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lisired · 19 hours ago

Text

love jones

pairing: photographer!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, strangers to lovers, hollywood!au, photographer!haechan, model!reader, unprotected sex (don't be silly wr- [gets hit by a car])

summary: After breaking off your engagement to your fiance, you move to Los Angeles to pursue a modeling career. There in the fairytale land where stars go to shine you meet Haechan, an aspiring photographer with a penchant for mischief and flirtation.

word count: 13.1k (/25.5k)

a/n: inspired by love jones; the song by leon thomas featuring ty dolla $ign and the movie by theodore witcher. this is the second/last installment of a repost; it is also the prequel to supermodel, which you do not have to read. installment one can be found here. as always, feedback is appreciated!

When you completed all of your errands, you had the taxi drop you off at Haechan’s place and bid Chaewon goodbye. According to your new beau, he should have been there waiting for you. Plus you saw his sleek, black motorbike parked out front. No doubt he was somewhere inside.

You took a couple of deep breaths before ringing his doorbell.

Haechan was quick to announce he was on the way, and the sound of his voice on the opposite end of the door tempted your lips into a smile. He opened it with hastiness, flashing his teeth when he saw you. “Hi, baby. Come on in.”

You matched his radiant smile and stepped inside, letting him lock the door behind you. Meanwhile, Haechan was subtly checking you out. You were dolled up, compared to this morning. How you were so beautiful at both your morning glory and when you dressed up was something he would never comprehend.

To say nothing of himself. You loved the image of his naked back that was permanently etched behind your eyelids, but your mouth also watered at the sight of him in his signature ripped jeans and leather jacket.

“This way,” Haechan said, shaking the thought of you out of his head.

You followed him upstairs, briefly scanning his place. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Either he was very tidy or he was definitely trying to be impressive.

Within a couple of seconds, you were led through a doorway that was obviously the entrance to his bedroom. You took a little scan. He had posters for days, to say nothing of the vinyls mounted on his wall. There was a shelf full of photo albums just shy of his desk and you were curious to look through them.

“Not bad,” you told him after realizing you’d been silently gazing about.

“Thanks,” Haechan replied, removing one of his Michael Jackson vinyls from the wall with extreme caution.

You watched him retrieve it with a respectable amount of vigilance and hand it to you. Though you were way too glad to finally have it in your hands, you couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right, even though you’d earned it fair and square.

You met his eyes. “Why are you giving me this?”

Haechan arched his brow, surprised, but whispered, “Because I told you I would give it to you if you went on a date with me and I’m a man of my word.”

You shook your head. That couldn’t be all. “Yeah, but there’s no way you wanted to go out with a girl you barely know so bad you were willing to trade a signed Michael Jackson vinyl. These don’t come a dime a dozen.”

Haechan didn’t miss a beat. “Neither do girls like you.”

Your heart was doing somersaults and you didn’t appreciate the effect he had on you. Too much too soon. You could think of approximately a million reasons why this was a terrible idea, but the good outweighed the bad somewhere.

A smile gracing your lips, you opted to reply, “Well, in that case, thank you, handsome.”

Handsome. That was a first. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes.

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped.

With a chortle, you shifted your attention to his desk. There was a camera sitting there and you picked it up in favor of momentarily forgetting the signed vinyl you’d been gifted. Haechan watched you with curious eyes, wondering what in the hell you were doing.

Rather than linger on the thought, Haechan began to strike some silly poses that were guaranteed to send you into a fit of giggles. He was terribly good at making you laugh and it made you sick.

Then, a mischievous thought struck you. “Take off your clothes.”

Haechan was baffled. “What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Haechan laughed incredulously. Then, he realized you were serious, watching him expectantly.

His hesitation made you roll your eyes. “I’ve already seen everything. You weren’t shy about showing off last night.”

That was true. You had literally sucked his dick and given him the most mind-numbing blowjob of his lifetime. More than once. So, he gave in, putting on his model face while he unzipped his leather jacket in no hurry. As if he was giving a strip tease.

While he was shredding the layers of his clothes, you were snapping photo after photo, heat stirring in your thighs the closer he came to nakedness. He was a little too sexy for your liking. It wasn’t good for your health.

Now in nothing but his boxers as he threw his tee over his head, Haechan decided you’d had your fun and called it quits. “Okay, that’s enough of the camera.”

You frowned, though set the camera down respectfully. “Why - you don’t trust me?”

For whatever reason, Haechan didn’t answer you verbally, instead opting to sit at his desk and gesturing for you to approach him with his fingers. Of course, you came to him obediently, straddling his lap as if he were a motorbike. With how bare he was, it wasn’t difficult to feel your warmth on his body and it drove Haechan absolutely mad. You had no business being this fine. Cute, too. You made his head spin.

“You are the most dazzling thing I’ve ever seen,” Haechan whispered darkly under his breath. “Shouldn’t I be taking pictures of you and not the other way around?”

Leaning into his ear, you purred, “You can take all the pictures you want of me.”

Your true intentions were too obvious and Haechan chuckled a little, because he knew exactly what you meant by that. Out of nowhere, he swallowed your lips in a heated kiss, hands flying to your blouse while you both made out. You could feel the room heating up with every second, degree by degree. Haechan was like fire to the touch, your palm flat on his naked chest. Your little pants were making his dick stiffen in his boxers and you could feel it calling your name.

Not a minute later, you were just as naked as Haechan, sitting on his desk with your legs thrown open and his head between your thighs. You grinded into his mouth, muscles flexing with want. Fuck, you were jonesing for him.

Haechan brought you to tears of climax over and over again for no other reason than him being downright smitten with you and it was maddening. You screamed more than once. Like you wanted the whole world to give him his flowers. Fuck, he could eat pussy. A little too good. I will never get used to this.

Months went by at the speed of light. The more you hung out with Haechan, the more you became smitten. A part of you thought this would be a one-and-done situation, but you and your new beau were joined at the hip and displayed no signs of wanting to be unjointed.

Every now and then, he would invite you to get-togethers with his clique too. Sometimes Chaewon would tag along, more than mingling with Mark. The eight of you combined were a vivid splash of personalities, but for the most part, you’d locked eyes on Haechan.

He started taking you on actual dates. You went to bury your feet in the sand at beaches or meander along boardwalks. You had informal photoshoots, mainly where you were his muse, or took pictures of the blazing city. You hooked up in between but never took the next step of penetration, like you were saving it for a special moment.

Haechan liked snapping photos of you on your dates and by now he was probably due for another photo album. There were so many memories being made that it made your head spin. Pictures of you painted in frosting. Of you embarrassedly walking back to your seat after not striking a single bowling pin. Every now and then you snuck an off-guard photo of Haechan when he wasn’t looking.

There was a knock at your door. You paused dead in your tracks, surprised, because you weren’t expecting anyone. Your brain immediately wondered if it was Haechan there to take you on an impromptu date, and, giddy with excitement, you sprung up to answer the door.

Your smile dropped when you saw who was there. “Jaehyun,” you greeted forbiddingly.

Jaehyun stood there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Hey, baby.”

Now your mood was officially spoiled and you were exasperated. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shh, baby. Listen, I just want to talk,” Jaehyun said, flashing a smile. “I just want to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about together,” you hissed, shutting the door, but Jaehyun stopped it with his foot.

Jaehyun grabbed the doorknob and met your gaze with those honey brown eyes you’d fallen for once upon a time. And they served as the perfect distraction from his lips. No wonder you never noticed that his lips didn’t tell the truth. “Baby, please,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “Five minutes.”

“I swear.”

After a couple of seconds of mulling it over, you made what was regrettably the largest mistake of your life. You sighed and let him come inside.

Jaehyun grinned triumphantly and set the bouquet on your table, shutting the door behind himself. You had no idea how he found you and you were somewhat terrified of asking.

Before he could open his mouth, you pointed your fingers at him and declared, “Listen to me, if you’re trying to win me back, I’m insulted that you think I’m as easy as some fucking flowers.”

“I don’t think you’re easy, babe,” Jaehyun whispered in his velvety voice. “You’re hard and I love that about you.”

You rolled your eyes and barked irritably, “I’m hard and you couldn’t handle that, so you went and stuck your penis in some easy whore.”

When you stood and walked into the kitchen, Jaehyun followed behind you desperately. “Oh, c’mon. Look, baby, I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I just...”

Arms folded, you watched him expectantly, gesturing for him to continue.

“Shit. You know that I’m not good with words,” Jaehyun sighed, pulling something out of the inside of his suit. “Look.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that?”

“It’s a boarding pass. I want you to come back to New York with me so that we can be together.”

“You had all of that and more, and you didn’t know what to do with it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun was persistent. “Well, I want it again.”

You shook your head, maddened. You couldn’t believe him. You snapped, “I don’t understand why you think you can just waltz on up in here trying to woo me with flowers and shit and whisk me away to New York. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jaehyun - mine sure as hell doesn’t anymore. That’s your problem, you know. You think everything is about you!”

Your ex-fiancÃ© groaned, “What - are you seeing somebody else? Did you find a job?”

“Your five minutes are up,” you snarled, glancing at your wrist.

“Well, I have to go anyway. I’m meeting my mother for lunch,” Jaehyun said, setting the boarding pass down on your table.

“Tell I her I said, ‘Hello.’”

Jaehyun nodded, fixed on you. You didn’t meet his stare, too busy feigning indifference, but you could feel him burning holes through your body. He tapped the counter. “Think about it.”

“Leave, Jaehyun.”

Your ex heaved a breath, then begrudgingly walked outside your front door.

On Saturday, Haechan came over to help you set up your album shelf because he’d sweetly volunteered a couple of days ago. Which was very kind of him. Truth be told, you knew nothing about putting pieces together and reading manuals made your poor brain hurt.

For about half an hour you both were hard at work, constructing and organizing while sparing time for kisses and giggles in between. When it was finally done, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The vinyls were arranged specifically in the order you wanted them to be without a single one missing.

A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned away from Haechan to hide yourself. Still, Haechan noticed immediately and swung his arms open for you. “Hey, come here.”

You crept into his arms without a second thought, letting him cradle you there. Though you wanted to chide yourself for tearing up in front of him, his arms felt like a safe place. Where you belonged.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, drying your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What for? This is all you, baby. It takes a lot of commitment to do something like this. I respect the hell out of your dedication.”

You chuckled and slipped away, sitting at your bed, but pat the spot beside you. Haechan took the invite and crashed at your side, lowering his head into your lap and staring into your eyes. You threaded your fingers through his hair, just meeting his stare and matching his affection.

Then, Haechan asked the dreaded question, “What made you want to start a record collection anyways?”

That made you stiffen. Haechan instantly noticed something was off and parted his lips to apologize, but you were quicker. “I didn’t start it. It was my grandfather��s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Leukemia.”

“Shit. My bad,” Haechan apologized.

You brushed him off, though there were a lot of emotions stirring inside your chest as you spoke. “It’s fine. It was years ago. He had a whole list of vinyls he specifically wanted. I’m just finishing what he started.”

In spite of your attempts to be nonchalant, Haechan could tell you were heavily affected by your grandfather’s passing. “That’s really sweet,” he told you sincerely. “I know he’s really proud of you.”

I hope so, you thought to yourself, wistful. “Yeah. Enough about me, though. What’s the deal with you and motorcycles?”

Haechan started laughing, probably at good memories, because you knew the feeling. It was your only option when it came to outweighing all the negative feelings. “My mom is a photographer and my dad is a reformed biker. She always got these cool shots of him on his bike. Growing up peeking at them through the garage door, I think it was just kinda natural I developed a passion for both.”

“Sounds like a happy family.” No envy was present in your tone, just genuine curiosity.

Haechan bobbed his head, then leapt up to grab his photo album and crossed his legs. “These are a couple of the shots my mom took of my dad.”

You watched him flip the pages, photos of him as a boy flickering past until he stopped at the pictures of his dad on his motorbike taken by Mrs. Lee. Many of them were taken in different settings, but the most eye-catching of them all was the one of his dad in the city, helmet catching in the neon lights.

It was like you were instantly enamored. The shots were beautiful. His mother had a great eye and you could clearly see who he got it from.

“Wow. These are one of a kind,” you gasped.

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yeah. You should meet them. I think they’d like you.”

Your heart started beating so fast you nearly had a heart attack. “You sure don’t waste any time.”

“I mean, not right this second,” he added, realizing he was moving at a quick speed. “I was just suggesting it for some time in the future.”

Meet his parents, huh? That meant he must’ve really planned on sticking around.

Rather than reply, you acknowledged his response with a pat and grabbed his photobook, carefully dropping it on your desk. You reached for his shoulders and straddled him, brushing your lips against his ears before asking, “How many hearts have you broken?”

“One,” Haechan replied, planting one hand at your waist and steering the other to your ass.

“Honesty.” That surprised you a little. Though Haechan had been nothing but honest with you.

Haechan shook his head. He was tempted to kiss you, but he would settle for feeling your warmth on his lap. For now, at least. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I broke her heart, she broke mine. We’re even.”

You weren’t jealous, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Do you still talk?”

Haechan immediately snorted. As if. “Nope.”

“Hm.” You were looking at his dumb handsome face, wanting to kiss him, but wanting to be stronger.

You had Haechan’s undivided attention, because he was studying you, hands rubbing you up and down. Your breath picked up in speed the longer he continued and he fought a stupid smile. “Have you ever been bad for someone and they were bad for you?”

With a frown, you gave him a nod. That hit a little too close to home. “Mutually bad? Yeah. Been there. Done that.”

Haechan was sobering, getting a little vulnerable with you for once. “It’s true, what they say. Two wrongs don’t make a right. That’s why it didn’t work out. Both trying to make something right while both being wrong as hell. We took turns being at fault.”

“Sounds toxic,” you replied with a grimace.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, snickering. “What about you - bad history?”

You shifted a little. It was a reminder that you had spoken nothing of Jaehyun to Haechan. Why would you anyways? He was history. Thanks to all those months with Haechan, you’d forgotten all about Jaehyun until he randomly entered your life again. Never in a million years did you once imagine you’d go so long without your ex-fiancÃ© back then, but Haechan made you forget.

The feeling of Haechan’s body warmth gave you a little push. Playing nonchalant, you replied totally deadpan, “Oh, you know. Nothing crazy. He was sweet in the beginning and talked about getting married and having kids. Then, we started arguing, but he would always make up for it and I would forget. Then I found him balls deep in another girl.”

Haechan winced. “Damn.” He pointed over to your desk. “That ring from your mystery lover?”

You quickly frowned. For whatever reason, Jaehyun never demanded it back, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Though Chaewon had been very adamant you throw it off a mountain never to be seen again. You cloaked your melancholy with humor, “Nothing gets past you.”

“So, you were engaged.”

“Not when you hit on me,” you said, knowing immediately what he was referring to. That night at the bar. You almost laughed. Oh, how the tables turn. “So I guess you were right about my vibes.”

Haechan chuckled, but he was a little in his head now. Your engagement had to be recent, he realized. It made a lot of sense.

Temporarily discarding those thoughts, Haechan reached for his camera with his hand coiled around your waist, making you furrow your brows at him. “What are you doing now?”

He pointed it at you. “For the photobook. One more before it’s full.”

“Should I pose?”

“Just be sexy.”

You scoffed, “I’m always sexy.”

“Exactly, baby,” Haechan replied, back hitting the mattress while your legs were still draped over either side of him.

When Haechan pointed his camera at you, you smiled for the picture. It printed out the polaroid immediately, which Haechan took and handed to you for approval. You looked it over and beamed with acceptance. Your smile was different there. Not one of those forced model smiles. It was like you were smiling at Haechan rather than the camera.

“Your photo album is complete,” you announced, leaning over to kiss his neck.

Haechan quickly tossed everything to the side in favor of clasping your hips in his hands again, because it felt natural to hold them. Your breath tickled his neck, not to mention your lips on his throat.

He grinned wildly and whispered, “Thanks for being the finishing piece.”

You giggled and finally kissed his lips, having exhausted all of your self-restraint. Haechan kissed you back just as feverishly, as if you’d both been waiting for each other to snap but didn’t want to forfeit.

First it was just harmless kissing and touching, until your bodies became restless. Haechan tested the waters, so to speak, nimble fingers unbuttoning your blouse until it fell. He made short work of your bra, unclasping it and tossing it aside.

You were exposed to him, though he’d already seen everything you had to offer. Many, many times. But there was something different about the way he looked into your eyes and how your heart raced when his fingers brushed against you.

Haechan kneaded your breasts, resulting in you having to suck in your breath. Your soft sounds made his dick twitch in his pants. He could feel that the air was thicker too, the two of you suffocating beneath the weight of your own desire.

You’d had enough of being teased by him and pulled his lips back onto yours by his collar, throwing his shirt above his head all the while. All you wanted to do was kiss and taste him. And maybe fuck him.

Scratch that. You definitely wanted to fuck him and your body wanted him even more. “Haechan,” you grumbled, clawing at his jeans. “Take it off.”

There would be no need to tell him twice. Haechan gently steered you off of his lap and sat up to remove his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, but you were quick to take care of that situation. You didn’t waste any time freeing his hard cock from his boxers, much to his amusement.

“I want you,” you told him, finding his eyes with a fixed stare. “Inside.”

Well, that left no room for misunderstanding. Haechan’s brain shut down at the thought of being inside of you, though he played it cool. “How do you want me?”

Bringing your hand under your skirt, you tugged your panties past your ankles and threw your legs open, smiling coyly. “Come and get me.”

Haechan growled, “Woman, you drive me crazy.”

You giggled, but the noise faded out when Haechan crawled over you, kissing you again. Neither of you could stand to be apart from each other for three seconds. All you wanted was to feel him so deep inside you that he could never leave.

Haechan realized something and pulled back with a groan. “I don’t have a condom.”

You arched a brow, stifling a laugh. It was very unlike him. You’d seen the inside of Haechan’s wallet more than once and he kept a condom, though he hadn’t brought it with him. Probably because he wasn’t expecting to need anything. “I have an IUD,” you said.

The realization on Haechan’s face was laughable. “You mean?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you really want me toâ€¦”

“Yes, Haechan,” you repeated with a groan. “I’m not about to beg you to cum inside me.”

“Maybe you should,” Haechan suggested, the grin back on his plush lips.

You rolled your eyes. Then, a thought struck you, and you half-joked, “You’re not a bastard that’s stuck your dick inside half the girls in the city, right?”

“If you wanted to know my body count, all you had to do was ask,” Haechan retorted.

“You haven’t asked about my body count.”

Haechan kissed the corner of your lips and told you frankly, “Baby, I couldn’t give less of a damn what your body count is.”

Well, that was good to know. There were a couple of guys you’d been with that would freak out if they knew you’d hooked up with more than a couple of boys.

“Unless you’re a serial killer,” Haechan added lightheartedly.

You were caught off guard and snickered, corners of your lips upturned. No matter the time, Haechan could be counted on to make you laugh. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“Good.”

You peered up at him and joked, “Promise not to give me chlamydia?”

Haechan snorted. “You’d be the first girl I’ve hit raw.”

You believed him, but it surprised you when Haechan held out his pinky. You rolled your eyes, prompting a laugh out of him, but intertwined your pinky with his. It was kinda cute.

The mood completely shifted from that moment on. His dick lined up at your entrance, the tip teasing your hole. All you wanted was to feel every inch of him buried inside of you. He was slow and steady, taking his time to fill you, inch by fucking inch.

Some noises left each of you when you’d swallowed his length whole and he slinked down against your velvet walls. His hands left your waist in favor of your hands and he slipped his fingers through yours affectionately, squeezing them as he wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

The same thought was heavy on your mind, though you had no regrets. Neither did Haechan. For whatever reason, it felt a billion times more special now compared to if you would have hooked up earlier.

It felt like you were making love.

“Haechan,” you cried out, all the heat in your body gathering at your core. It felt like he was stretching you open.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Haechan sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Shit, baby. You’re so damn perfect.”

Haechan was so deep that you could feel him in the pit of your stomach, keeping the butterflies that had made a home out of your gut company. You felt at ease with your hand in his and his warmth enveloping you from head to toe.

It was over when Haechan started to set that steady, comfortable pace. It wasn’t too slow, but he thankfully wasn’t jack-hammering you either. The rhythm was just right. He glanced down at you, a weight on his eyelids, and asked sweetly, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, lips twitching into a smile. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his, desperate to feel him everywhere. You could taste yourself on his tongue and inexplicably, it made you feel a different breed of insatiable.

Haechan kissed you back even harder in between grunts and curses, typically followed by your name more often than they were not. You were making him dizzy. You were making him entirely dependent on you, as if there was no him without you in his arms.

Sweat stuck to your skin, little beads of moisture dripping down your back and breasts in numbers. Your whole body was alive, craving him like no other. Your thighs tensed, heat spasming in your palms. Your hips moved to their own accord, trying to match Haechan’s thrusts because you wanted to feel the euphoria to the max. All the pleasure turned you into a madwoman.

Haechan pulled back, the heat of you reworking the wires in his brain, and asked, “Do you mind if I take pictures of you?”

The question did a little more than catch you off-guard, though the more you mulled it over, the more your thighs tightened with want and arousal. You were entertained by the idea, that was for sure. It was like nothing you had over done before, in spite of the fact that you modeled for a living. Maybe it was the heat getting to your head, but you were inclined to agree.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Haechan said, noticing your hesitation.

You shook your head, grinning at him with tiny little stars in your eyes. “I want to.”

Haechan’s lips twisted into a beaming smile of their own and he plucked the camera from wherever he had tossed it to, pointing at you once more. Rather than getting a shot of your face, he was snapping photos of your heaving chest.

Then, it was your stomach, the print of his dick visible against your tummy. Followed by your neck and collarbone, decorated by the necklace he’d gotten you a couple of weeks in advance.

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan hissed, lowering his head to kiss your breasts. You sighed softly at the feeling, content.

Your breath caught in your throat when he handed you back the polaroids for self-approval, pussy tightening around his stiff dick. Which he couldn’t help but notice and grinned slyly.

You tapped his forearm and asked, “Can I see the camera?”

“Sure,” Haechan said, handing it to you.

You knew maybe a thing or two about how to work a camera, courtesy of your industry, and navigated to the self-timer without any need for his assistance. Then, you sat it down, and pulled his lips onto yours by his hair again.

As if he hadn’t already known, that single-handedly confirmed that you were the one.

You were getting closer by the minute. All of the kissing, touching and sucking (and photo-snapping) was making short work of the both of you. Haechan had internally worried about busting too quick when you permitted him to go bareback, but you weren’t far behind.

All of it was making you mad with lust. The heat and the sounds and the pressure. Your whole body was overloaded, writhing with pleasure.

Haechan was whispering sweet praises in your ear partially to get you off just in case, because he was going to unravel any moment now. His finger thumbed your clit, and with just a look at your face tense with bliss, he was getting closer.

“I’m gonnaâ€¦ Haechan, fuck,” you moaned, barely coherent. It was hard to speak with him strumming you to climax, and the weight of him on top of you. It was game over.

You’d come to notice the signs of Haechan’s impending orgasm and they were all staring you down right now, so when he let out that final, high-pitched moan of your name preceded by a string of curses, it wasn’t even somewhat shocking when you felt his fingers find yours and tighten around them again, his release painting your walls.

That was all it took to break you, his hot cum spilling inside the tightness of your cunt. It was a wordless orgasm, but an intense one, looking into his eyes with all the pleasure and wanting in the world as you shuddered with climax.

For a long minute, the two of you just took a while to gather your bearings. Then, you took one look at each other, and burst into a fit of giggles. Your heart was taut with something bittersweet.

A couple of hours (and rounds) later, Haechan was still at your house. You both took a long, hot shower together with the excuse of saving water and walked back inside your room.

You sat on your chair while Haechan took the bed, just staring at each other for a minute. “I’ve really been having a good time these past couple of months.”

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped, a bottle of beer in hand.

You chuckled.

Haechan could feel a shift in the air and it was somewhat unnerving. He asked, “Why do I get the feeling that there’s about to be a really strong but here?”

Your laughter turned nervous. Which was noticed. After a while, Haechan started to pick up even the slightest of changes with you. That was what he did. “I’m, um, going to NYC next week for a little bit.”

And there it was. “Oh, yeah?” Haechan hummed, nonchalant. “For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks, I think. I don’t know. Probably just a couple of weeks, if not less,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, what’s going on in New York?”

“I’m justâ€¦,” you trailed off, fighting the nerves in your gut. “I’m just poking around, you know? Looking for some gigs. And I also have someâ€¦ unfinished business to take care of.”

Your response was vague as ever, which told Haechan everything that he needed to know. “Your ex.”

You frowned. Haechan was many, many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that you could play him for a fool. “Haechan, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I really care about you, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”

There was a moment spent in silence as Haechan processed your words. “Well, I appreciate your honesty,” he said after a moment. “But aren’t we just kickin’ it?”

Your eyes flickered. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Pfft. Hell no,” Haechan said, feigning indifference very skillfully. “I’m not your man. I don’t have a ring on your finger or anything like that. Go on to New York and do whatever you gotta do. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”

“Right,” you mumbled, but there was something dark lingering in your chest. “Well, I’d like for you to meet me at the airport next week, if you want. Kiss me goodbye maybe.”

Haechan chuckled lightly. “Is it goodbye or see you later?”

“See you later,” you replied sheepishly. “I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“I’ll stay by my phone.”

You smiled thinly.

Then, the night came for you to fly to New York.

“Because if he knew what he was doing, what the hell am I doing in the picture then?”

Jaemin nodded. “Riddle me that.”

Haechan continued, “Why am I hitting it?”

Jaemin acknowledged Haechan with a raise of his drink.

Lifting his own drink, Haechan scoffed. He’d been in out of his head and was realizing that he might have been a fool for you. He was conflicted. First of all, you’d started acting a little distant a couple of weeks before when up until then, things had been sailing smoothly.

He figured you were stressed from work and didn’t press you about anything, until the other night revealed your true feelings. You were going back to the man who’d disrespected you and your relationship and he couldn’t understand why.

But it wasn’t for him to understand, so he was going to pretend as if he didn’t care about you. If you wanted to run off to New York City and get fucked over by a dickhead again, that was your decision. Why the fuck should I care? He grumbled to himself.

On the one hand, he’d made countless memories with you all in the span of two months and thoughts of a future with you were like a whirlwind in his mind. He thought you felt the same, but on the other hand, he realized he was nothing but a pit-stop along the way. Like he was in the backseat of the joy ride and none of it mattered because it was harmless fun.

“Let me tell you the real deal,” Haechan began, settling down his drink. “The real deal is I don’t think she can handle it.”

Jaemin chuckled.

Haechan threw his head back. “Jaem, I put it on her. Boom.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“Now she’s fucking gone.”

“I feel you, man,” Jaemin said, dispatching messages from his girlfriend before turning his phone screen-side down. “But wait a minute. I thought you two were justâ€¦ you know, umâ€¦ kickin’ it.”

“That’s not the point, Jaemin,” Haechan groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“So, what’s the point, my friend?”

Haechan bristled. “I’ll tell you the point. Have you been listening? I’m gonna tell you the point. Matter of fact, I’m gonna feed you the point. The point isâ€¦”

Jaemin cocked his head, glancing at Haechan expectantly with a wry smile on his face.

“Man, fuck this, that’s the point,” Haechan barked irritably. “I’m gonna find me a fine ass woman and we’re gonna have some fine ass sex on this fine ass night.”

Jaemin retorted, “You’re gonna wake up with a fine ass hangover and get a fine ass ass-whooping.”

“Whatever, man. You should get laid, too. Tell Winter I said what’s up,” was all Haechan said before marching over to the bar.

He got another drink and sat there for a while, completely in his thoughts. Most of them about you, obviously. No matter what, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d obviously fallen hard in spite of whatever bullshit he fed his friends, because you were all he could think about.

Distractions, distractions, I need a fucking distraction, Haechan hissed to himself. Then, he turned around, and briefly made eye contact with a woman who’d been fucking him with her eyes.

If you wanted to play, Haechan was down for the game. And he had plenty.

All the while, you were across town. Walking around the airport, you were nothing short of antsy. For good reason.

Are you coming?

Sent two hours ago. There was no telling if Haechan had seen the message, considering his read receipts were off. Maybe he was just ignoring you. That could have been it. He told you he’d let you know if he could make it tonight or not, but the last time you heard from him was the night you’d dropped the news.

An instagram notification popped on your phone and you accidentally clicked it, being taken to Jaemin’s story. And you frowned when you saw a picture of him and the boys - all of them - out drinking.

Then, your flight was called, and rather than wallow in all of the bad feelings, you sucked it up and got on that plane.

Days passed. Nothing from Haechan. All coming back to New York did was remind you why you left in the first place. First of all, Jaehyun was adamant that you didn’t pursue any of the gigs you’d come there for. Something about him being a provider and some other bullshit you weren’t exactly keen on hearing.

When you instead ventured around the city, meeting up with some old friends and the like, it only made things worse. You walked by all the places Jaehyun used to visit with you once upon a time, before each of your worlds clashed and you realized it wouldn’t work.

Maybe a couple of months ago, it would have made you sad. Now, you just wanted to get the fuck out of here. You felt like you were wallowing in memories you had no intention of ever bringing up again. This just wasn’t your home anymore.

Sharing a bed with your ex-fiancÃ© at night didn’t help, because all you did was dream of zipping through Los Angeles at night on the back of Haechan’s motorbike. You imagined speed and restlessness. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair and his hands on your waist.

“I’m home,” you grumbled one day, kicking off your shoes at the front door.

Nothing. Much to your surprise, Jaehyun didn’t say a word. Almost like he wasn’t even there. Which was strange, because his car was parked out front and according to his schedule, he should have been back by now.

You were getting flashbacks. Being home earlier than expected, slipping inside the house unheard like a thief in the night. He had the audacity to have you sleep in the same bed he’d probably fucked countless other girls in.

Fighting off the thought, you heard a noise in the kitchen and followed the sound. Jaehyun was looking through the cabinet, seemingly not noticing your presence until you tapped on the counter and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun repeated, then pointed to the cabinet. “Where are my Frosted Flakes?”

“Oh, I finished the box this morning.”

Jaehyun groaned, “Oh, you couldn’t just eat the damn Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, setting your purse down on the counter.

Jaehyun was bristling. “Look, I’m sorry I had a bad day today.”

“Well, I had a bad day, too,” you retorted, taking off your coat.

“So, you wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” you hissed, hanging your coat on the coat rack in the living room.

“Baby,” Jaehyun called out behind you, following you to the couch. “I hate to see you, you knowâ€¦”

“Wasting my time,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun gave you a little nudge, fixing you a stare. “You know that’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that I can provide for the both of us. I don’t want you to deal withâ€¦”

“Getting a job?”

“Rejection,” Jaehyun hissed. “And stop finishing my sentences.”

You laughed humorlessly, turning away, and blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What?”

You raised your voice, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“No, I heard you,” Jaehyun said, clearly upset now. Again. “After all these years together, you don’t know why you’re here?”

Now, you were getting irritated. Because this was how it always went. You looked him in the eyes again and exclaimed, “No, I don’t, Jaehyun. And you wanna know why? Because even after all these years together, we still don’t know how to make this work, and it never fucking will.”

Jaehyun couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Rather than try to hash things out with you, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for some fucking Frosted Flakes. You’ve lost it.”

Then, he left. Like he always did.

You heaved a breath, irritated. All these years, he said. All those years wasted. All those years that you could have spent on something worthwhile and yet he’d stolen time from you. You just couldn’t put up with this bullshit anymore.

That night, you slipped your engagement ring on his pinky finger and crept outside of the bedroom to dial a number.

“Hey, I know it’s late, but can I stay the night? I need to book a flight.”

As soon as the next day, you were back. Again in the Los Angeles air, you felt like you could breathe again. That suffocating feeling that you got after Jaehyun popped up in your life out of nowhere completely dissipated. It felt more like those two months of relentless happiness you’d felt prior to his unannounced appearance.

Months of happiness thanks to Haechan. Something about the thought of him made butterflies flitter about in your belly, but an acute pain spread throughout your chest like wildfire. You hadn’t called him like you said you would. And you didn’t really know why.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how he wasn’t there. You didn’t see his message until after you got off the plane, a thoughtless response. Couldn’t get out of plans. Sorry. Ttyl.

You faced reality and accepted that it wasn’t that he couldn’t be there. He just didn’t want to be.

And then the unthinkable happened. Sitting in the corner of the cafe sketching, you glanced up when you heard the jingle of the bells announcing that somebody had walked in. You didn’t notice whoever walked inside, your eyes fixed out the window you’d accidentally brought your attention towards.

All you could feel was a burning when you saw Haechan holding hands with some girl that was leaning against him, hanging on his every word. You didn’t even realize you were on the verge of breaking your pen until a friend you’d been there to meet tapped your shoulder, cocking you a worried look.

It was a full-blown war.

Not many days later, you were in the park, snapping pictures of the scenery. If Haechan wasn’t there to take you out on dates, you would take your damn self. Like hell you needed him to do anything.

Then, you heard somebody call out your name, and spun around. “Oh, hey, Jeno.”

Jeno dug his hands into his sweatpants pockets, shooting you a grin. “Whatcha doing?”

“These are flowers. This is a camera. I’m photographing the flowers,” you deadpanned, obviously not in the best mood. Then again, that was just your usual bitchy attitude.

“Ah.” Jeno crept closer, eyes giving you a quick scan. Not too close, but not too distant. “You like savoring the beautiful things in life?”

You snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

When you least expected the action, Jeno gently took the camera out of your hands, earning a half baffled and half curious glance from your part. You hid your face when he pointed the camera at you.

Your voice was muffled. “Jeno, what are you doing?”

“Savoring the beautiful things in life,” Jeno replied smoothly, just giving you that angelic smile of his as he continued to snap photos of you.

Jeno pulled your hands away from your face and brushed a stray hair out of the way, looking at you with the gentlest touch but the least subtle eyes. “You are incredibly gorgeous,” he purred in the deepest tone.

Though you were tempted to roll your eyes, you had a moment of realization. There was a flash of rage that shot through your body like lightning. All you could see was those memories of Haechan’s endless flirtation playing back in your mind and it made you bristle.

Rather than beat him, you joined Jeno, lashes fluttering. “You think so?”

“My eyes never deceive me,” Jeno said, looking you up and down with obvious want.

“What about Haechan?”

Jeno seemed almost irritated at the mention of his friend’s name, gently pulling you just a bit closer to him. “He might have found you, but where I’m from, we play for keeps.”

You met his bold stare. “And you wanna keep me?”

“To say the least.”

You snickered.

“Do you like steak?”

“I love steak.”

“That’s perfect, because I know a place. Five stars,” Jeno whispered huskily. “I’d like to take you out to dinner Friday night. What do you say?”

You pretended to mull it over, when in reality you’d been thinking about it for the past five minutes at length. Jeno had never been subtle with his flirty quips from the day he met you, in spite of the fact that you were Haechan’s date. Apparently there was no brotherly code.

That, or he had absolutely zero regard for whatever it was.

You chirped, “It’s a date.”

Even more days passed. Nothing from you. Haechan figured you were still in New York searching for work and whatnot, and, knowing how passionate you were about your job, didn’t dare disturb you.

Though he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss you.

“She’s back,” Jaemin said, sitting down at the table.

Haechan furrowed his brows, asking, “Who?”

“Your girl, man,” Jaemin replied. “She’s back in town and she’s been going out with Jeno.”

Mark winced from across the table. “Damn.”

Haechan’s voice was low, almost like a mumble, “She didn’t tell me she was back.”

Jaemin patted him on the back. “I just thought you deserved to know, man.”

“You move too fast, dickhead. You probably scared the poor girl away,” Ryujin shot without looking away from her phone, playing a heated round of cup pong with Mark via iMessage games.

“She’s kinda right,” Jaemin agreed. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Haechan took a much needed shot of liquor and grumbled, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Jaem. The whole reason Winter rejected your ass was because you were doing too much too fast.”

“And I revised my plan and made her mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” Jaemin asked, gaze flitting over to Winter.

Winter giggled, leaning into his touch. “Right, baby.”

“You two make me sick.”

Winter quipped, “Jealous much?”

“Never in a million years.” Haechan grimaced. “I’m not drunk enough to put up with this right now.”

Ryujin exclaimed out of nowhere, “You limp dick bastard!”

Mark was in the midst of a fit of giggles, laughing his ass off. “It’s one thing to suck at cup pong in real life, but you suck online, too?”

“I’m this close to deporting you back to Canada,” Ryujin hissed.

Everybody froze when Jeno walked up to the table, taking a seat in front of Haechan. The whole spot was quiet. “What’s up, Haechan?” he asked.

Haechan cocked his head. “What’s up, J? You been doing anything lately?”

“Fuck, yeah, man. I been doing a whole lot,” Jeno replied offhandedly.

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan questioned. “Like what?”

Jeno shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Oh, you know. I’ve been out in the sun and shit. Getting things wet. Wallowing in the heat. Got a new boat.”

Winter grimaced.

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeno repeated, locking eyes with Haechan. “See, I’ve been riding the wave lately.”

Haechan set his jaw, but played it cool. “That so?”

“You bet it is. Just beenâ€¦ cruising.”

“I think I test drove that model,” Haechan said with a little nod, picking up his glass. “Took it for a spin and all.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A couple of times.”

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jaemin and Winter got up to dismiss themselves with the excuse of wanting to be alone, while Mark and Ryujin sat there quietly, exchanging thoughts telepathically. Then, Jeno’s phone started to beep countless times.

“I tell you, I hate when this happens,” Jeno sighed, taking out his phone and grinning slyly when he looked at the screen. “You know?”

Haechan quipped, “Mom keeps texting you, huh?”

“Not this time,” Jeno retorted. “This is one of my boating buddies.”

“Mm,” Haechan hummed, bristling at the thought. His whole body was cloaked in heat, a bite to his next words. “Well, I hope you don’t get thrown overboard. You’ve never been good at staying anchored.”

Jeno retaliated darkly, “You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Hyuck?”

Haechan lifted his shoulders. “Nah, you know me. I’m the captain. I invite the passengers on-board and I dismiss them. You tend to step on unfamiliar territory and get walked off the plank.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged identical glances. What the fuck are they talking about?

“But it’s okay. You can’t help it,” Haechan added, setting down his drink and rising to his feet. “Yo, Mark, Ryu, I’ll get with you guys another time. Later.”

Jeno chuckled.

Ryujin cocked him a glance. “Aren’t you a little too old to be fighting over some babe?”

“Never, Ryu,” Jeno replied, laughing a little. “Plus, I can’t help it if I’m the chosen one.”

“Chosen one, my fucking ass.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “You know you’re foul, right?”

Jeno groaned. “Foul for what, man?”

“Dude, come on. That girl shouldn’t even be anywhere on your radar. It’s like you were waiting for Haechan to slip up,” Mark replied with obvious disdain.

“Whatever, man,” Jeno scoffed. “She chose me, alright? Take that up with god.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged looks.

A few dates with Jeno to forget the gaping hole Haechan had left in your heart ultimately came back with a bite. Jeno was sweet and all but you couldn’t feel a connection with him, something Haechan had made you feel within moments of your first date together. But you were still bitter.

With that in mind, you kept up the act, all the while wondering if it was torture for him as much as it was for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jeno. The dinners gave a nice first impression and he had an interesting personality. But no matter how much there was to like about Jeno’s indulgences and mesmerizing looks, he wasn’t Haechan.

After a couple of weeks of dating, Jeno invited you to a party on a whim without much specifics and you spent the rest of your Thursday afternoon choosing an outfit. Maybe you wanted to look extra cute in case you made a special appearance in somebody’s Insta story and Haechan happened to see.

It never crossed your mind that he might’ve physically been there.

You locked arms with Jeno as you stepped into the party, allowing him to guide you throughout the house, weaving in and out of crowds of people.

“‘Sup, guys,” Jeno greeted his clique when you both walked up to them.

You counted four faces and every single last one fell at the sight of you, their incessant chatter instantly ceasing. The lack of Haechan was very noticeable, but at the time, you were more concerned with how apparent it was that absolutely none of them knew you’d been invited.

Clearing your throat in humiliation, you asked, “Um, where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs to the left,” Ryujin answered, but her face had yet to shift from that grim look.

You thanked her and excused yourself, quickly fleeing up the steps and wishing some kind of chasm would open between them, swallowing you whole.

Jeno glanced at Mark. “What up, Minhyung?”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “Like I said. Foul.”

“Man, come the fuck on. Give me a break,” Jeno grumbled, irritated. This conversation was exhausting and it didn’t help the more it was had.

Jaemin was wearing a reproachful frown, chastising, “That’s some fucked up shit, man. And you know what you’re doing is fucked up.”

“Pfft. Whatever.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes and stood up straight. “Whatever?”

“Don’t,” Winter said swiftly, putting her hands on Jaemin’s chest.

Ryujin crossed her arms, wearing the most withering scowl known to mankind. Her eyes cut at Jeno. “I’m disappointed in you.”

In that same second, Haechan stumbled from around the corner with a victorious smile that fell instantly once he caught a sight of Jeno.

Mark scratched his head. Awkward, he mouthed to Ryujin.

She blew out a breath.

Jeno scanned Haechan, smirking at him. “Yo, Donghyuck.”

Haechan mumbled a greeting, glancing away from Jeno.

As if this whole ordeal didn’t already make you want to chew glass, it went from worse to worst the second you skipped down those stairs and stood next to Jeno, making eye contact with Haechan whose brows furrowed in shock. Your heart raced. This was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of your life.

You tapped Jeno on the arm. “You and me. Outside. Right now.” You brushed past him without waiting, immediately heading for the door. You couldn’t bear to be there for another second. Not like this.

Jeno eventually came outside the front door, calling out your name behind you as you ran down the stairs.

“Take me home now,” you demanded, pointing to his car parked right out front.

Jeno caught up to you, having the audacity to pretend to be confused, and asked, “Come on. What’s wrong?”

You gave him an incredulous look. Like you couldn’t believe he had the nerve to play dumb. “You just made a fucking fool out of me and I don’t like that shit. If you and Haechan wanna have a dick measuring contest, I want no parts.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jeno apologized, reaching out to console you.

You snatched your arm away from him. “Don’t touch me. Just grab your keys and take me home.”

Jeno switched on a dime, hissing, “Like you didn’t think for one damn second that he was going to be here.”

You snapped, “No, because you gave me all of two seconds in advance to prepare and didn't have the decency to give me details!”

“And that’s my fucking problem how?”

“Jeno,” you snarled, taking a deep breath. He was really testing the last of your patience. “Are you gonna take me home or what?”

Jeno scoffed, “Hell the fuck no.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” you said, turning on your heels and stomping down the sidewalk. You were disappointed, but not surprised.

“Walk!” Jeno exclaimed, turning around and heading back inside the house.

Haechan glanced around when Jeno walked back over without you, baffled. “Where is she?”

Jeno exhaled a breath, stuffing a hand inside his pockets. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Jaemin gave Jeno the utmost repulsive look. “You just left the woman outside? Don’t you know what kind of freaks walk around at night?”

Haechan didn’t bother to interrogate Jeno in spite of his questionably stupid actions, because even after all the weird shit going on between you two lately, he still had the decency to want to make sure you got home safe. He grabbed his coat and made a break for the door.

Winter and Jaemin were shooting Jeno matching scowls. She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him away wordlessly. Meanwhile, Ryujin had her arms folded snugly across her chest, clearly not pleased either.

Jeno glanced down at her and barked, “What? You got something to say to me, Ryujin?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you,” Ryujin hissed, following behind the couple.

Which left Mark and Jeno. “You’re an asshole, dude,” Mark said.

“Fuck you, man.”

Ryujin came back to grab Mark, leaving again this time with him in tow.

All the while, Haechan was chasing you down the sidewalk, jogging to catch up to you. It was chilly outside, and he saw you wrap your arms around yourself to shield your bare skin from the nipping cold.

Haechan called out your name. You could hear his footsteps just behind you. “Slow down.”

“I’m not in the mood to chat, Haechan,” you said, not glancing back. You couldn’t look into his eyes again. It nearly killed you the first time.

“If you slow down, I can call you an Uber or something,” Haechan insisted.

All of your emotions hit you tenfold in that moment and you whipped around, exclaiming, “What do you want?”

“First of all, calm down. I know and you know that you don’t wanna be outside this late in this cold ass weather stomping down the street like somebody stole your fucking bike,” Haechan said even louder than you.

You scoffed, tightening your arms around your body.

“Look,” he started, leaving a good distance between your bodies. “All I wanna do is get you home safely. No extra shit. I’ll call you an Uber and then it’ll be over.”

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. For fuck’s sake, Jeno - who had been your ride - left you in the cold to die and you didn’t know your way around this area of town. With that in mind, you begrudgingly agreed.

It was silent for a good while after Haechan called you an Uber. Neither of you said a word to each other, and you both stubbornly made sure that was extra space between your bodies while you waited. His leather jacket now being draped over your shoulders didn’t bother you in the slightest.

Well, maybe that was a lie. You were bristling with sudden longing. Obviously, it smelled exactly like him. You were breathing him in even though he was what felt like worlds away from you.

Haechan tried to resist his temper, but the dam ultimately broke and he snapped, “What the hell are you doing going out with Jeno? First you take flight to New York to see some dude, and then you’re fucking on one of my boys?”

The mention of New York and Jeno only fueled your flames and you shot back, “All you had to do was tell me that you were seeing somebody.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not seeing no one.”

“I saw you with her outside the fucking cafe next to the record store.”

“I’m always by the fucking record store,” Haechan exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes. You had enough of men playing dumb with you for one night. Thankfully, the Uber pulled up just in time, and you sneered just as you got in the backseat, “You know what the hell I’m talking about.”

Haechan watched you get driven off, puzzled. Like you were speaking an entirely different language. And then it hit him. “Ryujin’s friend. Shit. God-fucking-dammit.”

He took out his phone and opened your text messages. Fuck, he hadn’t texted you in forever and a half. At least text me when you get back home so I know you’re safe.

Haechan shoved his phone into his pockets, doubting you would reply. Imagine his surprise when his phone buzzed only a couple of moments later. Okay.

Sure, it was one word, but he would take it. One was better than nothing. Right now, he had to think of a way to salvage this relationship.

The first thing you did when you were safely back inside your condo was text Haechan that you were back home safe and block Jeno’s number. Then, you took off all your makeup and prepared to take a long, scalding shower. You didn’t even realize Haechan hadn’t asked for his jacket back until you went to undress yourself.

Many thoughts were weighing on your mind as the hot water hit your skin. You felt like an idiot. For going to see Jaehyun, for entertaining Jeno’s fuckboy tendencies. But worst of all, for wishing your feelings for Haechan would go down the drain.

You had finally come to terms with the fact that your heart wanted Haechan, even if it took a long time to accept and even if you were in denial that you couldn’t have him. You worried that you had already fucked things up too much. And you worried that you never had a chance to begin with.

There was very little room for misunderstanding in the fact that you were easily replaceable. It was borderline offensive how quick Haechan was to pop out with a new chick while you were away. Like all of those months together meant nothing to him. Your biggest fear was that they were only special to you.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You’d lost the game. Again. Maybe you were just bad at love. You figured you would probably do everyone and yourself a huge favor if you stopped involving your heart and focused on your career like you always wanted.

So, you decided that that was what you were going to do.

Neither you or Haechan spoke to each for weeks. Sitting on your bed, you wondered if he was thinking about you and what went wrong. If he was as fucked up and heartbroken as you were. Maybe you did it to yourself. Something told you not to fool around with Haechan too much, after all, but you still kept him close because you were human and you wanted to be loved.

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay here, sitting in ruins over a boy you couldn’t have. When Jaehyun cheated on you, you felt dirty and lacked the strength to rouse out of bed in the mornings. You couldn’t let yourself steep to that point of misery over something you couldn’t even call a break-up.

You glanced at your phone. Should you have called him? Maybe you should have at least texted him, since you didn’t do either when you came back from New York.

Almost worlds away from you, Haechan was sitting by his phone with the same thoughts wearing him thin. You were wearing him thin. He wanted to call you, but if you thought you were stubborn, Haechan gave you a run for your money.

You said you’d let him know when you were back and Haechan waited and waited. You never called. Not one fucking time. So why should he have called you?

Because you love her, hissed the voice in his head that made Haechan roll his eyes in annoyance. He was past denying the truth, but he was terrified of confronting it. Loving you made his blood chill with fear. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you loved him back. It was if you loved him enough to make it work.

His emotions were all over the place. First of all, he was spiteful and wanted to hate you. He was angry. For fuck’s sake, you went out with Jeno for what - to make him jealous?

But on the other hand, all those memories you’d made with each other weren’t simple to forget. Every time Haechan closed his eyes, he saw you. Your gorgeous smile and twinkling eyes. He could taste your chapstick on his tongue and feel your warmth in his arms, as if you were some lingering ghost that was haunting him in spirit. He could hear your laughter ringing in his ears as he told you a stupid joke solely to make you laugh.

Jesus fucking Christ. Haechan had been in love, but never like this. Your love was mind-numbing. No girl had ever made him feel this many emotions all at once. You made him want to scream and shout, but you made him want to smile. You made a void ache in his chest.

Haechan’s phone started to ring. He scolded himself for immediately hoping that it was you finally calling him like you should have weeks ago, but was disappointed when he saw it was Chaewon. But his curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, Haechan,” Chaewon greeted somewhat somberly.

Haechan could immediately tell that something was off. He could hear it in her tone. “What’s up, Chaewon?”

“It’s about your girl,” Chaewon said, sullen. She was obviously very worried. “She’s going away for a few months. She got a deal out of state and they’re flying her out.”

Haechan set his jaw. You were leaving - again. And he had to find out about your whereabouts through somebody else. Again. “Oh. Good for her, I guess,” he replied indifferently.

Chaewon snapped, “Don’t give me that nonchalant bullshit, Haechan. You know and I know that you both care about each other. Now, listen. She’s my best friend and the love of my life, but I understand that she hasn’t been making the best decisions lately.”

Haechan interjected, “So what? I should go clean up her mess? I’m not her man and I’m damn sure not her fucking daddy, Chaewon.”

“Don’t start getting an attitude with me,” Chaewon hissed. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that her flight leaves today at four. I just thought you deserved to know that. It’s not your job to finish what she started, but if you still want to, you know where to find her.”

Haechan heaved a breath.

Chaewon added, “It’s up to you. I think you two could set things straight if you communicated with each other for once. But if you don’t want that, then forget I said anything. I just thought with how adamant you were on pursuing her that you would be the last person to give up on her. Maybe I was wrong.”

Haechan sighed. Again. His head was throbbing. “I’ll think about it,” he finally exhaled after a moment or two.

“Okay. Bye, Haechan.”

Haechan spent all of three hours debating whether or not he should have come to see you. He was still bitter over the lack of communication, but after a moment of pondering in silence, realized that was why you two were in this predicament in the first place.

If he would have been honest about how he felt about you going to New York, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe you would’ve never left. Never entertained Jeno. You would’ve stayed in his arms where you rightfully belonged.

After all this time, he realized something. His open arms would still be waiting for you when you were ready to come back to them. Fear corrupted Haechan when he had a thought. The fear of you never coming back. What if you went away for months and met a different guy that you liked? What if you never came back?

He wasn’t ready to lose you, he quickly realized. He wasn’t ready to give you away either. The first thing he thought when you told him about your ex was that that guy was a dumbass for kicking you to the curb.

And if Haechan thought he was stubborn, his heart was going to put both of you to shame.

Haechan grabbed his keys and burst out the front door like lightning, immediately mounting his bike. Even the damn bike reminded him of you as he probably broke the law with how quickly he was speeding. On a motorcycle, we get to dodge all the traffic.

He looked everywhere for you. Every corner he turned, there were people living their day-to-day lives, giving the guy running through the airport like he was playing Subway Surfers a brief, baffled look. Haechan didn’t care. He didn’t give a flying fuck who thought what about him, unabashedly in love with you. He would shout it out in front of all of these strangers if that was what it took.

Finally, he saw you, closing in on your terminal. He shouted your name loud enough to disturb some people and earn a couple of disdainful glances from onlookers.

You turned around, recognizing that voice before you saw his face.

Your heart raced when you saw Haechan jogging over to you and for a moment you were pleased to see him, but then you remembered how ruined you were because of him. You pretended not to care and sneered, “If you’re here to get your jacket back, you’re out of luck. I already checked in and I don’t have my luggage.”

“Damn that jacket,” Haechan hissed, his blood pumping a billion times per second. Only half it was because of how fast he ran. “I can’t let you leave like this. Not when we have so much unfinished business to work through.”

You barked, “Me and you are nothing. We have nothing.”

“Really?” Haechan asked, staring at you in disbelief. “All those months together meant nothing to you?”

Those words reminded you of that night at Jaehyun’s place, as well as the fact that Haechan couldn’t have cared about you, which only made you bristle. You lied through your teeth, “Nothing.”

Haechan switched on a diming, changing tactics, and hissed, “Bull-fucking-shit. I spent so many nights waiting for you to call. You never did. I could have got at least a fucking text or something. But you know what I got instead? Nothing. A whole lotta nothing! I had to find out from somebody else that you’re back and then you go out with Jeno.”

All you could do was give him an ugly scowl. How dare he march up in here to shout in your face? Like you were the villain. “I waited for you to show up. You never did! You said you were busy, but you were at the fucking club. Don’t even lie because I saw Jaemin’s story.”

Fuck, you saw that? “So, I go out and have a couple of drinks and you decide you want to fuck Jeno?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you seethed. “All I wanted was for you to kiss me goodbye, but you stood me up so that you could drink and get laid. I saw you outside the cafe with the girl. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

Haechan softened in realization, understanding that he had fucked up more than he thought. Still, he kept riling you up. It was the only way you both would get answers.

“You went off to New York to fuck your ex,” Haechan reminded. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal that I got laid too.”

You exclaimed, “I didn’t want to go to New York!”

“Then, why the fuck did you?”

You ran your fingers through your hair. He was just so good at getting under your skin. You confessed morosely, “Because when I had sex with you, it felt like we were making love. I was in denial about loving you, because I didn’t want to take the risk of getting my heart broken again.”

Haechan wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. He was positively stunned to silence.

“Jaehyun asked me a couple of weeks before that to come to New York. And I wasn’t going to, but I was conflicted. And you acted like you didn’t care, so,” you explained yourself rapidly. “I went there to see if I still loved him, but all I harbored when I got there was resentment.”

God, I am a fucking idiot, Haechan hissed to himself. He swore he wasn’t going to fuck this one up.

“Then, I started going out with Jeno, thinking I could get back at you while also proving to myself that I wasn’t in love,” you whispered. “But he wasn’t you. That was when I knew you’ve ruined me.”

“You’ve ruined me too,” Haechan said softly, approaching you a little further. “She’s not you. I want you to know that. I only hooked up with her because I was upset and I wanted to distract myself from you.”

You were silent. His words weren’t exactly comforting, but you were both finally being honest with each other. And yourselves.

Haechan grabbed your hand in his, locking eyes with yours. “I fucked up. I should’ve been here the first time, but I wasn’t.”

Your eyes watered and no matter how hard you blinked, you couldn’t battle the tears. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me going to New York? It would have mattered.”

“Because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to control you,” Haechan replied, a well of regret and self-loathing. “I was trying to respect your decision.”

You chortled through your tears. “A gentleman to your core.”

Haechan shook his head, frowning. “In retrospect, there are so many things I could have done better. Maybe I was moving too fast for you, baby, and I’m sorry. I get a little overzealous.”

“Trust me, Haechan. You’re just the right amount of zealous.”

Haechan snickered. Leave it to you to make him laugh even during a moment like this.

Now that you both had cleared the air, you felt like there was a weight off your chest. You could understand each other and rationalize the other’s actions. You should have just talked a long time ago.

“I didn’t fuck Jeno,” you blurted. “Or my ex.”

Haechan hung his head. “I’m sorry for accusing you of that. And for not being honest about my feelings.”

“I forgive you,” you spoke softly. “I’m sorry for not calling you and for going out with your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Haechan said like he was repulsed. “You helped me see that, so I forgive you.”

Your lips broke into a grin when he wiped a tear from your eyes.

Haechan’s expression suddenly turned sober and he declared, “I wanna start over.”

“Haechanâ€¦,” you started.

He shushed you. “I’m not the easiest person to get to know but half of it is because nobody ever gives me a chance. People look at me and see what they want to see. They think they’ve got me all figured out.”

That was true. You knew it, because you had been one of those people. You got your heart broken by a fuckboy once and Haechan made it way too easy to assume he was the same.

“Even if I broke your heart, I wanna put it back together again,” Haechan continued. “Will you let me do that?”

God, your whole being was consumed by. The love you had for this boy was all-consuming. You just wanted to be with him for the rest of your life. “Yes. You already know I will.”

Haechan smiled triumphantly. All he knew was you. If he couldn’t have you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

“But I’m literally leaving for three months,” you reminded him, a frown on your face.

The reminder jolted Haechan back into reality, but he knew better than to ask you to stay. He knew you loved your work and he wouldn’t dare come between that bond. “You remember what I told you on our first date? About dating long distance?”

Your frown got bigger. “Yeah. That you didn’t know if you could make it work for me, but you would at least try.”

“I changed my mind,” Haechan told you, looking at you with all the love in the universe. “I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make it work. I don’t care how hard I have to try. I love you and I’m willing to sacrifice everything for us.”

All you could do was stare into his eyes. Those three words made your head spin. He loved you. “Really?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “I’ll call you every day. I’ll text you good morning when I wake up and goodnight before I go to bed. But you have to meet me halfway.”

“I’ll meet you in the middle,” you said in a heartbeat. “I’ll text you every time I think about you. We can watch stupid romcoms then talk about them over the phone. I’ll call you and tell you how my days are going.”

“I want to hear all of it. The good days and the bad ones too. I wanna be there for you,” Haechan whispered tenderly.

“You can do all of that.”

“You promise?”

You nodded. “It’s gonna take some effort, butâ€¦ I know we can make us work. You just have to accept that I need space sometimes and I don’t always make sense.”

Haechan snorted. Like he didn’t already know that. “No offense, but I think we just had a crash course on that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight it anymore and smashed your lips against his, bringing him in for a kiss. They called for passengers to board. Haechan’s hands were quick to grab your waist, holding you tight like he didn’t want to let you get on that plane. But he once heard that if you love someone, you’ll let them go. So, that was what he was going to do.

When you pulled back, Haechan said, “Promise when you get back we’re gonna watch a really cheesy movie together and dance to MJ.”

You chuckled, slipping your fingers through his and squeezing. “I’ll save the date.”

Haechan smiled, letting out a breath. “Bye, baby.”

“See you later,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want to go. But you knew you would regret not getting on that plane. “I mean it this time.”

Haechan snorted. Finally, after exchanging one last kiss, he let you go.

He watched you slip away. There was a familiar feeling taut around his heart, but he toughed it out. You’re gone again, but that’s okay. Because this time, I know you’ll come back.

“I’ll wait for you,” Haechan whispered to himself, turning away once you were out of his sight.

#haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan x reader #nct imagines #haechan imagines #lee haechan smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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anyamaris · 1 day ago

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Sanguine Kiss

Pairing-Vampire!Yeosang x Nicknamed F!Reader Aurora

Genre/Au-Smut/Supernatural AU, Biker Gang AU

Trope-Strangers to lovers

Rating-18+ MDNI

Word Count-2835

Collab- Gunsmoke and Leather Masterlist

Summary-Stranded with your group of friends due to a breakdown, you find a mysterious bar while you wait for a tow. Parted from your friends, you'll find yourself faced with a mysterious figure and a very interesting encounter.

Warnings-Adult language, vulgarity, blood play, biting, possessiveness (he IS a vampire), unprotected sex, thigh humping, creampie, dirty talk, reader is a bit of a masochist, 18+ mdni

A/N-Thank you for the beautiful dividers @cafekitsune💜And to the amazing @daemour for the gorgeous Yeosang banner!!!

Also thank you to @sanjoongie and @yoonguurt for kicking my ass with getting this done. I love you both.

The atmosphere in the bar immediately strikes you as slightly oppressive, bodies churning in a sea around you and your friends as you try to speak with them.

Nix and Elara are slowly eaten up by the crowd as you try to make your way to the bar, losing sight of them after only a few shouted exchanges.

Damn the stupid van for breaking down, you think.

Craning your neck, you can’t help but try to search for any of your companions, but then a shiver washes over your entire body as you feel the sudden sensation of eyes upon you.

Of course, people are going to be looking at me…I’m in a public place, you think, bemused at the physical reaction to the mysterious tingle.

Yet, you can’t help but rub the back of your neck at the gaze that seems to be following you as you push your way through the crush.

“NIX!” You call out, already knowing it’s pointless as the loud music pulses through the bar.

Before you can open your mouth to call out for Elara, a voice permeates your mind, causing you to halt in confusion.

Don’t worry about them, they are all quite occupied at the moment.

The smooth, deep tone washes over you and the wave of bodies around you fade away as that gorgeous voice demands your attention.

The dense soupy atmosphere falls away as you turn, pondering if you are hallucinating sexy voices.

I haven’t even had a drink yet…

You start to shake yourself out of the mysterious daze, yet before you can, you’re blessed with the beautiful resonance once more coursing through your body and mind.

The bar doesn’t have what you desire, doll; allow me to quench your thirst.

As if someone else has taken over, your chin is tilted upwards and to the right as your gaze follows.

Above you, on what appears to be a second floor, a dark haired man in leather stares down at you.

At me?

No, he must be just watching the crowd, you figure, yet as the thought drifts through your head, you swear he raises an eyebrow at you.

The bar lights don’t allow you to see much of his features, but what you can see is impressive.

The way the black and red leather hugs his frame, the white outline of the fingerless gloves appearing like skeletal hands as he grips the metal bar he’s leaning over.

Dark tendrils of hair tease his cheekbones, and as you admire his almost ethereal beauty, he tucks a strand behind his cute ears.

My ears are…cute? Echoes through your mind, and this time it’s you who raises an eyebrow.

Without realizing it, your feet are moving on their own as you forget all about what brought you here in the first place.

Are you reading my mind? You ‘answer’, feeling ridiculous for entertaining such a crazy idea.

A smile flashes across the gorgeous man’s lips, pointed teeth glinting as your body moves on its own across the floor.

Momentarily, you wonder where the hell you’re even going, but the crowd seems to part for you to reveal a metal staircase at the corner of the room.

You’re not answering my question, doll.

The very air around you seems to be guiding you forward, but given the destination, you aren’t going to fight it at all.

You ascend the stairs, wondering if somehow you’ve been slipped some kind of drug despite not having had a single drink tonight.

I’d need to explore them up close to answer properly, you direct at the mysterious man.

You crest the stairs and step onto the second floor, yet the man you were hoping to see up close is no longer there.

The air seems to quiver around you, and before you can take another breath, the chill of cold fingertips caresses your neck.

A spike of fear zings up your spine as the voice that has been speaking in your mind breathes softly into your ear;

“That can be arranged.”

When he was speaking in your mind, the timbre of his voice gave you the shivers; it was nothing compared to the way it’s now causing your heart to throb in your throat as his breath teases at your neck.

Trying to ignore the way your panties dampen, you remind yourself that you’re alone in a strange bar with a man you don’t know.

The thought should have you trembling in fear, yet as you glance down and catch sight of Nix being led out by yet another man, you can’t help but feel thrilled by the risky situation.

Well, you’ve never been known to shy away from a new experience.

“Are you propositioning me to … admire your ears?” you titter, lightheaded as a palm slips up your side.

His husky laugh causes your womb to quiver delightedly, and you find yourself leaning back into the hard, leather clad body behind you.

“Do you make it a habit to lure innocent women up to admire your body parts?” You inquire, cocking your head to the side to catch a glimpse of this mysterious stranger.

His sable hair tickles your cheek as you eye him, his deep brown eyes almost black in the faint light of the bar.

You catch a peek of those pointed teeth once more before he’s spinning you around, then your back is hitting a flat surface behind you as he leans in to study you.

“Only the ones who smell as delicious as you do.” He responds.

Your head spins at how fast he moves, eyes wide as you take in his entire face finally.

Good fucking gods, this man is striking.

You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen someone so ethereal yet mouthwateringly sexy before, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from licking them in hunger.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Does that mean you’re going to taste me?”

A wicked smile curves his pretty lips as his lashes flutter at your words.

“I plan on devouring you, sunshine.”

A soft moan escapes your throat as he leans in to press his thigh between your legs, pinning you to the wall as he runs his nose up your throat to inhale you.

“I-” you start, gasping as his tongue darts out to taste your skin, “-I don’t even know your..name…”

The feel of the leather stretched taut over his muscled thigh feels far too good against your wet panties and you thank your earlier self for picking a skirt to wear as you rock your hips against him.

“Yeosang.” he murmurs as his lips skim across your ear, his hot breath fanning the flames of desire even more.

If this continues, you swear you’re going to combust right here and now.

“Yeosang…I don’t normally find myself-oh my-” your voice wavers as his hands slip around behind you and grip your ass cheeks.

“Hmm?” His fingers are bunching up your skirt, rocking you against his thigh as your entire body just shakes in pleasure at the friction he’s causing.

Swallowing hard, you attempt to continue past the blinding ecstasy of your building orgasm, past the dryness of your mouth as his lips and teeth nip at the tender skin of your neck.

You hiss in pleasure at the way his sharp fangs tease at your flesh, stinging gloriously as you try to recall what you were saying.

Fuck, just his lips and teeth are making you crazy.

And the fangs…

“Is there…somewhere more private we can go?” You finally manage as you try to ground yourself in reality.

He withdraws his thigh from between your legs, hands parting from your rear end and you almost cry out at the loss.

Almost.

You’re not that far gone…yet.

“So you can admire my…ears?” he asks, giving you a cheeky little grin.

Clearing your throat, you merely nod, fixing your skirt as he looks you over.

His eyes gleam as your cheeks heat, and your stomach does a flip as he licks his lips before turning to lead you deeper into the darkness.

Following him down the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself following him into a room that appears to be a private room of sorts, lined with couches and a private bar.

Your mind drifts to your friends, wondering what kind of interesting evening they are all experiencing.

You can only hope that you won’t be missed because there’s no possibility of you being done with this…man…anytime soon.

A low, sexy laugh greets your ears as he closes the door behind you.

“Don’t worry about your friends, doll. They are being…taken care of.”

Yeosang slips an arm around you, turning you to face him as he pulls you close.

“We’ve barely spoken, and I’m all but giving myself to you…please tell me those fangs are the real thing…”

You can’t stop your fingertips from skimming the seam of his lips, parting them to expose the pointed canines.

He raises an eyebrow as you admire his teeth, opening his mouth for you to have better access.

“And here I thought you wanted to admire my ears.” He laughs, his hands skimming down your sides as he playfully nips at your fingers.

“Oh, there’s a lot about you I want to admire.” You tease, glancing up to give him a little smirk.

Before you can stop yourself, you press the pad of your thumb against one of his upper fangs.

The sharp thrill of the sting is followed by a bead of blood welling on the digit.

His eyes dilate as you watch his reaction, pulling your hand back to run your bloodied thumb over your lower lip.

Oh he likes that, you think a moment before his lips are on yours and a low growl is escaping his throat.

His arms tighten around you as his tongue flicks over your lips, then plunges deep into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to tangle into his silky hair, twisting slightly and tugging as your tongues dance.

The ache in your abdomen grows as his hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers kneading and squeezing every inch of bare skin he finds.

You begin to back him up, subconsciously registering the nearest couch as your free hand pushes at his leather jacket.

Not wasting a moment, he shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side before tugging your skirt up to squeeze your ass once more.

As his knees hit the cushion of the couch, you take the opportunity to push him down in order to crawl on top of him and straddle him.

His soft laugh sizzles through your entire body, hitting you right at your core as you look down at him.

“Seems I’m not the only hungry one here.” he hums as his gaze rakes over your body slowly.

You slip your shirt over your head, discarding it to join his jacket before rocking your hips against his leather clad lap.

You elicit a groan for your efforts, and the large throbbing bulge tells you just how much you’re affecting him.

“Starving…” you whisper against his mouth before biting his lower lip.

At this, his hands are suddenly tearing at your bra, then your skirt is bunched around your waist as his lips meet one of your exposed breasts.

Your head spins as his teeth nip at your taut nipple, soft moans already leaving your throat as you grind down onto him.

Threading your fingers through his hair as you look down at him sucking and licking at your tit, you tug to get him to look up at you.

“Bite…make it hurt…” you beg, the sight of his lips suckling at you driving you closer to losing your mind.

His eyes dilate to the point of almost going pure ebony, and his hand is suddenly between you, yanking his button and zipper down to free himself.

In one swift motion, he’s pushing your panties aside, then tugging you down on his thick cock as his teeth sink into the plump flesh below your nipple.

The dual sensation of him filling and stretching you as well as the sharp pain of his teeth breaking your delicate skin has you already clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck-oh fuck Yeosang-don’t hold back…” you moan, clutching his shoulder as you rock your hips in a circle even as you start rising up and down on him.

HIs hands grip your hips, guiding you but allowing you to lead as you ride him.

Yanking back his head, you cry out at the sight of his red stained teeth, sharp and wet from your blood.

“So fucking sexy, oh my god-” You moan, feeling the warm trickle of your blood dripping down from the bite.

His tongue darts out, licking his teeth as he watches you bounce on him, his husky groans mixing with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over.

“You taste like the dawn, sunrise. As your name implies..” He growls, eyes rolling as you pulse around him.

Tugging his hair again as you feel your entire body shake from the pleasure, you force your fingers into his mouth to cut the tips deep enough to draw blood.

Hissing at the stinging pain of it, you clench tightly around him even as you bring your bleeding fingers between your tits, letting droplets of blood drip onto your flesh.

“FUCK-!” he growls deeply, fingers digging into your hips painfully, nostrils flaring as he throws his head back to admire you.

“I must be fucking dreaming, oh fuck-” he moans as you bring your injured fingers to his lips.

His tongue swirls around the tips, collecting the blood before sucking deeply on them, and your hips stutter at the pleasure combined with the pain of it.

Pulling your fingers back, you bring them to your tits to trace along the skin, painting yourself in blood mixed now with his saliva.

“If you think you’re leaving after this, sunshine, you’ve got another thing coming-” He warns, punctuating every other word with a thrust upwards even as he yanks you down onto him.

He sits up, hands slipping under your ass to take control of the pace as his tongue traces along the bloodied pattern you’ve traced along your tits.

The ache between your legs begins to grow along with the pressure of your impending climax as he angles himself to hit your clit with every single thrust.

“Come for me, sunshine, drench me with that pretty pussy-” he growls with a shaking voice.

Wordless cries leave your lips as he licks the blood from your body, and when he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your breast, you finally feel the coil snap within you.

Screaming his name over and over, you cling to his shoulder, yanking his hair desperately as the huskiness of his voice just enhances your orgasm.

His hands leave your hips, arms sliding around you as he pulls you down onto him one last time before he cries out in his own pleasure.

Hot come fills you as he finally bursts, clutching you tightly as he brings his mouth to your neck and finally bites into your throat.

Another wave of pleasure wracks your body as his fangs break the skin, forcing you into a second climax as he drinks from you.

Dizziness finally hits you as he parts from your neck, his tongue lapping at the wound as his hands slowly skim along your body.

A soft whirring noise escapes you as he slowly flips you onto your back, his eyes going from sated to concerned as he looks you over.

You can’t help but giggle at the sight you probably pose, clothes a mess, blood smeared and bitten, leaking vampire come.

Yeosang goes from concern to amusement as he checks you over, shaking his head slightly at your reaction.

“Perhaps I drank too much…?” he inquires, raising one of those gorgeous eyebrows at you.

You rake your gaze over him, lips stained crimson, leather pants yanked halfway down, half mast cock soaked with your combined releases.

You can’t help but bite your lip and giggle even harder.

He slips beside you on the wide couch cushion, pressing his face between your plush tits as he licks at the sweat and blood mixed on them.

“I can’t wait to hear what kind of tales will come from tonight…” you hum, threading your fingers through his silky hair, “Next time, can we fuck on your bike?”

“Mmmmhmm…” is all he answers with, and you start giggling again.

“So does this mean you’re keeping me?” you ask him, recalling his earlier words.

“I’d like to see you try to get away, sunshine. You’re mine now.” he growls, arms tightening around you possessively.

You should be afraid but…

Well, who doesn’t want to be claimed by a hot vampire biker?

#lapydiariesnet #ksmutsociety #Vampire Yeosang #dovenet #gunsmoke and leather #Yeosang smut #Ateez Yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #Ateez Yeosang

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fablesam · 2 days ago

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picture you ;; sam winchester (part one)

cw; angst, psychic! reader & psychic! sam, not a lot just angsty! ((part two will have much more warnings trust))

do you picture me like i picture you?

am i in the frame from your point of view?;;

the visions started when you were just a kid, only twelve years old. they were small, uncontrollable things at first. you’d get a blinding headache, the occasional nosebleed, a brief dizzy spell, accompanied by a short glimpse of something. a scene of something seemingly unimportant; your friend tripping and hurting their knee, your father leaving the stove on.

gradually, they got worse, darker. you saw your neighbors dog being run over, saw glimpses of your grandmother being wheeled out of her home by paramedics. they were random, days or even weeks before the actual event took place, but they were enough to set you apart, to isolate you. to make you feel like some kind of freak.

you saw him for the first time when you were sixteen. among all the dark visions, he was a small source of comfort, a bit of light among the dark images you’d grown so accustomed to. you never saw him in any real, defining way, never enough to discern why you were seeing him in the first place. you kept waiting for something terrible to happen, to see this beautiful stranger dead, or to see him hurt someone else.

you’d see him most often when he was smiling, at first. these moments always seemed to come when he was sitting passenger in a car with a boy you’d later come to know as his brother, dean. that was when he was happiest, listening to classic rock and laughing over something stupid. you’d learn to miss these moments of rare relaxation, of a happiness only known by a man who thought he had a chance to make it last.

it was strange, yearning for someone you’d never met. you thought of him when you woke in the morning, and if you were lucky, you saw him before bed each night. the older you got, the more frequent the visions became; the more you learned to lean into it. this newfound ability had severed nearly all your relationships, leaving you almost entirely alone, except for him.

you avoided friendships, not wanting more people to worry about, more people to imagine what the final vision would look like for. you hated your birthdays, just more reminders of the time you’d spent locked inside your thoughts. you often wondered how it was fair that your own mind was your greatest torment, as well as your only solace.

the first time you saw anything off with the boy in your visions, he was in an alleyway covered in blood, knife in his hand. you were certain that this was it, the day you’d finally lose him, the day you’d be condemned to complete isolation. this image of him, strange glint in his eye, was so far removed from the peaceful boy you’d grown so used to seeing. you truly thought you’d finally lost it when the blade of his knife sunk into the chest of some creature, some thing that looked human but had these awful, gnashing teeth.

this particular vision left you a mess of thoughts, a growing paranoia, a need to know more. your nights were spent feverishly researching, renting books from the library on the occult, the supernatural, all sorts of legends. it occupied your mind constantly, the thought that something like this was truly out here. worse than that was the idea that your best friend the boy from your visions was out there, fighting them.

you ached to be able to talk to him, to ask him what was going on, to ask if he felt as insane as you were becoming. this all consuming need led you to finally accept your visions for what they were; some sort of gift. you weren’t sure why, or how, you were chosen to see these things, but you were certain you could use it, to grow into it. you went from researching others to researching yourself, straining your mind to force visions to come into focus, instead of letting them find you.

the first time you succeeded in this, you’d spent hours in your room, laser focused on manifesting this boy into your mind. finally, dizzy and exhausted as you were, you saw him. clear as day, sitting in that old car once again, arguing with his brother about something you couldn’t make out. you willed yourself to focus harder, as much as you could manage, just to make out his voice. his voice, god, it was everything you’d ever needed to hear.

“i already told you, sam!” his brother threw one hand up, clearly frustrated, “this psychic shit isn’t normal, alright? i’m just worried about you, i’m supposed to be lookin out for you,” sam. sam, psychic? your heart raced at that, at the implication of possibilities brought on by that one simple word. maybe he was like you, maybe he could see you, too. maybe you weren’t alone.

“i know you’re worried, but i’m telling you it’s fine, dean!” sam replied, exasperation all over his face, “if i thought i couldn’t handle it, i’d tell you. if it was getting worse, i’d tell you. but it’s not, and i’m fine. end of story,” you could’ve cried at the sound of him, angry as he was, at the relief of being able to hear him at all.

you thought he looked perfect, in that moment. like everything you’d been looking for, right there in front of you, brought on by your own mind. you tried to ignore the surge of pride, the way you felt like more god than girl. you were just doing what anyone else would, after all. you were just discovering more about yourself.

over the course of the weeks following, you spent all your free time trying to reach him. it got easier and easier, and soon enough, you were able to slip into a vision as simply as just reading words on a page. you yearned for him to see you, for him to know how hard you’d tried for him. you’d had no way of knowing, of course, just how powerful sam winchester really was.

a year passed, spent honing your abilities, before you felt that you’d developed them enough to look for him. to find him, to figure out what was happening, to finally know why you were seeing him at all. you laid across your bed, visions of him playing in your mind like a movie, when you saw it. the golden ticket to finally finding him. a road sign, just through his passenger window, fifty miles to erie, pennsylvania. fifty miles to you.

you waited patiently, your mind racing as you tried to decide your next move. you can’t just approach him, you told yourself, can’t just say hi, i’ve been watching you in my mind for years. at a certain point of insanity desperation, you were past the point of caring. so you got dressed in what you hoped was suitable enough to introduce yourself, and followed the blinks of him until you found yourself at a dive bar just ten minutes from your apartment.

you walked inside with baited breath, your eyes sweeping the crowd of people until they landed on him. it felt like time had stopped, like everyone else disappeared, leaving the two of you alone, finally. you could feel the rapid beat of your heart, the way your hands trembled, the possibilities racing through your mind. all this time, you’d searched. all this time, you’d been driven mad by your hunger. and here he was, in the flesh, just feet away.

you took a step closer, feeling strangely hesitant when this was all you’d ever wanted. like he could feel your presence, he turned to face you, and you could’ve told yourself you imagined it if you hadn’t seen his pupils dilate. “i know you,” was the first thing sam ever said to you, and it felt like the culmination of everything you’d ever imagined in your room alone at night.

“you know me?” you repeated, looking up at him with shining eyes, “i know you, too, sam,” “we can’t talk here,” and suddenly his hand was on your back, gently leading you out of the bar, your skin burning through your sweater at the contact. you let him guide you, almost dizzy from the nearness of him. his presence was so overwhelming, so comforting yet so jarring.

he came to a stop off to the side of the building, leaning against the wall, brows knit as he looked you over. “you’re real,” he said after a moment, his voice thicker than you’d heard it in all your visions, “you’re here. how are you here?” “i live here,” you told him, “what do you mean i’m real? you’ve seen me, too?”

“seen you?” he repeated, a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips, “i’ve been looking for you for months. you were here the whole time?” you nod, watching the way his mouth forms words like it’s the most entrancing thing in the world, “how long have you had them? the visions, i mean. i thought i was insane,” he scratched the back of his neck, pausing like he was hesitant to even admit it. you thought back to his arguments with dean about his abilities, and you wondered for a moment if he felt like he couldn’t tell anyone at all. as if you’d ever make him go through it alone, as if anyone would understand more than you did.

“they started when i was younger, like twelve or thirteen. it didn’t really get bad until a couple years ago, though. that’s when the headaches and everything started. can you do anything else?” you shook your head, keeping your thoughts of how you’d been trying to manufacture new abilities to yourself, “no, just the visions. i’ve never met anyone else who has them, yknow,” “me neither,” a sad sort of smile formed on his lips, “i’m sam, by the way. but i guess you already knew that,”

you laughed at that, at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, smiling as you told him your name. he repeated it, and you felt a chill down your spine, like every nerve was on end. “i’ve pictured this for so long,” you told him as an easy silence fell between you, “did you think about it, too? god, sam, i need you to know how much i’ve thought of this, of meeting you. i hope i don’t sound crazy, i just feel like if anyone could understand, it would be you, and-” he cut you off, resting a hand on your shoulder, and the small contact was enough to have you trembling.

“i’ve thought about it too,” his voice was softer than before, like he was confessing some sort of secret, “i’ve looked for you, i’ve- i’ve thought of what i’d say when i found you. you’re so much more beautiful in front of me than in my mind,” he laughed slightly, his cheeks flushed like he’d embarrassed himself, “is that weird to say? this whole thing is just insane, i don’t know how to navigate it,”

“you’re perfect,” you smiled around the words, and hot tears filled your eyes, tears of relief and shock and this overwhelming, sensationalizing happiness. being with him, finally, was like coming home for the first time in months to find everything exactly as you’d left it, like praying to god every night just for your wish to finally come true. “i don’t really know what we’re supposed to do now, i really don’t care,” i really can’t bear to be apart from you, you rambled on, “i’d say we should get to know each other, but i guess we already do, don’t we?”

“wouldn’t hurt to know more,” he gave you a half smile, “i’m staying at a motel up the road, we could go there. if my brother hasn’t already taken that bartender back there,” you laughed at that, scrunching your nose slightly, feeling once again stricken by the easiness of being with him. “my apartments not far, if you wanted to just come there. might be less busy,” you joked, and he nodded, no hesitation in his voice as he said, “yeah, let’s go to your place,”

he was a vision sent from below above, sat on the couch in your apartment, looking around at the decorations and taking in everything about your space. you allowed yourself a brief moment to recede into your mind, picturing a life where you came home to this everyday, a life where you and sam had met under normal circumstances, started a normal life together. you were only slightly ashamed to think of how you preferred it this way, preferred the intimacy the two of you had developed, the affinity you had for the man you’d only known inside your mind.

it was better this way, you told yourself. no room for error, no room for growing apart, no room for rejection. it was only you and sam, inside this strange, unnatural bubble. you knew him in his private moments, in his desperate arguments for his father to stay, in his childlike peace when he was alone with his brother, no worries at their door. you knew him when he missed his mother, knew the pain he only allowed himself to feel when no one was there to witness. no one but you, of course. always you.

“do you have family here?” he asked, breaking the silence you’d slipped into. you nodded, sitting on the edge of the couch across from him, “yeah, my dad lives on the edge of the city. no siblings, though,” “and your mom?” he asked, and your chest ached, the way it always did when she was mentioned. the way you knew his did, too. “she died when i was a baby,” you told him regretfully, “same way yours went, actually. house fire,”

“you knew about my mom?” he looked slightly taken aback, slightly scared, for just a moment, and you nearly panicked at the way his eyes widened. don’t reject this, you pleaded with him in your mind, as if he could feel it. “yeah, i had visions of you and dean talking about it,” you nodded, “i’m sorry if that’s strange for you, i didn’t mean to pry. i couldn’t really control it,”

it’s a blatant lie, but you know he won’t see through it. he doesn’t need to know the lengths you went through to get to know him better. not yet, anyway. “it’s alright,” he said after a brief moment of anxiety charged silence, “i know you can’t help it. it’s not like either of us can,” either of us. the words replayed in your mind like a sonnet. he knew, he knew it better than anyone, what you went through. sam was just another part of you, the only extension of you you’d ever known.

you spent the next few hours talking endlessly, from anything to your school experiences to your visions to your favorite foods. it was so easy, so freeing, so right. it was like someone had made him for you, or you for him, you didn’t mind either way which came first. at some point, lost on you, you’d mustered up the courage to bring up the vision you’d had of him and the thing you’d later discovered to be a vampire. he didn’t look even the slightest bit surprised or affronted, just nodded, “dean and i hunt things like that; monsters. we’ve been doing it since we were kids. my mom didn’t die in just a house fire, actually. it was this demon, my dad’s been hunting it ever since. there’s things out there,” he paused, looking down at a scar on his arm that you longed to know the origin of, “horrible, twisted things,”

“demons,” you tested the word on your tongue, having only read it in books, or on the dim light of your laptop screen, “so my mom, do you think she went the same way?” he looked at you so softly, so sympathetically, like he hadn’t gone through the same exact thing. you were struck by his selflessness, by his ability to want to comfort anyone after all he’d been through. “yeah, i think it is the same thing,” he said softly, “after i started seeing you in my visions, i tried to figure out how we’re connected. the same demon went after us,” “us? but they killed our moms,” your brows knit in confusion, “what would it want with us?”

“have you ever wondered what gave you these abilities?” he asked, a seriousness on his face you’d only seen during his arguments with his father, “did you not wonder what did this to us?” you had wondered, deeply. there was a time when that was all you thought of, the only thing you genuinely cared about. you’d searched tirelessly, until you became so frustrated and angry that you couldn’t do it anymore.

“yeah,” you nodded, “i do wonder, i just never got close to figuring it out, i guess. so what are you saying?” he looked at you, hesitating before placing a gentle hand on your knee, like he was bracing you for horrible news. you had a fleeting thought that sam could make a death sentence sound like a lullaby, like anything he said would be so glorified that it couldn’t even touch you enough to hurt you.

“the demon that killed our moms fed us it’s blood,” he said almost regretfully, like it pained him to say it, “that’s what gave us these abilities. we weren’t born this way, it was- it was forced onto us. we were turned into this,” you felt a rush in your veins, something like waking up, but tamped it down so you could focus on sam, on the way he looked almost sick. “so there’s demon blood in my veins,” you clarified, shocked by the lack of shock you felt, by how much it made sense. you’d always felt like you weren’t completely normal, even before the visions started. you’d felt everything was mildly beneath you, like you were just going through the motions until you achieved something greater. like this life was just a stop for you, as if you had anywhere else to go.

sam nodded, his thumb brushing against your knee soothingly, and you shivered slightly with the simple touch. “i know this isn’t easy to hear,” he said gently, “you can take all the time you need to process it. just please, don’t feel the need to go it alone, alright? i know it’s daunting, but this doesn’t make you bad. this isn’t condemning you,” you felt like he was speaking to himself more than to you, but you nodded anyway, thanking him quietly.

this wasn’t condemning you, but the excitement you felt at the prospect of what you were truly capable of surely was. you tried to focus on anything other than the thrumming of your veins, of the way you felt warmed over, the burning familiarity of recognition all through your body. you finally knew what you were.

“do you need to talk about it?” he asked softly, all concerned eyes and soft expressions as he looked at you, “are you processing it alright?” “i’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, “just thinking it over. i’m fine,” he just nods along, and you try to will yourself to stop wishing he’d ditch the whole we’re so cursed act. you don’t know if he’s just an exceptionally good person, or you’re just too easily bad, but a strange guilt makes a home in your chest regardless, replacing the yearning with something deeper.

“so if a demon made us,” you hesitated, trying to find the best way to prevent sounding completely power hungry and insane, “then hypothetically, we would be stronger if we got more of its blood, right?” his hand on your knee stilled immediately, a sort of panicked, cold energy emanating from him. “hypothetically, yes,” he said like you pried it from him, like he was unable to lie, “but that would be a total misuse of our abilities, it would be a sin. we’d be abominations,” the words sounded so rehearsed, so preached, you had to resist the urge to ask who did this to him. who took this beautiful, terrifying, powerful boy and made him feel like he was doing something wrong?

“our only sin would be curiosity,” you told him, and his hand slipped from your knee fully, leaving you with a cold seeped into your bones. “you can’t talk like that,” he said firmly, “do you understand? this isn’t natural, and to indulge in it- it would be wrong,” “wrong?” you repeat incredulously, “something did this to us, sam! they could hardly blame us if we just wanted to know more,”

he stood from the couch, and a new wave of panic swept over you at the prospect of him leaving, your eyes wide and your mind desperate to make him understand. “you should be focused on how to get rid of this, not to make it worse,” he said, voice tight, “maybe this was a mistake,”

the words struck you harder than a physical hit, and you nearly recoiled, tears pricking your vision. “a mistake?” you repeated, voice wavering, “sam, how could you say that?” his eyes softened at the hurt in your tone, and you could tell you almost had him, almost made him see. “this-” you gestured between the two of you, “this could never be a mistake. we’re meant to be, sam. this was inevitable, you couldn’t truly think it was a mistake, could you?”

“i didn’t mean it,” he finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, taking his seat back with a silent resignation, “i just can’t let myself think of what could be, it’s not right. i hunt these things, i don’t- i can’t become one,” “sam,” you said quietly, and before you could stop yourself, you were at his side, your hand on his arm, “you’d never be anything other than good, okay? i know you well enough to know that,”

he looked at you with such tenderness, such pure emotion, in that moment. like you’d taken his world and simplified it, like you’d opened a door he hadn’t known was there. you knew, then, that you had him; that sam winchester would follow you anywhere.

#sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #spn fic #supernatural fic #sam winchester fic #winchester x reader #winchester x you #psychic! sam #psychic sam winchester #sam winchester angst #Spotify

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veggiesxxx · 1 day ago

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What if... GENSHIN EDITION . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

What if.... (Part 1/?)

CHILDE saw a man flirting with you?(Childe x F!Reader)

The busy crowd of Liyue Harbor seemed even livelier today, the sound of merchants bartering with customers over prices, and the clink of Mora as you jingled the pouch of coins Childe gave you. You strolled with the seemingly uninterested man through the marketplace, eyes scanning the various stalls decorated with colorful wares. Beside you, Childe walked at an easy pace, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you show amazement at every trinket and local delight.

You wandered into a craftsmanship store, selling wares made of precious stones. You were intrigued by a display of intricate hairpins on a display shelf, your fingers delicately brushing over a piece costing well over 30,000 Mora. It was beautifully crafted with Archaic stone— famous for only being found in the dangerous Chasm, and inlaid with carved Lazurite.

Childe was a few feet away, observing some strange contraptions labelled as 'Children toys' in sloppy handwriting. There were numerous mechanical robots, and an old-looking puzzle piece. "This one would be perfect for Teucer.." He thought, seeing a small contraption with a wind-up pin behind it.

"This would look good with my new dress, wouldn't it-?" You raised your voice to ask Childe, but someone answered you first.

“You have excellent taste,” a stranger said, stepping closer to you, seeming to pop out of nowhere. He was dressed in fine silk, had the air of a wealthy merchant, and gestured toward the hairpin in your hand. He had this easy confidence about him, dripping with charm.

“That piece matches your beauty perfectly."

"Oh- That is kind of you to say.." You blinked, taken aback by the sudden attention. And the compliment.

"Actually.. A beauty like you deserves only the best.. This kind of wonderful craftsmanship deserves to be worn by only the most stunning of women. Allow me to gift it to you– free of charge." He winked, too smoothly for you to feel comfortable. You wanted to run away.. But that would be impolite.

"Come now, i insist. It's 30,000 mora just for that piece, and you could get it for free! And we could have dinner— i'll pay for it too."

Childe heard the man, and he kept his head lowered, jaw clenched. He didn’t approach immediately, instead staying where he was, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wood counter-shelf. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, his mind already calculating the exact level of ‘subtle’ retaliation this man deserved. To him, the man's voice was grating, and he wanted to twist the offender's head off his spine.

Finally, he sauntered over, sliding himself neatly between you and the stranger, his hands slipping into his pockets in an almost casual fashion.

"Oh wow, that is so kind of you. Uhm... She's not interested." Childe began, his voice light but masking something sharper. He stepped forward, his too-friendly grin bright, making your stomach twist, and his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Do you just- oh i don't know.. throw compliments out wherever you go? You must be an expert.. What's next? Going to tell her that her blood is red or that water's wet?"

The man turned to him, clearly caught off guard by the rude interruption. “I’m sorry, who are you?” His facade never falters, does it? And that made Childe grit his teeth.

Childe tilted his head, his grin widening as though he’d just been asked the most amusing question. “Oh, me? Just the guy who already buys her whatever she wants. One who doesn't need to bribe her for her attention. You know, the boyfriend.”

“I'm just about to find you very annoying. So please, leave her alone. She's not interested.” Childe repeated. God, kill me now. You tried to hide your face in your hand, embarrassed. Why did he get so jealous so easily?

"Childe." You said, warningly, placing a hand on his arm. You slowly put back the hairpin, knowing there was no way you'd have enough rapport with the merchant left after this to attempt to purchase it.

At your touch, Childe straightened up and let out a low chuckle, brushing off the tension as if it had never been there. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m being polite.”

The man, sensing something off, he merely bowed graciously, and left to go back to the storage in his shop, but not before gracing you both with an elegant little apology.

Once he was gone, Childe turned back to you, his expression shifting into a pout that was way too childish for someone who just scared off another man he had registered as competition. “Really? You were just going to let him all over you like that? Do i need to hang a sign on your back that says 'TAKEN'?"

"Childe, he was just being polite," you replied, not too amused by his antics, slightly disappointed you couldn't possibly buy the hairpin now. "Was that really necessary?"

“Polite?” Childe scoffed, throwing his arms out dramatically. “He was one horrible pick-up line away from proposing! What if I hadn’t been here to save you? You're not his to hit on.."

You rolled your eyes, not looking at him, but a laugh bubbled out before you could stop it. His possessive streak was endearing as much as it was infuriating. “Save me? From what, a compliment?”

Childe huffed, crossing his arms, puffing out his cheeks a bit. “Fine. Next time I’ll let the guy flirt until he realizes you’re already taken. But don’t come crying to me when they start asking for your hand in marriage.”

"Like you'd be able to hold yourself back from attacking them."

"I can if i wanted to." He insisted, stubbornly, taking your wrist in his gloved hand. "I just don’t like when people think they can take what’s mine.”

"I'm not a trophy, Ajax."

"No you're not. Of course you're not. You're my everything." He said, like it was the most normal thing to him, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He let go of your wrist, slipping his arm around your shoulders instead, starting to guide you out of the store.

"Now let's go find something better than hairpins. Something that really screams 'taken'. Shinier jewellery? I know a place, come on."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!!

Part 2

╰┈➤ coming soon (What if Heizou..)

#fanfic #oneshot #genshin x reader #genshin impact #x reader #female reader #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x fem!reader #jealousy #jealous Childe #genshin men #whatifseries

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wrinniewrites · 3 days ago

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A Fool's Gambit | Manon Blackbeak

SUMMARY ↣ in a world with little hope, you find solace in the gold, dead eyes of manon blackbeak.

WARNINGS ↣ smut, blood, injury, mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, suicidal ideation, allusions to sa, death, and worst of all—hope.

WORD COUNT ↣ 5.6k

PAIRINGS ↣ manon blackbeak x fem!reader

“My uncle will be displeased with me should he learn it is I who takes up all of your precious time.” Elide Lochan murmurs from where she sweeps the already spotless floor beside you, a task unfit for a lady of her status.

“Then I shall have to unleash the wrath of Adarlan upon him,” you quip, watching her intently. “Besides, who else might I conspire with.” The black haired beauty manages a faint smile at that.

“What is it that you plan this time, Princess?” The Lady of Perranth inquires, trying, and failing, to conceal her growing interest.

“Nothing grand,” you beam, eyes darting to the horde of wyverns that enter the aerie one after the other. However, your attention is fixed upon the white haired female standing amongst them, stance alone commanding respect.

Elide pales, glancing between you and the host of witches. “Please tell me this scheme of yours has nothing to do with the iron-teeth witches I fear may kill us for looking at them wrong?” She all but begs, face scrunched up, already knowing the answer upon catching your mischievous grin.

“I make no promises, Lady Lochan.”

And before she can blink, you are already sauntering toward the thirteen. She reaches for your arm in warning, but you simply brush her off. To her absolute horror, you stroll past each and every witch, paying no heed to their stares.

Instead, stopping right before the Blackbeak Elide did not dare even look at.

“What.” The white haired witch barks out, and the Lady of Perranth flinches at the sound from across the room. You, however, remain steadfast. Your friend feels her chest tighten as yet another witch appears, this one with golden hair, staring appraisingly.

Uncaring of the burnt gold eyes burning into your soul, you only tilt your head curiously, smiling a pretty smile.

“This one might be mad,” you hear one of her thirteen mutter, a grin in her voice.

The wing-leader shoots Vesta a warning glare, not bothering to glance your way, only breezing by you boredly.

It is your voice that halts her step.

“I wish to ride,” you announce, not looking back as the white haired witch turns to face you once more.

Elide almost passes out from where she stands.

Manon’s eyes narrow, following your gaze to Abraxos. She smells not an ounce of fear on you, remaining unsure whether you refer to witch or wyvern.

When you meet her gaze over your shoulder, the glint in your eyes makes her wonder if the answer might be both. The witch barely allows a smirk to grace her lips as you hold her stare before spinning on her heel without another word.

Elide dares not breathe until you are safely back at her side. Your lips bearing a wide grin as you approach

“Perhaps one day, I too shall fly.”

If Manon is surprised to find you seated at Duke Perrington’s side during her private audience, she does not show it.

It is only after his speech is at its end does he notice her gaze flicker to you.

“I suppose I should introduce you,” the man grumbles in his seat.

“Wing-leader, this is the Princess of Adarlan.” His words are dull as he offers a lazy gesture in your direction. “You may do with her as you please during your stay, so long as she remains in one piece.”

Manon notes the way your jaw tightens at his statement. So you were an unwilling guest, she deduces.

The witch does not deign him with a response, nor make the mistake glance your way again. She simply continues pressing him about the Wastes; her home. Even when she feels your curious gaze on her, she does not turn.

It will be days before the wing-leader even sees you again. But the hollow eyes of Adarlan’s Princess do not cease to haunt her.

It is late when Elide stumbles upon you in one of Morath's corridors, almost crashing into you with the force of her fear, shoulders shaky and eyes watering.

Your strong grasp holds her by the arms, keeping her steady as soft inquiries fall past your lips. Hushed whispers float through the stone castle as she speaks of her interaction with the white haired witch, your gaze hardening as she continues.

You are grateful she is too caught up in her own fear to see the tear in your dress, the bruises lining your forearms. Just as you are thankful for the distraction she provides.

With a snap of your fingers, your cousin is at your side. Ordered to guard and contain you by Duke Perrington. Though you suppose he is no longer Roland Havilliard. He does not speak as you command him to escort Elide to her rooms, and you do not watch as he mindlessly obeys.

You ignore the visions of depthless black eyes and dark collars that rise to your mind. Instead, finding yourself making the reluctant journey up the tower’s steps, muscles aching with each movement.

The wing-leader appears before you as you reach the top, likely having scented you. She does not speak as you welcome yourself into her quarters, watching you with caution.

“Do not trouble Elide with your ventures,” you begin, features impassive to your thoughts. “She is innocent in this war.” Are the only words you speak in explanation, and the witch raises an unimpressed brow.

“And you are not?” Is all she asks.

“Few are.” You answer vaguely.

Her burnt gold eyes travel your body from head to toe assessment, and you resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest.

“You know, most would not dare to speak to me as you do.” She takes a threatening step forward, eyes glinting when you do not back away.

“I am not most,” you answer grimly. Curiously, none of the excitement —hope— she found the day you gazed upon her wyvern lingered.

“No,” she agrees. “But I suspect that means you taste far better,” her iron nails shoot out. Perhaps that might get a reaction out of you. And how she did love playing with her food.

“Kill me if you wish,” your tone remains flat as she stalks toward you, “it would be a mercy.”

Manon smirks at that. “I do not wish to kill you,” her tongue darts out to swipe across her iron teeth. “Not yet, at least.”

Your brows furrow, but you do not balk as her nails dig into your chin, tilting your head so that you may forcibly meet her gaze.

“What do you say, Princess? Do you still wish to ride?” She rasps, her lips a breath from yours.

You still for a moment, shoulders tense. “If I say yes,” you pause thoughtfully, “will you do me a favour?” Your eyes drift to her lips, and Manon knows she has you, but she still bites.

“And what might that entail?”

“Freedom,” you speak softly, and her grip tightens.

She raises her thumb to brush over your bottom lip, “we’ll see.”

“And if I say no?” You dare to ask, leaning into her touch all the while. It had been so long since you’d found any semblance of pleasure in this cruel life.

The witch grins. “You won’t,” and in a flash her lips are pressed to yours in a bruising kiss. The hand at your jaw travelling to your neck, eliciting a gasp that parts your lips for her tongue.

She walks you backwards until your back is pressed to the cool stone wall, pinned by her hips. A whine escapes you when Manon squeezes her hand around your throat, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood. It is only then that she pulls back, burnt gold eyes hooded as she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth playfully.

You barely have a chance to catch your breath before her mouth is at your neck, tongue swiping over the blood that trickles from where her iron nails punctured your skin. She hums, pleased when you tilt your head back and a moan parts your lips.

“You do taste nice, Princess ,” Manon murmurs as her teeth scrape your neck. Hands roam your body freely, her knee parts your legs with ease, settling between them. You reach blindly for her riding leathers for support, heat pooling between your legs.

She grins at the way your eyes widen when she uses her iron claws to tear a line right down the centre of your dress. You shiver when an icy breeze caresses your bare breasts, nipples hardening. Manon makes quick work of bringing her lips to them, sucking and biting, you arch into her touch.

She allows clumsy hands to strip her of her own leathers, finding enjoyment in watching you attempt to focus as she rakes her nails over your thoughts and stomach teasingly. You are reduced to pathetic whimpers when her fingers slide between your legs and you clench around nothing.

“You’re dripping,” she purrs, removing her fingers from your core in spite of your complaints. Instead, you watch, enamoured, as she brings them to her own lips, tongue darting out to suck them clean. Moaning at the taste, she crashes her lips into yours a second time, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

Her eager mouth swallows your sounds greedily as her fingers return, slipping between your legs once more. Finding your bundle of nerves with ease, she circles vigorously. You are embarrassed to admit you almost came from that alone.

“Manon,” you plead when she slows her pace tantalisingly. “Please,” you beg, bucking your hips to seek friction. The witch only raises an unimpressed brow.

“Please, what?” She demands.

“Please,” you say again, hands reaching desperately for her, pulling her closer. “Please fuck me.” She smirks, and for a moment you think she’ll abandon you entirely for daring to touch her, leaving you high and dry.

Instead, a moan loud enough to echo through Morath is ripped from your lips as two fingers plunge into you. All while her thumb continues to rub at your clit. At first, her strokes are slow, gentle even, agonisingly so. But when your own nails dig into her skin with need, she thrusts into you knuckles deep, hard enough to have you falling over the edge pitifully fast.

Only she does not pull away then for she is finished with you yet. Her pace turns tortuous. And in just a few short touches you are reaching your high again, begging her to stop. And when she does not, tears glitter in your eyes. Then, and only then does the witch show mercy.

Your ears are ringing by the time she has had her way with you, chest rising and falling with each laboured breath you take. As you blink away the blurriness, you realise she is the only reason you remain on two feet, for your body is limp in her arms.

Once you are recovered enough to stand on your own, two rough hands grip your shoulders, forcing you to your knees hard enough to leave a dull ache; a reminder. Her slim fingers weave through your hair before tightening, urging you forward in a wordless command.

“Your friend plots her escape,” Manon’s voice is tainted by exhaustion as she lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Immediately you know she refers to Elide.

You turn to face her from where you lie, bare skin covered only by a thin sheet. It is the second week you have spent in her bed. For you found yourself returning to her chambers the very day after the first, and the next, and the next.

The witch greets you with a smug smirk every time.

She does not ask after the strange bruises that litter your skin, and for that you are thankful. Though she will come to regret it one day.

“Good.” You say in response to her statement, and the witch’s brows pinch in confusion. “It means she still has hope,” you answer her wordless question.

“And you do not?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“I am beyond hoping,” you whisper sombrely before forcing a smile to your lips. “But fun is not entirely lost on me,” you lift your hand to her skin, mindlessly trailing a line on her collarbone with the tip of your finger.

Manon stiffens at your touch. You cannot help but wonder if in time she may soften. The idea is quickly lost on you, moving to retract. Only she catches your wrist in a painfully tight grip. You grimace but do not make any move to pull away. Instead you raise your brows in silent questioning when her burnt gold eyes deign to meet your own. You frown when her nostrils flare.

“You are with child,” she murmurs, surprise clear in her voice despite her face remaining stoic. “How long have you known?” She watches the way your frown deepens, biting the inside of your cheek. “You did not know,” she answers herself.

She does not ask of the who, and you almost wish she would. But deep down, you both know her mind already holds the answer.

Not another word passes your lips that night.

Pulling back the sheets grimly, you feel bile rise to your throat as you spare a glance at your stomach. You know the witch watches you keenly, but cannot bring yourself to care as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Instead, you opt to turn for the open window, feeling only the icy breeze and burnt gold orbs on your back as you will yourself to sleep.

Just as the darkness threatens to consume you whole, the faintest skim of fingertips along your stomach keeps you on the cusp of sleep. The covers are then pulled up to your neck, and you allow yourself to find peace in the dreamworld.

You do not remember it the next morning.

Elide finds you in the aerie the very next day, watching the wyverns intently.

“What troubles you today, Princess?” She asks, noting your features tainted by exhaustion. But when you turn to face her she does not find the grave look she expects.

“I have been sitting here for more hours than I can count, Elide, and what I have discovered is most fascinating.” Your eyes glimmer with each word, though the smile you wear does not quite reach your eyes.

“And what is it that you have discerned?”

“They are much like us, you know.” You report grimly. “Tortured, but hopeful creatures,” you say, carefully observing Abraxos and Narene, Asterin’s wyvern. Elide does not fully understand your statement until she follows your wavering gaze to the white haired witch at her gentle beast’s side.

“Hope is not lost on you yet, Princess?” She asks, recalling how adamant you had been in your argument only a month prior. ‘It is a doomed world we live in, and one would be a fool to even consider the prospect of change.’ You had once said.

“I fear I no longer possess the answer to that particular question.” Your brows furrow in thought, hands twirling the flower you cradle in your hands.

“Do you think people can change, Lady Lochan?”

The question confuses her. She first thinks of her Uncle Vernon, and finds herself frowning doubtfully. But then she tunes her mind to you, of how you had unknowingly given her a hope that had been all but lost for the last ten years.

“I would like to believe so,” is all she can offer. You nod once, twice, before rising to your feet. She does not stop you as you make your way to the witch and her wyvern.

Manon’s attention is drawn to you the second you so much as glance in her direction. No one can say whether you came to the aerie that day for her, or she for you. But the fact remains that every living being within the space could feel the tension lingering between you.

She raises her perfectly sculpted brow as you approach, eyeing the flower you hold with caution. The witch is surprised when you stroll right by her, though she does not show it.

Instead, you stop directly before her wyvern, flower outstretched in your hand. A rare laugh escapes your lips when he nudges your hand softly, sniffing. Abraxos then lets out what you can only assume is a sound of delight, nuzzling into your palm.

“I think he rather likes me,” you glance back at Manon with a grin, and she frowns in return. She does not enjoy the feeling it stirs in her chest; it is one of discomfort.

Her gentle beast huffs at her expression, almost knowingly, and the witch rolls her eyes. “He recognises your scent,” Manon explains, not bothering to gesture to herself. And you almost allow yourself to smile at the idea of her smelling of you.

“When we first met, I asked you for a ride.” You say, running your hands over Abraxos’ scales, who hums in content. “Will you really make me ask a second time?”

“And here I thought you were talking about me.”

Your eyes brighten at her words, but then she finds her gaze drifting to your stomach and you frown. “Perhaps another day,” she excuses stiffly, and you nod solemnly.

“Perhaps another day,” you repeat.

The sun has long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you finally hear the footsteps that belong only to Manon Blackbeak.

You sit curled beneath the window, neck craned so that you might look upon the stars. When her pace quickens in the stairwell, a rare flicker of fear passes over you. You know then that she has figured it out.

You know not of where she was, nor how long it has been since she left, only that she was gone.

The moment she passes the threshold her eyes dart to yours, burnt gold irises swirling with fury. Manon is at your side before you can blink, but your vision has already begun to blur. She is too late.

“What have you done?” Manon demands, iron nails digging into your arms.

“For once, I have done as I wish.” A simple smile adorns your lips

Something brews in her burnt gold eyes as they dip to your stomach, the red staining it, something you almost mistake for worry. But you are not so foolish as to believe your own delusions.

“You are a fool,” the witch sneers.

A careless laugh bubbles from your throat. “A fool I may be, but a free one at that.”

She scowls, “not if I have anything to say about it,” hauling your limp body into her arms.

It is only then your eyes widen in a blind panic.

“No.” you whisper, and blood spills from your lips. “No.” You say again, using the last of your strength to trash in her arms. “No, please no.” A feeble attempt to free yourself.

“You are mine,” Manon grunts as she tightens her grip. “Mine to have. Mine to dictate. And I say you will not die today, Princess, so die you shall not.”

“Please,” you beg, voice taut.

Her gaze steels. “You are mine.” She repeats, and you feel tears pool in your eyes. A soft shake of your head in disbelief follows, freedom so close, yet so far. Perhaps if you could— you blindly reach for the gaping wound in your stomach.

“Stop.” Manon orders, reaching to grasp your wrist. Her iron claws do not dig into your skin as you expect. There is a strain in her voice, and when you look up, her eyes are filled by a wild panic. Your wrist slackens.

“Good.” Is the last word you hear before your vision fades and the world goes black.

When you wake you are in Manon’s chambers, you recognise the room even with your eyes closed.

“And so she lives,” someone speaks, but the voice is muffled, distant. It is a great effort to peel your eyes open, throat dry as you attempt to speak. A flash of flaming red hair and a cup of water is pressed to your lips.

“Thank you,” you rasp, and the witch grins in acknowledgement. Only for her back to stiffen as she shifts away from you, eyes darting for the door. A moment later, Manon steps past the threshold, Asterin hot on her tail.

Burnt gold eyes immediately dart to you, alert. “You’re awake.” Manon swallows.

When you refuse to meet her gaze, her jaw tightens. “Out.” She orders, and with a wave of her hand Vesta is gone. Only three of you remain now.

“The babe?” You question, voice hollow as you finally raise your head. When Asterin gazes at you with sympathy you know it is done. You wish she wouldn’t, but you manage an appreciative glance no less.

It was better this way.

Your gaze then flickers to Manon, who stands tense by her second. Asterin does not need to be told to leave, offering a curt nod as she goes.

The silence only stretches between you two so long before you can no longer bear it. “Why?” You ask, doing everything in your power to keep your voice from cracking. She could ask you the same, but does not.

“Because I can,” her answer is simple; cold.

You hang your head lowly in a cruel mix of disappointment and acceptance. But then her voice comes again, “because you asked for a favour,” she says, your brows furrowing. “And I intend to fulfil it.”

Your head shoots up, face contorted by a thousand questions resting at the tip of your tongue. “I answered your question, now you answer mine.” Just as you part your lips to speak, she raises her hand, commanding silence. “Who did this to you?”

“I—”

“Do not lie to me.”

Pausing, you eye her pensively. “He did not exactly introduce himself,” you retort.

“He was here for me?” She questions, and you stare at her a moment, assessingly, before nodding. Her back straightens, and you can almost feel how hard she resists the iron claws threatening to shoot free.

“So why,” she breathes, “did I find you in my chambers with a blade in your stomach?”

You fight the urge to grimace. “I suppose he thought if he could not take you, taking your bed warmer might cause you harm enough to satisfy his handler.” You offer a faux smile. “He was a fool to believe so.”

She is silent, deathly so. When the words come, you do not expect them.

“I will kill him.”

“You have a visitor,” Manon announces, albeit begrudgingly. And you immediately try to rise from the thick covers, pausing when iron claws shoot out in warning. She only stands once you raise your hands in surrender, laying back with a roll of your eyes.

Elide comes bursting into the room the second the witch opens the door, stumbling over her feet to reach you. Her eyes shine when she makes it to your side, and you lift your hand to her cheek absently, faintly aware of Manon’s lingering presence,

“You are well?” You ask, and the Lady of Perranth gapes.

The witch leaves the room with a glance over her shoulder, surprised to find your gaze on her. She does not understand the look you give her, for it is one of mixed emotions. As though you thank her for going, but plead for her to stay all the same. Manon leaves before she can think further on it.

“You are faced with death, but still ask after me?” Elide shakes her in exasperation. Suddenly overcome, she reaches for your hands. “I do not know what I would do without you, Princess.”

“You would be just fine,” you assure, but the ravenette frowns in disagreement, glancing behind her.

“I am surprised they even allowed me to see you.” When your brows furrow, she continues in a hushed whisper. “The wing-leader has been on edge ever since—” she gestures to you. “Even Perrington grows displeased with her refusal to let a soul near you.”

“Then I suppose you, my friend, are one lucky lady,” you quip, but your mind stirs with thoughts you never allowed yourself to have in the past. Ones of hope.

A groan passes your lips when you shift, roused from sleep by the pain it causes your stitches. When your eyes flutter open, you find burnt gold ones already on you.

“Manon?” You rasp, yawning sleepily. The witch blinks from where she lies on her side, a silent acknowledgement. You mindlessly shuffle closer, seeking warmth. Too tired to wonder why she does not turn away, you draw near enough to hear her short, sharp breaths.

“I shall take you to the skies on Abraxos,” the witch is hesitant as she lays a hand upon your hip, careful not to hurt you. “So that you may know true freedom.” Her body freezes when you press your face to her neck, hot air spilling from your lips, sending a chill down her stiff spine.

“This is enough for me,” you murmur.

It is all so different from anything she knows. From the touch she has given you to elicit pleasure. From the same favours you have returned to her, only gentler. No, this is like nothing she has ever known.

She does not know what to make of it. Her desire for it.

And when you wake the next morning, Manon is gone.

It is days before she returns to you, and you are finally able to move freely after the incident. “Princess?” A voice draws you from sleep, and you find the witch sitting at your side, peering down at you.

“You’re back,” you whisper into the darkness.

The Blackbeak heir hums softly, her touch oddly gentle as she reaches for your neck. You do not flinch, not when her hands only seek to caress the smooth skin thoughtfully. Instead, you wait for the words to find her.

“You do not bear the same collar they have used on your brother,” she frowns, staring at you as though you are a puzzle she cannot solve. “Why?”

You jerk upright. “Dorian wears a collar?”

“You did not know.” Manon observes, feeling foolish for asking. Though you show no anger towards her. Saying nothing, your gaze finds the open window. It does little to hide the tears in your eyes, the moon’s dull glow illuminating your fragile features.

The witch feels an uncomfortable urge to reach out to you. But, “I asked you a question,” is all she can think to say.

When you turn back to her, your face is hardened, an unnerving calm seeping into your bones. “They enjoy it,” you mutter spitefully. “Breaking me to their will, knowing they do not need a collar to have their way with me.”

Something inside the witch hardens at that.

You seem to read the words on the tip of her tongue, the anger —the possession— burning deep within her. “I am just your bed warmer.” You remind her, remind yourself. Despite the fact she has not touched you in days, but refuses to leave your side nonetheless.

“Do not trouble yourself with my mess.”

You rise from the sheets with a gasp, mind haunted by the depthless black eyes of your cousin, Roland. The ones that now rob the vibrant life from your own brother. Manon’s iron nails shoot out, as if sensing your distress, but she does not wake.

Quiet as the night, you slip from the bed, tip-toeing your way across the cool floors. You welcome the chill creeping up your spine, better than the eternal numbness. Finding your place by the large window, you peer out into the starry sky. You only wish it would swallow you whole, rip you from this nightmare.

A groan from the witch jerks your head to the side. Her eyes remain shut, but you know you have woken the beast. For her arm now lays outstretched; an offering, a command.

You wordlessly return to her bed; the only place you feel safe, it is a cage all the same.

When Manon tugs you into her side, so that your head may rest upon her chest, you are too tired to care of what it may mean. It is the kind of exhaustion that might creep within the cracks in your broken soul. And you no longer had the strength to fight it.

You wish to feel all and nothing at once.

To forget the never ending storm wreaking havoc on your mind. So you absently hook your leg over the witch, moving to straddle her. Strong hands easily find your hips, burnt gold eyes flashing open.

She does not complain when your lips meet hers in a heated kiss, fingers trailing up your stomach and along your thighs. There is a hunger in her gaze when you pull away, but she remains hesitant, reluctant even.

Impatiently, you fumble for her wrist, drawing it between your legs. Manon groans at the slick she finds, how easily riled up you are. But when she does not move, you begin to plead. “Touch me,” you urge, lips travelling from jaw to neck. The hand on your thigh squeezes in warning.

“Please,” you breathe, desperate, and the damn breaks.

Fingers weave into your locks, tugging, and then her lips are on yours again. You roll your hips, a moan ripping from your throat at the sensation. Manon bears a pleased grin when you continue to fuck yourself on her fingers.

But she cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss.

Even with your skin pressed to hers, lips locked, she has the overwhelming feeling that she has lost you entirely.

True to her word, Manon takes you to the aerie a whole two weeks after she promised. And this time, you do not protest.

She watches for every twitch of your lips, seeming pleased with herself when you bear a grin that does not leave you from the moment you take to the skies above. When Abraxos roars, a laugh bubbles from your lips, and you cannot help but wonder if he does it for your amusement.

When you reach the clouds you know she is right. There is no truer freedom than the heavens above. “Thank you,” you murmur, unsure whether she hears. If she does, the witch does not respond, though you feel the tension in her shoulders ease.

Suddenly, Abraxos dips, and you're soaring between the clouds. A low chuckle escapes the witch when you yelp, tightening your arms around her waist. “Not so fearless after all, Princess,” she quips, voice carrying over the wind.

Rolling your eyes, you dare to pinch her side. The witch repays you with a threatening glare over her shoulder, iron teeth bared, but harmless. Your heart drops to your stomach when the wyvern lands on a mountain peak at her command, teeth snapping on impact.

She slides from his back with practiced ease, and you are almost surprised she offers a hand to aid you. A rare, true smile tugs at your lips. And Manon is confused to find it extends not only to the skies, but her as well.

However, once your feet hit the ground it is wiped from your features. As if the very step brings you back to a life never ceasing to haunt you, caging you. Her hand lingers on your own, for what purpose, she does not know, only that it feels right.

Her back straightens when it is you who slips your hand from her grasp.

A vulnerability shines in her burnt gold eyes, no longer dulled by years of familial oppression. Were you not so caught up in the winds of your past you may have noticed. Instead your back is to her, eyes clouded as you stare into the abyss below.

“I was not always this way, you know.” The soft confession is so quiet only the breeze carries it to Manon.

When you continue, she listens. As you go on about the whims of your childhood, the fun, the hope, the love. And while she knows she is different, never has it struck her quite so hard as the words rolling from your tongue.

“I was made to be this way, Manon.”

There is meaning in your statement, the witch knows this much, but she is not sure she wishes to face it.

“But anything can be unmade, undone.” You say, and she refuses to acknowledge what that may mean for her. She is yet not ready.

She is even less prepared when you turn to face her once more. Tears line your cheeks, but a smile adorns your precious lips. She has never known a prettier sight.

“Thank you,” you smile. For everything.

The witch frowns. “You already said that.”

“Then I’m sorry,” you voice quietly.

“Sorry?” She takes a step forward. You take one back.

You smile wider, “that I will not be there—”

Her frown deepens, eyes flickering behind your.

“—to see you undo this cruel world.” You raise your arms, peace and longing drawn onto your delicate features. And then you lean back, giving yourself to the wind.

She is too slow.

The last thing you see is the skies.

She does not reach you.

Abraxos roars.

She does not hear it.

Your words echo in her mind.

“People change, Manon.”

Your voice already fades.

“For better, or for worse.”

You wished for better.m

So a better world she would give you.

Even if it was too late.

i am so sorry ya'll :(((

#manon blackbeak x reader #manon crochan x reader #throne of glass x reader #tog x reader #manon blackbeak imagines #queen of shadows x reader #manon blackbeak smut

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dimonds456 · 7 months ago

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Hi it's the tooth positivity guy again. I worded this poorly but then the post blew up too much to go back and properly make amends, so here is a new post

If you can't take care of your teeth properly, or just straight-up don't, or whatever, that is also okay! ADHD, sensory shit, poor muscle coordination, allergies, ect. all of that are valid and you are also valid and should not be made fun of for your teeth!

And yes, teeth ARE naturally yellow or grey. The white-thing is, apparently, a very American-centric thing that can actually damage your teeth more, based on what I'm learning in the tags, so yeah, extra fuck that.

Make peace with all teeth. That is all. You all are beautiful, have beautiful smiles, and you should not ever feel ashamed at the prospect of showing joy to others. I love you.

#and yes ofc rot can cause health problems #like i said in the OG post- i am not advocating for you to let yourself fall into disrepair if you can help it or if it gets bad enough #the post was directed at people who comment on OTHER PEOPLE's teeth #so to the people who were doing that in the tags: congrats you missed the point #to my fellow ADHDers out there i see you and i love you #your teeth and wonderful and your smile is beautiful #stop being ashamed of it okay?#holding your hand and skipping off into the sunset with you #body positivity #teeth #teeth positivity #dimond speaks

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faaun · 10 months ago

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my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

#he keeps falling asleep almost on my shoulder and waking up and readjusting but i want to tell him its ok weve seen a lot #of each other ive seen your brainwaves you called me crying a few nights ago. research partner right now is a potentiality #friend is a certainty. i met a banker passionate about finance. he said his advice made the lives of others better and he likes the numbers #more than he likes anything else. on a high rise near canary wharf the view was wonderful and the people even moreso #he said i loved her but i spent 33 grand on her and i cant do this anymore. his voice cracked talking about her. he did love her.#and she talked softly she grabbed my hand she bought me a pack of Marlborough gold she told me to snap #the russian menthol cigarettes of the tortured polish man near us with my teeth i kept staring at her teeth #bright white and sharp. i couldnt find her heartbeat but i did find warmth and i did find her lips and i did feel #how she felt pressed against a wall. a pretty boy held my hand and i gave him my number. i couldnt stop smiling about her no matter #how many runways youve walked on how many collections youve designed how many students youve taught. senior lecturer teaches me how to do #very unethical things ethically over a double shot of vodka made by the half-persian with broken farsi. she talks softly #and she says her eyes are hazel but they appear a shade of red. pure gold on her hands and leather on her back and her fingers on my lips #(she talks softly sees through me she says something i cant hear but i wont forget the way she flies) she talked to my research partner #about the possibility of moving to sunny dubai with the rest of her family and my heart felt pierced. on her arm i traces a tattoo of a #knife passing through a rose. she told me she thought there was romance in severing so i kissed her some more.#he sat me down and asked me what i loved and i told him and he said no romance no person no tragedy will take that from you.#the room was filled with a collection of people in love with something that wasnt a person and i kept looking at her.#red eyes bitten jawline beautiful hands. it is 3 degrees Celsius my head is on his shoulder i miss my friends #we walked out the lecture hall with arms linked a photo of two years ago and we both said #jesus christ. i miss you all. and i miss logic metatheory lectures. im glad i get to stare at the depth of your eyes #i wish i had met you years ago.#crushposting

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luveline · 1 month ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair.

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please.

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type.

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?”

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers.

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?”

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mm-hm.”

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?”

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.”

“So you’re in need of company?”

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?”

“What are you drinking?”

“Cherry spritzer.”

“Can I buy you another one?”

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much.

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.”

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference.

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started.

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast.

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek.

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest.

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold.

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side.

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely.

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over.

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly.

“Just this.”

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.”

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything.

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows.

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear.

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone.

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back.

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee.

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are.

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?”

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?”

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.”

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.”

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder.

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed.

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone.

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can.

“Nowhere.”

“So where have you been?”

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose.

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek.

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders.

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs.

“You okay?” a voice asks.

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face.

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.”

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes.

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently.

“I’ll leave soon.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.”

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving.

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?”

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?”

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?”

“Just while I was waiting for you.”

“What do you do?”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror.

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.”

“Like, statistics?”

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly.

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“I’m good at math, yeah.”

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?”

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss.

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away.

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.”

“Me too.”

“And you’re okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing hurts?” he asks.

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.”

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb.

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day.

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.”

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes.

For a pause, you just sit.

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good.

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask.

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.”

”Really?”

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.”

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again.

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?”

“We might have to stand very close.”

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to.

—

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride.

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked.

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other.

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way.

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details.

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles.

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him.

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?”

“You wanna share?”

“Yes!”

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly.

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.”

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand.

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face.

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?”

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.”

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling.

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says.

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?”

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.”

“You know what shampoo I use?”

“I deduced it.”

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?”

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.”

“You distract me, too.”

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.”

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend.

“I like you too,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Not just…”

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing.

“Should we go out, then?”

“We do.”

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.”

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight.

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.”

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.”

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“And if I don’t?” he asks.

“Then we get married in Vegas.”

“You could meet my mom.”

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks.

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.”

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin.

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough.

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile.

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks.

“I can’t remember.”

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.”

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted.

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.”

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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slightly-knot-insane · 3 months ago

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Breaking a Promise

You love your monster boyfriends cock. It's huge, long, ribbed, a wonderful alien shape that you can't even describe. Beautiful colors are splashed across it, along the veins, glans, his balls, and surrounding the lovely hole that shoots that delicious load all over and inside you. You love to lick that little hole, pushing your tongue inside, tasting the pre-cum while listening to the grunts of your handsome boyfriend. His muscles spasm, he barely keeps himself under control. You forbade him to touch you this time. This time, he's your monster toy.

You glide your tongue slowly along his shaft, kissing every curve and stripe, every little marking. He can only squirm under your touch because he promised - he promised! - not to place a finger on you.

Smiling deviously, you continue your torture, soaking his monster phallus with your saliva. You suck his balls and foreskin, pulling them with your teeth. He hisses, his hands curled into fists. "Fuck... you are evil..."

"Evil?" You lift yourself on your knees and crawl closer to his dick. You kneel and start grinding yourself up and down along his soft creases, stimulating your swollen clit. "I am now."

"Fuck..." His head falls backward, exasperated sigh escaping his lips. He swallows hard while he grunts, controlling his arms, scratching the bedsheets like a nervous cat. "Please... Let me, just a little bit..."

"No", you snap, too focused on your pleasure, holding his dick against yourself and rocking your hips. Your moans become louder and you can feel your core aching. You push yourself forward, forcing his cock on his stomach so that you can ride it with more force. "Ah... ah... yes, I'm close."

He puts his hands behind his head, biting his bicep, trying not to look at you. But he can feel and hear every part of you. He can feel your wet cunt, the moist sounds, your pants and whimpers, your folds sliding along his cock.

"I'm gonna—" Your orgasm hard, screaming from delight, still humping his cock, making your clit pulsate. It is so intense, you shake and whimper like a pathetic plaything.

"Fuck this!" He grabs your hips and lifts you up like a doll. You aren't aware of his actions until you feel his full length inside your still pulsating pussy. "Ahhh yes!", you scream.

His pounding cock enhances your ongoing orgasm and just pushes the next wave forward. Hearing him grunt and groan while slamming your pussy against his groin speeds things up. You climax again, him balls deep inside you, chasing his own release.

"Oh fuck, baby, you feel so good... Your pussy loves my cock... It throbs around my cock... Ah..."

He presses you against his chest so that his hips can buck with full force. With a deep guttural growl, he buries his cock deep inside you and cums. He fills you up so much, you feel the pressure inside your womb as it swells.

After catching his breath, he says, in a most fake apologetic voice: "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

With half-lidded eyes, you kiss his chest. "You are not, you whore. At least you break your promises in a really fantastic way."

#monster imagine #monster #monster lover #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster fuqqer #werewolf #werewolf lover #werewolf romance #teratophillia #terat0philliac #terato #monster x fem!reader #monster x reader #monster x you #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc

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delirious-donna · 6 months ago

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tw: kento x female reader, breeding, kitchen sex (because when is that not hot?), kento speaking his mind (yeah it’s filthy 🫦)

Kento found you in the kitchen, guided to you by the sweet lilt of the tune you were absently humming. He loosened the knot of his tie and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles in his forearms.

Everything was right with the world once he had returned to your warm presence. Nothing could sour his mood now that he was home, and he watched from the doorway as you prepared cookies for baking, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and his cock twitching to life.

It was amazing how the tiredness, that only moments ago had pressed against his eyes, lifted as he admired your figure. The summer dress that showed off the plush of your thighs and thin straps that would be far too easy to push down to reveal your beautiful breasts.

You really were perfect for him. Nanami knew you would be a wonderful mother, but that thought startled him as he had not thought himself ready for such responsibility—not yet.

… but maybe?

How could he deny the pleasure thrumming through his body when he thought of you round with his child? His cock strained painfully against his expensive tailored trousers and a sudden tightness forced his balls to draw up, ready and aching.

It only took three strides and he was behind you. You startled with a high-pitched yelp at his unexpectedly sudden presence, jumping in the heat of his body as he crowded you against the counter without uttering a single word. His strong capable hands made hasty work of pressing beneath your dress to find the waist of your underwear, tugging them down until they pooled around your bare feet on the floor.

“Kento!” you giggled, slapping playfully at his hands, but he was not to be dissuaded and you weren’t really putting up any resistance. There was an urgency that surrounded him—thick and consuming. The air seemed to ripple with tiny vibrations that had not been there moments earlier and you eased into the sensations like sinking into a perfectly hot bath.

His strong forearms flexed as he pawed and massaged your breasts through the thin material of your dress, pinching at your budding nipples until you were fervently grinding against his prominent erection.

You barely had time to draw breath as the sound of his belt being unbuckled was followed by the drag of metal teeth being eased apart. Kento’s cologne enveloped your senses, the familiar warm notes tickling your nose and had you reaching back a hand to thread your fingers through his perfectly parted hair. Your toes curl against the tiled floor, expectation bubbling low and hot in your belly.

“I’m a lucky man,” he murmured into the soft curve of your neck. His lips left wet spots in a pattern only known to him, sucking marks that he would later finger and examine with that faint little smile that never failed to make your heart stutter in your chest.

“Then I’m a lucky woman,” you countered, ending on a gasp when the straps of your dress eased off your shoulders and fell to your elbows.

Kento hummed. His brain couldn’t stop conjuring the image of you growing with his seed, of the glow that would accompany such a venture and the flutter of kicks he would feel when laying his palms over your stomach. You stilled; the gears in your head whirring when he touched your belly and his hips rutted forward to saw the thick impression of his cock through the cleft of your backside.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. That’s it… good girl.”

The skirt of your dress lifted to reveal your bare behind, forcing you to brace a hand atop the counter and you twisted your head to watch as he pulled the weight of his cock free from his underwear, purple and leaking fat pearls of precum. Your mouth watered, jaw falling slack when his fingers trailed the length of your slit, thumb rubbing gentle circles atop your throbbing clit. Kento pumped his impressive length, once twice, but he was more than ready to be accepted by your body.

The height difference made it a little awkward but Kento was a man on a mission, widening his stance and bending his knees until he notched at the flexing entrance of your cunt and pushed in on a grunt of exaltation. A shudder rippled down his spine, his teeth set whilst he fought the primal urge to let go immediately. He was wound nearly to breaking point with the need to pump his load into you and keep it there, but the fraying strands of his manners persisted.

Your toes barely touched the floor as he forced you to bend against the counter, your face right next to the sheet of cookies you had been ready to bake. The stretch of his girth made you hiss and writhe like a snake but he held you firm until he could bottom out and soothe the burning need you both felt.

Kento was still, his chest heaved as he fought down the urge to pound you stupid until your cunt was drooling on the floor and saliva pooled from your mouth.

“I think it’s about time I bred this sweet little pussy. Don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Kento!”

He threw back his head; the rhythmic clench of your velvet walls betraying the shock of your voice. He smiled into your hair, kneading the fat of your breasts with rough hands and pistoned his hips harder and faster.

“Mm, I thought so. Let’s see how many loads you can take tonight. Then we can start all over again in the morning…”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #breeding k1nk

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martiniblues · 26 days ago

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CUPIDS CHOKEHOLD , spencer reid

pairing boyfriend!spencer x fem!reader

synopsis you decide to visit spencer during his lunch break. unbeknownst to you, the team has been waiting for your arrival since they found out about you and spencer’s relationship.

genre fluff, reader is described with a cheugy/funky kind of style, and just overall teasing from the team lol.

standing in the mirrored elevator, you took in your appearance one last time. your patterned tights, babydoll dress, denim jacket, and colorful accessories were nothing out of the ordinary for you. you took pride in your sense of fashion, not caring how others perceived you.

spencer made it known to you almost daily how much he adored the way you styled yourself. your whimsical and girly attire added the perfect contrast to his “grandpa attire” as you liked to call it.

returning your tube of lipgloss to its desired spot, you heard the faint ding of the elevator, alerting you of your arrival. you took a deep breath before walking up to the secretary at the counter. the building was sleek and shiny, only emphasizing your appearance.

the brunette welcomed you, asking for your id before you heard your name being called by an all too familiar voice. “she’s with me; actually, no need to call in or anything.” spencer grabbed the visitors badge and clipped it to the pocket of your jacket before looking at you.

“hey spence,” you giggled, adjusting his glasses that had gone askew from his evident rush to get to you. he blushed as you slid your hand to the side of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek softly.

he grabbed your hand and led you into what you deemed to be the “bullpen” spencer had mentioned to you before. your boots clicked on the ground, muffled by the sounds of the bau.

many workers turned and looked, unfamiliar with your presence and even more shocked that you were with spencer. he looked at you, noticing your wondering eyes. “it’s a little hectic right now, sorry.” he pulled you into his cubicle, already having a chair ready for you.

“its actually really cool seeing this place for the first time. it really is like the tv shows.” he almost laughed at your childlike awe, reaching over to roll your chair closer to his own. satisfied with your positioning, spencer moved a few folders and notebooks from his desk to make room for your shared food.

you could only get one bite in before a presence appeared behind you. “you invited mrs. genius here, and you didn’t tell anyone?” two hands came to grab spencer by his shoulders, causing him to jump slightly.

the man smiled at you with possibly the whitest teeth you had ever seen. his broad shoulders, stature, and dark skin made him almost god-like. “morgan-“ spencer began before another head peaked around him.

“the woman, the myth, the legend!” the shorter blonde woman gasped, walking over to you. spinning your chair so that you were facing her entirely, her eyes lit up. “you are literally the cutest thing i have ever seen. boy wonder, why haven’t you brought her in sooner?” the nickname made you laugh, looking at spencer to see the embarrassed look on his face.

“morgan and garcia, back off before you scare the poor girl away.” a dark-haired woman leaned against the desk behind you. soon after, another blonde and two older men crowed around you.

they waited eagerly as spencer introduced you, looking between you two as if this were the best thing they had ever seen. “it’s nice to meet you all. spence has told me so much about you guys.” you rose from your seat, shaking their hands so as not to come off as unprofessional in such a serious building.

even if it contradicted their previous actions…

“she even has a nickname for him, oh derek hold me before i pass out from the beauty of young love.” penelope held her hand to her heart, leaning into the man beside her as he rolled his eyes from her antics.

“she was nearly this dramatic when she noticed the picture spencer put up of you on his desk.” rossi pointed at the item you had failed to notice as you arrived.

tucked beside his computer, a small black and white photobooth strip stared back at you. memories of the early bits of your relationship flooded your mind.

you smiled lightly at the last panel, remembering how nervous you had been to kiss spencer on camera. he looked up at you, mirroring your expression.

the team continued to interrogate you, asking about where the two of you met, your first date, who asked out who first, almost as if they were profiling you.

spencer sighed at the realization, clearly annoyed at your alone time being interrupted. you noticed, sitting back down beside him and looking at him to reassure him that you were fine.

“glad to see she really likes him and wasn’t paid.” emily nodded towards spencer’s cheek. a light pink kiss mark adorned his skin, making the rest of the team snicker before he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“are you guys trying to scare her away?” spencer whined, feeling like a boy introducing his first girlfriend to his embarrassing family.

“come on, reid, we’re only messing with you.” jj perched her hand on her hip, smiling at you warmly. “we’ll let you guys be for now, but don’t leave too soon. we have to give her a tour!” penelope insisted, turning to the group as they all shook their heads in agreement.

“that’d be nice, thank you.” you replied before turning back to your boyfriend. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” spencer mumbled, leaning into your side.

you ruffled his hair, “i see why you talk about them so much. they clearly care about you a lot.” you looked over your shoulder, catching them spying from one of the conference rooms.

smirking you turned back to spencer, kissing his cheek once more before you continued to eat and talk about what you’d plan to do after he got off work.

after you finished your mostly uninterrupted lunch, you were swept away by penelope as she gave you your promised tour. showing you everyone’s office, the break room, multiple conference rooms, and even the dingy locker room in the very back.

after one tight hug from morgan, a promise for a girls night from penelope, some teasing from jj and emily, and more typical goodbyes from hotch and rossi, you were finally walking back to your car.

you expected spencer to just walk you back to the elevator, but your face quickly lit up when he stepped inside, pulling you flush against him and pressing a button to make the doors close.

“finally have you alone.” he mumbled before crashing his lips to yours. you gasped at his sudden boldness, highly due to the lack of curious eyes, and moved your hands to rest behind his neck.

his hands went under your jacket, yearning to be close to you but having enough sense to not pull anything too risky. “i’ve been wanting to do that since you’ve got here.” he pulled away shortly before the ding of the elevator announced your arrival.

you just grabbed his hand and pulled him along side you. “they were really sweet, spence. i’m happy you work with people that are so much like a family.” as you made it to your car you turned around, your back leaning against your trunk as spencer came to stand in-front of you.

“they’re nosey like one, for sure.” he joked, bringing his hand to rest on your hip once again. you sighed before reaching up to kiss him one last time. “i’ll see you tonight.” you promised, squeezing his hand before it left yours in his return to work.

before you got in your car, you turned around looking up to see six familiar faces looking right back at you.

just something i thought of off a whim because i saw an edit of the bau to 400 lux by lorde and got SOOOOO emotional. like thats my family fr!!!! hope you enjoyed<333

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds

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madelynraemunson · 9 months ago

Text

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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