#time to think of a tagging system . frowns .

[toji-bunny-girl]

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[rottingspringlocks]

REBRANDING COMPLETE (??)

sorry sorry if this all is far too similar to anyone else's blog layout + such ; did it based on what my brain thinks looks nice

[prettyboykatsuki]

give it to me like you need it, baby | zayne (lnds)

❅ tags ; afab + fem!reader (referred to with she/her several times), established relationship, vague depiction of medical injury, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is very spoiled skjdds, 18+

❅ wc ; 5.7k (???????????)

❅ a/n ; i started playing this game 48 hours ago. i am out of my mind. sorry. please no spoilers for now JKSDJD. also shoutout to @acerathia who imbued me with even more zayne brainworms that resulted in this KJDSKJ

this is just porn. no plot like fr at all!! dont think too hard about anything!!!! also sorry if the characterization is inconsistent </3

❅ synopsis ; refusing to take your prescribed pain meds, you suggest a different type of pain relief from zayne to heal your injuries.

“You should be more careful,” 

Zayne’s voice is even. It’s the first thing to greet you when you wake up from your most recent round of medication.  There’s a pleasant clarity that comes with every tone and intonation, that somehow manages to  trample the thick fog in your brain after waking up from your last round of narcotics. 

The pain has settled, from a sharp throb to a dull ache but it’s there. You glance around the room for some way to tell the time. There’s still light out but your limbs feel heavy, so you must’ve been asleep for a while. 

“It’s almost evening,” Zayne says, like he’s reading your mind. He sits at the stool at your side with an expression, eyes softened with worry. “An hour or so till sunset.” 

“Right,” You reply. You wince as you sit up, bruised sides still tender and head heavy. You rub your eyelids, a deep pressure in your skull—just behind them, as you readjust to the remnants of light in the room. “Shit, it hurts.” 

“It’s been enough time between doses, so you’ll need to take them again soon for the pain.” Zayne says. 

Your lips curl instantly, shaking your head. “No way. I don’t want to take them again.” 

Zayne stares at you for a while. “You wouldn’t have to take them at all  had you taken the necessary precautions in the first place so I fear there’s little choice in the matter. The pain will be hard to manage without the medications,” 

“Are you nagging me, Doctor?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m treating you. Your injury is substantial and I don’t want you to do anything to aggravate it. Nor do I want you to suffer needlessly” And then, a little softer. “I don’t like prescribing such a strong dosage either.”

“But you did.” 

“Because my patient is severely injury and I’m worried for her quality of life,” Zayne says, firm but not unkind. “Perhaps if said patient took more care to preserve themselves, I could prescribe something lighter.” 

“Are you holding a grudge against me?” 

“Against your recklessness, yes.” 

You pout unthinkingly. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.” 

Zayne reaches his hand towards the corner of your mouth, pressing his thumb into the line of your frown. “I never said I was angry. Just worried. Don’t trouble yourself.” 

“Then who should I trouble?”

Zayne doesn’t reply to you, though he does smile light enough for you to catch sight of it in the dim lights. He goes back into physician mode before you get a chance to say more, and you’re too tired to give him your usual banter.

There’s a beat of silence between you where Zayne is writing something down on pen and paper while you daydream aimlessly. He’s probably documenting your injuries for record keeping in the system. Encountering an anomaly in your line of work is deceptively common but there hadnt been any exact records on anything like your specific incident. Bits and pieces of stray information but that’s all. Nothing cohesive. While it appears to be normal albeit impressive bruising and broken bones, the unit still thought it best to be monitored. 

(That, along with Zaynes general tendency to fuss over your state, mean you’ve been in this position for a few weeks now. Zayne has taken one of his usual work days off just to tend to you.)

Despite the effort you've put into recovering, sustaining a massive injury has made you feel stir crazy and has not gotten rid of the pain entirely - causing you to wince when you move in the wrong way way.  Noticing the way you deflate, Zayne looks up from his papers. He pauses, studying you and the large bruise up your side. 

“Take your medicine”

“Don’t wanna,” You say petulantly, eyes closed. 

Zayne pauses then sighs as you stubbornly turn him away. He weighs his options before  moving on to focus on your injury. You’re conscious of the hand he has underneath your shirt. How delicately he moves, scarred digits touching like you’re porcelain. You don’t think he does it on purpose, or because he underestimates you. Rather, treating you preciously is the easiest manner of being for him. Still, it does make you pout.

“That’s a nasty bruise even for your line of work. Don't be stubborn.” 

You shake your head. 

 “I’m tough. I can take some pain. It’s better than being groggy at least. Feels like my heads been full of cotton for weeks.” 

“You say that because the medication is working. It’s dulling the pain enough for it to be tolerable even though it can feel unpleasant at times. It’s going to worsen again, gradually, if you don’t keep on the dosage schedule.” 

You open your eyes again to look at him. It’s hard to refute his points, even more so when he makes it so obvious his concerns lie solely in your well-being. But you really, really hate the way it’s making you feel. You feel like you’ve been hit by a crr in general but the added sluggishness from narcotics is too much. Enough to be stubborn and childish about even the most sound advice. You shake your head again, trying to think of a solution to appease you both. 

It doesn’t last long since you quickly get lost in another train of thought as a result of your brain fog. 

When your mind catches up with reality,  your eyes flutter open to a worried looking Zayne. Half-conscious, you feel keenly aware of his presence. Of his hands resting on your sides and the heat that lingers when he moves them. His hands are covered in tens of small scars, fingers thick and long while managing to be elegant. A precision to him. To his features, to his movements, to his actions. 

“Something on your mind?” 

“Hm…?” 

His lips quirk. “You’ve got a look about you,” 

“I was just thinking of alternatives on how to manage pain.” 

“Another medication you mean?” 

You shake your head, smiling crookedly. 

“There are different kinds of pain relief, right? Something more… holistic.” 

“Holisitic?” 

Opting to answer his question another way, you let out an exaggerated noise of relief. “Your hand feels nice doc,” 

Zayne, quick on the uptake, hums to himself not showing any reaction.

“Does holistic feel like the appropriate vocabulary for what you’re implying?” 

“Maybe… something more physical.” 

“I see.” He hums. “And how would something that puts strain on your body improve your injury?” 

“Improving my mood is also an important part of recovery.” 

Zayne sighs. “Please be more mindful about my position as your doctor.” 

“You sound like you’re considering it when you don’t reject me outright.”

“Tsk.”  

He sits up from the stool he’d been sat on while tending to you, instead choosing to sit beside you in bed. You’re propped up in a mess of pillows and blankets, pressed close to the wall. There’s more than enough room for Zayne. The bed creaks under his weight as he stretches his legs, back against the headboard. You turn your head to look at him. 

A long silence falls between you, not uncomfortable. Heavy rather, with tension. Zayne, quick to indulge you, brings a hand up to cradle your face. His hand is cool against your hot skin, big palms cupping your cheek. He hums under his breath, hazel-green eyes tracing the outlines of your features. You keen into his palms and he laughs again, deeper. Richer. 

“I’m not against the suggested methods perse,” Zayne says slowly, holding your gaze while his thumb traces your lip. “Only that it may encourage your recklessness, should I give it to you. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, I suppose needed some more stimulus isn’t far fetched.” 

“I’ll be more mindful.”  You promise, giving him the wettest puppy eyes you can while you nod enthusiastically. 

“I won’t forgive you otherwise.” 

He leans in. Just enough to tease. You frown. 

“Zayne,” 

His eyes meet your again, heating shooting through your spine. 

“Impatient, foolish, reckless. What should I do with a patient like you?” 

“Spoil me.” You reply shamelessly. His lips quirk up. “I take well to bribery.” 

“Is that really the most effective method?” Zayne pretends to ponder.

You nod. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Doctor.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Zayne says, tone soft with affection. He holds a hand out for you. “ Come.”

Zayne tells you to move, but bears no intention of making you do so on your own. He wraps an arm around your back carefully - mindful of the tenderness in your ribs and side. He draws you into his lap with ease, your head tucked against his chest with his chin resting atop of your head. Your legs are drawn across his lap lazily, voice reverberating through your tired limbs as he speaks. 

“Comfortable? No pain?” 

You make an affirmative noise to him, cozying up in the way least straining to your body. 

He’s patient as he undresses you from the waist down - and you allow him, basking in the silent attention. In tattered sleepwear and half-sick, you barely move as the fabric rolls and peels all the to your knees - lazily lifting your legs to take them off along with your underwear in one swift go. A wave of embarrassment tugs at you, self-conscious as you nuzzle further into Zayne’s arms. Paradoxically finding comfort in the same person whose making your feverishness burn brighter, you let your hand clench weekly in his shirt. 

Naked, Zayne brings the hand not supporting your back up to your face. He holds your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts your head towards him - a chaste kiss promising more. Your eyes lock for a heartbeat until you look away, shy. He lets you lean back further, lazier - until he’s at the right angle to hover over you to kiss you all the better. 

Contrary to the other ways he touches you, most times Zayne kisses you is fierce. Once, twice - to ease you into the pace of his mouth before you find your lips pulled open. It’s the only thing that he does this way, needy from the start. Your lips press to his sweetly, a noise of surprise slipping  that Zayne swallows in the next go. His lips are soft and pleasantly cool to the touch. 

Your hands grip tighter trying to find purchase in the overwhelming want of it. Slow and sticky kisses that make the back of your feel fuzzy, the kind that lingers in the minutes you’re parted. His breath is warm, faint with the smell of mint. 

The coy, cool demeanor you took suggesting this, fades—melts every inch of you. Your body goes slack with arousal underneath the assault, his tongue slipping against yours deeper and deeper. He gets breathy when he kisses, a longing sigh as you keen up into his mouth or suck his tongue - your body eager to be as wrapped up in the attention as you can. 

There’s something about this in particular that makes you feel pampered. Tucked away, safely. Zayne is familiar with the act of bending to your whims and your affirmed relationship has only made him more easily compelled. 

His free hand rests just above where your body longs to be touched. Deliberately above the navel, he slides over the softness of your belly. Traveling up slowly, his hand squeezes both sides of your chest. You can’t get enough air to say anything about how good it feels, so you whine instead - canting your hips to air for friction. Zayne laughs softly against your mouth. 

Less turned on, you think you would bicker with him about it. Turn your nose up at him for being so rude. Melted in his arms like lust liquified, you don’t know if you gave it in you. 

Deft fingers tweak your nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Zayne notices it for the first time touching you. He makes a face, faux disapproval causing his lip to curl.

“Wearing clothes like this with everything so visible. On top of your injury, you’ll get sick.” 

The words carry no weight or bite, playful at best. As if to prove a point, Zayne goes back over your clothes to touch them again. His thumb rubs across your hard nipples, your body shuddering from the rough texture at the fabric alongside Zayne’s fingers. He rubs them carefully, slowly. Pays attention to each one before settling on teasing the side more sensitive to the other. He knows the way to touch you, please  you down to the minutia. It makes you so wet you can hardly stand it. You squeeze your legs together with a frown. 

“I said spoil me. This is torture.” 

Your words are petulant even to your own ears. Zayne barely bites back a smile. 

“I wonder if your words about torture will hold up against your body if I touch you,” He kisses your temple to placate you, a hand at your waist to prove his point. “Patience,” 

“I can’t be patient,” You say, frowning. Zayne gives you an imperceptible look before leaning down, his voice close to your ear. 

“Should I help you then? Tell you how good it’ll feel if you sit through it obediently and allow me to have my way with you, hm? You like the sound of my voice right,” 

You let out a mewl. Zayne laughs. 

“Sit then, and wait for me to take care of you.” Zayne says gently. He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing his kisses down to your jaw and neck. Bites so softly at the junction of your neck and shoulders, his voice a salve to your pent up lust. “Let me soothe the pain with pleasure.” 

You can’t be sure if it’s mercy or not, that your demands make Zayne more relentless in his fondling of your body. His hand doesn’t go further than your waistband. But they squeeze and grope all where he can reach. Cycling through hot, deep kisses that leave you breathless - toes curling up in fluffy socks unconsciously aching for more—and sweet, loving pecks to encourage you to put up with it a little longer. 

What keeps you tethered is the promise of pleasure, the assurance that Zayne always gives you what you ask for no matter how long or how much he may tease you until he does. It’ll be yours since you wanted it. 

You’ll manage to cum when he feels like it’s right. So you play into it. Beg sweetly in between sighs to touch you. Need you, need your hands, wanna feel even better. 

You like feeling Zayne get impatient, no matter how gradual or how slow. It never loses the thrill. The subtle gestures that his control is slipping away for you so slowly. Always worth the full brunt of your effort when you see his resolve slowly unravel - becoming sloppier in short doses. Sometimes, you get lucky enough to push him far enough and let go completely. 

“Spread your legs,” Zayne pants, desperate to get his hands on you. You do instinctually, gasping as soon as your swollen, throbbing clit brushes so lightly against his middle finger. His fingers are longer than yours - bigger and thicker. He rubs against your slit gently, feeling for how wet you are. It makes a noise as he slides through your folds, fingertip resting at your clit as he gives it a soft stroke. 

“Zayne,” You gasp his name. “Please,” 

No words follow your demand, but Zayne always makes good on his promises. Before you can think to whine again, he finds the spot that brings you pleasure the quickest and rubs soft circles into it. Steady pace paired with a complete understanding of the ins and outs of your body. Your pussy flutters in reply, whole body jolting from the contact. Pleasure seeps into you like the running flow of water, subtle but steady - the heat of your body melting the preciseness of Zayne’s ice. You feel a brief pain in your ribs, but its overwhelmed by the pleasure fizzling through you as Zayne rubs your clit in circular strokes. 

You rut against his hand, aching for more but Zayne keeps pace. 

You wonder how something can feel so different at the hands of someone else. How something you usually do alone and feel alright pleasure from can make you feel like this - like you’re burning from the inside when all he’s using is his hands. 

Zayne, sensing the buildup before you do, presses your mouths together again. He’s gentle this time but you’re desperate, a hand holding onto his face while you get nearer and nearer to cumming.

You know you’re on the edge when your muscles begin to tighten, mind rousing to the rush of dopamine and oxytocin. You pant his name sloppy as your mouth tests the syllables. Over and over and over as Zayne brings you to the peak. He’s quiet, laser focused on where his finger play with your needy pussy. Everything inside of you goes taut before you begin to unravel. Deep waves of rapture wash over you, from head to toe. Your cum spills, flows in thick sticky strands until you’re so wet you can feel it between your thighs and ass.

You take a shuddering breath upon your first release, trying to settle your mind through the aftershocks of powerful orgasm

You barely get a chance to breathe before you feel Zayne’s hand on your waist again. 

“You’ve a few more for me, right?” Zayne says, voice latent with unprecedented lust. You feel something hard pressing against your thighs, making you squirm. “Only once won’t be an effective treatment for a patient in so much pain.” 

You don’t get a chance to recover  your strength before you feel Zayne’s hands come down between your legs. Despite your efforts to run from it, Zayne holds you firm with his arm. Holds you in a way that won’t let you escape from it no matter how much you may try. B

efore you can finish riding your first high - the pads of his fingers find your clit once more. He goes to touch you indirectly, aware of your sensitivity and only heeding so much caution

The lack of direct friction is frustrating. Like he’s deliberately avoiding touching you where exactly you need while still making you feel good, a forceful staccato to an orgasm rather than a direct line to one. It feels good, it does— but it’s not enough. 

It makes you want more. With Zayne, you can’t be sure if its intentional or not. 

Your mind is too cloudy to speak to him, so you whine instead. Zayne has a talent for making you like that. Touching you in a way that renders your speech useless, forces you to lean on what you know. Leaves you nothing to ask him with except your body, your carnality, to get what you want. Everything you could possibly desire is yours if you shed your pride and ask. If you can’t ask, all you need to do is what you’re doing now—spread your legs and let him see just how much of a mess he makes you.  Zayne makes it easy for you. Fucks you in vulnerable, precise measures. He moves with the confidence necessary to wield a scalpel, uses it to take you apart perfectly before mending you to put together. 

No one knows how to build you up again how Zayne does. Who else is paying such close attention?

Your voice comes out shaking when you come around your second consecutive orgasm. The previous grogginess has been completely washed away, taken over by a stronger feeling of euphoria. Cumming again in such rapid succession blindsides you. Your mouth is fallen open. Silent, broken moans sound as the sensations starts to stir again in your core. Your belly is honeyed with lust - the muscles in your calves tensing hard as you thrash your legs around aiming not to lose your mind to the pleasure. Zayne is the only force keeping you upright in his arms and on his lap.

He tsks, half between sympathetic and teasing as you squeeze you thighs around his hand. “Stop squirming. You’ll hurt yourself. If your treatment proves to worsen your injuries and then we’ll have to stop—effective immediately.” 

Your voice comes out so unfamiliar and desperate, you barely know it as yours. “No, no, no don’t stop please, Zayne—”

“Then,” His voice is raspy against your ear, deeperer. Stained with lust. “Hold still and cum.” 

You force your body as still as possible at Zayne’s word. Your hands grip tight onto his shirt, stretching the material out with how hard you grip. You cry out as the knot inside of you untangles and frays.

 Zayne kisses you right as you get to the edge, forcing his tongue deep in your mouth to keep you from biting through your lip. You cum as soon as you feel your tongues touch, kissing deeply. 

You curl up this time in reaction to the gratification, your whole body folding in on itself. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing as you do, aching for something more. Like electricity sparking through the water, your pleasure is constant yet splintering. 

Pin-point accuracy leaves your mind completely muddled in the aftermath. When you manage to look up at Zayne, desire mixed with longing and affection puff up in your chest. It’s the way he looks down at you in the afterglow. Such sharp, intense eyes and strong features. Almost shattered, ruined with a restrained lust. Despite himself, despite being at his mercy, despite being weakened from healing wounds - Zayne holds you gentle. Puts you first even at odds with himself. 

You crane your neck up half tired to kiss him first. It’s nauseatingly gentle but doesn’t do enough to express your feelings. A mix of gratitude and compliance founded in mutual trust. You want to give yourself to him over and over and over - enough to wash away his worries. At the same time, you want him to want you so madly he abandons his usual restraint. 

Ultimately, your mind settles on the desire to make him feel good in whatever way you possibly can. You rub deliberately against the hard-on pressed against your thigh. Mellowed from cumming twice, you speak your thoughts frankly. 

“Fuck me.” 

He shakes his head. “You’ll really aggravate your injuries that way. I’d …. like too but I—” 

“Zayne,” You repeat, serious. “Fuck me, please.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes closed. 

“Want you to make me cum again,” You say, then add. “Wanna cum while you’re inside of me.” 

“You—” He takes in a sharp breath. “You can really be so—” 

“Zayne,” 

“Don’t call my name like that,” Zayne says on a sigh, rubbing your lower lip. “I’ve already conceded. Quit your pouting.” 

You smile at him, eyes wet with sincere joy. He lets out a strangled groan, followed by a sigh. “Given your injuries, you being on top would be best as to not cause anymore pain to you. Move gently.” 

“Will you help?” 

Zayne nods at you. “You don’t have to ask.” 

As promised, his touch is gentle as he takes you off his lap. His hands and arms give the necessary support to keep from further agitating your wounds- supporting your spine to ease yourself onto his strong lap with. It’s a wide fit to get your thighs over his lap but Zayne takes precaution.

Zayne pushes you to stand on your knees while you straddle him. He makes you lean on one side of him, your torso resting on one of his shoulders while you’re pressed slightly against the headboard. Uncertain of what he’s doing, you yelp in surprise when you feel his hands slide between your legs. One on your hips, securing you - the other one teasing your slit. 

“It’ll hurt if I put it in right away.” He clarifies. 

“I can take it.”

Zayne is quiet at that, choosing to ignore both your whining and the soft sway of your hips in a poor attempt to get him to fuck you quicker. Meticulously, Zayne slips his fingers into his mouth covering them with saliva first, before drawing them through the mess of slick between your thighs. Making his digits as wet as possible, he rubs your pussy until he finds your tight hole. You can feel your cunt pulse at the contact, taking in a soft breath as he eases the first finger inside of you. They’re thick. Thicker than yours by enough that you can feel some resistance as he works just his middle finger into you slowly. Patiently fucking it in and out until he’s all the way down to knuckle. 

When it’s easy to fuck you on one, he adds another - repeating the process until both fingers fit inside of you easily. The stretch leaves your breath hitching, thighs trembling slightly in anticipation. 

“One more should be—” 

“No,” You say immediately. “It’s enough already.” 

“You know very well it’s not.” 

“I can take it,” You coax, sitting back down properly onto Zayne’s lap, half naked. You rub yourself over the strained fabric of his sweats, wetting them with your own arousal. You’re pleased when you notice his own pre-cum staining them too. “Zayne.” 

Rubbing his temple, he holds you by your hips. You wrap your arms haphazardly around his neck as he casts his eyes towards you. Holding his gaze, you frown—face flush and lips pouty. He sighs, a noise of discontent slipping as his hands reach back and squeeze your ass - drawing you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“What good is it taking such good care of your body as your physician when you’re so quick to throw it away in front of me, hm?” Zayne scolds half-heartedtly. You smile at him sheepishly, your eyes meeting. 

 He gives you a look, silent, encouraging you to take what you need first. 

Your hands are shaky as they reach the front of Zayne’s waistband, tugging until they slide down his thighs - along with his boxers in one smooth motion. Your thighs pressed together at the now familiar sight of his cock. Your thighs weaken at the sight of it, impressive length and girth - curved just right and too heavy to stand on its own. You reach out to touch it, a soft stroke to feel how hard it gets. It makes you gasp, feeling how it throbs between your fingers. Zayne suppresses a groan as your palm smooths over the tip. 

“Have you changed your mind?” 

You shake your head rapidly. Zayne lets out a breathless sigh against your collar bone. 

“Stubborn thing you are.” 

“Zayne,”  You peek at him through your lashes. “Can I?” 

He holds you close to him, careful not to grip you too hard. “Slowly.” 

You nod your head, pulling yourself forward on his lap to line the tip of his cock with your entrance. 

A long, shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the tip of his cock slip against your folds. Adjusting to be sitting up a little more, you ease yourself down on Zayne’s hard length. You feel your pussy flutter in anticipation of being full. Placing our hands on Zayne’s shoulders, you ever so slowly slide yourself down on his cock. 

You both take a sharp inhale as the head of Zayne’s cock stretches your cunt open wide. Just the head is overwhelming, your thighs trembling as you do your best to take all of him inside of you. Your voice tremble, working yourself down inch by inch - desperately trying to adjust. His cock is big, too big - always more than you remember it being. You feel it up to your throat. 

So focused on taking it, you nearly miss the sounds leaving Zayne’s mouth each time you manage to take a little more of him. His voice is trembling, hot against your skin as he muffles each groan and sigh into your shoulder. His hands are tight with restraint as he holds you, trying his best to hold himself together. 

It takes you a beat or two. Long, restrained moments of silence before your body finally takes it. You moan as you bottom out, cock stretching your needy pussy out completely. You stay like that for even longer, longer than you would normally. 

“Aren’t going to move?” 

You give Zayne a look. “I don’t know if it’s possible.” 

“Spoiled girl.” Zayne tsks. 

Wordlessly, he uses his strength to slide you off of his cock in one go. Whining at the sudden feeling of loss - he fucks you back onto him. Carefully placing his hands on the most unmarred parts of your hips, Zayne fucks you on his cock with the same ease of a toy. 

After a few thrusts, your body adjusts to the feeling. You can feel the specific motion when it goes from a dull ache to a dull feeling of pleasure. Your waist goes completely weak in Zayne’s grasp as he fucks his cock up into you with controlled movements. Undulating just enough to make you gasp. Practiced with the full weight and gravity of his hips - but painstakingly measured so that it doesn’t hurt. It’s not slow, or fast - but a rhythmic inbetween that makes it hard for your mind to keep up.

If there was such a thing as getting fucked perfectly, you think Zayne is fulfilling it by all measures. 

The way he’s fucking the warm, slick heat of your cunt feels good beyond word. It’s relentlessly consistent,  head sliding against your sweet spot with ease. Precision guides his thrusts like it does everything else. Euphoria suffuses through your limbs as you get yourself fucked open on it.

The sound of his echoes in the room as Zayne keeps pace. You’re moaning loud now, shameless as the sensation builds and builds and builds but never quite hits its peak. You feel so full, but you need something else to get yo over the edge. 

“You want to cum like this, didn’t you?” Zayne says, matter-of-fact despite the level of calm in his voice.  His face betrays the composure in his voice. “Touch yourself. Make yourself cum in front of me.” 

Shakily, your hand finds itself between your bodies.You find your swollen clit for the last time and carefully rub between your fingers. It makes you gasp outright, nearly falling forward from the impact. Pleasure no longer plateauing, something bounds again inside of you. 

You can feel it coming this time. On the edge from the minute Zayne started fucking you to now, your body has been winding itself tighter and tighter until a knot formed right in the swell of your belly again. There’s something about this one that feels so much deeper then when you came before, something more overwhelming to it. He fucks you in places you could never reach, makes you cum like that too. 

You throw your head back noisily when you finally match your fingers to Zayne’s throat. 

“Fuck,” You hiss, trying your best not to lose the feeling. “Zayne, g-gonna—” 

Zaynes voice borders on a growl. “Cum for me.” 

One last time, your body finds release as Zayne holds you down on his cock and grinds into your g-spot while you cum again. Your nails dig into Zayne’s shoulders, holding onto him for life as your body wracks with shivers once more. Your last orgasm is the most overwhelming, the aftershocks feel like they last for minutes at a time instead of a seconds. 

Zayne cums quickly after you, panting into your neck like he’d been waiting the entire time for you  to cum first before finishing. You feel content as his seed spills into your pussy for the last time. 

A beat of silence passes between you before you speak again, 

“Thank you for the medicine doc,” You hum. “I feel all better.” 

Zayne simply goes along with you like alwys. “It’s what I’m here for.” 

__

After getting fucked good enough to knock out only a few moments after you came a third time, you aren’t exactly sure where or how you were going to wake up. 

When you do wake up though, your bruised and battered body - while still in dull pain, is being cradled by someone else. You feel clean too. Your clothes are changed and your skin is cool to the touch like someone’s been wiping you down and keeping an eye on you. 

Yawning, you open your eyes to the familiar sight of your partner. Zayne glances down at you without word. You feel his arm around your waist like a secure weight, tucking yourself into him.

Zayne’s first question is predictable. “How are you feeling, love?” 

Your heart flutters clumsily at the overt tenderness. “...Hurts a lot. It’s bearable though.” 

Zayne laughs as he notices your attitude. “What happened the my bold lover from a few hours ago? So bold she invited me to bed without hesitation?” 

Your face feels hot, warmth tingling from your ears down to your neck. “I was doped on a lot of narcotics so somehow… and sex is different from this you know?” 

“This…?” 

“Acting like a proper boyfriend when you’re always so…” You trail off. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?” 

“Are you saying I’m usually an improper boyfriend?” 

“Yes,” You say flatly, though you dont really mean it. Zayne chuckles. “At least you’re less…” 

“Kind? Honest?” 

“Playful,” You reply. Shy, you bury your face in his shirt. “You’re not honest but you’re always kind. You’re in too good of a mood.” 

“Will you be more comfortable if I act as usual?” 

You wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him gently. “This side of you isn’t so bad either.” 

“I’m spoiling my very unruly patient.” He hums. He leans down, a hand cradling the back of your head as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “So listen well to doctors orders and rest a bit longer. We’ll have dinner together in a bit so just rest.” 

As if caught by a spell, the mention of rest against has your eyes feeling heavy. You nod without thinking about it. 

“Hm… ‘kay,” You mumble. “Thank you… for taking care of me….” 

Zayne waits a beat or two before pressing another kiss to your temple, waiting for your breathing to even before he speaks. 

“As if it’s something to thank me for,” 

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’ 

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman. 

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’ 

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger. 

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’ 

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all. 

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’ 

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles. 

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him. 

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’ 

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him. 

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’ 

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily. 

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing. 

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’ 

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’ 

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around. 

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles. 

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’ 

You glance at Yoona and she nods. 

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’ 

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’ 

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again. 

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him. 

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’ 

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles. 

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter. 

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’ 

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy. 

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring. 

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’ 

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’ 

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’ 

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up. 

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side. 

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice. 

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’ 

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’ 

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’ 

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue. 

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from. 

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’ 

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’ 

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’ 

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’ 

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face. 

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’ 

‘Damnit,’ you mutter. 

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it. 

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you. 

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’ 

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles. 

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’ 

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’ 

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’ 

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’ 

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody. 

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho. 

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’ 

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy. 

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it. 

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan. 

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’ 

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not. 

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face. 

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right. 

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms. 

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’ 

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’ 

Minho. Of course. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’ 

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around. 

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’ 

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’ 

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor. 

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’ 

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you. 

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’ 

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later. 

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’ 

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass. 

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’ 

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’ 

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger. 

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’ 

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch. 

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’ 

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’ 

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’ 

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant. 

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk. 

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’ 

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’ 

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says. 

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’ 

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’ 

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward. 

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’ 

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ 

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’ 

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly. 

‘Bye now.’ 

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway. 

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’ 

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised. 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.�� You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’ 

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’ 

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles. 

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’ 

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’ 

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’ 

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’ 

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?’ 

‘What if I say no?’ 

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’ 

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that. 

‘Fine, tell me.’ 

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’ 

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues. 

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’ 

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’ 

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this. 

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands. 

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them. 

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’ 

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side. 

‘Yah!’ you squeak out. 

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’ 

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’ 

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’ 

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop. 

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. 

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud. 

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones. 

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile. 

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval. 

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would. 

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods. 

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’ 

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly. 

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer. 

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’ 

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in. 

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’ 

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile. 

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish. 

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’ 

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’ 

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work. 

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’ 

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make. 

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song. 

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways. 

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix. 

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop. 

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face. 

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles. 

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’ 

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’ 

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’ 

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you. 

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’ 

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan. 

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’ 

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder. 

You snort and take another bite of your banana. 

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey I’m sorry to bother, but can you do a Tony x teen reader? Platonic or familial obviously, but like where the reader isn’t smart academically and she’s constantly doing bad on tests and Tony comforting her? It’s fine if not thank you for your time either way :)

Academic validation

Summary: Tests aren’t the only thing that determine children’s intelligence.

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen!reader, Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: I have no understanding of American education system

Word count: 870

a/n: I need that academic validation

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

The huge encircled D on Y/N’s physics exam is the only thing on her mind as she walks towards the Avenger’s tower.

There’s a permanent frown on her face. She really studied for this test, she even got Tony to quiz her, but clearly that didn’t help. He’s going to be so disappointed in her.

Y/N walks into the tower, giving the security guard in the lobby a small wave before going into the elevator. She holds onto her backpack’s straps tightly as she waits for the elevator to stop on the common floor. She hopes Tony won’t be in there.

The elevator doors opens and Y/N gets out of it. Her steps are slow and quiet, she doesn’t want to announce her arrival to anyone. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth when she hears people talking in the common room.

She tries to walk past everyone, quickly but quietly, but it’s not very easy to sneak past Avengers. “Hey, kid!” Sam exclaims, waving her over to the small group hanging out on the couches.

Y/N lets out a breath, putting on a smile as she makes her way over to them. “Hi, guys.” Her eyes move over everyone. No Tony, that makes her relax just a bit. “What are you doing?”

Natasha’s arm is is laying on the couch’s back rest, her fingers gently rubbing Wanda’s shoulder, as she gives Y/N a cheeky look. “Wanda got offended when Sam said Fuller House is better than Full House, so she is making us watch Full House.”

Wanda pushes Natasha’s side, glaring at her before turning to Y/N. “No one in their right mind thinks a sequel of an iconic show is better than the show itself.” At the end of the sentence, she glares at Sam too, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay.” Y/N giggles with a shake of her head. At times she thinks of herself more mature than the adults.

“Want to join us, honey?”

“Uh,” she bites her lip, “no, I can’t sorry.” She has decided to beg her teacher for a retake of the test to get a more respectable grade to show Tony.

“Okay, but don’t think you’re getting away from watching Full House with me.” Wanda grins.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Y/N waves at the trio and makes her way to her room.

In her room, she takes out the physics exam and looks it through over and over again, until she has fully memorized which parts she did wrong. It takes two hours. Two hours, which Y/N didn’t notice going by.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Her wide eyes glance at the clock, grumbling when she notices it’s over dinner time.

“It’s open!”

Tony walks inside the room, a small grin on his face and a plate of food on his hand. “I know everyone says we’re too alike, but please don’t take up on my habit of missing meals.” He sets the plate down on her desk. “It’s a bad habit, kiddo.”

“I won’t.” Y/N lets out an airy laugh, setting the test paper on the desk and pulling the plate in front of her.

“That your physics test?” Tony grabs the sheet of paper before Y/N is able to hide it.

“No!”

“What?” Tony glances at her with a frown. His eyes skim over both sides of the paper.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze going straight to the floor as she feels disappointment seeping into her body. “I did badly.” She mumbles, waiting for Tony’s criticism.

“So?” Tony sets the test back down. “Do you know how bad I did in school? I’m still absolutely brilliant.” He sits on her bed.

“Yeah.. but you’re great at physics, and math, and all that important stuff.”

“Sure.” Tony nods. “But this is only one test,” he taps the paper, “and you’re so great at so many things. You get As on history and English, you have a great eye for design, you have impeccable people skills, even though you hate most of them.” He laughs. “One physics exam doesn’t mean shit.”

Y/N looks at Tony, a small frown on her face. “But I want to be like you.”

“Kiddo, no one is going to be like me, not should they try to be like me.” Tony pats Y/N’s knee. “Is physics your passion?”

“I don’t know what my passion is.”

“Well, when you find your passion, I will be the one to hire you to work in a job that you love. Because no child living under my roof will work a day in their life in a job they despise. Yes, I will always encourage you to do your best at tests, but I’ll be proud of you no matter how well or bad you do in them.”

Sniffling, Y/N lunges to hug Tony. He embraces her right back, holding onto her tightly as long as she needs to be held, because even though he doesn’t love physical touch, he refuses to be the first one to pull away when a kid he considers his needs comfort.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Twelve

First Chapter: here

Previous Chapter: here

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Note 2: This is the final chapter before the endings. Sorry!

—-------------------------------------------------------

The eerily flickering lights of the aquarium almost gave you pause. Strange. You stepped through the employee only entrance and pressed on the light switch. Still, the lights flickered.

“Shriiiimp!” Floyd’s telltale voice cried out from the edge of the tank, his arms crossed on the concrete and chin resting on top of them.

“Shrimp?” you laughed, “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

Floyd giggled and stared at you with lidded eyes, “Shrimp!”

“What’s up with the lights?” you asked him, gesturing to the overhead electrical issues. Floyd shrugged and slipped into the water with a breathless giggle. 

You frowned, feeling a little unsettled by the way his shadow danced along the wall as the lights’ flickering became longer. You took a seat at the edge of the tank.

“Where’s Jade?” you asked.

“Right here,” his voice startled you. You swerved your head so quickly that it cricked, spotting his mismatched gaze from a few feet away. Jade’s chin was just above the surface, so that he wouldn’t get water in his mouth when he talked, “We missed you.”

“I missed you guys, too,” you said with a smile, “What’s up with the lights?”

As always, there was a cold edge to Jade’s smile, “Nothing to worry about. Electrical problem. It happens sometimes.”

You nodded, though his answer didn’t make you feel any less uneasy. “I see. Let’s hope it gets fixed soon.”

To your surprise, white hair broke the surface and piercing eyes met yours before they softened behind their spectacles. This was the first time Azul had surfaced on his own without Floyd dragging him to the surface. 

“How nice of you to come,” he said, giving you a closed-eyed smile. His gaze suddenly turned serious and he seemed to size you up. “We rarely see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, Azul,” you offered with another smile. A tentacle slid out of the water and brushed against your ankle. You noticed it beginning to curl around the appendage and quickly stood up, knocking it back into the water. 

You backed away from the edge, ignoring the hurt look on his face, “I should really check on the electrical system. It might not be safe if the lights are acting up like this.”

“Noooo,” Floyd wailed, his eyes gleaming with hidden mirth, “Shriiimp, stay! We miiiiss you…”

You felt something brush against your ankle again and stepped back from the edge. Black tentacles slid back into the tank. Jade smiled pleasantly at you, “There’s no rush. You can stay with us.”

“No,” you backed away from the tank, “No, I think I’m done for today.” The lights continued to flicker, staying dark for even longer, sending shadows playing across the faces of the tank’s three inhabitants, making their leering faces look even more frightening in that moment.

As the door slammed behind them, Azul turned to the twins in amusement, speaking in what sounded like clicks to the cameras above the tank, “I believe I have her measurements down.”

Floyd giggled, “Next time?”

“Next time, she’s ours.”

—---------------------------

You decided that, today, you would visit Idia before the snakes. You were much too excited to give him the gift you had brought him to wait any longer.

“Idia! I have a surprise for you!” you called out as you entered the enclosure. The lizard halfling was in the very back of the terrarium, curled up in the corner gloomily.

“What is it now?” he asked, not sounding enthusiastic in the slightest.

You handed over your old, blue Nintendo DS along with a ziploc bag filled with games. Idia’s eyes widened, “What is this?”

“It’s a handheld gaming device. You just pop the game you want to play in and open it up,” you explained happily, “It’ll eventually die but-”

“It will die?!” Idia looked horrified, “It is alive?!”

“No no no,” you quickly explained, “I just mean it’ll run out of battery, but I can always charge it again for you.”

Idia’s shoulders sagged in relief and the corners of his lips turned up in a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, straightening up and turning to leave. To your surprise, an electric blue tail curled around your ankle. You turned to face the lizard halfling and were met with pleading eyes.

“Stay, teach me to use it,” Idia begged. 

With a smile, you sat down and picked a random game out of the ziploc bag and popped it in the empty compartment. You flipped open the device and turned it on as Idia watched in awe.

—-----------------------------------

“Hey, Jamil! Hey, Kalim!” you called out, your voice echoing in the heated terrarium. Jamil lifted his head from where he was coiled, his slitted eyes lazily studying you. Kalim, on the other hand, slithered forward eagerly.

“Yay! You’re back!” Kalim cried out, his arms wrapping around your midsection and his face burying itself into your stomach. You stumbled backwards at the enthusiastic force he put into his hug but managed to stay upright. 

“Jamil and I missed you. Jamil talked about you.”

You looked over at the viper halfling, who avoided eye contact. You stifled a giggle and said, “Well, I missed both of you too.”

Kalim’s face brightened, but Jamil’s expression remained guarded. There was tension in the air, something between the two that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“Did you bring anything?” Kalim asked excitedly and you realized he was remembering the donuts from last time.

“I’m afraid not. I was going to bring curry but I didn’t have time to make it.”

Kalim made a disgusted face, “Why curry? Curry is gross!”

Jamil’s eyes flashed with irritation and he gave Kalim a fearsome glare, “Because that is my favorite.”

The tension between the two crackled like electricity and you quickly intervened, “I’ll bring some next time, Jamil. Kalim, can I bring you anything?”

Kalim looked puzzled as he tried to think of what you could bring. He finally smiled brightly and shrugged, “Anything but curry!”

Jamil continued to glare at his roommate as he said lowly, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“How have you both been?” you asked.

Jamil opened his mouth to respond and was immediately cut off by Kalim, “I missed you soooooo much!”

You laughed, “I missed you too.” You looked at your watch and with a pang you realized you were running low on time already, “Have you been up to anything exciting?”

Kalim’s grin widened, “After you left, I cried. Then, I shed my skin. Then, I rested. Then…”

Kalim gave you a play-by-play of everything he had been up to since your previous visit. You watched as the seconds ticked by on your watch, fighting off boredom.

Finally, you realized you couldn’t stay any longer if you were planning to see the tigers and panthers today. You hesitantly interrupted Kalim’s droning and said, “I’m so sorry, guys, but I need to head out.”

Kalim’s eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around you once again, “Please, stay longer.”

“I can’t, Kalim. I promise I’ll be back soon,” you said, gently disentangling yourself from his grasp.

Kalim’s eyes filled with tears, “You’re always leaving! It’s not fair!”

“I know, and I’m really sorry. But I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?” you reassured him, reaching out to give his head a gentle pat.

Kalim’s sobs followed you out the door of the enclosure. You felt like a heartless monster as you closed the door, but you knew you couldn’t stay and now had to run to make it on time. 

Behind the closed door, Jamil hissed at Kalim to shut up and the boy stopped crying almost immediately. Then, his eyes lit up as an idea crossed his mind…

Meanwhile, you had finally arrived at the panthers and tigers exhibit. You hurried into the exhibit and stopped dead in your tracks. To your surprise, it wasn’t just Silver and Sebek standing near the employee entrance but, for the first time, Malleus and Lilia as well. 

Before you could question the sudden welcome, Lilia skipped up to you and linked his arm with yours, half-walking, half-dragging you over to the others.

“You’re late!” Sebek yelled.

“Sorry about that,” you winced at the volume of his voice and waved to the four halflings sheepishly, “How are you all?”

Lilia brought you closer to the other three and Malleus reached out and gently grasped your chin. He redirected your face to look at him and you frowned at his serious expression.

“Crowley,” Malleus said softly, “You cannot trust him. In fact, you cannot trust anyone here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, suspicion spiking immediately. Sure, Mr. Crowley was eccentric, but to not be able to trust him? Wasn’t that going a bit far?

Malleus’s frown deepened, “He will allow anything to happen to you, if it is for the better of the zoo.”

You shook your head and let out an awkward, humorless laugh, “I don’t think that’s true…”

“A storm is coming, (Y/n),” Silver said softly.

“You can’t trust anyone,” Sebek affirmed.

“Least of all us,” Lilia said with an eerie smile.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

stress relief | spencer reid x reader

wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+

warning/tags: established relationship, face fucking, blowjobs, vaginal sex, submissive!spencer, whiny!spencer, insecure!spencer (just a little, more like awkward lol), confident (and insanely horny) fem!reader

a/n: i'm back with more pwp!! surprise!!! i have no excuse. i wrote this in about 2 days. i needed to get it out of my system i think this spencer (s3-4) is crazy and perfect and i need him. also thank you for 100 followers on this little reid blog of mine! i hope to keep writing more on here <3

(p.s: you can find this fic on ao3!)

When you get on your knees between Spencer’s legs, looking up at him with wide eyes that spell sin, Spencer knows he’s in for a wild ride.

“You’ve been working too hard, Spence,” you say, shaking your head, speaking like you’re talking about the weather and not like you have a hand on his crotch, steadily stiffening under your touch.

You watch Spencer’s throat bob as he gulps. He blinks quickly, once, twice. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so,” you hum, fingers already toying with the button of his work slacks. Spencer had gotten home late from work tonight, but was still fretting over the stacks of reports on his desk in his home office in the apartment you share. After dinner, you’d convinced him to lounge on the couch for a bit, instead of getting back to work – leading you to where you are right now. “I think you need to relieve some of your stress.”

Almost like he’s nervous, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“Orgasms release endorphins which contribute to stress relief, no?” You parrot the fun fact Spencer’s told you countless times, a small smirk on your face. As if your hand gently palming his cock hasn’t made your intentions more than obvious.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Wow, you could at least sound a little more enthusiastic about your girlfriend giving you head.” You deadpan, but you pop the button of his slacks anyway.

Spencer squeaks. “Sorry. I– I really want you to blow me.”

“I know, darling,” you coo, pulling down the zipper of his fly slowly, feeling the hardness of his cock pressed against it. His underwear is a bright pink when it gets exposed. You chuckle to yourself. “Cute."

Spencer flusters, laughing nervously. “Oh my God. I kind of forgot I was wearing those. Haha. Sorry."

“Baby,” you frown slightly. You’re not mad, not in the slightest, just amused with how he’s acting. You place your hands on his thighs, pausing with any of the action. “Why are you sorry? I think you’re so cute, you know.”

“My head isn’t on straight right now,” Spencer sighs, shaking his head. “I just want– Like, it’s going to be good for me, obviously, because you’re so good at this. I don’t need to want anything. I just– Want this to be good for you too.”

“It’ll be good for me if you stop overthinking it, Spence.” You smile. “It’s chill. Also, when do I not enjoy sucking your cock?”

Spencer covers his face with his hand, but you see him smile, laughing to himself. “You’re so crude, y’know? But I suppose you do really enjoy sucking me off.”

“I know.” You chirp. “And I do."

Your hand is down Spencer’s pants before he can even tell you to go ahead, but he knows that you know he wants it. Spencer hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, taking them off. His cock jumps up and you watch, fascinated with the obscenity of it all. Spencer’s cock curves up towards his stomach, reddening at the tip already.

You wrap your hand around his hardening cock, as you start to jerk him off. He lets out a high-pitched whimper, like he can’t control himself, and he cups a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. You giggle, “It’s cute.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Spencer says, his face a little red already.

You pout. “Come on, Spence. It’s really hot.”

His hand falls from his face to his lap, coming up to cup your cheek gently. “You like it?”

“You’re so sexy.” You nod. “Of course I like it. Now, make those noises for me again, pretty boy.”

Spencer squeaks as you tighten your grip around his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke him. You work him up to full hardness – not that it takes very long for him to get there. You flick your thumb over the head of Spencer’s cock, tease into his slit where he’s steadily leaking already. His precome makes everything slick and sticky, easing the slide of your fist over his length.

Your eyes flit between Spencer’s face and his cock, marvelling at the growing mess in your hand and how his face is slowly but surely revealing his pleasure. He’s flushed, lower lip pulled in between his teeth, as you watch his chest rise and fall. His gaze pierces you, the intensity of how he looks sending shivers down your spine.

Knowing Spencer’s looking down at you, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, pressing it flat against the tip of his cock. Spencer lets out a strangled breath, eyes bugging out at the erotic sight of you between his legs. You wrap your lips around him, suckling gently on the head of his cock. You hope to make Spencer lose his mind like this. With the way he’s breathing heavily, lips parted as he takes in all of you, you think it’s working.

His whines are more frequent, accenting his hard breaths. You see how Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his hands, watch as he digs his nails into the flesh of his palms, and you instead hold him by his wrists to put his hands in your hair. The weight is comforting, and encourages you to sink down on his cock more. You take more than half of him into your mouth, but Spencer being… well-endowed meant that you often never were able to fit all of him in, unless you were in a particular mood.

The tip of Spencer’s cock hits the back of your throat, once it’s slid in. You gag at the intrusion, and Spencer lifts you off of him, slightly freaked out. “Are- Are you okay?”

“Baby, please,” you sigh, endeared but annoyed at the fact that he’s getting in the way of his own pleasure. “Trust me with this. Just focus on feeling good?”

Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, lips drawn into a little pout, but you nod to soothe his concerns. “Spencer, I want you to use me–” You stick your tongue out to lick at his length again, making him shudder. “–Just like this.”

“You want– You want me to…?” Spencer trails off, unsure if he’s picking up what you’re putting down.

“Fuck my face, Spencer,” you say bluntly, tired of flirting in circles. It’s fun flirting with Spencer, because it’s fun to fluster him when he isn’t expecting it, but right now, when he isn’t getting the hint, you need to lay it all out for him. “Use my mouth like a fleshlight. Whatever you want to do. Please.”

He inhales sharply, stunned at your explicitness. He pushes his hair back, out of his face, taking the time to process… everything. His gaze is tender, though, as he gently cups your cheek. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. But if you don’t want it anymore, you– You have to let me know, okay?”

You smile up at him, pleased that he’s finally letting some of his inhibitions go, even if he still seems hesitant. You pat the side of his thigh thrice. “I’ll do that if it’s too much.”

“I love you.” Spencer says softly.

“I love you too, Spence.” You hum. “Now hurry up and fuck my face.”

“Jesus, you’re so crude,” Spencer laughs. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling back, he guides his cock to your mouth, the head of his cock pressing against the plush of your lips. His mouth is open when he looks at you like this. He whispers, “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to take him in, like you were before, sinking down inch by inch, until he’s comfortably settled in the back of your throat. Spencer doesn’t move to fuck your face yet, so you make the first move. You bob your head up and down on his length, making sure your mouth is wet and slick as you suck him off. He lets out a moan, hand fisted in your hair.

And here’s where it starts: You slow on his cock, and Spencer, finally taking what he wants, pushes your head down onto his cock for more. You gag slightly. Spencer pulls your head back up, pushes you back down. While you appreciate how much he cares about you, him putting his pleasure first in using you like this makes your toes curl.

Spencer’s cock in the back of your throat is not uncomfortable, not yet, but Spencer steels himself to fuck your mouth and you find your veins thrumming with adrenaline. Spencer’s first thrust is exploratory, cautious. He’s nervous, or it at least feels like it when he fucks into your mouth. You would tell him off, but your mouth is kind of occupied right now. Instead, you glance up at him, and hope that your gaze tells him to just fuck me.

One arm against the backrest of the couch, Spencer thrusts into your mouth again. He gasps. Chasing his own pleasure, his eyes flutter shut as he fucks your mouth. His thrusts are shallow, desperate, hurried, but his mouth falls open in stuttered, eager moans. He’s so gorgeous.

You’ve never heard anything so perfect, the way Spencer moans, the way he cries out your name. You press your legs together to stave off the arousal building between them. You feel like a mess, Spencer’s hand making a mess of your hair, Spencer’s cock making a mess of your mouth. You think spit is probably all over your chin right now, but he’d probably think you still look great anyway.

Spencer gasps, out of breath as he whimpers, “I’m– I’m close, I can’t–”

He fucks into your mouth once, twice more, before slumping back down onto the couch. There’s a slick, wet ‘pop’ as you pull off of Spencer, pouting slightly. “You know I’m happy to swallow, Spence.”

Spencer laughs, tired, and explains, “I know you do, dear. I just don’t think I have it in me to come more than once. And I really want to come inside of you.”

His words make you blush. Spencer doesn’t get too explicit too often, so hearing him say dirty things always turns you on. You reach up to wipe yourself clean, but Spencer’s already ahead of you with a tissue pressed to your face, gentle as he wipes your mouth and chin.

After cleaning you up, he helps you up off your knees and onto the couch. You’re both still clothed, sure, but Spencer’s boxers and pants have been pushed down to reveal his cock; you must be even more of a mess, hair rustled and face messy, and the desperation that makes itself clear at the sight of the both of you makes you giggle.

Spencer smiles at you. “What are you laughing about?”

“We must look insane right now,” you laugh. “We’re not even naked yet and we’re like this.”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,” Spencer says earnestly in a quiet voice, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Spencer’s touch is gentle, it always is, and especially in stark contrast to the way he’d fucked your face, just like you told him to. “My lovely girl.”

“Spence,” you purr, nuzzling into his hand as he cradles your face. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer’s answer is immediate, certain, and it makes you acutely aware of how turned on you are.

“I love you so much, and I really need you to fuck me right now.” You look up at him, watch as his face warms from serious to amused. You shift away from him slightly on the couch, but use the extra space to spread your legs. “Use this pussy, baby.”

Now, he presses his finger to his temple, shaking his head playfully. “Your mouth is filthy. You’re filthy.”

You grin. “Aww, Spence, at least tell me you like it!”

He leans forward to kiss you, hard and eager and desperate. You moan into the kiss, as his hand is pressed into the small of your back. You run your hand through his hair, where it’s starting to curl past the nape of his neck. When he pulls away, he says, looking deep into your eyes: “I like you. And your filthy mouth. Now let me fuck you.”

You giggle, wildly turned on as his long, deft fingers push your shorts and panties off. He kisses along your neck as he does so, then lays you back on the couch, and his thumb rubs circles into your inner thigh softly as he regards you, admires you. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“You are too,” you say, awed, as Spencer takes off his nerdy little button-up. His body is perfect – not skin-and-bones skinny, but there’s a healthy litheness to him that you appreciate, especially when you’re grabbing at him while he fucks you. “Want you right now.”

“I know,” Spencer hums soothingly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Come on, love.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch, slack-jawed, as he wraps a hand around himself. His eyes flutter shut as he strokes himself, but he quickly snaps himself back to reality: guiding his cock in between your legs. He presses the tip to your clit, messy and glistening with your slick, and rubs against you in circles. You moan, feeling a little pathetic as you rut your hips forward to find any more pleasure like this.

Now, he presses the head of his cock to your hole, teasing, pushing it in slightly before it slips back out and spreads more of your slick across the rest of your cunt. You whine, pouting up at Spencer. He coos at you, “Okay, okay.”

Finally, he’s settled against your hole, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you excruciatingly slowly. It’s exhilarating, feeling him feed his cock into your hole, feeling him stretch you open, feeling like you were made for each other. He holds your leg up so he can press up closer to you, feeling so full as he puts his cock inside of you.

“Spencer,” you moan when he stops moving. “Fuck me. Just like earlier.”

”Okay, love.” Spencer nods, trails his hand down your waist and hips, down your thighs. “My gorgeous girl.”

Spencer thrusts into you, the first one sending electric pleasure through your body. He always loves to do it like this, make love to you slowly, intensely rocking into you until you feel all his love. You always do, but you don’t want that tonight. He knows that’s not what you want tonight.

When Spencer starts fucking you, his hips have gained a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together obscenely. It’s so wet between you two, where he’s pressed inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, eyebrows furrowed as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking cute, even while naked and trying his best to make you feel just as good as he does. He’s panting and groaning, your own moans mixing in with his. He knows you want him like this, hard and fast and messy.

You can’t form a coherent sentence, only able to babble and cry out for Spencer, for more, and you cling onto his arms as he pounds into you. You’ve never felt Spencer like this before. Sure, he’s always eager to please, doing whatever makes you feel good, but him going so hard, just like this, just the way you want makes you feel so needy, the both of you feeding off of each other’s desperation. All you can focus on is Spencer’s skin touching yours, the in-out slide of his cock, the slapping of skin on skin, the wet, slick noises of his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Cumming, Spence, I’m cumming,” You cry out needily, desperately, and you moan when he presses his thumb to your clit. He flicks at your clit in rough, hurried little circles. The pressure is cruel but just what you need for your release, and your whole body shakes as you orgasm. The high is so good, a different type of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You clench around Spencer, your cunt like a vice grip on him. Moaning loudly, his hips are stuttering as he comes inside of you too. He fucks out whatever momentum’s left in him, but pulls out quickly and gently, because he knows how fast you get overstimulated afterward.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, sweet, tame, unlike the depravity you were engaged in before, and the juxtaposition makes your head spin. Spencer, who is usually such a sweet, soft guy, being able to fuck you so hard and fast until the couch was creaking underneath you. You suppose that’s what he’s capable of when you ask. You like it. You wonder what else you can ask him to do. You think he’d do it in a heartbeat, knowing him.

“That was amazing,” you giggle breathlessly. “Spence, you’re a madman.”

”For you, my dear,” Spencer smiles. “Anything for you.”

You snuggle into his side, resting your head on his chest as you lay on the couch. You’re both sticky and gross, but you’re sure Spencer will be more than happy to clean up later. Right now, you’re just pleased to be cuddling your boyfriend.

”So, do you feel less stressed out about work now?” You ask, after a moment of comfortable silence.

”Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking about work,” Spencer laughs. “You know, some sociologists believe stress can be caused by positive events too? I think you cause me stress, but it’s good stress.”

”Watch your mouth, genius,” you snark playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute enough that I’d take being called a stressor a compliment.”

“I love you,” Spencer sing-songs.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the stupid grin that forms on your face. “Yeah, yeah.”

[fatherbrat]

cw. prequel to this. college au hockey player!sukuna. fatherbrat’s 2nd hugh hefner costume mention. reader is drunk. crack-esque. sfw, 1.3k words.

the first time you meet sukuna is at a halloween party. 

(it’s technically your halloween party. it isn’t your house or anything, but the boys that live there are happy to let you host as long as it means a house full of girls and none of the responsibility of setting up. you're happy to fulfill their requests, since it means you can have things go your way and then dip at the end of the night, leaving the post-party cleaning up to them.)

needless to say, you and sukuna do not make good first impressions. you would blame the alcohol, but honestly, it wouldn’t have gone any different if you were sober. 

he arrives at the party in a group. you recognize one of them—the tall, smiley one with impossibly white hair who sits behind you in biochem. he’s dressed up like a character from an snl skit, clad in an ill-fitting suit and round sunglasses with a present box glued to his pelvis.

you don’t recognize the one who comes in behind him, but he’s sexy and tanned and has a mustache. he’s also wearing the same costume as the white-haired one. gojo, you remember. isn’t he on the hockey team?

you immediately pull out your phone, searching up the school’s official instagram page for the hockey team. there they are, front and center in the most recent post. the third guy with them—the one with black hair and the scar that runs through his lip—is in the picture too. he’s wearing a batman costume now, half-assed but recognizable enough. at least he has on the mask. 

you squint at the last man in the group and frown. your gaze drops back down to your phone. 

in the second row of photos is a carousel full of pictures of this pink-haired brute. sukuna, the apparent team captain. his personal account is tagged, but it seems too professional to you, public and polished to perfection for recruiters. 

anyways. he’s here. at your halloween party. wearing an outfit you deem completely unacceptable. 

you down the rest of your (sixth) drink and toss the empty can onto the kitchen counter before making your way towards the group of men, wobbly as ever.

gojo is the first one to notice you. “hey,” he beams, “cool party.” he puts his arm around the guy with the mustache—shiu—and wiggles his eyebrows. “you like our costumes?”

you ignore him, something you wouldn’t do sober, but you’re on a mission. 

you point at sukuna, jabbing your nail into his chest. “where the fuck is your costume?”

sukuna glances down at your finger, then your costume, then your face. “you don’t see the jersey? i’m a fuckin’ hockey player.”

you pull back your hand, disgusted. “first of all, drop the attitude, mister. second of all, that’s not a costume. you’re on the hockey team.”

someone snickers. the one dressed as batman, you think, but you don’t turn around to check. sukuna’s face morphs through a few different emotions—amusement, annoyance, astonishment. he eventually settles on agitation, pissed that he hasn’t even gotten the chance to get some liquor in his system before dealing with bullshit like this.

“you wanna talk about costumes? you’re wearing underwear and a robe,” he says, gesturing towards you with a dismissive wave. 

you gasp and plant your hands on your hips. “this isn’t just underwear, idiot. it’s lingerie. i’m wearing a garter belt, for fuck’s sake. and thigh highs! plus you forgot about my hat?”

you use your entire arm to point at gojo. “who am i dressed as, dick-in-a-box boy?”

his face is flushed from laugher. “sexy hugh hefner. obviously.”

you throw your arm up in the air and let it fall against your thigh with a smack, not noticing the murderous glare sukuna sends towards gojo. someone somewhere turns down the music a bit.

“see!” you exclaim, addressing sukuna once again. “this is clearly a Sexy Costume™. and you know what else makes it a costume? i would never just leave my house like this on a typical day. it’s not a regular outfit in the slightest.” you speak slowly, wanting to make sure he understands every word. 

“you wanna know what makes this Not a costume?” you continue, still talking slow as you wag your finger up and down sukuna’s body. “it’s a regular-degular outfit. literally anyone can put on that campus store-bought jersey and wear it with those jeans on a normal day.”

sukuna starts to speak, but you cut him off. “didn't you see the sign out front? ‘no costume, no entry.’”

his jaw ticks. his right eye twitches. “yeah, i saw the fucking sign. i don’t-”

“oh, great,” you interrupt. “so you don’t know what a costume is and you can’t read. perfect. that hockey scholarship must be doing a lot of heavy lifting, huh?”

even in your inebriated state, you immediately know that was the wrong thing to say. the little crowd that gathered to watch your back-and-forth takes a collective inhale. sukuna looks downright irate, fists clenched at his sides as a storminess settles over his face. 

gojo lets out a long and low whistle, the kind that cartoon bombs make right before they hit the ground and explode. he pats your shoulder twice before abandoning you altogether. the rest of the crowd follows, leaving you to contend with this bear you repeatedly poked.

the music returns to its original volume, but it sounds like the speaker has been moved. away from you and closer to the living room.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, but you swear you can see literal steam coming out of sukuna’s ears. you sway on your feet a bit, waiting for him to say something. a thought occurs to you as you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and breathe deeply, but you keep it to yourself, screwing up your lips in a physical attempt to keep from digging your grave further.

sukuna didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. he actually mentioned the sign out front to the guys before they came in, trying to use it as an excuse for him to go home. his plan was to make an appearance, drink a beer, and then escape after thirty minutes. but here you are, this drunk stranger yelling at him for being dressed like a normal fucking person. the urge to stay strikes him. he wants to linger just to piss you off. 

“are you done?” he asks you.

you cross your arms. “are you leaving?”

“no.”

“then no.”

just as you’re about to dig into him again, sukuna’s thinning patience snaps.

“stop being a fucking bitch about this, alright? just relax. you’re acting fucking crazy.”

your jaw unhinges itself and you stand there, gawking. sukuna seems about ready to walk away, cracking his knuckles and looking somewhere behind you. your eyes land on his cheek, reddened and ready for a smack. you draw your arm back, wanting to make sure you gave him a slap that stings—and he catches it mid-air.

“are you serious?” he scoffs. you glance at your hand, his fingers around your wrist, the scowl etched into his face.

he glowers at you, not letting go when you try to shake your arm free. so you do the next logical thing.

you spit on him.

a glob of your saliva lands just below his eye. you smirk, satisfied. he drops your arm and curses, lifting the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face. then you make your first smart decision of the night and turn around, running back to where the rest of the party is to hide amongst the bodies.

he yells after you, but it’s drowned out by your giggles and the sound of chatter as you get nearer, bumping into countertops and side tables on the way.

someone pats your back and puts a drink in your hand. you pray you never have to see the captain of the hockey team again. 

tags. @nonamevenus @lavenderdaydream97 @rinofcike @gdamnackerman

[fluff-lover]

The one that got away (final part) | Wolverine x fem!reader

Summary: You were just starting something with Logan, when your ex-boyfriend decided to come back to your life. After Ben interrupts your makeup session with Logan, you're decided to move on. 

This is based on this Reddit story

Part 1 - Part 2

Warning: this chapter is spicy! I’m not good at writing smut, so bear with me: PiV, oral (female receiving), a little bit of dirty talk. There's also a lot of fluff! Mature language, Wade Wilson being a menace. Bad writing (please remember English is not my first language, so if you notice something odd please write to me privately).

Tagging @aheadfullofsteverogers because she’s the only person reading this story XD

You stared at Ben expectantly while he looked everywhere but you. You both stood in your kitchen, the kitchen island putting a few good feet between you. After Ben rudely interrupted your little makeout session and asked to speak to you in private, Logan returned to Wade's apartment looking both angry and hurt. Your heart ached for him, not wanting him to be upset, especially not at you after such a great night.

“How did you get in?” You finally asked.

“I still had my key.” Ben replied.

“Damn, I forgot about that...” You mumbled angrily.

“I’m glad you did. It gave me hope.” Ben must've noticed the confusion in your eyes, so he explained “I thought maybe you were waiting for me to come back home.”

You frowned.

“Come back?... Ben, what are you doing here? Why did you come?” You pushed, your patience running thin.

“I want us to get back together.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor.

“You can't be serious. Ben, you broke up with me to be with someone else.”

Ben looked embarrassed.

“I know, I know, but hear me out. I made a mistake. She is not who I thought she was, I fell for an illusion, I really thought she was the one for me, the one that got away. But then I realized I was so much happier with you and I'm a fool for leaving.”

You were in complete and utter disbelief.

“You're kidding me, right?”

“We can work this out.” He pleaded.

“How on Earth can you possibly think that?” You asked. “You left me for another woman, there's nothing to work out, you made sure of that.”

Ben shook his head, not ready to give up yet.

“There's nothing between me and her anymore, I ended things.” He said and you scoffed. “I swear, I'm done with her.” Ben tried to take a step closer to you, but then you stepped back.

“That's not the point, Ben!” You yelled as you started pacing around the apartment. “This is not about her! This is about YOU! You gave up on us. YOU threw me away as if I was nothing. How could I ever believe you won't do it again?”

“I swear to you, I learned my lesson, I'm never making that mistake again.” He pleaded again.

“It was so easy for you.” You said, your voice turning low and sad. “To walk out on me… on us… as if we hadn't been planning our future together, or entire lives!” Tears started filling your eyes. “As if I meant nothing to you.” Ben's shoulders dropped, he knew there was no way he could ever make things up to you. “You didn't love me enough to stay. You didn't love me enough to realize you didn't want to be with another woman. The second you two started talking you should've shut down any possibility of something happening between the two of you, out of love for me. Out of loyalty. But you didn't.” Your lip trembled and tears rolled down your cheeks, but your voice didn't waver.

“I don't want to be with another woman, ever again.” Ben assured you and you resumed pacing around. “I know I hurt you, but I also know we can work it out. I'll do anything you ask. I'll go to couples’ counseling with you.” You scoffed. “I'll even let you sleep with that guy one more time.”

At that you froze and turned to face him fully.

“Excuse me?”

Ben sighed.

“I left to be with another woman, you're clearly moving on with another man. So let's even out the scores. Sleep with him one more time, get it out of your system and then…”

You slapped Ben so hard, his face turned to the point you thought he would break his neck. The sound it made echoed on the walls. Your palm started to sting really bad, you could only imagine how bad Ben's cheek was hurting now. 

“Logan is not some rebound I can use and throw away, let alone to get back with you. He's a good man and doesn’t deserve to be used like that. He’s done nothing but treat me right and help me realize I can do much better than you.” You were practically hissing the words. “Not that it is any of your business but I didn’t sleep with him. I was too busy grieving our relationship, but now that I know what piece of shit you are, moving on from you should be much easier.”

Ben looked at you with emptiness in his eyes, his cheek already forming an imprint of your hand.

“Get. The fuck. Out.” You told him. Defeated, Ben turned to the door. “Wait.” He stopped. “Leave the key.”

-

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Logan decided that staying in bed was useless. Instead he sat on the couch with a bottle of scotch and a cigar.

He couldn't help but wonder��� Were you with Ben? Was Ben in your bed with you right that moment? Were you two getting back together?...

The kiss you two shared was the first thing to bring him real joy in a long time. Saving the timeline was a real achievement and one to be proud of, but even then, nothing would ever surpass feeling loved and cared for, something Logan only felt a handful of times during his long life. And to lose it so quickly made his stomach churn. 

Did he lose you already?

A sound caught his attention, and when he looked up he saw Mary Puppins scratching the window. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, as if the dog could give him a straight answer. She barked and scratched the window again. “There's nothing out there, bub.” Logan frowned and got up. Outside the window was a firescape, nothing else. “You wanna go out? Is that it?” Mary Puppins looked at him and wiggled her tail. “Alright, don't go far.”

The second he opened the window the dog ran outside and started yapping.

“Sweet little puppy.” Logan heard your voice. He quickly poked his head out the window and found you there.

You were sitting on your window frame, a blanket on your lap, a steaming cup in one hand and the other giving Mary Puppins a belly rub. You were so beautiful.

“So this is why she wanted to come out so bad, must've heard you out here.” Logan said.

You smiled softly at the dog.

“Or she sensed I needed some company.”

Logan frowned.

“So Ben isn't here with you?” He asked.

You scoffed and shook your head.

“Hell no, I kicked him out as soon as I could. I'm done with him, he's not worth my time.”

Logan couldn't help but smile with relief.

“What are you doing awake then? It's really late.”

“I was too angry to sleep. So now I'm planning on watching the sunrise. Wanna join me?” You offered.

Without even thinking, Logan stepped out the window and sat next to you. Meanwhile the puppy laid down by your feet.

“Why are you angry?” He asked.

“Because I was having such a lovely evening before he ruined it. Everything was going so well.” You then looked at Logan shyly. “I'm so sorry, Logan.”

“Hey…” Logan took your hand. “There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong.”

You looked at your hands together, your other hand coming to caress Logan's knuckles. Logan swallowed hard, moved by the fact you were lovingly caressing something everyone else feared. His hands were weapons, not meant to receive loving care.

“What about you? Why can't you sleep?” You asked.

Logan looked away awkwardly. He was so bad at talking about his feelings. But if he wanted to keep you around, he knew he needed to at least try.

“I was thinking about you… About you and Ben, I thought maybe you two were working things out.”

You quickly shook your head, your heart breaking at the thought that you hurt him.

“I'm so sorry-” Logan shook his head, interrupting you.

“Don't. It's okay.”

“I never meant to hurt you.” You reassured him. 

Logan then lifted your hand and kissed it.

“I know, sweetheart.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter at his actions.

“Does that mean we're still going on a date?” You asked hopefully.

Logan smiled and nodded.

“We'll go on as many dates as you want.”

You chuckled.

“I'd like that.”

A cool breeze flew by and made you shiver. Logan took the blanket from your lap and wrapped it around you before placing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You leaned your head on his shoulder and smiled when you felt his lips kissing the top of your head.

As the sun started to come up, your eyelids started going down. You were slowly falling asleep on Logan's shoulder.

“Let's get you to bed, gorgeous.” He whispered, but you just pressed yourself more against him.

“No, please, just a little bit longer.” You pleaded and nuzzled his neck. “I don't want this to end.”

Logan felt a tug in his chest. You wanted to be with him and he was so grateful, but he didn't want you to fall asleep like this. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and kissed your forehead.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need to rest.” He easily picked you up and carried you inside. Once in your bedroom he gently placed you on your bed, covered you and pushed your hair away from your face, admiring you in silence. You felt his fingers against your skin, tender and moving slowly, as if he was afraid of breaking something.

Before he could step away, your hand reached out and held onto his arm.

“Stay with me.” You whispered, eyes barely open.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You hummed and nodded your head against the pillow.

“I don't want you to go.”

Logan smiled softly and caressed your cheek.

“I'm not going anywhere, sugar.” He said before getting under the covers with you and laying on his side.

Instantly you turned to press yourself against his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, while the other slid under your neck and you used it as a pillow. You fit perfectly against him, as if the two of you were two pieces of a puzzle.

Something moved at the foot of the bed, and when Logan looked over the covers he found Mary Puppins laying down by his feet.

It felt like home.

-

You slept the entire morning, waking up just around noon. A little bit of sunlight came through the curtains and gave your bedroom a golden tint. At some point during the night you rolled to your other side and Logan, without even realizing, scooted closer and spooned you. So when you woke up his chest was pressed against your back, his nose buried in your hair, and one strong arm was wrapped around your waist.

You carefully rolled over to face him, trying really hard not to wake him up. But Logan was a light sleeper, always alert, so his eyes fluttered open.

“Shhh… go back to sleep.” You whispered, your hand cupping his cheek and caressing it softly. He simply rolled on his back and fell asleep again.

You laid there for a while, watching Logan sleep. The morning light cast a soft glow on his peaceful face. His strong jawline, usually so defined and commanding, now relaxed in the tranquility of sleep. His dark lashes rested against his skin, and a gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the still room. You couldn't help but smile as she watched him, there was something so vulnerable, yet incredibly powerful, about seeing him like this, completely at ease with you by his side.

You felt so safe with him around. So peaceful. You knew he came from a violent world, where he lived an even more violent life, but here? All that seemed so far away.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Logan suddenly said with his eyes still closed.

Your face warmed up, embarrassed at being caught.

“Sorry.” 

Logan opened his eyes and you smiled softly.

“It’s kinda hard not to stare at you, you’re so beautiful.” you said.

Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had never been called beautiful. Handsome? Yeah, maybe… but beautiful?

“YOU’RE beautiful.” He said, deflecting.

“I feel beautiful when I’m with you.” You confessed. Logan stared at you for a moment before pulling you closer and kissing you.

You returned the kiss but quickly pulled away.

“I have morning breath!”

“You think I give a fuck?” Logan asked as he tickled your sides. You started laughing, trying to slap his hands away from you. “How dare you deny me a kiss? After I caught you staring!”

“Okay! Okay! Sorry!” You laughed.

“You’re beautiful ALL the time.”

Logan climbed on top of you, holding his weight on his elbows and setting his hips between your thighs. You sighed contently, loving the feeling of him above you.

He kissed you again, this time slow and deeply. Your hands ran up his arms to his neck, then your fingers tangled in his hair.

Humming happily against your lips, Logan pressed himself against you, just enough to cover most of your body, but not enough to crush you. You stayed like that for a while, kissing each other softly, hands wandering all over each other’s bodies. 

It was sweet. It was tender.

Logan moved his lips down your chin, up your jaw and then to your neck. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear, you closed your eyes and let out a whimper.

Your hands moved down his back, pushing him even closer to you, and then you felt it. His throbbing hardness pressing against your panties. Out of instinct you rocked your hips against his, your legs lifting in the air and wrapping themselves around his hips.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Logan growled against your neck.

“Logan…” You whimpered. “Logan, please, touch me.”

You felt his big, strong hand move between your bodies and slip under your panties. His fingertips made their way between your folders and spread your wetness before finally burning themselves deep inside you.

Logan pulled back a little and looked at you.

“Take your shirt off.” He said. You quickly obeyed, throwing the shirt to the floor. With his hand still deep between your thighs, and the other holding him above you, Logan leaned in and covered one of your nipples with his mouth.

“Oh god!” You moaned as Logan sucked the tender skin hard.

Your hands tugged at his hair and his shirt, wanting more.

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He growled before moving to the other nipple. Your hips rocked against his hand, pressure building up in your lower belly.

Logan suddenly pulled away and knelt between your legs.

“Let me see you.” He said before rolling your underwear down your legs. “Fucking gorgeous.” He added and pressed your panties against his nose. He then took a deep breath and growled, almost like an animal.

If you weren't so horny and needy for him, you would've been mortified. 

“You're still dressed and I'm not, it's not fair.” You pouted cutely.

Logan smirked and took his wife beater off.

Your heart dropped.

In front of you was the most gorgeous, muscular, ridiculously good looking man you've ever seen. Logan was a protein shake in human form. 

“For fucks sake!” You threw your arm over your eyes. “It's like you're photoshopped! I could wash clothes on those abs!”

Logan laughed and gave your leg a little tug. 

“Get up, I want you to sit on my face.” He said before laying on his back, his gray sweatpants doing nothing to cover his massive manhood.

“You sure?” You asked shyly as you knelt on the mattress. 

“Yes I'm fucking sure, now get here.” He replied while getting comfortable and throwing a pillow away. You would be lucky if he didn't break the bed.

You crawled on top of him and positioned right above his mouth. You tried to hold your weight on your knees and by holding onto the headboard, but then you felt his hands grabbing you by your hips and pulling you down.

“When I tell you to sit on my face, you sit on my fucking face.” He commanded you.

“I don't wanna crush you.” You said, a bit embarrassed.

“You won't.” He was right and you knew it. But before you could say anything he pressed his mouth to your throbbing cunt.

“Fuck!” One hand gripped the headboard, while the other tugged his hair. He seemed to enjoy it as he growled against your skin. His fingertips dug into your thighs and pressed you more against him. How did he breathe, you didn't know.

Logan ate you out like a pro, tongue going in and out of you, licking up and down your sensitive folds before stopping to circle and suck your clit. All of that at a fast pace that left you breathless. Blessed be the women that came before you, because they clearly taught him well.

“Jesus! Fuck!” You moaned, hips moving against him needed more, more, more… “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” Your legs went rigid and your body twitched violently was you reached your climax. You had to hold onto the headboard tight just so you wouldn't fall out of the bed or on top of Logan.

You were still trying to catch your breath when Logan moved from beneath you, threw the rest of his clothes to the floor and got behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against his chest, and kissed your neck.

“Got a condom?” He asked.

You shook your head. After being with your ex for so long, you stopped using them.

“I'm on the pill.” You said. “And I'm clean. You?”

You felt Logan smile against your skin as kissed your ear and temple.

“Same. One of the perks of being a mutant. I never catch anything.” One of his hands sneaked between your bodies, took a hold of his cock and started gliding it against your slit, coating it with your juices. “I could get used to this.” He said against your ear. “Rawdogging you, filling you up so good.” He nibbled your neck, his free hand cupping your breast. “Make you smell like sex and cum all day…” He growled at the thought.

Your head rested on his shoulder and you looked at him.

“Do it.” you said, eyes half closed. “I want you to fucking ruin me.”

Logan growled and gave you a hard, messy kiss, the type that leaves you breathless and your lips bruised.

He finally pushed his big, hard cock inside you. You knew he was big, having noticed it under his gray sweatpants, but this was more than you expected. Could this man be any more perfect? Not even Viking gods could compare.

“Fuck!” You hissed. It hurt, but it was a delicious type of pain, one that didn't last long.

“You good?” He asked and you nodded.

“You're so big.” Your words stroke his ego.

“You don't think you can handle it, babygirl?” He teased you.

“I told you, I want you to ruin me. Split me in half, tear me apart.”

“Jesus Christ, woman. You'll be the death of me.”

One hand held you by the hip, the other moved down between your legs and caressed your clit. And then he proceeded to give you the pounding of your life. The headboard banged the wall as you kept your grip on it, using it to push yourself back, your ass smacking against Logan's hips as he thrusted inside you.

More and more moans came from you. You had never been this vocal in the bedroom. Usually you would try to keep quiet, not wanting the neighbors to hear you, but there was something about Logan that made you lose control. Your jaw hung open, your eyes rolled back, wet sound echoing the walls in the room as flesh met flesh.

“Fuck! Logan! Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesyes!” It didn't take long to reach a second orgasm. Pressure built and built in your lower belly until it released the most intense ecstasy you've ever felt. Your back arched against his chest and Logan held you, still thrusting into you, helping  you ride your climax.

You arrived at the conclusion that Logan liked manhandling you when he threw you on the bed, landing on your back. So far he had done to you whatever the fuck he wanted, and you weren't complaing. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards the edge of the bed before placing one of your legs against his chest. In one swift movement he was inside of you again.

Logan looked so beautiful like that, standing over you tall and broad, covered in sweat, hips snapping against yours. You could watch him like this all day, every day.

You didn't know at the time but Logan was taking you in as well, hair all messy and sticking to your face due to the sweat, nipples hard and perked up.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He growled. “Give me one more, babygirl, I wanna see your face when you come around my cock.”

At this point Logan fucked you stupid, you couldn't come up with a single coherent thought. You gripped the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself somehow. You couldn’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good, but to be fair, you couldn't remember your own name at the time.

“G-God! You feel so good!” you moaned, back arching against the mattress. Logan leaned over you and kissed you hard. With your leg still against his chest, this position gave him a new angle, one that had you whimpering and moaning for more against his lips. Your hands tangled with his hair and pulled hard, earning you an animalistic growl. You loved that sound.

“I'm c- I'm cuming…” You managed to gasp out. Logan picked up the pace, fucking you hard and fast into the mattress.

“Come on, gorgeous, give it to me.” He told you, pulling back enough to look at your face. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

You let out the filthiest moan of your life as you came undone, body thrashing and trembling against his. Needing to hold onto something, your nails dug into Logan's shoulders, leaving marks that healed far too fast for his liking. Your walls clenched around him, practically milking him as he kept going. 

Logan felt himself getting closer to his own climax and buried his face on your neck, grunting with each thrust. You ran a hand down his back to his ass and gave him a firm squeeze, the other moved to the back of his neck and pulled at his hair. With that Logan came. Hard.

You both were a trembling mess, covered in sweat, too spent to move for a moment, except from the sudden twitches your body made. Suddenly the room was very quiet.

Eventually Logan lifted his head from your neck and kissed you. It was a slow, sweet kiss, a contrast from the previous ones.

He pushed himself away and pulled out of you. You hissed, still getting used to his size and looked up at him. He looked so satisfied as he watched his cum drip out of you.

“What a pretty little pussy.” He said before running his thumb up the folds to the clit. You trembled. Logan looked around the room before picking your still wet panties. He used them to clean you up before smelling it again.

“I'm keeping these, by the way.” He said and dropped them on top of his clothes.

You giggled. No man had ever shown so much interest in you this way.

Logan lifted you up a little to get you more comfortable on the bed and laid next to you. You wrapped yourself around him, your face nuzzling his neck.

“Well, you did it. You fucking ruined me.” You sighed happily. Logan chuckled and kissed your forehead. “I'm serious, I don't think I'll be able to walk for a couple of days.”

“Am I hearing you complain?” He teased you and you laughed.

“Fuck no.”

“I aim to please.” Logan said satisfied. Then he pushed some of your hair away from your face and smiled at you. “I meant what I said, I could get used to this.”

You smiled back.

“Me too.”

Suddenly you heard a dog's bark. You both opened your eyes widely before looking up. On a chair in the corner of your bedroom was Mary Puppins, tail wiggling happily.

“Oh… my… god…” You said mortified. “Was she here the whole time?”

“I forgot she was here.” Logan said.

“Do you think we traumatized her?”

Logan laughed.

“Being Wade's dog, I'm sure she's seen worse.”

When you exited your bedroom Logan was fully dressed and holding Mary Puppins while you were wrapped in your fuzzy robe. As promised, your panties were safely tucked inside his pocket.

“I better take her home. Wade will lose his shit if he comes back and she's not there.”

You walked him to the door and smiled.

“Will I see you soon?” You asked shyly. Logan looked at you like you had just said the dumbest thing in the world.

“Do you really need to ask? After what we just did?” He said and you chuckled. “I promised you a date, didn't I? I'll pick you up tonight, 7 sounds good?”

You nodded.

“Sounds perfect.” Logan smiled and leaned to kiss you. When he pulled back you sighed happily.

“See you tonight, gorgeous.” He said before walking to his apartment.

-

Wade was sitting at the table, eating cereal, when Logan walked in. 

“Morning, peanut! Did you have a good night?” He asked with the biggest, goofiest smile. “I recognize a walk of shame when I see it.”

“I'm not ashamed.” Logan protested, only confirming Wade's suspicions.

“You would think getting laid would make you less grumpy, color me surprised.”

Logan simply growled and ignored him, placing Mary Puppins on the ground. She quickly ran towards Wade and jumped into his arms.

“Come to your papa.” Wade said before kissing her head. “What's that, Mary?” He then asked, pulling her closer to his ear, as if she was saying something. “Uncle Logan got lucky last night? I know, I think the whole building heard them.”

“Your dog is a pervert.” Logan said, walking towards the bathroom.

“Just like her papa.” Wade said proudly.

Logan shut the bathroom door and got ready for a shower. As he undressed he pulled your panties from his pocket and smiled. He couldn't wait to take you out on a date.

[killerlookz]

It Can't Be That Easy | Joost Klein- Heartbeat! AU

another prequel in the heartbeat! au (makes most sense if read last) description: a month after breaking up with Joost, resulting in you in a horrible slump, you finally had built yourself back enough again to go and have a fun night out, but when Joost shows up to the same party with a brand new girl, you find yourself falling apart all over again.

content: angst!!!! drinking, cheating, hurt with *some* comfort/fluff, ankle injury?, THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH, IF YOU'RE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT!!!

word count: 7434

Julie's words go in one ear and immediately escape out the other, her voice nothing but a droning hum against the thumping bass that pours out of some expensive speaker system and the voices of a few dozen people. You stare blankly at your friend, your gaze more focused past her shoulder, eyes fixated on the blank wall behind her. Intoxication has obscured the world around you, everything is so blurry, and out of reach. You can't even make sense of your own thoughts, the wires in your brain crossed and confused. The only thing clear to you is the sharp pang of heartbreak, a defined ache that splits through you. If you hadn't been so otherwise numbed you could cry now, at least the liquor in some way had dulled your need for any bodily reactions to your emotions.

You hadn't left the house much since breaking up with Joost last month- it was only until now had you put yourself together enough to be out for a few hours. Julie had invited you to a party some mutual friend of a mutual friend was having, and you had thought it as the perfect time to finally get out of the house, and try to have a little fun instead of being so sad all the time. Clearly, you had been wrong, going out tonight had been way against your better judgement.

You didn't know her. The girl Joost had shown up with. Nonetheless she was beautiful- the type of pretty that makes you want to crawl into yourself and wonder why you even bothered to show your face in public. He'd walked in with his arm already wrapped firmly around her waist, allowing nobody to make the mistake of thinking she had just been a friend.

You could still feel his presence somewhere around you, the two of them all over each other undoubtably. Her presence immediately making you question if you had made the wrong decision in breaking up with Joost, looking fondly upon the times the two of you would go out together.

But perhaps him jumping into it with someone new so soon had only confirmed you had made the correct choice- the mere thought of getting with anybody any time soon makes your stomach churn.

"Do you know who she is?" Your words are slow, confused, tongue tied with intoxication as you cut off whatever Julie had been saying. Her facial expression twists, eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing.

"What?"

"That girl that uh Joost came in with." You lower your voice and shuffle your vision around as you say his name, like you're a child saying a bad word and trying not to get caught by your parents.

"Oh, babe-" Julie sighs, tilting her head to the side, voice drenched in sympathy. You'd appreciate it more if you hadn't actually been looking for an answer.

"You don't know her?" You ask, trying to ignore the emotional aspect of all this.

"I don't think you should worry abou-"

"Julie." You frown.

"I have no clue." She finally answers, "Maybe she's some tinder girl."

"She's pretty," You sigh.

"You're pretty." Julie smiles, "Too pretty to worry about some stupid boy." She reaches out her hands, placing them on your shoulders, shaking you gently, "Tonight is about you, girl. Have. Some. Fucking. Fun."

Julie lets go of you, causing you to stumble slightly, you blink a few times, your vision blurring.

"Woah," You chuckle, "Don't think I'm meant to be moving that much." You clench your jaw, biting back the motion-induced nausea that was crawling up on you. You inhale, speaking again before Julie can get a word out, "I think I'm- I'll be right back." You don't really think you'll be sick, but you figure better to be safe than sorry, making a disoriented journey around the house to try to find the restroom.

You finally happen upon the door, tucked in a long hallway on the other side of the house. You press your fingertips to its wooden surface, left slightly ajar, you push it open so you can step inside.

Your blood runs cold as soon as you get one foot in the doorway, head peering into the tiny bathroom, witnessing what you could only describe as probably your worst nightmare, next to maybe like getting buried alive, or being back in high school again.

Joost had had the girl he'd come with seated on the bathroom counter, as he stood between her thighs, her legs squeezed around him. He's bent down slightly as their lips interlock, her hands roaming his back.

You're frozen stiff for a moment, paralyzed by a mix of embarrassment and heartache. Time seems to slow down, the scene in front of you now playing out in slow motion.

The girl is the first to break away from this kiss, flinging her head back to get a look of whoever had just walked in on her. The girls sudden movement grabs Joost's attention, whipping his head around, eyes widening in pure mortification once his gaze locks with yours.

"Like I didn't already need to throw up," You mumble, trying to lift your feet from their rigid position on the ground. Thankfully time had never really slowed down, and you're able to get out of the bathroom just as quickly as you had stepped in, slamming the door behind you.

Your hands tremble as your brain comes to recognize what you had just seen. The liquor you had consumed no longer able to hinder your bodily responses, feeling the fierce sting of the tears brimming in your water line mixing with your eyeliner.

You're startled once more when the bathroom door flings open, Joost stepping out with the girl behind him, his movements halting when he realizes you were still right outside.

You're like a deer in headlights staring up at him, lips parted slightly, the rest of your body unable to move.

Joost seems equally as stunned,

"Hey," He hesitates before he pushes his lips into a straight line, flicking his head upward, like he was greeting 'one of his boys', "What's up." It wasn't an apt way to greet you, but then again what was?

"Hi," You barely whisper out, your voice snuffed out by the sob that was scratching its way up your throat.

The hallway is silent for a moment, the girl looking between the two of you, oblivious and confused.

"Do you two know each other?" She giggles, damn her, even her voice is pretty, her laugh so infectious if you had heard it in any other context it surely would have brightened your day. She has an accent you can't exactly pin- German, maybe.

"Yeah," Joost caughs, "Yeah-um- she-" He can't seem to get the right words out as his gaze anxiously shifts between the two of you, not wanting to say too much to her, but not wanting to downplay your existence.

"Well, why don't you introduce us, silly," She smiles, swatting her perfectly french-manicured nails as Joost's chest. Her voice rings in your ears, silly, her acute flirtation bringing you dangerously close to tasting what you had for dinner.

"Uh-Right," Joost nods, "Right." He clears his throat, suddenly standing much taller now, much more assured of himself. He struggles to smile, "Lina this is y/n," He gestures towards you before moving his heads towards her, "Y/n this is Lina," He pauses for a moment, "My girlfriend."

Girlfriend.

The word echos in your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your muscles tense.

Girlfriend.

It had seemed so soon, too soon, in fact that if you weren't so certain of how well you knew Joost you would have assumed this relationship had started before you had broken up with him.

"Girlfriend?" You try to chuckle, but your emotion is apartment, and your throat is far too dry, a scoff escaping your mouth instead, "Joost you fucking dog." Your lips curl up in a cruel smile, attempting to play your words off like a joke, but you and him both know you mean exactly what you said.

You divert your attention to the girl you now know as Lina, eyes narrowing slightly, failing at hiding your new found contempt for this random girl you had just met, "Good luck with this one, girl." You scoff once more at the absurdity of the situation before nodding, speaking slower this time, "Good luck."

Lina furrows her eyebrows, batting her long, mascara coated lashes, parting pink-glossed lips, looking for the right words to say, obviously confused.

"Good luck?" She repeats back to you, dumbfounded, on the cusp of realizing that you were far more than someone that Joost had "just knew".

"Yeah," You shrug, "Dating musicians-you know how they can be." You don't look at Lina as you talk, your eyes trained dead on Joost, "But I'm sure you won't need it." You lighten up, feigning nice, not yet drunk enough to actually go through with ruining a potential relationship for Joost.

"Oh," She smiles, "Sure." You can tell she's not entirely buying into your act, "And," She tilts her head in pretend sympathy, "I am so sorry, you walked in on that! Joost is such an animal sometimes, he cannot keep his hands to himself."

"Don't I know it." You nod slowly, biting at the inside of your cheek. You take the following few moments of silence as your cue to leave, the tension in that small hallway becoming suffocating.

You hadn't thought it was possible for your mind to race any faster than it did when you had first seen Joost with Lina tonight, but now your earlier thoughts had felt like slow motion compared to now. Girlfriend, you couldn't get the way Joost had said it out of your head.

Thinking about Joost having sex with another girl was heartbreaking enough, but with the potential of romance mixed in you wonder how you'll ever recover from tonight.

"I still can't fucking believe him," Julie throws up her hands, her frustration levels just about hitting yours as the two of you sit on some couch in the living room, a few more drinks deep. "The audacity for him to cry in your arms and beg you to change your mind about breaking up with him, for him to just have some new girl a month later."

"Right!" Your eyes widen, holding your hands up in front of you, "Like it was really that easy?"

"I'm going to kill him," Julie rolls her eyes, "Bringing your rebound around your ex so soon after breaking up is such a pig move."

"Total pig move," You concur, you pause for a moment, looking around, "Do you think I could homewreck their relationship?"

"Stop!" Julie giggles, "Don't be evil."

"I mean she was evil first, with her 'sorry you had to see that-Joost can't keep his hands to himself' bullshit." You bring your voice up a few pitches, making it whiny and obnoxious as you, perhaps unfairly, mock this girl you didn't even know. Had she even meant anything by that? By now you're convinced, convinced she had it out for you, like she didn't just become aware of your existence 30 minutes ago.

"Ugh!" Julie scoffs, "They're both evil, they were meant for each other."

"Totally."

"But yeah you could totally do some home wrecking." She shrugs, "Not that he even deserves you to try."

She's right. What good would hopping back into bed with Joost serve you?

"Right." You serve Julie a tight-lipped smile, "Think m'gonna get another drink."

"I'll be here," A wide grin on her lips.

Standing up from the couch you notice just how drunk you really were, the ground below you suddenly feeling unstable, like you were on a ship during a vicious storm. You try your best to retain your balance, your high-heeled shoes betraying you with each step forward.

Perhaps another drink was a bad idea, blacking out didn't seem like the greatest way to end your night. But then again, right now anything seemed better than being emotionally burdened with the antics of your ex-boyfriend, even if it meant getting drunk past the point of no return.

One more drink couldn't hurt.

You didn't remember the kitchen being such a far walk away, feeling like you were fighting against the crowd, against the music, against yourself just to get there.

You don't think you have the stomach for another mixed drink in its entirety, instead, once you make it to the kitchen, you opt to fix yourself a shot of whatever cheap vodka had been left out on the counter. Shaky fingers grab the mostly-empty bottle, pouring the clear liquid into the plastic cup you had been carrying around with you for half the night.

It's a little more than a shot, maybe a lot more that winds up in the cup- who knows? Your brain wasn't exactly cut out for measuring right now.

You raise the lipstick-stained rim to your lips, tipping the cup back, the bitter taste of alcohol attacking your tongue, and burning its way down your throat. You set the cup back down on the counter with a fierce swing, the plastic crushing slightly under the force of your movement. Your eyes squeeze shut as your body floods with an uncomfortable warmth. You try to shake off the initial sting of the alcohol, leaning against the counter for a moment to get yourself back together.

You take a deep inhale in, preparing yourself for the walk back to Julie, your balance once against escaping you as you step away from the counter supporting your body.

You keep your eyes trained on the floor, watching your own movements so you can correct them if needed, ignoring the people that surround you. That strategy almost immediately proving to be not the right choice when your stomach collides with someone else's elbow. You stumble backwards, the sudden movement making you lose balance all together, your ankle buckling, giving out below you. You're able to keep yourself from falling over entirely, but not able to save yourself of the pain of your ankle rolling beneath you, a slight yelp escaping your lips as you falter, the hurt hitting you immediately.

"Holy shit watch where you're-" The person you had run into suddenly halts their chastising of you, a voice you could recognize anyways. Damn your luck- colliding into the person you wanted to see least or maybe most right now. "Fuck," Joost mutters, "Sorry." His tone suddenly changing when he realizes who had hit him, "Startled me." You notice the way his words slur slightly, apparently intoxicated too, though, clearly not to the degree you had been.

You don't bother to look at him, eyes still glued to your feet, trying to ignore the pain in your ankle.

"No, sorry." You mumble, "Was in your way." You're ready to run from the building screaming now, or at the very least flee the situation to go find Julie. You're about to walk away, putting one foot forward, your body weight balanced onto the ankle you had just rolled. If you had been sober you probably would have managed to walk on it, but it seemed impossible now. You wince as the pain shoots through your foot, head finally flicking up, allowing you to get a look at Joost.

Damn him, he looked good. It was almost dark enough that you could ignore the pink sheen on his lips, you'd recognized the color, Lina's lipgloss apparently. Though, the lighting did little to hide the rough purple patches on his neck, glaring, obvious, letting everyone know just what he had been up to before he came here.

"You okay?" He asks, looking down at your feet, surprisingly concerned for the situation.

"Mmm," You hum, trying to press your weight back on your injured ankle, face immediately twisting as the pain hits your nerves once more, "M'okay."

"You don't have to lie," He chuckles, he seems so nonchalant, way more than you are, you don't understand it, talking like there was barely any history between the two of you, "I'll help you to the couch."

"No." You say plainly, forgetting to think of anything to say after that, fuck. You stare blankly at Joost for a moment, brain reeling.

"This doesn't have to be weird, you know?" Joost shakes his head, clearly a little uncomfortable under your un-breaking eye contact.

"It's weird."

"You're making it weird." That was probably true, but the nature of the situation was weird, how could you not make it such?

"You're weird."

"Just let me help you to the couch." He sighs.

"Fine." You concede, "So patronizing." As sick as the sight of him was making you now, you knew there was something in you that wanted his help- for him to put his arm around you once more, for maybe the last time- and care enough to want to make sure you're in the least amount of pain possible.

"Come on," Joost says, extending his free arm, a beer bottle held tightly in his opposite hand.

As if you weren't dizzy enough, you could lose all consciousness when he touches you, his side pressed snuggly to yours, arm tightly around your torso, his grip is firm. The second his skin touches yours you're flooded with memories, brain clouded by all the good times the two of you had had. You missed this, the reassurance of his touch, the feeling of being close to someone.

"You good?"

"Yeah." You mumble, "Good." You're nowhere near it, on the verge of tears again, the alcohol no longer inhibiting your emotional reactions despite how much more inebriated you are now. You shouldn't have let him do this, shouldn't have let him this close knowing damn well you're not the one he's going home with tonight, and you never again will you be.

"Good."

You begin your short walk over to the couch, trying to step as lightly as you can on your injured ankle each time you bring it forward.

"If it hurts too much I can carry you," Joost chuckles. Again, so nonchalant, like there's no implications behind that, like that wouldn't completely and utterly fuck with your feelings.

"No," Focusing more on your destination so you can finally get off your aching ankle.

Julie seemed to have disappeared off somewhere, her I'll be here statement clearly not meaning much. Not that you didn't expect as much, she'd have a habit of wandering when drunk.

"Thanks," you say shortly to Joost once you reach the couch, wiggling out of his grasp, as much as you don't want to.

You expect him to turn around and leave, but he doesn't, instead he sits himself on the couch, patting the cushion next to him, beckoning you to sit.

You're hesitant, looking down at him for a moment before deciding to sit. You're an awkward distance apart from each other, sitting on complete opposite ends of the small couch, a sizable gap between the pair of you.

You stare straight forward, as does Joost, watching the party, unspeaking. You wonder why he's here with you, he shouldn't want anything to do with you, just as much as you shouldn't want anything to do with him.

"You been okay?" Joost suddenly asks, turning toward you.

"Yeah, good." You can't bring yourself to look at up, unable to look him in the eyes as you lie. "Different, I guess."

"Yeah," He pauses, "Different."

And that isn't a lie, things had been different, waking up in a bed filled with nobody but yourself- no one waiting for you when you got off a long shift, no one to call at night and talk incessantly about every detail of your day- different, lonely.

"You too?" You ask, "Good?"

"Yeah." He sounds so sure of himself, like things really are good. "I'm good."

"Where's-uh Lina?"

"Outside." Joost answers plainly, "Smoking a joint with some friends, I think."

"Why don't you join them?" His absence from his girlfriend seemed peculiar to you, you'd always seen him as the clingy type.

"Meeting friends," He sucks in a breath through barred teeth, resulting in a slight whistling sound as he sucks in, "Sounds intense right now."

"You don't want to meet your girlfriend's friends?" The girlfriend word doesn't taste right in your mouth. It's bitter, and you almost have to refrain from gagging as it leaves your mouth.

"Not right now."

"Then when?"

Joost doesn't respond, perhaps not enjoying your questioning of his new relationship. Though it was odd to you regardless. To you, Joost had always been the one boyfriend invited to girls night, or brunch with your girlfriends.

You slump back into the couch, continuing to watch the partygoers, obviously in much better spirits than you are. You lay your head against the back cushion of the couch, turning to your side, facing away from Joost, unable to bear anyone's excited, smiling faces any longer.

That familiar feeling of crippling loneliness had finally fallen back on you, crushing you under its enormous weight. At a party, and here you were, near blackout and on the verge of tears on the couch. You want out, but you're not quite sure how to get there. At least at home you can sulk in your misery without dozens of other people around you shoving their happiness in your face. God you are pathetic.

"There you are!" There's that pretty voice again, Lina. "I've been looking all over for you!" You don't bother to turn around, you know she's talking to Joost, expecting any minute now for her to rip him away from you. Not that she doesn't have every right to, you are not his girlfriend any more. "What are you doing?"

"I kind of made y/n twist her ankle," You hear Joost say, "So I went to help her to the couch."

"Oh," She giggles, "So clumsy- is she asleep?"

"Just drunk," Joost chuckles. "Very drunk." You don't like the way they're talking about you in the third person, it feels patronizing, like you aren't even fully there, like they can't even give you the time of day ask you themselves.

You hear Lina laugh again before speaking,

"You should come dance!"

"In a bit, let me finish my beer first, m'kay schatje?"

You find yourself forcing your eyes shut tight, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and fold right into yourself hearing Joost call someone else such a term of endearment.

"Okay," She concedes softly, "Be quick! I'll miss you!"

After a few moments you deem it safe to look up, inferring that Lina has left and it's just you and Joost on the couch once more. You blink a few times, startled slightly when you finally turn to the side to see Joost had been staring straight at you. When your gaze meets his Joost's eyes widen, quickly looking away from you. This was weird. And you hated it more than anything.

You scan Joost for a moment, watching over his figure, noticing something peculiar,

"It's empty." You say plainly.

"Huh?" Joost furrows his eyebrows.

"The bottle." You stretch your fingers out, pointing towards the beer bottle in Joost's hands.

"So?"

"Said you'd go dance with your girly-friend when you're done." You hiccup, words slow, your tongue feeling like mush in your mouth.

"Okay?"

"Why'd you lie?" You ask, eyebrows lowering, eyelids forming a squint.

"I don't know." He shrugs, "Don't feel like dancing."

"Doesn't sound like you." A dry laugh leaves your throat, Joost, not dancing, that certainly wasn't like him. Joost had usually had trouble keeping still, always having to move whenever music was on, whether it was really playing around him or just in his head.

"Don't really feel like me." His voice is monotone, matter of fact, but it shows more emotion than he had all night.

"Sorry." You don't know what else much to say, just sorry, "You should dance with her, mmm prob'ly make her happy."

"What about you?" He looks over you, perhaps a little too intense for your liking, "Are you happy?"

"No," You respond plainly, without thinking much, not bothering to lie, "Party sucks. Think m'gonna leave."

"Good idea," He nods, and it stings a little. It's a good idea you leave? Does he want you to leave? Fuck. "Are you leaving alone?"

"Julie," You answer without context.

"Then that's a yes." The two of you well aware of Julie's drunk antics, how she'd wander off and make a whole new group of friends for a night.

"She's somewhere." You press your palm into the arm of the couch, stabilizing yourself so you can stand up. Almost immediately the room is spinning, and your vision is blurring- your injured ankle doing little to help you with your balance. Almost immediately you're falling right back onto the couch, the cushion bouncing beneath you as you hit the seat.

"Alright." Joost begins to stand up, "I'm taking you home."

"What?" You stare up at him, blinking up at him as you attempt to get your vision back.

"Look at you," He murmurs, "You're wasted." If he hadn't been speaking so softly you would have thought him to be angry with you. But he doesn't seem to be, just concerned.

"But Lina-"

"Is with her friends."

"You don't hav-"

"I am," You know you can't argue any further with him, nor do you really want to, part of you doesn't mind this, his concern for you, knowing that at least somewhere deep down he still cares, "Come on, up." Joost reaches out a hand for you to grab. It feels like the weight of the world is against you as you try to bring your hand forward to grasp onto Joost. But you manage to do it, his fingers firmly clasped around your wrist- pulling you up.

Joost doesn't relinquish his hold on you once you're up, instead he just moves to put his arm around your waist. If not for the nostalgic comfort of his touch, you're thankful for his support, knowing full well if he hadn't been holding onto you as like he was, you'd fall right back down again. You push your weight into Joost's side, letting him do most of the work to keep you upright.

"Mind staying with me tonight?" He asks, beginning to step forward, attempting to bring the two of you toward the door to leave, "I don't want you alone while you're so drunk."

Home? With Joost? You debate saying no, thinking maybe that was the right answer- who were you? Going home with the man you broke up with? Especially now that he had a girlfriend...

You can't really say no, you can't deny that you want to spend the night, and see if maybe, things would feel like they used to, you had to see it through.

"That's, 'kay." You slur, just ready to get out of there.

The Uber ride back to Joost's place had been nothing short of depressing, the two of you sat just about as far as humanly possible from each other. Which, admittedly was mostly your doing, facing your body away from Joost as you sat with your head pressed against the glass.

But now you were just glad to be somewhere other than the party, even if it was Joost's apartment.Joost's arm once again tightly wrapped around you to keep you from crashing down to your feet. Walking into Joost's apartment had felt like when you'd come back to your parents house for breaks in University, the distant warmth of memories of a happier, simpler time, reminding you of what used to be and how things have changed.

You're unsure of where to go, the walls of this home no longer as welcoming as they'd once been, feeling like you don't have the ability to roam like you'd used to.

"Tired?" He asks suddenly

"I think so." You mumble, unsure of the grogginess you feel is exhaustion, sadness, or intoxication, or a mix of all three.

"I'll help you get ready," He assures, "Think you left some stuff in the bathroom."

Joost's reminder that you had really fully removed your presence from your apartment, never bothering to come by and get your things, made you wonder if your memory still lingered here. Did he happen upon your things and remember the many nights and days you had spent here? Did he even notice at all?

Joost slowly walks you over to the bathroom, and you find yourself leaning against the sink, the counter helping you maintain your balance. Joost had been right, you had left some things at his house, finding a small package of makeup wipes under the sink. Perhaps for sober you this wasn't your ideal skincare routine, but for now it seemed perfectly adequate.

"I won't make you do it," Joost smiles, peeling back the cover of the package, and pulling out a wipe.

How often had you been here, usually unable to hold your liquor as well as Joost could, many nights spent with Joost looking after you when you'd had too much to drink. Though usually moments like these were filled with soft kisses and gentle I love you's- Joost musing at how beautiful he thought you were, something completely, and utterly missing from tonight.

Joost is gentle as he removes the makeup from your face, careful not to rub to hard as he swipes the wipe back and forth. You wonder if there's an undertone of intimacy to this, or if you're just drunk, but the way he has you leaned up against the sink, his hand on your waist to keep you stable, the two of you staring so intensely at one another. It all feels too intense.

"Close your eyes," Joost requests softly as he moves to take off your eye makeup. And you do so, lashes falling softly as he rubs over your lids. You can pretend now, with your eyes closed, for just a moment that everything is just like it used to be, you can slip away into your little fantasy where everything had worked out between you and Joost, and you had never had to make the hardest decision of your life to leave him.

Your eyes flutter open once Joost had finished taking off your eye makeup, blinking rapidly as you adjust to the bright white light of the bathroom once more.

"Almost done." He mumbles, placing the dirtied wipe on the counter.

Maybe still in your fantasy world you're unthinking when you place your hand on Joost's shoulder, his eyes darting to the side once your fingers graze him. He smiles slightly and halts his process of going for another wipe. You push your hand forward, letting the pads of your fingertips brush against the purple marks on Joost's neck.

You let your gaze linger on them, brain wandering about under what circumstances he'd gotten them, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes over his skin.

"Stop that," Joost's voice is low, soft. "Don't need to see that."

"Hard not to." You hum, letting your hand drop back down to his shoulder.

"I know," He blinks a few times, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You can't really appreciate his apology, a sorry not changing the fact now there's a girl other than you in his life.

"I am."

Things are silent for a moment between you, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own thumping heartbeat as you stare up at him. You can't tell if Joost has moved in closer to you, or if its your own lack of spacial awareness, but something is pulling you in, your neck craning toward him.

Joost tilts his head slightly, his eyes lingering on your mouth. You let your lips part, unsure of what is to come next. You feel his fingertips tighten on your waist, gripping at your flesh, his chest rising with a sharp inhale. He moves to almost dip down to reach your craning neck, almost like he's going to kiss you before he very suddenly pushes back, an uncomfortable chuckle filling the air.

"Um," He attempts to clear his throat, "Sorry, let me finish."

You feel the gaping hole in your heart grow, and you'd wondered if you'd come here with perhaps too much false hope. Stupid. You'd broken up with him, and here you were, expecting him to love all over you.

"I'll get you clothes." Joost nods, as he finishes up taking off your makeup. "And bring you to the bedroom."

Joost's leads you to his bed in the dark of his bedroom, motioning for you to sit down while he turned on the light and grabbed you something to wear.

Even more memories come flooding to you with the click of Joost's bedside lamp, the room bathed in a soft orange glow. You had probably spent more nights here than in your own room when you and Joost were together.

"This okay?" Joost sets some clothes down next to you. You lazily look through it, a black T-shirt and a pair of sweat shorts.

"Fine."

"Need help changing?"

"Don't think so."

"Okay," He nods, pulling his lips into a straight line, smiling slightly, "Don't worry I won't look."

"I don't care," Some strange part of you hoping he will look as you change, "Nothing you haven't seen before."

Joost simply steps away, heading back over to his dresser, presumably to find something else for himself to wear. You pull your shirt over your head, flinging it off somewhere in the room before replacing it with Joost's shirt. You slip your hand behind your back, up the back of the shirt, unclasping your bra, sighing as you do so, an acute relief as you slip the straps down your shoulders and shimmy out of it.

You go to bend down to take off your shoes, before stopping halfway, unable to handle the folded in half position in your drunken state, nausea creeping into you as your stomach touches your knees.

"Joost?" You ask softly, voice barely audible.

Joost turns around quickly, attention ripped from whatever he'd been doing.

"Can you help me with my shoes?" Your voice wavers, shy, like you're afraid to ask- and truthfully you are. You bite at the inside of your cheeks, painfully aware of how fast things had changed, never in your life did you think that you'd be apprehensive about speaking to Joost.

"Sure- of course." The floorboards creak under Joost as he walks over to you, getting down on his knees so he can help unbuckle the strap of your heels for you.

You stare intently at the top of his head, messy blonde strands pointing every which way. You picture yourself running your hands through it, feeling the strands under your fingertips, massaging the top of his head lovingly. You have to stop yourself from doing it, the familiarity of your surroundings combined with your drunken state- constantly having to remind yourself you're not his girlfriend anymore.

"You really thing I'm a dog?" He asks, slipping off your first shoe before pausing to stare up at you. He's asking like he really wants to know, though he was less a full grown dog now and more a puppy, looking up at you through big, blue wet eyes.

"Mhm," You hum, "Such a good boy." You giggle, lost in the way Joost looks at you, without thinking, running your palm over the top of his head like you'd pet a dog, messying his already unruly hair.

"Don't talk to me like that," Joost chuckles, "I'll cum."

"Ew," You wince, trying to stifle a laugh, pressing at Joost's chest with the ball of your foot as to push him away, "You're so gross."

"Mmm," Joost muses, "So you can smile,"

And that smile does linger on your face, for just a moment before Joost returns to taking off your shoes. You clench your jaw, sucking in a breath as Joost grabs the ankle you had injured. He quickly lets go,

"Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, letting his hand return a few seconds later, his touch lighter now. "Maybe I should take you to get that checked out in the morning."

"Maybe," You murmur, "Really hurts." The pain suddenly bringing you back to the reality of your situation.

"I'm sorry, lief- sorry." He coos, slipping off your shoe, "Can I get you something to take the edge off?"

You hardly notice the way he trips over his words, almost saying something he shouldn't have. Too focused on the prospect of actually being injured.

"Don't think so." You huff, "Know, you don't have t'do all this."

"Of course I do," Joost smooths a hand over your knee, shivers running down your spine as his touch brushes over you.

"Don't deserve it after-"

"Stop it." He immediately cuts you off, "You deserve this. And more, just sorry I'm showing you that so late."

You're not sure what to make of what Joost is saying, nor can you really make sense of his behavior. By now you've had enough of tonight, just wanting it over with.

"Just want to sleep." You don't bother responding to what Joost has said.

"Okay," Joost nods, standing up.

You shimmy awkwardly against the bed as you pull your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall down your legs once it reaches your knees, and kicking it off to the side. You don't bother to put on the shorts Joost had given you, preferring to not wear pants to bed.

Joost is standing next to the bed, bent over, peeling the comforter back from its made position so you can get under. You crawl up the length of the bed from where you had been sitting, laying down in the spot Joost had unmade for you.

"If you need anything I'll be on the couch." Joost says, pulling the blanket back over you, "Anything at all." You half expect him to finish tucking you in with a kiss and an I love you, but perhaps as much as you wish he would, those days were gone.

You let your head rest comfortably against the pillow, only humming at Joost's statement, ready to get some sleep. With another click the light is off.

"Goodnight," The floorboards creak once more as Joost heads towards the door, "Slaap lekker."

"Goodnight, Joost." You yawn.

You weren't sure how long you had been laying there restless, an hour, maybe more, maybe less. You couldn't sleep, unsure if your stomach was turning from liquor-induced nausea, or the never ending loop of you finding Joost and Lina making out in the bathroom that played every time you tried to close your eyes.

You're not sure what it is, but something is drawing you towards the light that peaks under Joost's bedroom door. You wonder if you should get up, see what Joost is up to, though you're sure he's probably passed out on the couch by now.

Though it doesn't matter much, you just need out of this bedroom. You rip the blankets off of you, the chill of the air around you hitting your exposed legs, causing you to shiver.

You're still vaguely intoxicated, evident by your dizziness as you sit up. You fling your legs over the side of the bed, careful as you step down on the ground, placing as little pressure as possible on your injured ankle as you teeter over to the bedroom door.

You stall for a moment as you touch your hand to the handle, inhaling before you finally make the decision to open the door. You peek your head from the room, then step out, feeling like a child walking to your parents bedroom to tell them you just threw up.

You peer out into the living room, noticing Joost is still awake, talking, on the phone you presume,

"Glad you got home safe," "Okay, goodnight schatje, yes, sleep well. Talk to you in the morning."

Right. Lina.

You quickly step away from the living room, hoping Joost hadn't noticed your presence. You tip-toe as fast as you can back to the bedroom, trying your hardest not to injure yourself further.

You collapse onto the bed, hot tears immediately beginning to spill out of your eyes. You shove your face into the pillow, trying to stifle your cries, your chest hiccuping as the tears continue to pour from your lash line. Tonight had been all too much, a complete, and utter mistake, truthfully you weren't ready for life after Joost, something you had barely thought of when you had decided to break things off.

You had thought things were supposed to get better after breaking off a toxic relationship, not worse. Yet here you were feeling just as low as the day you broke up, nothing had changed.

You're all too absorbed in your own emotions you don't notice when the door to the bedroom opens, a soft voice following,

"Did you need something?"

Shit. Joost. He had seen you enter the living room.

You sniff, raising your head from the pillow, thankful for the cover of the night not giving away your tear-stained face. You sniffle again, taking in a shallow breath as you try to speak.

"No-no m'okay." Your words are stuttered, clearly affected by your state.

"Are you crying?" He's suddenly concerned, and you feel the mattress dip next to you, presumably Joost sitting down on the bed.

Click. The light is on again.

The room is blurry, obscured by the heavy tears that hang from your lashes. You lower your head, quickly burying it in your hands to shield your face from Joost's view.

"C'mon," He urges. You feel his hands around your wrists, beckoning you to pull your hands from your face, "What's wrong?"

Reluctantly, you give into his touch, slowly lowering your hands from your eyes.

"Oh," Joost pouts, you're sure he's being nice, but right now it feels completely, and utterly patronizing, especially as you're crying about him and his new found relationship, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm so stupid," You sob, not having it in you to hold back your emotions anymore, "So stupid, Joost."

"No," He reaches out a hand, placing it on your shoulder, "Why do you think you're stupid?"

"Because," You choke, "Everything. Tonight. It's all stupid." You can't find the right words to tell him how you feel, knowing if you tried they would come out all wrong.

Suddenly Joost's hand on your shoulder turns into him bringing you into a hug, and pulling you onto his lap. You immediately bury your head into his neck, sobbing into the warmth of his skin.

Joost's grip is tight on you, holding you like you might leave him again, knowing you will.

You can barely find comfort in his touch, fearing how fleeting it will be.

"Crying because of me?" He asks like he already knows the answer, of course he knows the answer. You nod against him, holding him tighter, choking out a sob. Joost lets out a dry chuckle, "Not worth crying over. Wasting tears."

The idea of wasting tears had never made much sense to you, what were you meant to save them for? Something important? This was important, Joost was important, your relationship was important- and you had ruined it. That was worth crying over.

Joost rubs a hand up and down your back, trying his best to comfort you in your sorry state.

You want to yell at him, want to be angry at how he could have moved on and found someone else so quickly while you were stuck crying yourself to sleep at night. After all it had been his behavior that had lead to you breaking up, and still, he gets nothing for it? He just gets to walk away.

But you're too tired to be angry now. Not as you melt into him, his hand smoothing over the roots of your hair, his body gently moving back and forth, anything to relieve you of some of your misery.

All you can do is try to slow your breathing, try to regain some composure as you make your pathetic confession,

"Just so hard," You inhale sharply, anticipating your next words, "I still love you, I love you so much."

"I know," He sighs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of his own T-shirt, "I love you too."

a/n: haiii ^_^ long time no write.... i feel like for as angsty as the series is i haven't written straight up hb! au angst... so here we are... but be not afraid, i have another au! piece cooking up that is very much... not angst mwahhhahhah

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

stay by my side

↖ navigation: nct masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: bf! jeno x fem! reader

↬ tags: jeno refers to you as baby, ft! 00z because when will they not cause chaos, jeno and reader shares a home/ apartment!, reader is also 00z's friend!!, brief mention of period (and jeno having a period tracker for you)

summary: nothing went to plan, but jeno wasn't gonna complain

word count: 1.3k words

jeno dons on his outer coat, checking himself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. a little worried that you hadn't gotten out of bed despite the sun being sky high already, he strides over to you.

"baby, i'm about to go out. are you up?"

he wasn't going to leave the house until he knew you were awake. the sheets rustled and he pulls back the cover by a bit, "rise and shine my sleepy baby." he sits by the edge of your shared bed, head cocked to the side as he observed each and every of your moves.

you made a noise at the back of your throat—a protest to having been woken by him—and opened your eyes to meet jeno's twinkling (and more awake) ones, "hey..."

jeno immediately frowned at the scratchy tone of your voice, "you don't sound good. you feeling alright?"

“’m just tired. are you leaving now?” you cleared your throat as if attempting to get rid of the sleep in your system. “yeah. i’m out with the boys for a bowling session."

he brushes the stray strands of hair away from your face and catches you leaning into his hold. gently, he pressed his palm directly against forehead.

good, no temperature. he tucks the covers comfortably around your chest, patting you as he did. you wiggled a bit to lie down on your side, eyes half-opened as you stared back at him.

"will you be alright?" he repeats again, fingers intertwined with yours.

you yawned, “i should be. just really tired.” jeno cups your face in his hands and pressed multiple kisses all over your face, causing you to briefly smile at the affectionate action. "i'll be back as soon as i can."

"i will miss you."

that few words seemed to pierce his heart and it throbbed uncomfortably against his ribs.

as he stands up, he was torn between hanging out with his friends and also to just be there for you. you sensed his hesitance, squeezing his arm, "jeno, i'll be okay. our friends are gonna make a fuss if you don't show your handsome face in a few."

"anything you're on my hot dial, alright? just ring me." he emphasized, making sure you acknowledge his request before he leaves the room. he glances through the whole house, making sure that windows were shut, the hot water had just been boiled and everything was placed away neatly—just the way you liked it.

momentary worry gave way to anticipation when he sees the message from jaemin, telling them they were waiting downstairs. he slips on his sneakers and locks the door with a soft click, dashing down the steps 2 at a time towards the apartment's carpark.

"yo! you're here!" jaemin greets from behind the steering wheel as the window winds down. "hurry up or we're going to be late!" haechan—who was in the shotgun seat—hollered at him.

jeno makes his way over, but stopped when the image of you pitifully (you claimed you were fine...but were you really?) lying in bed surfaced in his mind. did he imagine it or were you looking a little paler too, with a slight hint of pain lacing your voice earlier?

"i...don't think i'm gonna go with you guys."

"look at him. it's definitely a lover's quarrel." haechan teased, arm slightly leaning out of the window frame. renjun cranes his neck from the back seats, "if you're grounded or something, then we're just gonna go ahead."

jaemin makes a show of inching the car forward by a few centimetres, causing all three of them to laugh.

"the kind of friends i have." jeno dramatically shakes his head. "one, i'm not having a lover's quarrel. two, i'm not grounded. the thing is, my lover is just feeling under the weather and i don't feel assured leaving her alone."

"jeno being a sappy lover is difficult for my mind to wrap around. he didn't even visit me when i broke my arm." jaemin joked to break the tension and everyone laughed again.

"i'm sorry guys. i know we've planned this for a while now."

haechan waved him off, "we get it, loverboy. now go before i start gagging!" renjun smacks the back of haechan's head, earning him a pained "ow!", before looking back jeno, "jeno-ah, just go up. we'll get going first."

jeno spun around, "i'll treat y'all to something next time. i promise."

----

as jeno makes his way back up, he receives a notification from the period tracker app and everything clicks into place. the way you were subtly hunched over yesterday, mentioning about how your back hurt and even the resurgence of your chocolate cravings all made sense now.

jeno slots the key into the lock and swings open the door. as expected, you were in deep sleep considering the fact that everything was still in place. toeing off his shoes by the door, he closed it shut behind him and hurriedly made his way over to the room.

"baby..." he greets and you groggily gazed at him. "didn't you just leave...? why did you come back?" despite your words sounding like you wanted him to go, your opened arms begged him to stay. and stay he would, as he comes up to you, "i'm worried for you, so i came back."

the face you made was worth it because you tugged him even closer, till his entire body was up on the bed and toppled over you. with his arms bracketing your body, you were effectively caged in his warm embrace.

"you didn't have to..." he chuckles when you hid your warm face in the juncture of his neck, his body relaxing knowing that it was the right thing to have chosen to stay by your side.

"i know that. i wanted to. the guys were chill with it." he pushed himself up on his elbows, a hair's breadth away from your blushing face. "so...how does netflix and chill sound?"

"i would love that. hopefully our friends don't get too mad that we're spending time again this week."

----

much to your surprise, the other 3 made their appearance by the door, armed with takeout and other goodies mid movie.

"what are you doing here?" jeno stands with his arms on his hips, bewildered. the movie was playing in the background and you peeked out your head from amidst the soft blankets, "haechan? jaemin and renjun?"

"because these two were bickering about how not fun it would be without you or actually either of you two. and then when we reached the alley, the booking got cancelled because we were actually really late. so we decided to crash your pity party." renjun summarized, not forgetting to point to the two troublemakers.

haechan being haechan, shuffles into the dim apartment which was set up for the movie, "i think this is better than the bowling alley. there were too many kids there anyways." jaemin huffs, "you're the real problem here haech. anyways where is my bestie!"

jaemin pushes past jeno, sheds off his coat and makes himself comfortable beside you. he gave you a once over before wagging his fingers, "girl, you look like you need some of these food. eat up and don't even try to feed your self-sufficient boyfriend."

you burst out laughing at the whole situation: an appalled jeno staring at the three of them making themselves in you two's shared home (you did say they were welcomed anytime they wanted to), haechan already starting to eat the takeout, renjun raiding your kitchen for utensils and cups, jaemin who was outright haggling you in front of your boyfriend.

jeno clambers onto the sofa, manhandling you out of jaemin's grasp. jaemin huffs, but immediately got distracted by the food haechan held out to him, renjun automatically rewinding the movie to the start so that they could watch it.

"a stay at home kinda day huh?"

"wouldn't change it for the world."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[charmandabear]

11. Astarion x Reader 👀

We're not going to worry about how long it'll take me to answer these. We're not going to talk about it. Listen, I'm trying so hard to not make these into whole things, I just want to treat them like writing exercises, but I physically can't not finish smut once it's started.

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game ~ other entries

11. "I touched myself last night thinking about you." "I know."

Tags/Warnings: reader isn't gendered but has a vulva, blood/blood drinking, p in v sex, somewhat rough sex (reader gets a little feral in this one)

You're not subtle about it at all.

Every time he catches you staring, you quickly turn your head. At one point you even just shift your eyes, trying to pretend you're looking at something behind him. But there's no way he isn't at least a little suspicious.

Since the night you let Astarion bite you, the tension between the two of you has been palpable. Something about having him pressed down on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hand cradling your neck in a way that was disproportionately gentle set something on fire inside you. You really thought that you could just get over your little crush if you got it out of your system. Sate the need and you could go back to just being friends... Or whatever you are with him.

But it had the opposite effect. Now, his very presence turns you on. The wind catches his scent and you instinctively press your thighs together. He grins after making some sassy remark to Gale, and the glint of his fangs in the light makes your mouth go dry. You even need to suppress a moan when he gets a particularly impressive kill. You really hope no one heard that one.

So now, sitting around the campfire with the rest of your companions, you're just trying desperately to appear normal. You laugh absentmindedly at whatever joke Karlach just made while in your mind, Astarion's railing you up against a tree. It's only when you realize that Wyll has been trying to ask you a question for the past 90 seconds that you know you're too far gone to be in polite company.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it, long day," you make the excuse lamely. "I'm going to turn in a little early, I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Shadowheart asks with a frown. "I've got some herbal remedies that might help."

"I'm fine, I think I just need some rest." You force a smile onto your face. "'Night, all." You walk back to your tent stiffly, speeding up to cover the last few meters quickly. Your breath wracks through your body and your blood pounds in your ears. You've never - never - gotten this worked up over another person, never mind a man. Honestly, he's not even really your usual type, you'd normally be much more likely to pursue someone like Shadowheart. But she so clearly has a thing for Karlach, and that's not something you'd want to get in the way of.

But this pale, devastatingly handsome vampire elf has your desire in a chokehold.

You light a lantern inside your tent and take out your journal to sketch. You try to conjure some of the imagery you saw today to keep your brain off Astarion. Scratch and the owlbear cub playing. The terrifying harpies that almost lured one of the tiefling children. Astarion's blade dripping with harpy blood while his bright red eyes sparkle with mischief and the thrill of he kill.

Fucking hells.

You eventually put your journal away and lay down on your bedroll, staring at the ceiling of your tent while the others continue to chat and laugh outside. You listen to their conversation die down, their goodnights, and finally the distant sound of crickets and other nighttime fauna. Your eyes start to grow heavy, or at the very least bored of looking at the support rods in your tent.

You only realize that you've drifted to sleep when you're startled awake by a soft tapping on the canvas flap that separates you from the rest of camp.

"Y-yes?" Your voice is shakier than you'd like, although it's not like a vicious creature would politely knock on your makeshift door. The flap lifts up to reveal the literal last person you'd like to see right now.

"Hello, darling," Astarion grins in that irresistible way that he does. "I wanted to check in on our fearless leader. You've seemed dreadfully jumpy all day."

"Oh! Um." You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "I'm.. fine. Thank you, Astarion." You nod your head in a gesture of dismissal, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure? You're positively flushed." His smile suggests he knows more than he's letting on. You chew on your lower lip to distract you from the growing ache between your legs.

"I'm perfectly fine, Astarion, thank you. Good night." You reach to close the tent flap but he holds onto it. Your fingers brush against his and it's like a jolt of lightning passes between your hands.

"I'm not buying it," he hums, dropping his voice. He pushes his way into your tent and you scramble backwards. The last thing you need is for him to touch you - you might not be able to control yourself if he does. "Now tell me, what's had you so hot and bothered all day?"

"N-nothing," you stammer, wishing you could just disappear on the spot. He raises an eyebrow and you backpedal. "Well, fine, I think something Gale cooked isn't sitting quite right with me. I was... embarrassed." The lie rings hollow even to you.

"Come now, love, we both know you're a terrible liar." He crawls towards you on his knees, a predator stalking his prey. Your breath catches in your throat. "Do you have something you need to confess?"

You're trapped. You've run out of room in the tent to back away, and Astarion has all but crawled on top of you. His scent is intoxicating and his eyes gleam in the low light. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I touched myself last night thinking about you."

"I know." The grin that curls across his face is fiendish. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"You know?" Then you gasp suddenly. "The tadpole..."

Astarion lets out a bark of a laugh, loud enough that you're worried it might wake your other companions. "Darling, I didn't need a tadpole to figure that one out. Like I said, you're a terrible liar." He nudges his knee closer to the apex of your legs and you can feel your arousal making your underclothes wet. "What I want to know is, how did you picture me? My head between your legs? Did I have you on all fours in the forest? Or..." His lips ghost against yours now and your head feels dizzy with lust. "Or perhaps I had you pinned down in this very tent, taking my time as I had my way with you?"

Your instincts take over and you close the minimal distance between you, pulling him down on top of you as you ravage his lips. You claw at his clothing, no longer interested in maintaining decorum. He tears at the laces of your breeches, pulling them down below your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to the open air. A cry rips through your throat as he licks a thick stripe up your slit, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls up on his knees and grins down at you, open and wanton, as he slips out of his pants.

"So very eager," he hums as he frees his cock, engorged and already dripping. A shudder runs through you as you see it, and you yank on his shirt and pull him down to meet you. You kiss him roughly, catching his lower lip in your teeth as you hook your leg around his waist.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Astarion," you hiss through gritted teeth, and you groan loudly when he easily sinks in up to his base.

"Someone wants the whole of camp to hear," he growls in your ear as he begins to slowly thrust into you.

"Then you better make it quick so we don't wake them," you snarl in response, all pretenses having vanished. You tangle your fingers into his hair and press his face to your neck. You feel his lips stretch into a smile just before he sinks his fangs into you, the icy shard of pain melting into the heat of his mouth warming with your blood.

You jut your hips up into him, desperately chasing your release as he drinks his fill. He fucks into you, hard and messy, and before long you're feeling the pressure building in your core.

"Gods, Astarion, don't stop," you gasp hungrily in his ear, and he increases his pace to a punishing rhythm. You're starting to grow faint from blood loss just as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your walls clench and shudder around his length and he tears his mouth away from your neck, his expression wild and bloody. A few more broken ruts and you can feel him spilling inside you, the feeling his pulsing cock prolonging your own climax.

The two of you eventually still, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting heavily. Your ears strain to hear if there has been any disturbance in camp to indicate that your other companions heard anything. Outside your tent remains, thankfully, silent.

"Well then," Astarion exhales quickly as he slides out of you. "Darling, if it's going to be like that, then you just need to invite me next time."

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 9

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.9k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: Something is up with Din.

a/n: Happy Wednesday! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: some angst, fluff, touching, dancing, ogling, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos)

Chapter 9

Between the April mixed program and Cinderella, your rehearsals with Din hit a wall. 

You hadn’t been expecting it — things were going so well, and you’d found such ease with each other. Or so you’d thought. But suddenly, only days after your so-called feelings freak out and confession to Adrian, there was a tension between you that you thought you’d gotten rid of weeks ago. Unless it was something new, you worried. Unless it was because of you. You really hoped it wasn’t.

It wasn’t quite like January all over again, but you started to miss each other. You were tense. It was feeling more and more like dancing with a stranger than with the partner you’d gotten to know, that you had put so much time into connecting with. You were growing more and more frustrated at the idea of going backwards. You didn’t want to struggle like that again.

With just one month to go before the anniversary gala, and only Cinderella standing between it and you, you were starting to worry that you’d lost whatever it was that was making this pas de deux work. 

And despite Adrian’s reassurances, you hoped it wasn’t because of the realization you’d had when Din smiled at you. You wracked your brain, but you couldn’t think of anything else it could be. If all of this sudden tension was coming from you, simply because you’d finally given in and named your own feelings, you were going to have to be the one to fix it. But you couldn’t seem to figure out what you were doing differently.

In your next practice, after a couple of weeks of growing problems in rehearsals, Kuiil looked pensive. You didn’t like that he seemed to be frowning. “There is something that is missing. We must find it, before we can move forward.” He looked between you and Din and you resisted the urge to cross your arms. “There is a barrier between you that we must lower, before we can find success in the third movement.”

You tried to hide your wince. You nodded, and glanced at Din. His expressionless mask was back in place, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach at the sight. 

“I am going to add more practice time for you both, without me. Work through this. I know you will.” He looked at you and, without another word, waved you out. Din crossed the threshold and disappeared down the hall before you could so much as say his name.

…

The next day you hesitantly made your way to the small practice room Kuiil had booked for your extra rehearsal with Din. It was the same one you and Din had had your first real talk in, and you hoped that was a good sign.

When you stepped inside, your hope started to dwindle. Din met you with his expressionless mask in place. It had been so long since he hid from you like that, when it was just the two of you. It put you on edge.

“Hi,” you said, sitting to put on your shoes. “Should we—” talk, you were going to say, but Din interrupted you.

“Let’s start with the third,” he said, voice flat. You frowned but nodded.

“Alright,” you said softly. For a moment you thought he might respond, but then he turned towards the sound system and you could only furrow your brow at his back, wondering what was going on. Now that you were alone and not so focused on your own worries with Kuiil watching, it was like you could see Din clearly. For the first time in weeks. Maybe it’s not just you, after all.

You ran through the third movement once, but somehow it felt even worse than in practice. The choreography for the third was complex – unlike the second, when you circled each other, in the third you were in almost constant contact. You barely stepped away from each other. At times Din was chasing you, at others you guided him. You reflected each other and supported each other, all the while growing closer and closer. 

At least, you were supposed to. You had to be totally in sync to make this choreography work and suddenly it felt wrong, all wrong. You didn’t even make it to the end. About halfway through, as Din was about to lift you, you felt his hands grab your hips in the wrong position and winced. 

Before you could think about it, you said, voice flat, “Stop.”

Din stopped instantly. He’d barely raised you a few inches but he set you down so gently it made you soften.

“Are you ok?” He asked, taking a step back. He sounded concerned, at least, even if he wasn’t showing it in his face.

“Din…” you started, unsure of what to say. “What’s going on?” You settled on the most straightforward question you could think of. “It was going well, but now… it’s like it was before… before. What happened?” You hoped he had an answer for you, and that it wasn’t just because you were letting your silly little crush affect your dancing. 

He looked down and took a deep breath. When he looked back up at you, the mask was finally gone. You sucked in a sharp breath at his expression.

He looked anxious. He even looked a little afraid. 

“Din—” you started, but he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “It’s… shit. It’s me and I’m just getting in my head again. I thought I could…” he trailed off, and then shook his head at himself. “I’m nervous.”

You tilted your head and stepped closer to him. You wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but you didn’t want him to shy away. “Nervous?”

He met your eyes again, and then nodded. “I… this might sound ridiculous.”

Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. “I doubt it, Din. It’s clearly bothering you.”

He sighed and looked down at the floor, to your right. “I’ve never… it’s not the dance. And it’s not you.” He glanced up at you without lifting his head and you tried not to think about him looking at you through his lashes. “It’s… the costume.”

You blinked. The costume? You thought back and realized you had been fitted for your final costumes the same week you had your big feelings freak out in the small break room with Adrian. “The costume? What do you mean?”

He turned and started pacing in front of you. His hands were clenched into fists. “I’ve never… CBC was so traditional. All of the costumes, they usually looked like something you’d wear to an old fashioned court. Something with long sleeves and multiple layers and flowy fabric and frills.” He stopped, facing away from you, and you watched as his shoulders slumped. You froze. His shoulders that were covered in a tight, long sleeve black shirt. You suddenly realized that you’d never seen him in anything less than partial sleeves, and only then on stage, in other costumes. You took another step forward as he continued, “it’s been over a decade since I wore anything like that costume, since I’ve been so…” He trailed off without finishing his thought.

Your eyebrows flew upward, and you were glad he couldn’t see the surprise on your face. His costume was much, much different than what he’d just described to you. In the first place, there wasn’t a shirt at all. It was only shorts, really. Very short black shorts. And a bit of body paint.

You blinked. You suddenly thought you might understand the problem.

“Din,” you said, and reached out to touch his shoulder. He turned slightly to look at you, and you saw his anxiety plain on his face. 

“I know,” he said, before you could say anything but his name. “It’s silly. It’s foolish. I feel like a fool. A dancer, afraid of a costume?” He scoffed at himself, and your heart sank. “My job is to perform for people.” He sounded like he was working himself up, and you couldn’t stand it.

You moved around him and, facing him, grasped his shoulders. He looked up at you, startled. “Din,” you said again, and this time you didn’t let him interrupt you. “It’s not foolish to feel uncomfortable in a costume. It doesn’t matter how many you’ve worn before, or how many times you’ve performed. That doesn’t necessarily make you comfortable with every possible costume there is.”

He blinked and opened his mouth, but you kept going.

“You said you haven’t worn anything like this in years, right?” He nodded. “Ok. And what if I told you I was nervous about wearing a costume that revealed what I usually had hidden behind tutus or skirts? Would you think I was foolish?”

He dropped his gaze, but shook his head. 

“No,” you murmured. “You see? It’s ok. I… thank you for telling me.”

For a moment neither of you said anything. When he looked back up at you and thanked you, his face was more open than it had been in weeks. You hadn’t even realized how much he must have been hiding from you until he stopped. 

You smiled at him, and he smiled tentatively back. You started to slide your hands down his arms, to release him, but he caught them both in a gentle grip. You felt your face heat. You were, effectively, holding hands. You tried to ignore it but he squeezed your hands gently.

“You’re right,” he said. “But I… I don’t know how to… get comfortable.” He sounded so uncomfortable at the idea that you winced sympathetically. 

“Well,” you said, “it seems like you don’t want to ask for something different, for the costume.”

He shook his head firmly. “No. I won’t… I want to be different. Now.”

You considered that, and wondered if you could ask. You decided to try. “What do you mean by different? It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”

He looked down. You waited for an answer, and as the silence lengthened, you worried you had overstepped. But then he seemed to nod to himself, and answered, “at CBC there are… rules. A lot of rules.” He paused again and shook his head, still looking down instead of meeting your eyes. “You can probably guess some of them – perfect technique, discipline. It’s all about the group. Individual artistry is not… encouraged.”

You squeezed his hands, trying to offer some sort of comfort since he still wasn’t looking at you.

“Everything is predictable. The roles are always the same, and the only thing that ever changes is the choreography or the staging, not…” he sighed. “Not what a dancer can bring to a role. It almost doesn’t matter who’s dancing it. That’s not really… important.”

You turned that over in your mind. You’d definitely had performances where you felt more exposed in a costume, but it also went hand-in-hand with your own artistry. That had always been part of it, at NBT and where you danced before, even when the choreography was playing with unified movement or group dynamics. You could see how Kuiil’s choreography and now this costume would make him feel exposed. There was nothing to hide behind — it was all on show.

“But it’s important to you, right?” you asked. You were pretty sure you knew what he meant by different.

Din nodded and finally looked at you. His brow was furrowed but his expression was open. “I realized, when we did Giselle – I was Albrecht – that I was missing something. I went to school at CBC, obviously, so they trained me, and then I started with the company when I was 17. I didn’t… I’d never known anything different. I thought we were doing everything the right way. They think it’s the only way. But then we did Giselle, just a couple of years ago, and after one of the performances I met Kuiil.”

You squeezed his hands again in surprise. You’d noticed that he seemed comfortable with Kuiil, and suddenly that made sense. He squeezed back.

“I’d already gotten some negative feedback about my performance from CBC, about everything except my technique. So I thought I was doing something wrong. But I–” he closed his eyes again and you let yourself watch his face as he remembered. “I liked it so much. I felt like I was really telling a story for the first time. That I was playing a character and not just filling a hole. I didn’t know what to think, when it felt so right to me and they thought it was wrong. I think Kuiil must have noticed.” He opened his eyes again and immediately met your gaze. “He approached me after the show and said, ‘there is an artist inside of you that is fighting to reach the surface. You can do more.’”

You smiled, wryly. “Sounds like Kuiil.”

Din laughed, shortly. “That wasn’t all he said. But that’s the part that stuck with me. And from then on… I stopped fitting into the mold, into what they wanted me to be. It wasn’t obvious at first. But eventually no one could ignore it anymore.”

You wanted to ask about that, but Din suddenly stood up straighter and squeezed your hands again. “So… this is hard for me. I don’t have anywhere to hide in this piece. It’s just me out there, so much more than in anything else I’ve ever done. So much relies on what I can bring to it. And now, with this costume…” He shook his head and looked at you.

You thought about that, about suddenly being dropped into such an unfamiliar situation, and you had an idea. “Din, what if we practiced?”

Din looked at you and frowned. “Practiced?”

You nodded. “In these extra rehearsals, when it’s just the two of us. You could… practice. Dance without your shirt. If you get used to it around me, it would probably feel easier on stage. And hey, it’s not just you out there, right? It’s you and me, together. Partners.” When you’d started talking, you’d been certain that this was a good idea. But as you finished, you realized exactly what you’d just done to yourself.

Din’s mouth lifted in that little half smile and you felt your heart rate pick up. “Practice, just you and me. That’s smart. I like it. Ok.”

“Ok?”

He nodded. “Let’s practice.” He let go of your hands and closed his eyes. You watched as he drew in a deep breath. As he let it out, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and, after a pause, stripped it off in one fluid movement. Like he was ripping off a bandaid. 

Fuck. 

You couldn’t help but look. The lines of his chest as he turned and then the strong muscles in his back, all on display for you. Your eyes darted from his biceps to his shoulders to the curve of his waist. He was wearing tights under his sweats and somehow it only emphasized the strength in his hips. 

You were glad he’d turned away from you almost immediately, walking towards his bag to put his shirt inside. You could see your expression in the mirror and swore at yourself. Shit, get it together. You blinked and rubbed your hands over your face. By the time he turned back towards you, you’d rearranged your face into something vaguely neutral. You hoped so, at least.

“Ok?” You asked, trying valiantly not to let your gaze drop to his chest again. His very toned, muscular, attractive, perfect chest. Fuck. He was already nervous, you reminded yourself. Don’t fucking stare. 

Din nodded. He clenched his fists but then released them, shaking out his hands. His shoulders looked a little tense but nothing like before. “Ok.”

You were glad he was ok. You were starting to worry that you might not be ok.

“Great!” You said, maybe a little too brightly. “Let’s try it again.” You turned away from him to walk towards the sound system, needing just a moment again to school your features. Get it the fuck together, you berated yourself silently while you queued up the music. “The third?”

“Yes,” he agreed. By the time you turned around, he was in position and ready to start. You squared your shoulders and joined him. 

As the music started, his body moved in unison with yours, and your heart swelled. Almost immediately it was clear — your connection was back. Clearing the air had torn down the wall between you and it felt so good to be dancing with him like this again. Every movement felt connected and real and you were giddy, so giddy you could almost distract yourself from the fact that his chest was bare before you. Bare for you to touch. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you finished the choreography you’d finalized with Kuiil so far. You turned around to find him smiling, too. “Much better,” you said, grinning. 

Din nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

His smile softened. “You always know what to do. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You pretended not to notice your face getting hot. “Hey, this is a partnership, Din Djarin. We help each other.” 

He laughed, and you tried not to let it show on your face how beautiful he was when he did.

...

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a/n: aren't we glad they figured that out? lol

Costumes -- so this is maybe the first time in the fic that we might be stretching ballet reality a little bit, lol, but not too much. It's a little bit unrealistic for a company to be so traditional as I describe CBC, but there are definitely companies that are more like that. Many have at least a few contemporary numbers in their repertoire these days, with more contemporary costumes. But it isn't totally wild for Din to have this issue and these nerves if he's been with the same company all his life (and he has -- he went to school there, too). So while he might have been less covered up in rehearsals and such, especially when he was younger, it's just been a really long time (years) since he's been so exposed on stage. And add that to him feeling so exposed about dancing a new style, and well. Also, when I say exposed, I mean something like this. Or this. (for those in the know, they're one of the companies that does covered up men in Le Corsaire, ok?)

Giselle - Din mentions that he was Albrecht in Giselle at CBC. Albrecht is definitely one of the most technically difficult roles for men in ballet, but in most companies, it would also be tough because of the acting required. Giselle is a romantic ballet, and definitely one that CBC does begrudgingly because it's popular and draws in a crowd. It's too emotional for them, all about narrative and emotions, and CBC is all about distance and ethereal technique. Din would have gotten the role at 25, which is seen by some as kind of young for Albrecht! But he got it because of his skill, and then he did too much with it for CBC to be happy. Here's a few versions of Albrecht's famous variation (Simkin, MacKay, Simkin on stage, Bolle, Hallberg) which happens after he visits Giselle's grave and is feeling extremely guilty, and is also pleading for his own life as he dances. In a more emotion-friendly company he's meant to be in agony.

[nebulousbrainsoup]

quiet

🌙 SUMMARY: sometimes, your boyfriend has a little trouble expressing himself. he gets stuck in that pretty head of his, thoughts swirling like a storm. thankfully, you know just how to help him out of it. 🌙 PAIRING: kang yeosang x gn!reader 🌙 GENRE: fluff, smut 🌙 AU/TROPE INFO: established relationship, comfort after hurt 🌙 WORD COUNT: 1.8k 🌙 TAGS/WARNINGS: non-sexual dom/sub dynamics, stressed yeosang, stress/anxiety reactions, non-verbal yeosang for some of this, explicit discussion/negotiation of d/s dynamics & safety measures, pet names/nicknames (my Sangie, baby, angel, the rest happen in the smut lol), nonverbal cues as communication, subspace, brief mentions of food and eating, cuddling, not proofread 🌙RATING: mature 🌙 A/N: this is... a new venture for me, as far as released fics go. i have about a million blurbs like this that will never see the light of day, but after what happened yesterday... i had to give my boy some comfort. i hope you enjoy <3 🌙 smut tags under the cut ; divs from @cafekitsune 🌙 masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

🌙 SMUT TAGS/WARNINGS: clothed sex, dom/sub dynamics, dry humping, cumming in pants, emotional release crying, traffic light check-in system, pet names ([my] Sangie, baby, angel, baby boy, sweetheart, good boy), reader is possessive, gratuitous praise, humiliation if you squint, sub!yeosang, dom!reader

The moment your apartment door swung open, you knew something was wrong. It wasn’t the act itself that threw you; unannounced visits weren’t Yeosang’s style and, as you had come to expect, he had texted you before coming over. There was nothing telling about the way it opened either, the quiet creak of the hinges a welcome familiarity over top of the tension you felt radiate through the space. No version of the sing-song greeting you were accustomed to met your ears as you heard it click shut, and you frowned. The crease between your brows only deepened as you heard his bag hit the floor of the entryway, your jaw tightening. 

This wouldn’t do.

Quiet footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen but you paid them no mind, focusing entirely on the pot of soup in front of you. A small, pleased noise sounded from the doorway, and within moments, strong arms were wrapped around your waist and Yeosang was burying his nose into your hair. You basked in the touch for a moment, letting yourself indulge despite your boyfriend’s disregard for your rules. With a steadying breath, you clicked your tongue in disapproval, moving to step out of his grasp as you reached for a cabinet above you. He only coiled tighter around you as you shifted, a broken little whimper leaving him and three gentle taps landing on your hip.

Your heart broke as you settled back onto your feet, recalling a months-old conversation for the hundredth time.

“So, I’m okay with all of that. It’s really stuff I already do anyway,” Yeosang affirmed, a pretty blush coloring his cheeks and ears as he looked over the tablet in front of him. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m like… breaking in or something when I walk in.” 

You both giggled at that. “So greeting me should be easy, then. We’re starting out simple, Sangie, that’s kind of the point of this.”

He nodded in understanding, fingers tapping against the table. “So, one thing I already do and one new thing.” 

It was your turn to nod, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It’s kind of selfish too, honestly… I know I don’t have a lot of space, but even just giving your bag a more permanent home than by the door just… feels nice. It feels like you’re not going to run out on me over the little things.” 

The look he directed back up at you was one of sheer adoration, and you felt your stomach flip. “Of course I wouldn’t.” 

It was your turn to blush. You had to pause, gathering your wits before opening your mouth to speak but, to your surprise, your boyfriend beat you to it. “There’s just one thing. I… Sometimes, if I have a particularly overwhelming day, I don’t always… have words. And I don’t want to keep myself away from you or get in trouble with you on my worst days just because I’m too in my head to speak.” 

Something gripped at your heart, squeezing it tight. “We can do nonverbal cues, like we do during regular scenes. You could tap me three times to let me know you’re out of words, if that works? That way you can still use your double tap to safeword, even outside of the bedroom, but you don’t have to push yourself to provide an explanation.”

His eyes lit up, a soft little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s perfect.”

You had known it would happen at some point, but that didn’t keep your heart from hurting. “Oh, my Sangie,” you murmured, reaching back to card a hand into his hair. Another pitiful whimper left him and some of the tension drained from his shoulders at the attention. “I need to finish dinner, baby.” Again, a whine of protest, and his grip around you tightened. “Angel,” you prodded, and sighed internally when the pet name had him melting against you. “You can have all the attention you want in ten minutes after I finish dinner. Why don’t you go put your bag where it’s supposed to be and curl up on the couch in the meantime, hm? Pick out a show for us to watch while we eat.” 

He huffed a sigh but you felt him nod against your neck and squeeze you tight once more, pressing a kiss to your head before heading off back into your apartment. You turned, watching him go with a pained expression. 

No, this wouldn’t do at all.

The moment the last drop of soup was gone from both of your bowls, your dishes were swept away, deposited in the sink by your boyfriend, who quickly bundled himself up into your lap upon his return. You chuckled quietly, carding a hand into his hair as you sprawled out on the couch, his ear pressed against your steady heartbeat. Between the dull roar of the drama on the screen, the soothing rhythm of your fingers in his hair, and the warmth of the blanket across his legs, Yeosang quickly found the worries of his day fading away. His mind went hazy as he melted against you, eyes slipping shut as comfort and safety overtook him, lulling him into a familiar, floaty headspace. He felt more than heard your chuckle as you took note of the change, scratching fondly at his scalp.

The drag of your nails sparked the pleasant warmth in his gut to something stronger, a low groan leaving him that seemed to startle both of you. He jolted in your lap, eyes blinking back open, and you chuckled quietly as a flush painted his cheeks and ears. You grinned at him and he whined, burying his face back into your chest. The squirming only brought another fond laugh to your lips, this one cut short in a gasp as Yeosang froze, another whimper leaving his lips.

He was hard beneath his sweats, his length now pressed into your thigh from his shifting. The tips of his ears were tinted bright red, and you smiled fondly as you cupped his chin. He turned his chin up to you willingly, eyes wide and glassy. 

“Needy, baby?” You teased, and he nodded immediately in response. “Do you have your words back? You know I don’t like playing if my angel can’t talk to me.” 

His eyes left yours for a moment as his brow furrowed in thought, but when he met your gaze again, he nodded resolutely. “‘M green,” he murmured, voice gravelly from disuse.

You beamed at him, shifting to grind your thigh against his arousal and delighting in the weak little noise you pulled from him. “My good boy,” you purred, carding a hand back into his hair. 

Yeosang groaned as he shifted up and braced himself on his forearms, burying his face into your neck to press soft kisses to your skin. Slowly, you let one hand drop to his hip, guiding him to grind against your thigh. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, another broken sound leaving him as he quickly settled into a steady rhythm.

“Is this what you want, angel? To grind yourself on my thigh and cum in your pants like a teenager?” He whined, burying his nose against your neck. You sighed as the combined sensations lit a shudder down your spine, holding your boyfriend close to you. “Want me to get you off just like this?” His hips stuttered, and you felt him nod against your neck. “Words, baby.”

“Y-Yes,” he gasped, and you bit your lip to bite back a groan. God, he sounded so wrecked already. Had floating in subspace for you really affected him this much? “If… Wanna take care of you, too, but it feels so good, ngh…”

He trailed off, hips rolling faster against your leg, and this time you couldn’t bite back a quiet, pleased moan. “Don’t worry about me, angel. Tonight’s all about you, okay? My baby boy had a long day,” he buried his face into your shoulder at this, another whine leaving him, and you felt your chest tighten again, “so he gets to choose how he cums tonight.” 

Once more, his hips stuttered and his breath caught at once. “Wanna… like this. Then,” he gasped, teeth nipping at your throat as he rutted harder against you, “then…” He trailed off with a high whine, his movement against you becoming more desperate.

“Don’t worry about what comes after, sweetheart. Just worry about now. You’re here, with me, doing so well and looking so pretty for me, and that’s all that matters, okay angel?” 

He tensed in your arms, a half-choked sob escaping his lips, and when you felt the first warm, wet tears drop against your skin, your heart dropped. The hand still resting against his scalp dug in and you tugged, trying to pull him away from you. A sound slipped from his lips that was positively wrecked, and one hand snapped up from the couch to bunch your shirt up in his fist. The desperation he clung to you with as he chased his high had you hesitating, but the tension in your shoulders remained.

It seemed Yeosang noticed, his lips pressing urgently over your neck to soothe you, words spilling from his lips unfiltered as you remained rigid. “I’m good, I’m okay, I’m s–so, oh, green, please, it just f–feels s’good and I… need this, need you—”

His reassurance had you relaxing, nails scraping against his scalp once more and pulling another pretty noise from him. “Just feels too good, doesn’t it, angel?” He nodded furiously into your neck and you breathed a laugh, shifting where you sat. There was no denying the effect this—your boyfriend, trembling and sobbing in your lap, overwhelmed with pleasure—was having on you. 

Gently, you coaxed his chin up as you had before, meeting his teary eyes with a warm smile. “You look so pretty like this, Sangie. You can cum whenever you want, okay? You have my permission.” 

He let out another broken sob, hips rolling against you once, twice more before they stuttered into aborted little jerks. You watched, enthralled, as his jaw dropped open and his eyes blinked shut, the pooling warmth of his release evident even through the layers separating you.

“There you go, baby,” you sighed, leaning in to catch his lips in a deep kiss. You were both breathless when you parted, resting your foreheads against each other. “Feel better?” Yeosang nodded, humming affirmation. “Good. Now, let’s go clean you up, and you can tell me all about those plans you have for later, hm?” 

The groan he muffled into your neck had you giggling once more, pressing a reassuring kiss into his hair. This was better.

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[cllightning81]

Labrador Retriever [DR3]

Summary : You and Daniel were dating, or were you? You basically were, but those words had never left each other's mouth. As an apology, Daniel surprises you with a little puppy.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist Dogs Masterlist Daniel Ricciardo Masterlist Tag List

A/N : This man is a golden retriever, but I've got that down as another driver, so I went for a pup as close as possible. Reminder my requests are still open for the moment!

You and Daniel had been best friends for years for so long that you picked up on each other's habits, and we're basically dating without the acknowledgement that you were dating. 

From sharing beds in hotel rooms to little dates to everyone thinking you were off limits and with Daniel. However, the situation was a little more complicated than just friends being a little too friendly. There were shared kisses, some more heated kisses, and sometimes it went a little bit further than just kissing. 

It wasn’t until after a night out celebrating a good race when an argument broke out between. Harsh words were said between the two of you as you almost stumbled up to the shared hotel room. Daniel followed behind you, keeping his distance, knowing that's what was best for that moment. 

You pulled your heels off, falling onto the bed as Daniel walked straight into the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. You just lay on the bed. Sobs quietly rack your body before Daniel crouched down in front of you. 

“I’m not going to make you listen to me. I just want to take your makeup off because I know you’ll hate yourself if you don’t” You quietly just close your eyes, letting him remove your makeup without any other words being said. 

Once Daniel was done, he pressed a kiss to your hairline before standing up and making his way to the couch. Daniel lay down on the couch as you pulled the cover over yourself, curling up on the bed. 

You lay there for hours, tears falling from your eyes as you thought about what was said between you and Daniel. Daniel had fallen asleep, the alcohol in his system taking over. You eventually gave up. Now completely forgotten what the argument was even about in the first place. 

You looked over at Daniel before making your way over to him on the couch you sighed as you climbed on top of him. His arms instantly wrapping around your frame as you lay there only being able to sleep in his arms was something that you really need to get out of the habit of. 

You started as a Red Bulls photographer all those years ago when Daniel started racing and became his friend, and now this was the position you were in. You got to travel with him, be with him but it wasn’t exactly the same. You weren’t in a relationship, which is how the argument started. 

A guy was flirting with you, and you flirted back because you weren’t in a relationship. You were technically still single, but Daniel didn’t like the fact you were flirting with some other guy. Poor Max had been dragged into it being sent over to ‘save’ you from the man who was just being friendly. 

Daniel rubbed his hand down your back with a sigh as he woke up from his sleep. A kiss being pressed to your hair again, his hands fiddling with your hair 

“Be my girlfriend” He whispered, and you looked up at him with a frown 

“I should have asked you a long time ago and it wasn’t until that guy was flirting with you that I realised how much I was actually in love with you and I actually want to be with you” You couldn’t help but shut Daniel up with a kiss

Your lips pressed against his as he kissed back after a moment or two. Your hands came up to cup his face as he held you against his body. You pulled away after a couple of moments had passed, looking up at him 

“I’m so sorry about how I acted today. Well, now yesterday” He sighed, pushing a strand of hair out of your face

“I know. I’m sorry as well” You sighed, resting your chin on his chest with a small smile 

“Get some sleep. I know you didn’t sleep after you went to bed” He smiled softly 

“Can we move to the bed?” You asked quietly, and Daniel nodded, moving so he was sitting up and able to pick you up. He walked over to the bed, sitting you down on it 

“Let’s get you out this dress as well love” He smiled softly, unzipping it before pushing it down your shoulders and placing it on the chair in the corner of the room as you lay down in bed. Daniel soon joined you, wrapping his arms around you, and you fell asleep comfortable in his arms. 

However, when you woke up the next morning, well in the afternoon, Daniel was nowhere to be seen. You frowned, looking around the room. All that was there was some painkillers and your emotional support water bottle on the bedside table. You took the painkillers while drinking some water as you looked about the room. 

Your phone died in Daniels suit jacket pocket as you sighed. Plugging it onto charge, hoping that he wasn’t too mad and would come back soon. You decided to take a shower to pass some time. Maybe he just went to the gym or to get some food. 

Except when he wasn’t back by the time you got out of the shower, that's when you started worrying there were no new messages from him on your now partly charged phone and he wasn’t answering your texts either. 

Sitting down on the couch staring out at the balcony as your brain wandered to the worst possible thoughts. What if he thought last night was a mistake. What if he thought you wouldn’t remember it. What if last night was a mistake. 

Pacing around the hotel room felt like the only option at that moment. Daniel always kept the key cards because you constantly lost them, which is how he ends up with your belongings on nights out.

At some point during your stressing, you had lay down on the bed and fell asleep. Curled up, holding onto one of Daniel’s hoodies as you slept, and that’s how Daniel found you. 

The little pup in his arms chewed on Daniel’s hands as he lay on the bed next to you. The pup on his chest yapping every so often as his bark was still growing. That’s what woke you up. Rubbing your eyes, you looked about the room with a frown. 

“You don’t hate me” You whispered, looking at Daniel, who frowned 

“What? Why would you think that I hate you?” He asked quickly, moving the little pup out of the way to pull you into his arms 

“I woke up, and you were gone. I thought you hated me after last night” You whispered, wiping your eyes 

“Of course I don’t. I went out to get you a sorry present for me being a complete dick” He sighed, lifting a leg up to show the little pup climbing through them

“You got a dog?” You exclaimed, sitting up quickly 

“We got a dog. I know you’ve been wanting one for a while and I keep saying no because we travel all the time however Pierre and Charles just got pups so I don’t see why I can’t say yes” You picked the little pup up holding him to your chest 

“I’m still annoyed at you Ricciardo” You huffed, and he nodded with a slight chuckle 

“I deserve that, but the little guy still needs a name” He smiled, petting the pups head. 

You pouted slightly, looking down at the little golden pup in your arms. He’d made himself comfortable within your arms, his head resting upon your chest. The room felt right at that moment. You couldn’t explain it if you were asked but actually having confirmation that you and Daniel were a thing, and after all your begging, Danny had finally got you a pup. It was like a dream come true 

“Dallas” You hummed, scratching behind the pups ears as the pup stretched in your arms. 

“You wanna name him, Dallas?” Danny questioned with a small smile as you nodded, turning your head to look at him 

“Yeah. I think it’ll suit him” You confirmed, and he nodded with a smile 

“Before you start worrying everything else we need to look after him is in the car and I already registered him at a vets back home so everything is taken care off” You couldn’t help but press a kiss to Danny’s lips as he hummed kissing back. 

“Thank you so much” You whispered, pulling away from his lips 

“You deserve it after all my shit” He shrugged, and you nodded in agreement. 

Dallas became a wild dog, or at least with Daniel, he was. When with Daniel Dallas, was always barking, running mad, destroying things but with you. He was always at your side, either ready to protect you or sleeping next or on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but fall more in love with each of your boys after each day. Seeing Daniel interact with Dallas was almost like seeing a double of Dallas. They both had so much energy and would run about to get rid of some.

Coming Soon!

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