#waiting to be turned into actual people lol

[connorsui]

UNLIMITED ACCESS!

This was wonderfully requested by my beloved @madam8 who gave me such a beautiful idea for a sylus date and I couldn't let go of it until I completed it 😭😭🩷🩷 like it's so cute that even when I was studying I kept thinking of new ways to end the fic or new scenes to add into it. --- it was ...AAUGH- my heart ...tho I do apologize for how long this one took out ur girl was busy trying not to fail classes 💀💀 ...lol 💅🏻

p.s if you see my corpse surrounded by flowers anywhere you can blame it on this ask ✨️ I LOVE IT

It started, as most things with Sylus did, with...

extravagance.

He had a habit of planning nights that felt more like events—private rooftops overlooking the shimmering city skyline, candlelit dinners in places that required reservations months in advance, evenings where the very sky seemed to bend to his will.

Luxurious. Impeccable. Always grand.

And while you loved those moments—loved him—there was something else you had been craving lately.

Something... simpler.

So one evening, as he idly twirled a glass of dark liquor between his fingers and casually mentioned taking you to a private villa on an island, you leaned into his space, resting your chin on your palm, and asked—

"Why don’t we do something more…plain? Just for the day—I mean."

Sylus stilled slightly, red eyes flickering toward you, waiting.

"Don’t get me wrong, I love our dates," you continued, "but I think it’d be nice to just do something fun. Silly, even. Maybe a little childish?"

A playful smile curled at your lips.

"Just… something where you don’t have to rent out an entire skyline to impress me."

He raised a brow, surprised. "You wish for something plain?"

You grinned. "Exactly. So let’s just have a normal date. Like—oh! What about an amusement park? Or an arcade? Or the fair!"

Sylus exhaled through his nose, setting his glass down with a measured movement. "Your ideas are enjoyable… I wouldn't mind indulging in them."

"Yeah! It’ll be fun, I promise. We can see what rides you like, if you’ll actually tolerate roller coasters, or if you’re one of those people who insists they’re too predictable." You smirked. "Oh, and you have to try winning me something from one of those carnival games."

He regarded you with that ever-neutral gaze, quiet and considering, before finally murmuring—

"For you, I wouldn’t mind fulfilling that request."

You smiled, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek, already excited for whatever simple, carefree date he would plan.

Or so you thought.

Because somehow—somehow—things escalated.

Instead of just buying tickets like a normal person, Sylus had decided the best course of action was to…

Buy. The. Entire. Damn. Park.

Your favorite amusement park, to be exact.

And now here you stood at the entrance, staring up at the massive sign that should have been buzzing with families, groups of friends, and screaming children running past in excitement.

Instead, it was silent.

The ticket booths? Closed. The parking lot? Void of life.

The only people here were you, Sylus, and the staff, who stood patiently, waiting only for the two of you.

You turned to him slowly, your brain still buffering.

"Sylus… I—when I said I wanted a fun day with you… this isn’t exactly what I had in mind."

Sylus, as usual, looked completely unbothered. "Did I get the wrong park?"

You blinked. "…No, but—Sylus, what—" You gestured at the empty surroundings, struggling to form a coherent thought. "You didn’t have to—How did you even do this?"

He tilted his head, as if you had asked a genuinely confusing question. "I bought it."

You took a deep breath. "No, I know that, but why?"

Sylus blinked at you, expression calm yet calculating, like he was trying to gauge whether you were actually upset.

"Would you prefer a different one? I can acquire another if this one isn’t to your liking."

You choked. "Acquire—Sylus, I meant let’s just have a normal day at the park! With other people! Like… buying tickets, not—not monopolizing an entire amusement park for us!"

He hummed thoughtfully. "That would be inconvenient. I don’t like crowds."

Your brain short-circuited. "Okay, fair, but I’m not even sure how to react to this." You ran a hand down your face, staring at the vast, empty park. "Do I just… accept this? Should I ask you to sell it back? Is it even going to open to normal people when we're not here?"

Sylus exhaled softly, fingers curling beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His red eyes, sharp yet steady, held an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"I wanted you to have the best experience," he murmured, his voice low, deliberate—like he was peeling back the layers of his thoughts just for you. "No interruptions. No strangers ruining our time. No one else pulling your attention away."

His thumb ghosted along your jaw, his touch as careful as it was possessive.

"I wanted today to be ours. Every moment, every ride, every second—only for us."

Your heart squeezed at the weight of his words.

Sylus was always confident, always in control—but this was different. This wasn’t about power or extravagance.

This was about ...you.

He had done this for you.

Damn him.

Damn him and his ability to turn something so ridiculous into something that made your heart melt.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples before looking up at him again. "You really don’t do things halfway, huh?"

His lips twitched, almost smirking. "Would you expect anything less?"

You huffed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

His hand slipped from your chin to your wrist, fingers curling around it as he tugged you toward the entrance.

"Then let’s stop worrying about it and enjoy it as much as we can."

You let him pull you forward, your brain still catching up to the fact that this was happening. That you were about to experience an amusement park that was literally all yours for the day.

And honestly?

You weren’t going to complain.

But as you walked in, something felt... strange.

The park was…alive?

Despite the complete absence of other guests, the workers were still here—acting as if today was a completely normal day.

Vendors stood at their booths, flipping burgers, making cotton candy, lining up pretzels under warming lamps. The game stalls were manned, workers casually leaning against counters, ready to hand out prizes.

The park’s parade performers were still marching down the street. A princess in a poofy dress waved at you. Mascot characters moved in synchronized greetings, despite the fact that no one was here but you.

It was… surreal.

Sylus squeezed your hand as you slowed to take it all in. "I told them to proceed as usual. It would’ve been eerie if everything was frozen."

You turned to him. "So… it’s like the park is still running, but we’re the only ones who get to experience it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Don’t you think it’s better this way?"

You inhaled deeply, looking around again.

Sylus watched you carefully, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Are you alright?"

You hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh.

“Of course! I mean—” You hesitated again, glancing around as your expression softened. “It’s nothing wrong, I promise! I love that you did this, I do, but…” You exhaled, running a hand through your hair before looking up at him again.

“I just—I wanted this day to be special not just for us entirely, but to have a moment together surrounded by everyone and everything.” Your voice was gentle, thoughtful. “The chatter, the energy, the crowds moving past us. The chaos of it all.”

You shrugged, a little sheepish. “I know you don’t like being around too many people, and I love that you wanted to make this day perfect for me, but part of what makes an amusement park so special is the shared experience, y’know? That feeling of being one in a sea of people, laughing together, screaming on rides, getting bumped into by kids running past, standing too close in lines because there's no choice…”

Your words trailed off as you searched his gaze, unsure how he’d react.

For a moment, Sylus didn’t say anything. His red eyes remained locked onto yours, unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way his fingers idly traced over your knuckles, as if considering your words carefully.

Then, finally, he exhaled through his nose—slow and measured, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“…I see...I- ” His voice was as calm as ever, but there was a shift in his tone.

He glanced around, taking in the completely empty pathways, the stalls with no customers, the parade performing for no one but you two. The sight of the workers, stationed and waiting, but missing the usual life of the park.

Sylus was pragmatic. He saw a problem, he solved it. Simple. To him, the best way to ensure you had an amazing day was to remove all obstacles—the crowds, the noise, the inconvenience of waiting in lines or dealing with other people.

But now, as he watched you, something seemed to click.

“…Would you like me to open the park?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—you mean, like, right now?”

He nodded once. “If it would make you happy.”

Your heart stuttered. "Sylus—I didn’t say all that just to guilt you into—”

He raised a brow. “It’s not about guilt. You wanted to share this moment with people and I took that possibility from you” He pulled out his phone as if he could undo an entire park shutdown with a single call—which, knowing him, he probably could.

You stared at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching to stop his hand before he could dial. “Okay, hold on, let’s think about this rationally—”

Sylus merely looked at you, waiting for what you were bound to say next.

You exhaled, lacing your fingers with his properly. “Look, it’s okay. I love what you did, and I will enjoy this day with you.” You squeezed his hand. “I just needed a moment to process it, that’s all.”

Sylus was silent for a moment, his red eyes scanning your face as if committing every little twitch of emotion to memory. Then, his gaze flickered past you, landing on a nearby booth.

A teddy bear stand.

Without a word, he turned, gently tugging you along by the hand.

You blinked in surprise. “Wait—where are we—?”

He stopped in front of the booth, staring at the rows of stuffed bears lined up in varying sizes, from tiny keychains to ones nearly as tall as you. His jaw was set, unreadable, but his grip around your hand was firm.

“Sylus?” You tilted your head at him, watching as he eyed the game—a classic ring toss setup.

“I failed to give you what you really wanted,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You should at least receive something in return.”

Your chest tightened at the way he said it.

Soft, but laced with frustration.

Like he was genuinely bothered that his attempt to make you happy had missed the mark.

“Sylus…” You squeezed his hand, stepping closer. “You don’t have to win me anything—”

He ignored that, already rolling up his sleeves with practiced ease. His focus was entirely on the game now, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the distance, the weight of the rings stacked beside the booth’s attendant.

Your lips parted in disbelief.

Sylus said nothing, simply holding his hand out for the rings. The worker—completely unphased, as if watching an overpowered, absurdly rich man win rigged carnival games was just another part of the job—wordlessly handed them over.

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Sylus, you really don’t have to—”

The first ring landed perfectly on the bottle.

Your mouth snapped shut.

Another.

And another.

Without missing a single shot.

The worker gave a small, almost-impressed nod. “Pick your prize.”

Sylus turned to you, expectant.

You stared between him and the game, caught between laughter and disbelief. “This your way of an apology gift?

“And would that change anything if I said yes?”

“Sylus –”

You huffed, shaking your head before pointing to one of the bigger teddy bears—one with a white soft, plush face and an oversized red ribbon around its neck.

Sylus retrieved it without hesitation, turning to face you fully as he held it out.

“ you sure you didn't have me in mind? ” he said simply.

You giggled at him, your fingers curling around the soft fabric as you accepted the gift. “mayyybee”

It wasn’t about the bear. It wasn’t about the game.

It was him.

Sylus, who never half-assed anything. Who overthought in ways you weren’t always aware of. Who, despite his arrogance, still hated feeling like he had let you down.

Your heart squeezed painfully.

“…You’re too much at times” you murmured, hugging the teddy bear to your chest.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Says the one getting emotional over a stuffed animal.”

You shot him a playful glare, but when he reached out, brushing his fingers against your wrist, you softened.

“....Still,Thank you, for everything-- I mean” you murmured.

Sylus didn’t say anything, but his grip lingered—just for a second—not thinking of letting you go.

But as you continued walking, you caught the way his fingers brushed against his phone once more, a brief flicker of thought crossing his expression.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not secretly opening the park back up again ….behind my back…are you?”

His lips curled, amused. “...perhaps”

[chxnsgirl]

Hi girlie ! Love love love your work, i was wondering if I can request something extra cute like give me all the fluff you’ve got ! Like you’re married to Felix and have kids but the kids don’t know your name cuz dad always calls you sweetheart or princess or darling, and whenever somebody asks for you they’re like oh no I don’t know her lol like in this house it’s mr Felix Lee and Love Lee kind of vibe you know, thank you so much for considering! 🩷

this is so cute omfg - i also made felix have a girl dad moment because girl dad supremacy (i have daddy issues)

필릭스 ─── love lee

it’s a quiet, cozy morning in the lee household. sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the living room where felix is sitting cross-legged on the floor, carefully braiding your daughter’s hair.

six-year-old lily sits in front of him, wiggling excitedly as she watches her favorite cartoon on tv. "daddy, make sure it’s extra pretty today!"

felix chuckles, his tongue peeking out in concentration. "princess, i always make your hair extra pretty. i’m a pro at this now!"

across the room, you’re nestled on the couch, cradling your newborn son, theo, as he nurses peacefully. the soft suckling sounds and felix’s gentle hums fill the warm space, making it feel like the safest little world.

suddenly, lily speaks up, completely out of nowhere.

"daddy, what’s mommy’s real name?"

felix freezes mid-braid, his fingers pausing in her soft strands. his eyes flicker over to you, and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. "mommy’s real name?"

lily nods, kicking her tiny feet. "yeah! my teacher said we should know our parents' real names in case we ever get lost or something."

felix snorts. "sweetheart, if you ever get lost, all you have to do is yell, ‘where’s love?’ and i promise, people will know exactly who you’re talking about."

lily huffs, clearly unimpressed. "daaaaddy, that’s not her real name! you always say ‘love’ or ‘princess’—but that’s not really her name!"

you stifle a giggle, adjusting theo in your arms as he lets out a tiny sigh. "well, your dad is just very used to calling me pet names, that’s all."

lily crosses her arms, determined. "but i wanna know!"

felix dramatically gasps. "wait a minute. are you saying mommy’s name isn’t actually ‘love lee’?!"

lily groans, flopping backward against her dad’s legs. "ugh! daddy, stop joking!"

you shake your head, laughing softly. "alright, alright. my real name is—"

but before you can say it, theo unlatches with a tiny smack and lets out a sleepy coo, stealing the moment.

felix, ever the dramatic one, grins and points at the baby. "see? even theo doesn’t wanna hear it. he knows you’re just mommy, the most beautiful, loving mommy ever."

lily lets out an exasperated sigh but eventually giggles, turning around to wrap her arms around felix’s neck. "you’re so silly, daddy."

felix presses a kiss to her cheek, still grinning. "that’s why you love me."

she nods, then looks over at you, eyes twinkling. "i think i like love, too."

your heart swells. "then ‘love’ it is."

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[ttalgi]

missent letters pt.2

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

tags/cw: academic rivals to lovers, some cursing, mc is: a Vahumana student in the Akademiya, roommates with Alhaitham and Kaveh, and a pyro vision holder.

a/n: I finally finished the book a year later (lol) which made me want to make a part 2! Also, please don't mind any ooc or wrong plot details...it's been a while since I've actually played genshin.

wc: 2.1k

“It would do your remaining few brain cells some good to stop banging your head against the table. Plus this table was expensive. I can’t have the wood scratched already.”

You stop mid head bang to send Alhaitham an incredulous look. “Please!” you plead. “Have some sympathy for me at least once in your life. My life is over.” You slump your body across the living room bench.

Without missing a beat, he replies, ”I let you live here, don’t I?” Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a raised eyebrow, “Care to fill me in on their latest tantrum?”

“It’s not a tantrum—!”

“Long story short, they asked me to send out some envelopes for them because of their busy schedule, so I told them to leave whatever they needed sent on top of their desk. Among the envelopes was one for Hat Guy, which apparently they didn’t want me to deliver.” He takes another bite of the shawarma wrap that Alhaitham brought home for dinner. 

Kaveh turns to look at your defeated form. “If you didn’t mean to send Hat Guy the letters, why were they mixed up with the other envelopes in the first place? What’s the big deal about those letters anyway?” he asks while chewing.

You perk up your head to look at him. “Huh? You didn’t read them?” you ask.

“You see, unlike some”—he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—”people, I have basic human decency.”

“Again, I let you guys live here—”

“Basically, everytime I feel anger or annoyance towards him, I just vent about it on paper pretending that he’s the recipient. Then I just stuff everything in the same envelope because it’s easy storage that way.”

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Just how many letters have you written about him? That envelope was like an inch thick. It even cost me extra postage!”

“...What can I say? I have lots of vendettas against him,” you shrug.

Alhaitham interposes, “I don’t think I understand. What’s the big deal? So what if you told him exactly how you feel about him? I didn’t take you for being a people pleaser.”

“This is why people think you’re such a machine at times, Alhaitham!” Kaveh throws his arms up in frustration. “Some people actually care about how they present themselves to others.”

“Actually!” You interject before another one of their infamous arguments breaks out full throttle. “Alhaitham’s kind of right. I did write exactly how I feel about him, and that’s the thing. I wrote everything that I felt about him..” you trail off.

Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp. “No way! You finally confessed your feelings for him in those letters?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it confessing. I just talked about how I think his eyes are kinda dreamy despite being cold at times and that he has a really pretty face and that”—you almost give yourself whiplash turning in his direction—”Wait, finally? What do you mean finally? There’s no way you could have known about my minuscule crush on Hat Guy!”

“Anyone with eyes and ears could tell that you have some romantic attraction towards him,” Kaveh sighs while shaking his head before gesturing to Alhaitham. “Even this guy is aware of it.”

“You two do know that I’m not socially inept, correct?”

Deciding to ignore Alhaitham, you slump back against the bench. “I’m doomed.”

You pop up with an idea. “Wait! Do you guys think Tighnari needs any more forest rangers? I can take a break until this whole thing tides over and just help him over at Avidya Forest—”

Alhaitham quenched your wishful thinking. “Knowing how substandard you are with your vision, you’d accidentally set the forest on fire.”

You stumble back as if an arrow pierced through your body. You mumble out, “Must you always humble me.” You turn to Kaveh with hopeful eyes.

“I thought I'd never say this, but I agree with Alhaitham. You trying to help Tighnari in the forest would do more harm than good. Plus, you'd end up a victim to his lectures again. Remember that one time you—”

Feeling your body riddling with piercing wounds, you slump against the bench once more. “Yeah, I’m doomed.” 

//

It's been five days since Kaveh accidentally sent out the envelope meant for Hat Guy and you aren’t sure how much longer you have until the letters would be in his possession. Unless they already were... 

If you were blessed by the Archons, then maybe the envelope was lost or better yet damaged beyond repair in delivery, but alas, you know better. The mail system in Sumeru City is known for its attentiveness, especially since many important Akademiya-based deliveries are sent and received daily.

You haven't seen Hat Guy around much these days, especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively avoiding him. Mandatory lectures that you both share? You now sit close to the exit, far from him. The library that you guys are known to basically reside in? You begged Alhaitham to let you study in his office instead, promising that you’d do his portion of the house chores for the next two weeks.

Deciding to go home early out of your own volition (Alhaitham kicked you out because of an important meeting), you carefully tread the halls of the Akademiya making sure to peek around each corner before continuing. As you start to believe that you're finally in the clear, you hear someone behind you clearing their throat. Taking a look down at the shadows decorating the floor, you see the silhouette of the man that you have been avoiding for your own peace of mind.

"How much longer are you going to rat around the Akademiya for? It's not like you can avoid me forever, you know."

Feeling offended by his choice of words, you abruptly turn around to tell him off; however, the sudden close proximity of your faces has you taking a step back. If you hadn’t been paying attention to his face, you would have thought that he was unaffected by the action, but the slight widening of his eyes before returning back to normal has you knowing otherwise.

You give Hat Guy a pointed glare. Wanting to defend yourself against his statement, you open your mouth to retaliate but the sight of the familiar envelope in his hand causes you to simply shut your mouth and grimace instead. 

As he notices your actions, Hat Guy lets an annoying smirk grace his face. "Come on, say what you were going to say. We both know that you have a lot to say to me," he says while lazily waving the envelope around.

To try and play this in your favor, you start to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. Also, what’s with the envelope? Never seen it before in my life.”

Hat Guy raises a brow. “What’s with this sudden stupid, chill guy persona? Anyways, it seems like you need a reminder. Not surprising considering our perspective rankings,” he subtly gloats.

“You little—”

”Let's see,”—he opens up the envelope and starts to smooth out the bottommost letter—”Maybe reading some of these letters will help jog your memory.” He makes a grand gesture of pretending to clear his throat before reading, and you can’t help but to cover your face with your hands to try and protect yourself from the upcoming embarrassing retelling.

“Again! Again, you received a higher score on an assigned research essay. It’s only been 2 months and 11 days since you’ve been enrolled into the Vahumana Darshan, so how is it that you’re the apparent “All-Knowing” about Time-Sensitive Commodities? Who do you think you are? The new Sumeru archon of wisdom? Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be disrespecting our Lesser Lord Kusanali by comparing you to her—” he pauses and his eyes hurriedly shift to gauge your reaction. If anything, he should be thankful. If you hadn’t been so focused on not looking at him, you would have seen the crease in his brows mid-reading.

Hat Guy recomposes himself before continuing to read. “For Archon's sake. What’s more frustrating is your subtle boasting towards me. How could such a shitty personality even emit from a pretty face like yours? Though, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I actually look forward to these interactions that I have with you.”

“ST—!”

A coy smirk fills his face. “Oh? Why so embarrassed? Do you know these letters after all?”

“N-no…I was just clearing my throat.” At this point, you curse your pride for not being able to halt this interaction.

“Stubborn as always.”

This time he picks out a letter from the top of the stack..

“It's completely and utterly unfair how your resting face looks so serene. Why must you always be in the library at the same time as I? Your stupidly, bewitching face only serves as a major distraction, like how could I not stare! It's like your face was personally carved by a god. Also, how the hell do you make a simple fountain pen look so good? The way that your slender fingers grip the—”

“OK, that’s enough! Stop with the reciting! I admit it!” You feel your face heat up from embarrassment and your pyro vision only makes everything feel hotter. You raise your hands in frustration. “It was a whole mixup! Those letters weren’t even meant to be sent to you.” You dial back your volume towards the end.

He pointedly sighs. “Well that much I figured out. There’s no chance in Teyvat where you of all people would willingly subject themself to this. So, what are you going to do about it now?” he asks while crossing his arms.

It hurts to admit, but you felt stupid at this very second. “What do you mean?”

He tskd. “Do I need to explain every little thing to you? You’re ranked right below me, so I know that you’re not stupid. Are you going to own up to your letters and finally confess? Or are you going to just cowardly dismiss this like you’ve been doing?”

“CONFESS?” You almost give yourself whiplash from how fast you check to see if anyone’s heard you. You repeat yourself in a whispering tone. “Confess?”

“You talk about ‘looking forwards’ to our interactions, staring at my ‘bewitching face’ and ‘slender fingers’ and you think it’s absurd that I bring up confessing? Or would it be easier for you if I confess first?”

Without thinking you blurt out, “There’s no way that you actually like me back.”

“Do you ever see me bothering to interact with anyone as much as I do with you? I even surprised myself when I started to catch feelings for your stubborn self.”

You try to shake off the nerves before staring into his eyes. “Hat Guy, I like—”

“Wanderer.”

"What?"

"Call me Wanderer instead; it rolls off the tongue easier than Hat Guy. It’s a nickname that the traveler gave me. Hat Guy is a silly name that happened to stick around the Akademiya.”

“Lots of names you have there, huh?” you tease.

He lets out a sound that’s the mix between a chuckle and a scoff. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, Wanderer. I like you. So…will you go out with me?”

“Obviously.” (Your eye roll at his matter-of-fact tone is instinctual) “I wouldn’t waste my time with anybody else. Anyways, let’s get out of here. You were on your way home before I caught you, weren't you?”

Your lips start to raise into a smile. “You’re going to walk me home?”

“Noo, I’m saying this so I can just go off on my own—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s get out of here.”

As the both of you guys stroll out of the Akademiya, your hand closest to Wanderer suddenly can’t stop twitching every so often. Your head fills with thought pertaining to your new found relationship. 

‘Is it too early to be holding hands?…Maybe hand holding is too PDA for him on open streets—’

A cold hand suddenly embracing yours breaks you out of your stupor. You turn to Wanderer, clearly surprised by the action. Starting to feel embarrassed, you try to pry your hand out of his clutch, only for him to tighten his grip. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pivots his head to the opposite side, hoping that you won’t catch his ears turning slightly pink. “Your thoughts are so loud that even Mondstadt can hear them,” he scoffs. “Just lead the way.”

You start to walk with a slight pep in your step. “As you say!”

bonus scene?:

“Hey, can I give you a nickname too? Or is it too soon..”

He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“XxAssMaster69xX”

He lets out the biggest sigh. “Not you too.”

“Jokes, jokes—” you pause. “Wait, me too?”

He continues to walk forwards without you.

“Me too?! Hello???”

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part 5

NFL!Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 5k

Warning: Angst, toxic relationship, manipulation

A/N: Im sorry in trying my best, mental health is just a bitch. Once again i dont know shit about football or the NFL LOL I'm an NHL girly but here we are so if i get terms and shit wrong its ok cuz its a fan fic 🤣🤣

Masterpost

----

The party was in full swing by the time you and Bucky arrived—packed with sweaty, overhyped teenagers celebrating the team’s win, red plastic cups littering every surface, the air thick with cheap beer and bad decisions. Someone had strung up white Christmas lights around the backyard, giving the whole place a soft glow, but it did nothing to cut through the chaos.

You weren’t even sure who actually lived here, just that it was a senior with rich parents who conveniently weren’t home, and that half the damn school had shown up to celebrate.

The music pulsed through your chest, bass-heavy and a little too loud, but it didn’t matter. Because Bucky was there, pressed close as he navigated you through the swarm of people like he always did, one hand grazing the small of your back, the other lifting in a lazy wave whenever a teammate shouted his name.

“Stay put,” he murmured near your ear once you’d finally managed to carve out a small space near the bonfire. “I’ll grab us a drink.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the crowd.

The night was warm, the heat of the fire licking at your skin. You weren’t fully relaxed, there was something about nights like these, about parties, about being surrounded by people who were too drunk to notice if something went wrong, but Bucky made it better. He always did.

A few minutes later, he returned, grinning as he held out a red cup. “Here, got you something good.”

The second you caught the scent, rich, smoky, unmistakable—your stomach twisted.

Whiskey.

The smell hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and suffocating, dragging you back to memories you wanted buried. The way the bottle slammed onto the counter. The way his words slurred together, thick with anger. The way your mother sat frozen at the table, staring at the wall, waiting for it to pass.

Your fingers curled into your palm. “I—I can’t drink that.”

Bucky frowned, holding it out a little more. “What? Since when does my girl turn down a drink?”

Your throat tightened. “Just… not whiskey.”

He opened his mouth, probably to make some joke about you being picky but then, you saw it. The exact second he realized.

His entire body stiffened, his eyes widening just slightly before flickering with something heavy. His grip on the cup faltered. “Oh, fuck.” His voice was barely above a whisper, rough with something close to regret. “Shit, I—I’m sorry.”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a small, tight smile. “Bucky, it’s not a big deal.”

“The hell it’s not,” he muttered, setting the cup down so fast it nearly toppled over. “Stay here, I’ll be right back….again.”

You watched as he vanished again, weaving back through the house, his shoulders tense.

For some reason, your chest ached.

You hadn’t expected him to care so much. It was just a drink. Just a stupid drink at a stupid party. But Bucky had looked at you like he’d failed you somehow..

When he returned, he had two cold beers in his hands. He pressed one into yours before cracking open his own, exhaling sharply like he was only just allowing himself to relax.

“I feel like an idiot,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I should’ve remembered.”

“Bucky, it’s an insignificant thing, it’s really not—”

He cut you off before you could downplay it again. “Nothing about you is insignificant, okay? Nothing.” His blue eyes burned with sincerity, sharp and unshakable. “The stuff that matters to you? It matters to me too. And I’m sorry I forgot.”

Your heart squeezed.

You weren’t used to people treating you like this—like your pain was valid, like your boundaries mattered, like your past wasn’t something to be brushed aside.

But Bucky always had.

He always would. You’re sure of it.

You swallowed hard, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For always being there for me.”

“Always” He whispered, a slight crack in his voice.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the flickering firelight, beer bottles hanging loosely in your hands.

He was close..so close, the space between you shrinking with every unspoken word. His gaze flickered to your lips, just for a second, before his tongue darted out to wet his own.

Your pulse hammered. Finally, you thought.

And then…

“BUCKY, MY MAN!”

The moment shattered.

A loud, drunken whoop cut through the night, and then, suddenly, the entire football team was descending on him, dragging him into their celebration, slapping his back, shoving beer into his free hand.

You took a step back, your breath still caught in your throat.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to yours, something like frustration flashing across his face, like he knew what had almost happened, what finally, almost happened, like he wanted to go back but then someone was lifting him onto their shoulders, chanting his name, and he was forced to tear his gaze away.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

You let out a quiet breath, tilting your beer back and swallowing the lump in your throat.

Maybe it was for the best.

Maybe it was a sign you were meant to just be friends. To always be just friends.

-----

The hallway outside your hotel room was quiet, save for the occasional distant voices of players passing through, all heading somewhere to celebrate the win. You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited for John. The nerves sitting heavy in your stomach weren’t from excitement—weren’t from the anticipation of a night out, a rare moment to unwind after the intensity of the season’s start. No, this feeling was something else.

You knew what kind of night this would be before it even started. Because you knew John, and the thought of Bucky and him at the same table left you anxious.

John was already running late, and you were left alone with your thoughts, the seconds stretching into minutes, making you hyper-aware of everything—the way your dress felt too tight around your ribs, the way your pulse thrummed a little too fast.

Then, a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You okay?”

You turned slightly to see Bucky standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his expression unreadable.

You nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just waiting on John.”

His eyes flickered with something, something you couldn’t quite place. He didn’t say anything right away, just studied you for a moment longer. And for a second, you wondered if he could see it, the way your hands clenched the fabric of your dress at your sides, the way your shoulders were drawn just a little too tight. He use to be able to.

But before either of you could say anything more, the hotel door swung open behind you.

John stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, his phone in one hand. He barely spared you a glance before looking past you to Bucky.

“Barnes,” he said smoothly.

Bucky gave him a nod, expression still unreadable. “Walker.”

John’s hand found the small of your back, the touch firm, more like a warning than anything else. “We’ll see you guys there,” he said, already steering you down the hallway.

Bucky didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering even as you walked away.

The ride to the restaurant was silent at first, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional ding of John’s phone as he scrolled through messages. You kept your hands clasped in your lap, your fingers digging into your palm to keep them steady.

Then, he spoke.

“Do not embarrass me tonight.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “What?”

John didn’t look up from his phone. “These guys? They’re not just players. They have influence. And if you make me look bad in front of them—” He finally turned his gaze on you, a tight smile pulling at his lips. “Well, let’s not make this difficult, okay?”

You nodded automatically, your throat tightening.

He sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the seat. “Just smile, laugh at my jokes. And don’t go on and on about your stupid media stuff, alright? Trust me they don’t give a shit, they’re just playing nice because you used to be friends with Barnes.”

Used to

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look out the window as the city lights blurred past.

It was funny, in a cruel sort of way. You were finally in a place where you felt like you belonged, like you were good at something, and yet John had a way of making it feel so…insignificant. Like you were just playing pretend. And you knew he was right, they were some of the best players in the league getting paid millions of dollars. Why the hell would they care about you and your stupid job that you apparently didn't even earn on your own. And Bucky… well you didn’t even wanna get started on that because you knew deep down you weren't good enough for him then you certainly not good enough for him now. Friends or not.

By the time you pulled up to the restaurant, the unease had settled deep in your chest.

The restaurant hummed with warm, low chatter, the golden glow of the dimmed lights casting soft shadows against the walls. The air still carried the lingering buzz of victory, the easy energy of a team celebrating a job well done. The conversation around the table flowed effortlessly—teammates recounting plays, exchanging banter, trading inside jokes.

You sat between John and Sam, fingers curled around the napkin in your lap, trying to keep yourself grounded. Across from you, Bucky sat quietly, his beer untouched in front of him, blue eyes scanning the table. He wasn’t withdrawn, exactly, but he was watching. Observing.

John, on the other hand, was in his element. Effortlessly inserting himself into conversations, charming everyone around him, laughing at just the right moments. It was all so natural, so perfectly performed, and it made your stomach churn.

The waiter arrived, taking orders, and when he got to you, John barely hesitated before speaking.

“She’ll have an Old Fashioned,” he said smoothly, handing the menu back without looking at you.

You stiffened.

You hated Old Fashioneds. You hated Whiskey, its what your Dad use to drink.

It was such a small thing. Such a stupid, insignificant thing. But the way he did it, so carelessly, so decisively, without even glancing at you, made something burn in your chest.

For a second, you thought about correcting him. Thought about forcing your voice through the thick silence building in your throat. But before you could, his hand slid onto your thigh under the table, fingers pressing firm. Not quite enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you.

You stayed quiet.

When your gaze lifted, Bucky was already watching.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. But the look in his eyes made your skin feel too tight, like he saw right through you. Like he was remembering something.

And maybe he was.

The moment passed, lost in the clatter of silverware, in the swell of voices as the team kept talking.

“So, John,” Steve said, glancing at him. “What do you do?”

John leaned back slightly, his arm still draped over the back of your chair like he belonged there. “I do some PR work behind the scenes,” he said easily. “NFL branding initiatives, helping coordinate events, stuff like that.”

Helping coordinate events. That was generous. You knew damn well he barely lifted a finger. He had a title, sure—something vague that let him slip into rooms he didn’t belong in—but his name, his father, were what carried the real weight.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And your dad? He’s still high up in the league, right?”

John grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s got his hands in just about everything. Any major decision in the league, you can bet he’s a part of it.”

Sam let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn. No wonder you’re so connected.”

John just laughed. “Exactly. Connections are everything in this business. It’s all about who you know.”

He said it so smoothly, like it was just an offhand comment, like it wasn’t meant to cut. But then—

“That’s actually how Y/N got this job, you know.”

Your stomach dropped.

He said it like it was nothing. Like it was casual. Like it wasn’t a grenade he’d just thrown into the middle of the table.

John chuckled, nudging your side. “She’s so damn stubborn—wanted to do everything on her own. Thought she could earn it on her own. But hey, I put in a good word, made sure the right people saw her résumé.”

Silence.

You thought you might be sick.

With the boys that heard, with Bucky thinking you didn’t earn this job, didn’t deserve this job. You felt small, embarrassed. You felt all the colour drain from your face as you took in a sharp inhale.

And from the way Bucky’s jaw tensed slightly, from the way his fingers curled around his beer glass, you knew he was biting back from saying something.

The noise of the restaurant pressed in around you, but everything felt muted, far away. Your hands clenched in your lap, nails digging into your palms as you stared at the flickering candle in the center of the table, trying to keep your face neutral.

Then—

“Doesn’t matter how she got the job,” Sam said suddenly, his voice easy but firm. “Girl’s talented as hell. Deserves it.”

You looked up, surprised.

He was grinning at you, all warmth and confidence, like he hadn’t just rescued you from drowning. And you couldn’t help it—you smiled back, your chest loosening just a little.

But the moment was short-lived. It always was.

John’s hand tightened around your thigh in a sharp, quick squeeze. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough for you to feel it.

“Of course, my girl deserves the world,” he said smoothly, giving you a kiss on the temple before sitting back like he hadn’t just staked a claim.

Bucky was still watching.

Still quiet.

And then John, ever the performer, turned back to the conversation with a smirk. “So, Barnes,” he started, picking up his beer. “You knew Y/N back in what was it again? High school, huh?”

“Our whole childhood.” Bucky’s gaze flicked from you to John, his face unreadable. “But yeah.”

John laughed, shaking his head as he gave you another playful squeeze. “Bet she was a handful back then, huh? Like she is now?”

You forced a small, tight smile, but the grip on your thigh burned.

Bucky didn’t take the bait.

His voice was steady, even, when he finally spoke.

“I could never think that of her.”

The air at the table shifted. It was subtle, but it was there, the tension threading through the conversation like an undercurrent, pulling tighter with every second that passed.

Bucky’s voice was steady, even—but beneath it, there was an unmistakable edge, something sharp and unyielding. His blue eyes never wavered from John’s, locking him in place. And for the first time that night, John hesitated. Just for a second.

You had never seen him hesitate before. It wasn’t in his nature. He was used to having everything handed to him, power, privilege, even respect, whether he earned it or not.

Then, he let out an easy chuckle, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t noticed the shift in energy. “That so?” He took a slow sip of his beer before glancing at you, his smirk returning. “You must’ve had him wrapped around your finger then, huh?”

Your stomach twisted.

You knew what he was doing. The fake charm, the lighthearted jabs that were never actually lighthearted. The way he was always trying to remind you, to remind everyone, that you were his.

Before you could say anything, Bucky leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.

“She wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice calm but deliberate. “She didn’t take advantage of people.”

John’s smirk didn’t falter, but you felt his fingers press a little harder against your thigh.

“No?” he said smoothly. “Guess she’s changed, then.”

The words were coated in something...something that made your chest tighten, something that made Bucky’s fingers flex around his glass.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. Sam, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, glanced between John and Bucky, lips pressing into a thin line. The energy around the table felt like a slow-building storm, quiet but electric.

John exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Relax, Barnes,” he said, his voice light, but the way he said Bucky’s name, like it was a joke, like it was something he didn’t take seriously—made your stomach drop.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

But something in his expression changed.

His blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightening slightly, and you could see the muscle feather under his skin.

It wasn’t that Bucky had a short temper. He didn’t. But there were certain things that got under his skin, certain buttons that could be pushed just enough to break that infamous restraint of his.

And John was pushing them.

Hard.

“I’m relaxed,” Bucky said evenly, voice slow and measured. But the way he was gripping the glass in his hand told you otherwise.

John chuckled again, but it was forced this time.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “I always wondered what it would be like, growing up with her. Bet she was always the center of attention, huh?” His grip on your leg tightened as he glanced at you, his tone deliberately playful but edged with something sharper. “She loves that, doesn’t she?”

It was a test. A warning. A reminder.

And Bucky knew it. You knew it.

His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tensed just, the way they always did when he was holding himself back.

“She deserves attention,” Bucky said, voice low, the weight of it settling heavily between them. “The right kind.”

The implication was there, clear as day.

John’s fingers twitched against your thigh.

That got John’s attention. John for the first time that night, he finally looked Bucky directly in the eye.

The fake smile was gone.

The air felt thick, suffocating, like something was teetering on the edge of breaking.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs.

John stared at Bucky for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, just as quickly as it had shifted, he leaned back again, his smirk sliding back into place like nothing had happened.

He let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Man, you must really got it bad, don’t you?”

Bucky didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

It was unbearable. You couldn't even hear the chatter from the other side of the table anymore, you couldn't hear the loud music, you could only hear the blood in your ears and the thumping of your heart.

Then, finally, John exhaled, giving your leg one last, sharp squeeze before finally pulling his hand away.

When Bucky didn’t give him a response of any kind he kept going. “Well,” he said smoothly, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “I don’t blame you. She’s something else, huh?”

His lips pressed against your temple, but his grip on your shoulder was firm, and when you instinctively glanced at Bucky again, his jaw was clenched so tightly you thought he might crack a tooth.

The moment hung there, heavy, stretching impossibly long.

The tension at the table was suffocating now, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You could feel Bucky’s stare—burning, unwavering—but you refused to look back at him. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see in his expression.

Anger?

Regret?

Something worse?

John, on the other hand, was thriving in it. You could tell by the way he leaned back casually in his chair, the way he sipped his drink like he wasn’t winding up for another hit.

You were hoping that someone else would say something. Maybe the waiter would come back and interrupt the moment. You were hoping that even maybe Bucky would finally respond and give him what he wants so this could just all stop. But he didn't, so John didn't stop.

And then, just as you feared, he took his shot. He was trying so desperately to get anything out of Bucky.

“You know, Barnes,” John mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “I gotta say, man, I don’t know how you missed out on this.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew what was coming before he even said it.

John turned his head, his lips grazing your ear as he squeezed your thigh beneath the table. “She looks even better without clothes on,” he said, low enough that only Bucky, and maybe Sam, could hear. “Seriously. Something must be wrong with you.”

A cold chill ran through your spine.

Bucky went completely still. His fingers no longer flexing on the glass.

It felt like the world had stopped moving.

John grinned, leaning back again. “So tell me, Buck—what exactly did you do wrong to never get your shot?” He raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Didn’t have the balls to go for it?”

Sam shifted beside you, his posture stiffening. You weren’t sure if it was because of what John had said or because of the way Bucky was looking at him now, like a predator sizing up its prey. Bucky was letting him dig his own hole and he wanted so badly to bury him in it.

Then John’s smirk widened. He wasn’t done yet. He never was.

“Oh wait,” he said, snapping his fingers in faux realization. “Don’t answer that, you probably think you didn’t do anything wrong, huh? You just—what was it again?” He turned to you, pretending to think. “Oh, right. You completely cut her off when she told you she was moving. How pathetic is that?”

A sharp pain bloomed in your chest.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.

John laughed under his breath, taking another sip of his drink before delivering the final blow.

“And then you never even called her when she lost both her parents,” he added, shaking his head. “Not one but two! Damn, man. I mean, I’d say what kind of friend are you? but…” He shrugged. “You guys aren’t friends anymore, right? You made sure of that.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Your heart was in your throat.

John’s words hung in the air like poison, thick and suffocating. The weight of them settled over the table, pressing down like a storm cloud about to break.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And then—

Bucky finally blinked. He took a sip of his beer.

Slowly, he set his drink down on the table with a deliberate clink.

His knuckles were white against the glass.

His shoulders rose and fell in a slow, measured breath.

But when he lifted his eyes to John, there was nothing playful in them. No amusement. No restraint.

Just ice.

And something dangerous.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

John, for the second time that night, hesitated.

It was barely noticeable—a small twitch of his fingers, the slightest flicker of uncertainty behind his smirk.

But Bucky saw it.

You knew Bucky saw it.

And you thought he was going to hit him. That he was going to lunge across the table. A part of you wanted him to.

The tension stretched impossibly thin, so thick it was hard to breathe.

Then..

“Buck,” Steve said, his voice low. A warning.

Bucky didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

He just stared.

And somehow, somehow—that was worse.

Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Man, you’re really pushing your luck tonight,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for his drink trying to ease the tension.

John chuckled again, but it wasn’t as effortless this time. He clapped a hand on your thigh one more time before finally leaning back, his smirk settling back into place.

His jaw was tight, his grip on his glass even tighter, but his eyes—his eyes—were locked onto John like he was seconds away from standing up and putting him through the damn table.

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

You weren’t sure if you were more afraid of what John would say next or what Bucky would do in response. Either way, the air felt charged, volatile, like something was going to snap.

And then, Bucky’s gaze flickered, just for a second, to you.

He saw the look on your face.

The way your fingers were curled into your lap, nails pressing deep into your skin.

The silent plea in your eyes.

And just like that, the tension in his shoulders dropped just slightly, the fire in his expression dimming just enough to see you.

You swallowed thickly, turning to John who was opening his mouth, again. Dragging in a shaky breath before reaching out, your fingers wrapping around John’s forearm.

“Stop,” you said quietly.

John barely glanced at you. “Stop what?”

You squeezed a little tighter. “John,” you said, your voice lower now, more desperate. “Stop this.”

John finally looked at you then, turning his body toward you slightly, his eyes narrowing. His smirk was gone. In its place, something colder, something more dangerous.

“I wanna hear you say it,” he murmured, his voice a quiet taunt. “Come on, honey. Where are your manners?”

You stiffened.

John tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Say it nicely,” he pressed, his fingers ghosting over your thigh under the table. “Try ‘please stop, John’.”

The words stuck in your throat.

The way he was looking at you, so smug, so in control, made you feel sick. You hated how easily he could do this, how effortlessly he could turn your voice into something that barely belonged to you anymore.

Your lips parted, just barely, ready to force the words out—

And then Bucky’s voice cut through the air.

“Don’t.”

John’s head snapped up, his entire body going rigid.

Slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Are you telling my girl what to do?”

That was it.

The final line drawn in the sand.

Before anyone could say another word, Steve pushed his chair back with enough force to make it scrape against the floor. His tone was sharp, decisive. Done.

“Okay,” Steve said firmly. “That’s enough. I don’t know what’s going on here, but this—” He gestured between Bucky and John. “—is not happening. Not tonight.”

Bucky didn’t move.

Didn’t take his eyes off John.

Didn’t blink.

Steve exhaled sharply before turning to Bucky. “Buck, let’s go.”

Bucky didn’t respond, not right away. You could see the war in his expression, the sheer force of restraint it took for him to tear his gaze away from John.

But when he finally did, when his blue eyes landed on you again, his expression softened in a way that made your chest ache.

He wasn’t just looking at you. He was asking.

Are you going to be okay?

You wanted to answer.

Wanted to say yes.

Wanted to say no.

Wanted to say please don’t go.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you looked down.

Bucky’s jaw tightened again, but he didn’t push it.

He just let out a slow, measured breath before finally stepping away from the table.

Steve followed.

A few of the other players, ones who had been too far away to hear what had really gone down, called out casual goodbyes, still laughing about something completely unrelated. They had no idea.

And then, just like that, Bucky was gone.

John exhaled through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the audacity. Then, without another glance at you, he pulled his arm from your grip and stood, scooting down the table to where some of the other guys sat.

Like nothing had happened.

Like you weren’t even there.

Laughter bubbled from the other side of the table, casual, easygoing.

Meanwhile, on your side, it was just you and Sam.

The silence between you was suffocating.

You swallowed hard, staring at the candle in the middle of the table like it might give you some kind of answer, some kind of out.

And then, barely above a whisper you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Sam frowned. “I can’t stress this enough, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked rapidly, a single tear slipping free before you could stop it. You wiped it away quickly, but Sam saw.

He saw.

And he didn’t look away.

For a few more seconds, you just sat there, staring at nothing, the weight in your chest making it hard to breathe. Then, suddenly, the air in the restaurant felt like too much, too hot, too stifling, too heavy.

“I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” you said abruptly, pushing your chair back.

John’s head snapped up immediately. “What?”

You turned to him. “I’m tired. I think I’ll just head back early.”

John frowned, standing before you could even move. He grabbed your wrist, hard, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you flinch.

“You going by yourself?” he asked, voice low.

Sam saw.

His entire body went stiff beside you.

“I figured you wanted to stay, don’t you?” you asked John carefully, testing the waters.

John let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he finally, finally, released his grip. “Of course I do,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward his teammates. “I’m here with my buddies.”

The guys around him laughed, completely oblivious to the way the moment had just unfolded.

John turned back to you, smirking. “Wait up for me?”

You nodded mechanically. “Of course.”

His smirk widened. “That’s my girl.”

And then, without warning, he yanked you down, crushing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was a claim.

A reminder.

It was too much, too hard, too aggressive, too something but you let him do it anyway. You always did.

When he finally pulled away, he flashed you one last smile before smacking your ass, earning a laugh from the other guys and turning back to the conversation like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just bruised your wrist.

Like he hadn’t just stolen the air from your lungs.

Like he hadn’t just won.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to move, forcing yourself to leave before you made the mistake of looking back.

[reveriebae]

Miami's model

pairing(s) : Park Seonghwa x reader

word count : 5108

summary : You thought you could escape Seonghwa, but he always gets what he wants. And he wants you. He finds you, traps you, and teaches you a brutal, punishing lesson—one you’ll never forget. You’re his. Always.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Obsession, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, rough and punishing dynamics, choking, overstimulation, degradation, messy oral. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : I feel sick of using Y/N for the reader so I decided not to do it anymore, Oh! And also...I'm a sucker for blowjob scene these days lol. Actually, this one should be part of Songfic but...it's not. I wrote this the whole night and it's my favorite Seonghwa fic after love overdose, hope you guys like it🫶

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐 smut under the cut 🪐

The runway lights were blinding, flashing like a thousand hungry eyes as you strutted forward, heels clicking against the polished stage. The dress—thin as sin, clinging to every curve—was meant to steal attention. And it did.

Men watched. Women envied. Miami was full of people who wanted something from you—lust, admiration, jealousy. But none of them made your skin crawl like him.

It was a slow, creeping awareness. Like an animal sensing a predator before it sees him.

Your body moved on autopilot, hitting your final pose. But your pulse slammed against your ribs.

He was here.

You knew it before you even spotted him. That stare—heavy, possessive, taunting.

And then you saw him.

Seonghwa sat in the VIP section, drowning in dim, golden light, a glass of dark liquor cradled in his long fingers. He looked almost bored, lips barely curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but not far from it. Like he’d been waiting.

Your throat went dry.

Miami was supposed to be your fresh start. New name, new hair, new city, new life. But he always found you.

You tore your eyes away, walking back down the runway, fingers trembling against the fabric of your dress. The second you were backstage, you grabbed your bag, slipping past models and designers, ignoring the bubbling chatter. Your driver was outside. You just had to make it to the car—

“Room 1803. Don’t make me come find you.”

The text made your breath hitch. The number was unknown, but you didn’t need a name.

Seonghwa.

The walls felt too tight, the air too thick. He’d given you an option, but you knew better. If you didn’t go to him, he would come to you. And that would be worse.

The hotel loomed over the city, its glass windows reflecting Miami’s neon skyline. Inside, the lobby pulsed with quiet luxury—crystal chandeliers, expensive cologne, the murmur of high-profile guests who had no idea you were walking straight into the lion’s den.

Room 1803.

Your heels barely made a sound against the plush carpet as you stepped into the elevator, your breath shallow. You could still turn back. You could walk right out, catch the next flight, disappear again.

But you knew how this would end.

Seonghwa didn’t give up. He never had.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Every step toward his door felt heavier, like gravity itself was dragging you down.

You knocked once. No answer. Your fingers curled into your palm. Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe he—

The door clicked open.

Seonghwa stood there, leaning against the frame, watching you the way a predator watches a trapped animal. Dark suit, silver rings, eyes that held every promise of ruin.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Good girl.”

The way he said it made something tighten in your stomach.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The suite was sleek, expensive, but the only thing you could focus on was the sound of the door locking behind you.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—”

“Three months.” He took a slow step forward. “That’s how long you lasted this time.”

He was close enough now that you could smell him—something deep, intoxicating, laced with the sharp burn of whiskey.

“I should be impressed,” he murmured, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up. “But I’m not.”

His grip tightened, just for a second—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in control.

“Now,” Seonghwa whispered, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, “why don’t you tell me what you were running from, baby?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer.

Him.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Seonghwa’s fingers traced the line of your jaw, his touch deceptively soft, but his eyes—his eyes burned.

“I wasn’t running,” you murmured, even though you both knew it was a lie.

Seonghwa chuckled, low and dark. “You’re still a terrible liar, baby.” His fingers slid down, brushing over your collarbone, ghosting along the strap of your dress. “But go on, keep pretending.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His touch was light, teasing, but it carried a promise. A warning.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Three months,” he mused, like he was still processing it. “Three months without my hands on you. Without hearing you beg.”

Your stomach twisted. “I’m not—”

His fingers wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Your breath hitched, and he tilted his head, watching you with something unreadable.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” Seonghwa murmured, thumb tracing circles against your pulse. “But don’t lie to me.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. The room felt too warm, the air too thick. He was too close, too overwhelming.

His grip loosened, but he didn’t step back. Instead, his other hand slid to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Tell me something, baby.” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. Deceptive. “Did you think about me while you were gone?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “No.”

His smirk was slow, lethal. “Then why are your thighs pressed together?”

Heat surged through you, betrayal flooding your veins. Because he was right.

Seonghwa leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. “You can fight me all you want,” he murmured, voice dropping into something dangerous. “But we both know how this ends.”

Your breath shuddered out of you. Because he was right about that, too.

The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy, like a loaded gun waiting to go off.

Seonghwa’s fingers lingered at your waist, a featherlight touch that still made you feel caged. He wasn’t touching you the way he wanted to—not yet.

Because he was patient. He always had been.

Your pulse hammered against your skin, betraying you, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m not playing your game.”

Seonghwa chuckled, the sound deep, knowing. Like he had already won.

“My game?” His thumb brushed over your hip, so subtly you almost thought you imagined it. “Sweetheart, you were the one who ran. That made it a game.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips hovered near your jaw, not touching, just teasing. The air between you burned.

“I don’t chase things I don’t intend to catch,” he murmured.

A shiver ran through you, frustration and something far more dangerous curling in your stomach. You wanted to move, to push him away, to do something to break this unbearable tension.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

Seonghwa was waiting—waiting for you to break first.

So you forced your expression into something calm, something indifferent. You let your lips curl into a smirk, tilting your chin slightly. If he wanted a game, you’d play.

You leaned in, just barely, your lips hovering near his jaw the same way he had done to you. “Then why haven’t you caught me yet?”

The change was instant. His grip tightened, his breath hitched—just for a second, but you felt it.

Then his fingers flexed against your waist, and his lips curled into something dark.

“Oh, baby.” His voice was smooth, a slow unraveling of control. “You think I haven’t?”

The air between you snapped.

But he didn’t kiss you. He didn’t move closer. He just stayed there, waiting.

Because the second you gave in? You’d never escape again.

The air felt thick, charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm cracks the sky apart.

Seonghwa still hadn’t touched you the way he wanted to. That was the worst part—the way he let the tension stretch, the way he made you feel like you had a choice, when you both knew the truth.

You weren’t free.

You never had been.

And yet, you still fought against the inevitable.

Your smirk didn’t waver. “If you think you’ve caught me, then why are we still here?”

His grip on your waist tightened—a silent warning.

You had no business taunting him like this, but the moment was slipping, your last sliver of control hanging by a thread. You had to use it.

Seonghwa exhaled slowly, almost as if he were amused. But the heat in his eyes told a different story.

“You want to pretend you have a choice?” His fingers ghosted along the edge of your dress, not lifting it, not moving past the barrier, but close enough that your breath stuttered. “Fine.”

He took a single step back.

It shouldn’t have felt like a slap. It shouldn’t have made your stomach drop.

But it did.

The space between you was small, insignificant, but it burned.

Seonghwa tilted his head, watching you with that same knowing smirk. Daring you.

“Go, then,” he said simply. “Leave.”

The challenge wrapped around your throat like a collar.

Because you knew what he was doing. Giving you the illusion of control, just to watch you crumble under the weight of it.

Your body screamed at you to move. To turn on your heel, walk out of the suite, disappear again. But you didn’t.

Seonghwa’s smirk deepened.

And that’s when you realized—this was what he had been waiting for.

Your silence was louder than any confession.

Seonghwa stepped forward again, slow, deliberate, reclaiming the space between you. His fingers traced your jaw, tilting your chin up.

“There you are,” he murmured, voice like silk and steel. “I was wondering how long you were going to pretend.”

Your stomach tightened. You had lost.

And he was going to make you feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered, heart hammering against your ribs as Seonghwa leaned in—slow, deliberate, inescapable.

There was no space left between you now. No room to run.

His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his touch featherlight, but his grip at your waist? Firm. Claiming.

"You ran for three months," he murmured, lips ghosting over your cheek, just shy of pressing against your skin. "Tell me, baby, was it worth it?"

You didn't answer.

Because you didn’t know.

All that effort—changing your number, slipping through cities, never staying too long in one place. And for what? To end up right back here, in his hands, exactly where he always knew you’d be?

Your silence made him chuckle, dark and deep.

"That's what I thought."

His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in control now.

Your breath caught when he finally pressed his lips against your skin, just beneath your ear. Soft, warm, too much.

“You should’ve known better,” he murmured, dragging his lips lower, down the line of your neck. Like he had all the time in the world.

Your body betrayed you—the way your fingers clenched, the way your breath shuddered.

Seonghwa smirked against your skin. “You’re trembling,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “Are you scared?”

Your pride flared, even as your body gave you away. “No.”

He chuckled again, low and knowing. “Liar.”

Before you could snap back, his hands slid lower—slow, unhurried, claiming every inch of skin as if reminding you that you belonged to him.

Your stomach tightened.

He wasn’t rushing.

Because Seonghwa never rushed when he had you exactly where he wanted.

“Say it, baby.” His voice was silk and sin, coaxing and commanding all at once. His fingers brushed the fabric of your dress, teasing, but still not giving you what you wanted.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to speak.

But Seonghwa just smirked.

“That’s alright,” he murmured, lips grazing your pulse. “I have all night.”

Seonghwa was taking his time.

It was deliberate—the way his lips hovered, the way his hands teased without giving in, the way he made you feel like you were the one unraveling first.

Because you were.

You could feel it—the slow, agonizing pull of control slipping from your fingers.

His lips pressed to the curve of your jaw, soft and warm, but his grip on your waist? Unyielding.

“You’re holding back.” His voice was smooth, velvet-dipped steel, pressing against every weak spot he had spent years memorizing.

His fingers traced the fabric of your dress, barely there, just enough to set your nerves on fire.

“Still pretending, baby?” His breath was hot against your skin. Mocking. Daring.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

But Seonghwa didn’t wait for your answer. He already knew it.

His lips trailed lower, down the column of your throat—a slow, sinful descent.

Your breath caught.

That was all it took.

Seonghwa smirked against your skin. “There it is.”

Your stomach tightened, twisted, burned.

The hand at your waist slid lower, tracing the curve of your hips, fingertips ghosting over the hem of your dress, but still not moving it.

“You’re so stubborn,” he murmured, lips pressing against your pulse. Feeling it race. Knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard. “And you’re a—”

His teeth grazed your skin—just a tease, just enough to steal the rest of your words.

Your nails dug into his arms, but you weren’t pushing him away.

Seonghwa chuckled. “What was that, baby?”

You hated him. You hated how easily he could unravel you.

But more than that?

You hated that you wanted him to.

Seonghwa tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils were dark, heavy-lidded, drunk off your slow submission.

“Say it,” he murmured. A demand. A command.

Your pride fought it.

But your body had already answered.

His smirk deepened.

“You’re already mine.”

And then, finally—he kissed you.

The moment his lips claimed yours, the last thread of control snapped.

Seonghwa wasn’t gentle.

The kiss was deep, demanding, consuming—a punishment for every second you had spent away from him.

His fingers dug into your waist, pulling you flush against him, no hesitation, no escape.

You gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you think.

Because he knew—if you had a second to think, you’d remember why you ran.

So he kissed you harder.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up—your hands in his hair, your hips pressing against him, your lips parting for him.

Seonghwa groaned, deep and low, swallowing every sound you made like it was something he had been starving for.

His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, and before you could protest, he lifted you—effortless, like you weighed nothing.

You barely had time to gasp before your back hit the nearest surface—the cool marble of the suite’s counter top.

Seonghwa never broke the kiss.

His fingers traced up your thighs, pushing your dress higher, higher—still teasing, still making you feel every damn second of it.

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, his lips kiss-swollen, his pupils blown.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Three months of running, just to end up right where you belong.”

Your body burned.

Because he was right.

Seonghwa leaned in again, his lips ghosting over yours, just barely not touching.

“Say it,” he whispered.

Your nails dug into his arms. “Say what?”

His smirk deepened. He wanted you to break.

He wanted you to admit it.

But you weren’t giving in that easily.

So you smirked back. “Make me.”

And that was all it took.

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened—and then, he ruined you.

The second the words left your mouth, everything changed.

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t hold back.

Didn’t let you think for a single second that you had even a shred of control left.

His hand was at your throat in an instant—not tight, not choking, just there, just enough to make you feel the weight of his control.

His lips were on you again, but this time, there was no patience.

The kiss was deep, bruising, possessive—a warning and a punishment all at once.

You gasped, but he swallowed it, swallowed everything.

His grip at your waist tightened, fingers pressing deep into your skin as he pulled you forward, forcing your thighs to part around him.

The cold marble beneath you was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

His other hand trailed down your thigh—slow, teasing, just to spite you.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” His voice was rough, breath warm against your lips. “You think you can still win this game?”

Your stomach tightened.

Because he was right—you had never been winning.

You had just been stalling.

And Seonghwa?

He was done playing.

His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

Dark. Hungry. Merciless.

“You ran.” His voice was low, steady, dangerous. “Now you take what you’re given.”

Your breath hitched.

His smirk was pure sin. “And I’m not feeling generous tonight.”

Then, he ruined you.

You barely had time to process his words before he made good on his promise.

Seonghwa grabbed your hips and yanked you closer, your body dragged effortlessly across the cold marble—like you weighed nothing, like you were his to move, to control, to break.

And you were.

Your legs trembled, wrapping around his waist on instinct, but he didn’t let you settle—no, that would be too easy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place, forcing you to feel every second of anticipation, every unbearable moment of not getting what you wanted.

“You think you get to tease me?” His breath was hot against your skin, his tone dark and amused. Like he was enjoying this.

Like he was enjoying watching you fall apart for him.

His fingers traced the inside of your thigh—lazy, unhurried, just enough to drive you insane.

Your breath came in uneven gasps, body betraying you with every twitch, every involuntary movement that told him exactly how much you wanted it.

Seonghwa chuckled—low, deep, cruel.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his lips along the edge of your jaw. “Already so desperate.”

Your nails dug into his arms, frustration boiling over. “Then stop teasing and do something.”

His grip tightened instantly.

Your stomach flipped, heat flashing through your body at the shift in his expression—mocking amusement replaced with something darker.

Something lethal.

His fingers trailed higher, so close, so fucking close, but stopping just shy of where you needed him most.

Then, his voice dropped—a whisper of a promise.

“Oh, baby.” His lips ghosted over your ear. “You don’t get to make demands.”

Then, without warning—he gave you exactly what you wanted.

I’ll be all that you need, baby

Seonghwa’s voice, low and thick with dark amusement, echoed in your head even as he forced your legs further apart, spreading you open like he had all the time in the world.

"You're trembling," he murmured, dragging his lips down the length of your neck, feeling every shudder, every twitch. His fingers were slow, teasing, barely grazing where you needed him most—because he wanted to hear you beg.

And he would.

His grip tightened at your waist, fingers pressing deep, like he was staking his claim.

"Tell me, baby," he whispered, breath hot against your jaw, "was running worth it?"

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction—but he felt the way your body reacted, how it betrayed you.

Seonghwa chuckled. "That’s what I thought."

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you—deep, rough, punishing.

A sharp gasp ripped from your throat, nails clawing at his shoulders, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.

He didn’t want you to.

"Look at you," he murmured, watching your expression twist, half-lidded eyes filled with something desperate. "Three months of running, just to end up like this—spread out and soaking for me."

Your stomach clenched. It was humiliating. It was intoxicating. It was exactly what he wanted.

His pace was slow at first—deep, curling strokes meant to tease, to make you squirm.

Then, suddenly—he slammed his fingers inside you, rough and unrelenting, forcing a strangled cry from your lips.

"What's wrong, baby?" Seonghwa's smirk was pure sin, dark eyes locked onto your face, watching you unravel. "You wanted me to stop teasing, didn't you?"

His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles in contrast to the brutal pace of his fingers.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter, your body twitching, back arching—but just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, he stopped.

Seonghwa pulled his fingers from you, slick and glistening, and pressed them against your lips.

"Lick."

The command was soft, but absolute.

You hesitated, glaring at him, but Seonghwa simply tilted his head, lips curving into something dark.

"You have two choices, baby," he murmured. "You do it yourself, or I make you."

Your lips parted slowly, hesitation warring with the heat curling in your gut—but Seonghwa had no patience left.

His fingers pressed forward, sliding past your lips, smearing your own slick onto your tongue.

“Good girl,” he murmured, watching as you swallowed around them, eyes hooded, pupils blown.

His thumb dragged down your chin, smearing the mess over your bottom lip before gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to his.

“You taste that, baby?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was nothing playful about the way his cock pressed against your thigh—hard, thick, twitching with need.

“You made this mess,” he murmured, pressing his knee between your legs, forcing them apart again. “Now, tell me—”

His fingers slipped free, but before you could gasp for breath, he was on you again.

This time, his lips weren’t soft, weren’t teasing—they were bruising, consuming, taking everything you had left to give.

His teeth sank into your bottom lip, just enough to make you whimper.

"You wanted to act like a brat," Seonghwa muttered against your mouth. "Now, take it like a good girl."

Then, without warning, he flipped you over.

Your hands slammed onto the cold marble, your dress bunched around your waist—bare, exposed, vulnerable.

Seonghwa stood behind you, silent for a moment, drinking in the sight like he was committing it to memory.

Then—a sharp slap to your ass.

You yelped, body jerking, but his palm was already smoothing over the sting, his other hand gripping your waist, holding you exactly where he wanted.

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, lips curving. “Running from me and now you’re dripping all over the counter?”

Heat flashed through you, a mix of humiliation and unbearable need.

Seonghwa groaned, fingers tracing the curve of your ass, spreading you open just enough to make your stomach twist.

“So messy.” His voice vwas thick, dark, hungry. “And all for me?”

You bit back a whimper, refusing to answer.

Seonghwa hummed. “Still stubborn, huh?”

His fingers trailed lower—too slow, too teasing.

Then, suddenly—he shoved them inside you again, rougher, deeper than before.

Your body jerked violently, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers curled against the marble, struggling to hold yourself up.

“Aw, baby,” Seonghwa cooed mockingly, fucking his fingers into you at a ruthless pace. “You’re already shaking.”

Your breath hitched, knees buckling, thighs quivering—but he didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down.

Didn’t let you breathe.

His free hand slid up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest to the counter.

Pinning you down.

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?” Seonghwa’s voice was all filthy amusement.

“You wanted me to stop teasing,” he murmured, leaning down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Now you’re gonna take every single thing I give you.”

Then, finally—he undid his belt.

The sharp clink of his belt sent a shiver down your spine.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the leather slid free, the soft sound of it snapping against itself making your stomach clench.

Seonghwa chuckled—low, dark, so fucking amused.

“You’re breathing so fast,” he murmured, dragging the belt over the curve of your ass, teasing you with the promise of something crueler.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to react—but he felt the way your body tensed, the way you shuddered at the anticipation.

His free hand pressed against your lower back, forcing you down further, the cold marble burning against your flushed skin.

“Breathe, baby.” His voice was soft, mocking. “Wouldn’t want you passing out before I’ve even started.”

Then—a sharp snap.

The first strike of the belt landed across your ass, white-hot and instant.

You gasped, fingers curling against the counter, but you didn’t make a sound—not yet.

Seonghwa hummed, pleased and unsatisfied all at once.

“Not enough?” he mused. “That’s fine. I can go harder.”

The next hit was brutal.

A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body jolting, but he didn’t stop—didn’t let you recover.

Two more. Faster. Harder. Overlapping.

By the time he dropped the belt, your ass was warm, aching, the sting spreading between your thighs in a way that made you feel even filthier.

And Seonghwa?

He fucking knew it.

“You’re shaking, baby.” His fingers traced the fresh marks, soothing, teasing, making you squirm.

He leaned down, lips at your ear, voice dripping with sin.

“Are you wet from that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, heat burning under your skin—but you didn’t answer.

Seonghwa laughed, low and breathless, like this was the best thing he’d ever fucking felt.

Then—his fingers dragged through your slick folds.

Testing. Confirming.

And then he groaned.

“Oh, you are,” he murmured, pressing his fingers inside you again—slow this time, deep, filthy.

You bit your lip, stifling a whimper, but he wasn’t having that.

His other hand slid under your jaw, gripping your chin, tilting your head back just enough for him to hear every sound.

Seonghwa stepped back, his cock slick, throbbing, still twitching with the need for more.

But instead of flipping you over again—he grabbed your chin, tilting your head up.

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “On your knees.”

Your breath hitched, legs weak, body trembling, but you sank to the floor anyway.

You barely had time to steady yourself before his fingers tangled into your hair, gripping tight, forcing you to look up at him.

He was so hard—flushed, leaking, thick.

Your thighs squeezed together, heat pooling in your stomach, but Seonghwa wasn’t in a giving mood yet.

He tapped the tip against your lips, smearing the mess there, watching as your tongue flicked out instinctively.

His grip tightened, voice dropping lower.

“Open.”

You obeyed immediately, lips parting just enough—but it wasn’t enough for him.

His other hand pressed against your jaw, forcing it wider, wider, until your mouth was open exactly how he wanted.

Then, he pushed in.

The first few inches slid across your tongue, hot, heavy, intoxicating.

Seonghwa groaned, head tilting back, his free hand resting on your cheek, feeling the way your mouth stretched around him.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, watching as you struggled to take more, as your throat fluttered around him.

But struggling wasn’t an excuse.

His grip tightened in your hair, holding you still—then, he shoved deeper.

Your eyes widened, throat tightening, a muffled gag slipping out as he bottomed out, cock hitting the back of your throat.

Seonghwa shuddered.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips rolling forward just enough to feel you squirm.

Tears pricked your eyes, spit pooling, dripping down your chin, but you stayed still, hands gripping his thighs, waiting—waiting for him to use you.

And he did.

Seonghwa fucked your throat without mercy, each thrust forcing another choked moan out of you, your nails digging into his skin, your jaw aching, your body melting into submission.

“Messy fucking thing,” he murmured, watching the way you took it all—ruined, desperate, perfect.

Your lips hollowed, sucking harder, taking everything he gave you—and it drove him insane.

“Just like that, baby.” His voice was tight, strained, dangerously close to breaking.

His hips snapped forward one last time, holding you down, forcing you to take every last drop as he spilled into your mouth.

A guttural groan ripped from his throat, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you still as he twitched against your tongue.

You swallowed, slow, teasing, showing him exactly how well you could behave.

Seonghwa let out a shaky breath, tilting your chin up, smearing the last traces of mess across your swollen lips.

His smirk was lazy, breathless.

“Good fucking girl.”

Then, without giving you a second to recover—he pulled you up, bent you over, and started all over again.

Your body was wrecked, trembling, burning, but Seonghwa didn’t give you a chance to recover.

Didn’t give you a second to breathe.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, spreading you open wide, forcing you to take everything.

His eyes were dark, wild, locked onto you like you were the only thing that existed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching the way you writhed beneath him.

His pace was relentless—deep, punishing, unyielding.

Every thrust dragged another sound from your lips—moans, whimpers, broken cries.

And Seonghwa?

He was fucking obsessed.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, grinding into you, pushing even deeper, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.

“You wanted this.” His fingers wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding.

Owning.

“You fucking begged for this.”

A sharp slap landed on your thigh, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through you.

You whimpered, eyes fluttering—but he didn’t let you close them.

“Look at me,” he growled, forcing your gaze to his.

His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, smearing the spit, the mess, the ruin.

“So fucking pretty when you’re broken, baby.”

Your body was beyond control, shaking, oversensitive, but he wasn’t done.

Seonghwa’s pace stuttered, hips slamming into you one last time before he buried himself deep—spilling inside you, groaning, shuddering as he claimed you all over again.

The room was silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing—and the faint, sticky mess between you.

Seonghwa let out a slow breath, fingers tracing your swollen lips, your damp hair, your ruined body.

His smirk was lazy, satisfied, still fucking smug.

“You’re not going anywhere, baby.”

He leaned down, lips ghosting over yours, soft, teasing.

“Mine. Always.”

[life-series-playlist-submissions]

see i have a whole list of songs that i can associate w/ characters but unfortunately most of them are either for aus, or not for the life series at all (though still for lifers)

anyways here are a few others i have for life series, besides the ones i already have suggested- there is a very obvious bias here lol

there's actually quite a lot but i promise they all fit very well trust me

these are all tcw songs

"easier" w/ clockduo

"strangler fig" w/ ll!skizz (crane lives dtiys im looking at u)

"shallow river" w/ clockduo

"once and for all" with impulse and other crastle people :)

"queen of nothing" with life series winners, OR limited life

"how to rest" w/ skizz and the LiL affirmations

"icarus" w/ 3l imp n skizz

"i talk in my sleep" w/ clockduo AND imp n skizz..... post-life series. dont put it in the skizz playlist tho this aint about him /aff

"down the river" for SL!villain scar. specifically villain scar. also clockduo bc everything is about clockduo forever

"ribs" w/ dl!pearl

"pretty little things" w/ clockduo

"know how" w/ clockduo

oh wait one fish in a birdcage song- "rule #5: james picard" for last life

AND NOW. songs that are for specific aus (or are not for the life series) so you shouldn't add them to the playlists, but i thought they would be fun to talk abt anyways

"the bidding" by tally hall for a team BEST drag au me and my friend are making... very.... slowly....... i am always rotating it in my mind and exploding this au's skizzleman but i cant write for shit............ yes girl go discover a whole new thing that it turns out u love and then have ur aroace awakening................. and then get traumatized..............................................

"infinitesimal" by mother mother for the same au mentioned above

"rule #7: angel tango" by fish in a birdcage for... you guessed it... team best drag au................ (i have a whole playlist made. it was the first themed playlist i ever made. and i did it before we changed a whole important plot point so now i need to make another one. regardless here is the link i need to talk abt this silly au)

"sick of the silence" by mother mother for 3L!skizz in a very specific au i have where he's a shapeshifter and, during 3L, got stuck in one form (enderskizz)

"neverending hum" by lemon demon for skizz in general. impulse is the armadillo named corey /silly

"space oddity" by david bowie for hcs8!tango. i love david bowie guys

"my wife and my dead wife" (specifically the live version from "gotta let this hen out!") by robyn hitchcock for an ethimpdubs au i have where etho is bdubs' dead husband and impulse is bdubs' newer, alive husband, and then etho comes back as a ghost like ten years after his death

You can totally add songs that fit the personalities of the lifers in general! Also Space Oddity is 1000% HC8 Tango, big agree.

Added songs to the playlists Bdubs, Impulse, Skizz, Cleo, Tango, Grian, Scott, Pearl, Martyn, Scar, Joel, Last life and Limited life. (I added the Queen of Nothing song to all you suggested because I couldn’t make any decision).

[was70th]

d4 names : shoal , cora , marina , bellast , caspian , riptide , gilly , dory , bay , marlin , pontus , delta , calliste , delphin , corelle , davey , rhode , scylla , urchin , banks , isla , thetis , triton , galiot , heron , tiller , birney , wade , gannet , sage , petrel , dover , undine , skipper , darya , maris , noah , jonah , ren , beverly , odette , erasmus , adrian , brendan , elmo , francis , marino , winslet , moby , ray , bertha , careen , cordelia , ervina , laraine , spouter , sebastian , lily , kelpe , goslin , sternid , porter , hull , poppy , dover , mariner , sturgeon , krill.

[vaguely-concerned]

do you think ingellvar -- raised by well-meaning but largely clueless about child development academics -- probably has a decent shot at understanding taash' position better than they maybe realize

[bmpmp3]

im kinda bad at talking to people on the internet but i always want to comment on art and music i like by small creators 1) because its nice to know and 2) depending on the website (like youtube) maybe it might help a little with spreading it around. but im still kind of bad at it. so a lot of people get an "awesome!!" from me and lemme tell you - i mean everyone of those "awesome!!"'s. i mean it with all my heart. sometimes a thing is just awesome, so awesome it needs more than one exclamation mark!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[keeps-ache]

sigh. i think i just do not like dogs very much lol

[thesmokinpossum]

Didn't felt like mentioning it immediately but shoutout to my sick and twisted brain for getting so triggered by an unexpected Christmas parade that I ended up havin the absolute worst panic attack of my entire life (potentially the only real one? I've had a couple other episodes I thought of as panic attacks but they were not even close to that so who knows) to the point where I spent the very last day of my 30th year on this earth in the ER, good times, good times 😊

[the-lesbian-orpheus]

ONLY ONE??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONLY ONE 😭

[freaky-flawless]

I don't know how I completely missed the fact that Jinafire's doll is a Fang Vote.

At least this time we get to see her outfit prior to voting, and I'm actually glad we didn't get to vote which character. Not to mention the outfit already has a better design then Rochelle's. Seems Mattel actually took some of the criticism to heart.

But also... Considering how Rochelle's went, I do wish she was just a regular Skullector doll. Hell, how long did it take for people to actually get her from the time her design was finalized? By the time Jinafire ships out, it won't even be the Year of the Dragon anymore lol.

[queenerdloser]

both of the new cookie recipes i tried out to bring for christmas turned out really crunchy whoops

[ladysqueakinpip]

not me lying wide awake at 5:30am on a sunday on my day off bc after almost a full year I finally FINALLY realized the implication of the end of remember them from the cyclops saga

[danketsuround]

i'm going to the dentist tomorrow and being really brave about it. extremely. because i need to get my wisdom teeth out very soon but i have to do a consultation first. i'm being brave. i promise. i'm brave...... :(