride out the sensation, not slowing until you lay boneless against the cot, chest rising and falling with heaving breaths.

The ringing in your ears ebbs until the world feels muted. You fear reality would be a rough landing place to come back to after such a sweet high, but it's not as unwelcoming as you feared.

Blinking away the tears that had leaked out the corner of your eyes and dampened your mask, you lift your head just enough to see a smug devil between your legs, the side of his head leaning against the same thigh hand softly caressed, smiling that damned little smile that was making your already overworked heart do little flips. The lower, visible half of his face glistened from your wetness, and fuck, if that sight wasn't one of the sexiest things you'd ever seen...

Fatigue, however, clouds over any further lustful thoughts you might pursue. The night had been long. Stressful. And after letting the devil work you over, all that remained was the creeping need for sleep. You fought it with all you had, aware that he hadn't gotten the same attention.

Something in your eyes must have given you away, because he turns his head to place a gentle kiss to your thigh, before rising enough to fully remove your pants. You catch a glimpse of his still fully-tented crotch, a twitch of your fingers as you feel the desire to reach out and touch.

The sight of him lifting the blanket from the cot to cover your body makes you frown.

"But you haven't-" You start to argue, pleasure and exhaustion slurring your speech and slowing all movements to the point of ineffectiveness.

"Not tonight, sweetheart." The tenderness in his voice nearly undoes you. The devil wasn't supposed to have a heart. And yet somehow he had found one. "Just get some sleep. You need it."

The fight leaves you, desire to rest and fall back into this blissful peace too strong to resist any longer. He lifts the blanket again and lets it drape across your nude body, offering protection from the chill in the air as the heat that had worked itself through you began to dissipate. You curl up into the softness, still resisting the heaviness of your eyelids since he hadn't yet left.

You hear him shuffling around, doing what you're not sure. But eventually it stops and he's kneeling down beside you. His hands—now sporting gloves once again—move your hair out of your face with a soft touch. Fingers drift down to glide along your jaw until they settle just beneath your chin in one smooth motion. The smile he sports is just as soft, if not thoughtful.

"Be safe, alright?" He plies, thumb drifting over your chin with absentminded intent. You nod, blinking slow against the fatigue, not wanting to fall asleep with him still here. Regrettably, he releases your chin and stands to step away. "See you around."

Your eyes track him to the edge of your vision from where you lay, hearing him trek up the stairs from where you'd come, and shutting the door behind him on his way out. Silence settles, feeling eerie and out of place after all of that.

One last sinful thought ushers in as you drift off, wondering if he'd take care of himself to the thought of you coming undone by his own hands and mouth. Would he wait until he got home to the privacy of his bed, or cave in to the need and duck down a darkened alley? Would he savor it, take it slow, like he had with you? Or rush to cum because he couldn't wait another second?

Would he whimper your name—well, vigilante name, unfortunately—as he came to completion, cock in his hands?

You certainly hoped so.

A/N - This one ended up being way longer and more involved than what had been my original intention, but hopefully worth it? Let me know if you enjoyed! More spicy content to come, I'm sure...