#* [ abt. ] kiss me like it's your last chance ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrynpink · 2 months ago

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don't you love me?

pairing: toxicbsf!seungcheol x f!reader

genre: friend to lovers, toxic relationships (friendships), smut MDNI!!!

warnings: manipulation, toxic cheol, dubcon, gaslighting, controlling n possessive cheol, he isolates oc, scoups tummy mention (nom nom hot), kind of ddlg dynamic? (u can tell i have father issues), power imbalance, princess treatment, drinking, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f!recieving), dom!cheol, overstimulation, corruption kink, a little bit praise a little bit degradation but its barely noticeable, size kink (a little), manhandling, inexperienced oc, dacryphilia, crying, breeding kink, missionary bcs im a romantic sue me, big dick scoups hehe, unprotected sex (do NOT do it dawg), tummy bulge kink, mentions of baby trapping, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 4.3k

playlist: don't you love me?

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: i need toxic cheol sooo bad no one gets it but thank u @seventeensrat for getting me n proofreading n giving me ur deranged thoughts abt it. want dat gold cross necklace in the pic dangling over my face 😝 i kept making him a sweetheart but then realised no he needs to be an asshole (that i would fuck 100%) n i might make a part 2 of this so lmk...

anywaysss my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk n so are my dms to make new friends here :) feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehehe :3

if u wanna be tagged for pt.2

pt. 2: don't you love me anymore?

Currently obsessed with the idea of toxic guy best friend seungcheol.

He is the bestest friend someone could ask for in your opinion. The sweetest, most selfless guy you’ve ever come across. Always drives you around in his g-wagon- hand resting just below the hem of your dress. Bought you a dyson last month; no particular occasion, just because “you talked about it once so I thought you’d like it.” Takes you to try out whatever cute cafes you want to and buys you all the pastries in the world. Calls you his “baby” and his “princess”. Not only pays for your nails but also helps you pick out the design. Carries all your shopping bags without breaking a sweat in one hand, other resting on your lower back so that the guys around you don’t think they have a chance. And of course, he pays for all your clothes with his black card :). Who would he spoil if not you? He sometimes gets into the dressing room with you in the Victoria’s Secret store while you’re changing because “we’re best friends, right?” (with a pout ofc) when you refuse because you’re not sure if this is what friends do, but you give in eventually. Now the fact that he makes you spin around in your pretty little lingerie, strong hands groping your thighs as you say “Isn’t this a little too tight, cheol?”, your hands adjusting the bra all while he’s staring at your tits spilling out of the see through material as he assures you that it’s perfect is something others don’t need to know, right?

Yeah. He’s your best friend. Always takes care of you, cooks for you, makes sure you have all your meals and that you study properly- scolding you when you miss any lectures. Makes sure you don’t drink too much at parties or guys other than him might take advantage of you. Doesn’t let you exchange notes with the guys in your class. Even got into a fight with a guy and almost got suspended because of something he said about you. He scolds you for talking to them, because you don’t know their intentions and all you do is keep your head down and nod, no other choice than to abide him. He does know what’s better for you after all, right? He scolds you only because he loves you! He just knows what’s best for you, and wants to make sure you know he’s the best for you.

All your other friends don’t really speak very highly of him tho :( they just feel like there’s something off about him. No one is ever that nice. That he’s like a guard dog around you and doesn’t let you talk to guys or date, always hovering around you and giving you orders. But you assure them that no!!! he’s your cheol :( he tells you that they’re just jealous of you. They’re jealous of your friendship with him. They envy you. Yes, he can be a bit strict sometimes and act like your dad, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to you to get in trouble! He just wants to protect you :) that’s why he always asks for tons of your pictures before you go out so that he can protect you from the creeps that think of your short dress as an excuse to get their way with you.

When you first became friends with him, you were a bit skeptical when he told you that your boyfriend was cheating on you. But then he said, “Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie to you?” with his signature pout and he was right. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone, right? Now it was surprising to you when your boyfriend was the one to break up with you later that day, but all seungcheol said to you while you cried on his shoulder was “He didn’t deserve you, baby.” You don’t need to know that he lied to you boyfriend that you had sex with him when he was out of town. He only lied because he knew you were meant for him. He just wants you for himself, is that so bad? He doesn’t think so, because he takes care of you so well. Makes sure all your needs are met and you have no complaints. You’re his girl after all :)

As soon your (ex) boyfriend broke up with you, seungcheol was quick to ask you to move in with him, because “You need someone to take care of you right now, you can’t live alone doll.” and you couldn’t argue with that logic. And he was so good to you. Didn’t even make you pay rent because why would he. Always was there for you when you wanted to rant about your day, but only while sitting on his lap facing him in just his oversized shirt and panties obviously :) that was a rule. Would come up slyly from behind when you were cooking in your cute little apron, hands resting on your tits because “It’s comforting to me y/n.” and you don’t complain. Whenever you denied him something he would say “Don’t you love me?” eyes furrowed and big arms caging you. But it was a two-way street, the way you always let him cuddle you after a bad day. How you always brought him something to eat when he had been gaming for hours. How last week you reassured him when he said he would start a diet because he thought he was gaining weight by giving him a small kiss on his cheek, telling him that it was hot for you, that it made him only more reliable in your eyes. It was the small things. But they always counted.

The girls he saw or went out with always complained about umm, the bond you both shared; but he never cared. It did bother you though seeing him bring girls over to your shared apartment, hearing their moans through the thin paper walls :( all while you had your hand shyly tucked between your thighs resisting the urge to imagine yourself in their place, bent over for him. But you never touched yourself. It would be so wrong, thinking about your best friend like that! So you often resorted to grinding against the plushie bear he won for you at the fair as his oversized shirt slipped down your shoulders- quiet whines leaving your throat as you failed to reach your high. Little did you know he was imagining the girl under him to be you every single time. He can’t even count the number of times he’s jerked off to the pictures you send him (at his request obviously). The number of times he’s stared at your panties peeking out whenever your skirt rid up or your cleavage when you bent down.

You do notice that after a few months, he takes up more of your time. Not that you’re complaining!!! You love to spend time with him, but you feel it get to a point. It’s not sudden, rather subtle and painstakingly so slow you don’t even realise what he’s doing until you’re in it too deep (or until he’s in YOU too deep ahem). Whenever you’re getting ready to go out with your friends he always hugs you and somehow always falls sick so that you can’t go out because you have to take care of him. What kind of friend would you be if you left him sick and alone to go out and drink he says. You’re being a little bitchy he says. You don’t love him he says. And tears well up in your eyes, because you love him so much you can’t believe he thinks of you that way. And then there you are in your pretty pink dress, mascara smeared on your cheeks as you’re crying in his embrace while he comforts you. You begin to stop talking to your friends because he says they’re a bad influence on you. But don’t worry! Your cheol is right next to you always :) his clinginess increases ten folds. He is always on you, hands resting on your plush thighs or your waist at all times- neck nuzzled in your hair when you sit on his lap as he games. Brings out his puppy eyes and pout whenever you refuse him. “Don’t you love me?” he says and you would never want him to think that. So you let him do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He knows what’s best for you, right?

He dreamt of taking you, corrupting you but only bit by bit. It might make you sick if you found out but he wanted to make you cry while he defiled you, moulded you to his liking. Wanted to throw you around because it was just so easy for him. A small part of him thinks you instigate your playfights on purpose to get him to overpower you, manhandle you. He knew you had had a few boyfriends before so imagine his surprise when he found out you had never had an orgasm one night, head buried in his lap drunk and giggled out the confession in shame. You should be thankful he made your boyfriend break up with you, because how fucking incompetent does one have to be.

“What do you mean you’ve never had an orgasm?” he asked, hands running through your hair.

“They just never made me cum.”

“They never ate you out?” he asked in shock.

“Mhm.” You said shaking your head before passing out on his lap.

“God. What fucking assholes.” He thought to himself. He knew he had to be the one to take care of you, after all you’ve been deprived for so long.

Few weeks later and it was your semester end party, loud music all around you, girls passed out drunk, shots being passed around and wild chaos everywhere. And there you see him, across the room talking and laughing with his friends, one hand chugging down beer every now and then. He looked so hot, though dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans; the royal oak watch stealing everyone’s attention as he ran his hand through his hair. It was the way he carried himself, his confidence, his carefreeness. And the way he carried you with him, showing you off like a trophy to be desired (not that you minded it a bit). You’re too engrossed in ogling him when you’re pulled out of your entranced state by no one other than Vernon. You remember meeting him on seungcheol’s birthday, recalling him as one of his close friends. You always found him cute, texting him whenever he replied to your stories or sometimes sitting next to him in shared lectures.

“Hi y/n.” He says with a slight smirk, red solo cup in his hand.

“Hi Vernon!”

“Want a drink?” he says, offering you the cup.

“Mhm I’ve already had so much to drink.” You slur through your words. “Cheol will scold me.” You say with a slight pout.

“Coups isn’t attached to your hip tonight?”

“Mhm, we’re not always together!” you giggle, a bit buzzed because of all the drinking.

“Oh? He never lets me talk to you though doll.” He says with a pout, taking a step closer.

“What do you wanna talk to me about?” you say with a smirk (the flirting a courtesy of the alcohol) as your hand rests on his chest barely grazing him.

His hand reaches to grab your waist as he’s just leaning in, his lips just about to touch yours when in the blink of an eye you see a muscular arm pull him off of you with a force, and you hear seungcheol shouting something at vernon that you’re too drunk to comprehend, but you catch a few phrases here and there- “Are you fucking dumb taking advantage of here when she’s drunk?” and “Back off dude you know she’s mine.” You feel his grip tighten on your hand as he leads you through the room, murmuring a “We’re leaving.” as he opens the car door for you.

The entire car ride was pin drop silent. His hand wasn’t even on your thigh tonight like always :( and you could feel he was pissed off- the way his veins bulged with his grip on the steering and his jaw clenched so hard. he would usually let you pick out whatever song you wanted, watching fondly with a smile when you sung along to it; but he wasn’t even talking to you :( you think maybe it’s your fault. He had warned you about guys trying to take advantage of you, but you were just talking to Vernon. He’s his friend, right? but you feel bad for ruining his night :/ he was talking to his friends but then he had to run over to you because you can’t even take care of yourself properly. Maybe he was right when he said that you needed him. Needed him to protect you, be with you, take care of you.

When you get back to your shared apartment, he’s still quiet; not forgetting his manners for a second though- opening all the doors for you and taking off your heels as you lean your weight on him, your hand on his shoulder for support. But it’s too much for you now. Why is he still so mad at you? Tears start welling in your eyes as your voice breaks.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask between sniffles, doing everything in your power to not let that tear drop slide down your cheeks but he notices it. He sees the distress in your eyes. The fear you have of disappointing him. And he loves it. Loves that you crave for his approval. He’s proud that he’s made you into this. But apparently you still need to learn to be disciplined. Then so be it, he'll make you into his obedient little girl. Your brows are still furrowed at the lack of his answer as he stands up and begins to step away from you and that’s all it takes for the dam to break as tears start welling down your face, a shame in your chest because you feel like you’ve let him down.

“Cheollie please! I- I’m sorry!” you say between sniffles, head buried in your hands.

“Yeah? What are you sorry for Y/n? And fuck are you crying for?” he spits out and it only makes you cry more because not only has he never been this mean to you, but also has never called you by your name like this :( always calling you by nicknames.

“I’m sorry for talking to Vernon.” You murmur. “I’m sorry for making you mad.” You say, wiping your tears.

“Made me leave my friends to take care of you y/n, I told you not to talk to anyone without me right? Told you not to drink too much. This is why I always have to take care of you baby, you can’t do it alone.” He says, swatting your hands away and wiping your tears as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry cheol, let me make it up to you? Don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Yeah? How will you make it up to me baby? I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you yet, you were so careless.”

“Anything.” You whisper. “Whatever you want I’ll do.” You say in your slightly buzzed state, but he doesn’t care. That’s all the permission he needs as he’s reaching down, arm snaking around your waist as to not give you a chance to back out, gently yet passionately pressing himself against your warm mouth. Your eyes open wide as the realization hits- hands pushing his chest away as he separates himself for a second.

He's just about to lean back in, eyes half lidded full of lust before you say, “Cheol what are you doing?”

“You said you’d do anything I wanted to make it up to me, right?” he says as you give him a hesitant nod facing down.

“But I’m a bit drunk right now.” You say, voice barely a whisper.

“So you lied to me then? When you said that?”

“No! No, I’d never lie to you.” you say as your eyes reach up to meet him on the brink of tears.

“Then let me do whatever I want baby. Let me make you feel good. Don’t you love me?”

Don’t you love me?

It spins in your head like a mantra, before you give into his demands as a sly smirk accompanies him. You see him cup your cheeks in one hand as he’s reaching down to kiss you once again, much more possessively this time as he melted into you- tongue slipping in smoothly, as if he’s going to be the only man from now on allowed to do this (he is). His hands find your waist like they belong there. You gasp as he’s guiding you towards his bedroom, hands roaming all over the body like they’ve never been before. His lips move down your jaw as his fingers toy with the hem of your short dress- finding abode along your inner thighs. You think back to all the days you chanted his name like a prayer when you were just so close, dreaming of his fingers in you instead of your own. But at the same time your hesitation throughout it never leaves you.

He's quick to pick you up, only to throw you on his bed like a ragdoll as he gets on his knees in front you, bunching your dress up to your waist. His hands massage your thighs as he pulls them apart, immensely satisfied by the wet spot forming at your center.

“These the ones I bought you doll?” he asks, eyes still transfixed on your core. You manage to whisper a quiet yes and before you know it, he’s ripping the material off of you quite literally, diving in like a man starved. Your state is hazy because of the alcohol and the sight of him between your eyes as his words reverberate in your head while his fingers aggressively toy with your clit- Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me? I know what’s best for you. Let me make you feel good. He’s relentless in his efforts, showing you no mercy or sympathy for the fact this the first time someone’s eating you out. Even when you ask him to slow down, to stop. Even when you cry out his name repeatedly. His plump lips suck on your clit sharply as the same hand that adorned the very royal oak watch that got you so hot drives into you, hitting your g-spot again and again.

Tears start to well in your eyes as they wet your cheeks but as seungcheol looks up at you, the only thing he can think of is how much you’ll cry when he fucks you and you feel him fully in your belly. Your moans get louder as you keep begging him to stop, but he knows you’re close. He can feel you clenching on his fingers as you buck up your hips into him. And before you know it, you’re cumming all over his thick digits. But that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t falter in his movements for even a second, fingers driving into you at the same pace as your orgasm washes over you. Your legs are shaking around his head as he animalistically groans against your clit.

“Cheol! P- please! Can’t…. can’t take more!” you cry out as your hand tightens it's grip on his hair.

“One more baby.” He grunts out. “One more on my tongue.”

He thinks he’s addicted. Addicted to the taste of you. Not only does he make you cum on his tongue once more, but pulls an orgasm out of you just but by playing with your clit. You think you’ve lost track of the amount of times he’s made you cum, but he’s keeping count. One for each time he’s wanted to take you, and trust there are many. But your entire body is quaking and covered in sweat because of the relentless overstimulation. Once he thinks he’s satisfied with the number of times he’s made you cum on his tongue, he finally gets up only to see you almost passed out on the bed, barely holding on. The sheets besides you are wet from your tears but that only makes his pants tighter. You see him lose his shirt and his pants as he stands in front of you in his boxers. His length is strained against the material as if trapped. He strokes himself from over the material before pulling them down as his thick long member hits his stomach and he sees you gulp. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you react to him.

“Scared princess?” he teases you as he locks his gaze with yours, spitting in his hand as he strokes himself- precum leaking out his dark pink tip.

“It won’t fit.” You say hesitantly, but you don’t want to disappoint him either.

“You’re cheol’s good girl right? You’re a big girl, you can take it.” He spits out rather meanly, making you pout. But he’s not showing you any mercy this time. You’ll take whatever he gives you. After all, you wanted to please him, right?

Once again he’s parting your legs as he lines himself up with your already ruined entrance, tapping his tip against your clit, before he hears you say, “Cheollie, you don’t hate me, right?” with eyes on the brink of crying. It’s endearing he thinks, that you’re still afraid of disappointing him, letting him down. He’s taught you sooo well.

“Could never hate you love.” He says, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Now let your cheol take care of you okay, like always.” And just like that, he’s pushing into you in one go, giving you no time to adjust as your wet velvet walls wrap around him, your slick covering his entire length. He’s pushing your legs up only to rest them on his broad shoulders as you continue to cry out his name over and over again. He doesn’t falter once as he propels into you, gold cross chain dangling over you, and when he opens his eyes to look down to where you connect, his eyes go wide at the sight of himself in your lower belly. He can see himself in you, literally. And oh, does it turn him on, the way you’re so tiny in front of him, so much so that his big dick bulges in you poor little belly. He taps your cheek lightly as to call you to pay attention to him.

“You see that baby?” he says, running his hand over the bulge in your belly. “See how deep I am in you, fuck! Like you were made for me.”

If that’s how deep he goes in you, what would happen if he came that deep in you he thinks. And that only makes him angle himself into you deeper as he lifts one of his legs. He could fill you up and it won’t even leak out. How would you look carrying his baby? No way you’d ever leave him if he knocked you up right now. You’d look so beautiful, his wife, his pretty little baby mama. The thought of you swelled up gets him closer to his release as his hips begin to falter and his strokes get sloppier- each one becoming a sharp thrust. And just like that, with a loud cry and a particularly sharp push of his hips into you, you’re cumming over his cock for the nth time in the night, completely spent and head blank, as you collapse back on the bed almost passed out at this point. You didn’t ask for his permission to cum, but it’s okay, he’ll discipline you next time :)

You feel him getting closer as well as his moans get louder and thrusts sloppier and you’re about to give out and rest in bliss when the realisation hits you- he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum baby, pussy so tight like it was made for me.” He groans.

Your panicked eyes look up to him, “Cheol, please… please don’t cum inside.” You plead.

“No way baby, not pulling out…mhm!” he moans as his pace increases, chasing his release. “Gonna fill you up real good, you trust me right?”

“Mhm…” you sigh hesitantly. “Okay…if you say so.”

“Fuck! Thank you princess, love you so much, yeah? My good girl.” He says between grunts and the slap of his balls against you, as you grunt out a quiet love you too, and with that you feel yourself getting full of him as he fills you up to the brim, still fucking you through it slowly. When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out of you yet- making sure it’s inside you. Your bodies melt against each other as you feel his heavy breathes against your ear. The room smells of sex and sweat as he collapses besides you panting.

“You’re not mad at me anymore, right cheol?” you say, breaking the silence as he’s pressing another small kiss to your lips, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Hmm, you were a really bad tonight doll. We’ll have to see if you make it up to me after another round.”

It was gonna be a long night. But it’s okay. You would do anything for your cheol :)

pt. 2: don't you love me anymore?

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velarisdusk · 4 months ago

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Drunk on You

Azriel x Reader

summary: You and Azriel were just friends. Then came the dancing. The kiss. The night you stopped pretending. word count: 11.1k content: [ explicit sexual content (piv), oral sex (f receiving), grinding in da club (do i need to warn abt that??), explicit language, alcohol, VERY irresponsible consumption of alcohol, vomiting from drinking, FUI (flying under the influence) ] author's note: FUI arent i so funny lmfao as per usual with these, i know prythian doesnt have speakers/subwoofers , and prob also doesnt have strobe lights, but i write what i want so its ok yall can deal ✦ . 1k Celebration Apothecary . ✦ shadowed elixir infused with a dash of blaze enhanced with lover’s knot stirred thank you @wildfloweroutlaw for the request!! i've never written a fic specifically having friends to lovers in mind so my mental block gave me a bit of trouble with this but i had a lot of fun writing it! <3

Velaris hums with life around you, the midday sun painting golden ribbons across cobblestone streets. The air is thick with the scent of spiced cider and honeyed pastries, threaded through with the briny whisper of the Sidra. Laughter swells and fades between vendors calling out their wares—bolts of silk that shimmer like liquid light, books with gilded spines that promise adventures, trinkets that glint like they’ve been kissed by starlight.

“It’s the pacing that makes it brilliant,” you say, sidestepping a wobbly cart stacked with jars of something dark and suspiciously jiggly. “You’d love it if you gave it a chance.”

Azriel walks beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-wash jeans, his only accompanying shadow slinking along sun-warmed stones like it’s sulking. He’s a strange silhouette in the golden light—too dark for a day like this, like the night followed you out of habit. But he listens, quiet and steady, nodding at the right moments as you ramble about the last book you read. You’ve learned to hear the shape of his silences—how they stretch or shorten, the weight of them, what they hold back.

“I’m telling you,” you press, dodging a knot of children weaving through the crowd, “if you actually gave it a shot, you’d love it.”

Azriel huffs a soft laugh. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time. You’re just too stubborn to admit I have impeccable taste.”

The corner of his mouth lifts—barely. “You bought a book last month because the cover had a dragon making out with a sword.”

You gasp, scandalized. “That’s called intuition.”

“No. That’s called a gamble.”

You bump your elbow against his arm, grinning when he exhales through his nose. That small, hard-won sound. This—this is easy. Has always been.

As the crowd thickens, your attention snags on a jewelry stall to your left—slim chains catching the sun, gemstones winking in their delicate settings. At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze strays to a weapons vendor on the right, where a gleaming dagger is being turned over in calloused hands.

You both hesitate. Then look back at each other at the same time.

Azriel raises a brow.

You smile. “Meet you in a minute?”

He dips his chin in a slight nod, already angling toward the stall, fingers twitching like they’re itching for the weight of the blade. You drift toward the jewelry, drawn in by instinct more than intent. Your fingers trail over thin rings and polished charms, the glint of metal catching the light just right.

A pair of dangling earrings stops you—stones that shift hue in the sun, subtle and soft. Pretty. Eye-catching without being too much. The kind of thing that might go with the dress you picked up earlier while wandering the boutiques, half-killing time before the market. The one you hadn’t planned on trying, but slipped into just for fun. A little more daring than your usual. Soft in all the right ways, with a neckline you kept pretending not to think about.

You’d stared at yourself longer than you meant to.

And walked out with your first shopping bag of the day.

You curl your fingers around the earrings, already halfway through justifying the purchase in your head.

It doesn’t take long to browse. After paying and a few lingering looks, you glance across the street to find Azriel still at the weapons stall, turning the dagger over in his hands. His expression is unreadable—calm, analytical, like he’s weighing something only he understands. The single shadow drifts across his back, restless beneath the unrelenting sun.

Your gaze finds him without thought. A habit carved over time. Familiar, even after everything, in that quiet, unconscious way habits become part of you.

You blink and turn away just as he looks up. He’s already moving, steps unhurried, wings tucked in close, hands slipping into his pockets again as he falls into stride beside you.

“Anything good?” you ask lightly.

Azriel shrugs. “Steel’s folded differently—strong but light. Good balance. Sharp edge.” He huffs at himself. “It’s a good blade.”

You roll your eyes. “Careful—Truthteller’s going to get jealous.”

His mouth twitches. “There’s no one like her,” he murmurs, and his hand brushes the small of your back as he steers you out of the path of two shrieking children.

He nods toward the bag in your hand. “Let’s see it.”

You fish out the black velvet box and flip it open with a grin. “For the dress!”

Azriel snorts. “You mean that napkin you bought earlier?”

You snap the box shut a little too forcefully. “It’s a nice dress.”

“It’s barely a scarf.”

“Azriel.”

The full name earns you another twitch of a smile. His voice lowers, amused. “I still don’t know where you plan on wearing it. I’ve seen you more hesitant to leave the House in sweaters.”

Your cheeks warm. “Well, I didn’t feel as confident in those.”

His brow rises slightly, like he hadn’t expected that answer. Your voice is lighter when you add, “Maybe you’re just nervous you won’t be able to handle seeing me in it.”

“I’ll manage,” Azriel says dryly. “It’s your delusion I’m worried about.”

You bump his shoulder again, and this time he lets the smile break free. The two of you fall into easy conversation—Cassian’s most recent baking disaster (“explosive,” Azriel says without inflection), café gossip, a gentle debate about whether Velaris even needed the twelfth coffee shop to begin with.

At the townhouse, Azriel steps ahead to hold the door open, shadow trailing in behind him. The antechamber hums with warmth—laughter echoing from the next room, spices lingering in the air.

“I’m telling you, I found it just sitting there,” Cassian insists as you enter. He’s pacing like he’s testifying in court, hands gesturing wildly. “Brand new bottle of amber whiskey. Uncorked. Untouched. In a bush.”

“In a bush?” Mor deadpans from the couch.

Cassian gestures wildly. “In a bush! Behind the stables! What are the odds?”

Mor narrows her eyes. “Any chance you’re feeling lucky enough to gamble?”

They lock eyes, Cassian’s grin curling at the edges.

Feyre perks up from her place on the sofa. “If gambling means Rita’s, I’m in. I haven’t gone out in weeks, and I plan to be very irresponsible tonight.”

All three turn to you with matching looks—expectant and conspiratorial, like they’ve already know your answer but want to hear you say it. Feyre’s smile is the worst of them—sweet and smug and knowing.

You glance at Azriel. He’s already sighing, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose like he can feel the impending headache.

“Guess we know when—”

“Yeah, alright,” Azriel mutters.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You lean in toward the mirror, smoothing a final sweep of gloss over your lips. Then you take a step back, letting your eyes rake over your reflection. Hair styled just how you like it—precise where it matters, undone where it doesn’t—and your makeup? Soft, glowing, and just sharp enough to slice. The kind that shines when the light catches your cheekbones and mouth.

Behind you, Feyre whistles low. “He’s going to eat his words.”

Mor, sprawled on the bed in a pose that screams practiced indifference, smirks. “And probably choke on them.”

You snort, reaching for the earrings you bought earlier. “It’s not for him.”

Feyre slides up beside you, linking her arm through yours as she catches your eye in the mirror. “Maybe not. But you wouldn’t mind if he looked.”

She’s not wrong.

Mor rises in a stretch, her plum dress catching every sliver of light as it hugs her curves like a secret. The hem’s scandalous, the neckline worse—and with her golden hair cascading over one bare shoulder, she looks like she could topple empires with a single breath. Feyre’s in a slate blue that borders on silver, cool-toned and backless, the color making her blue eyes even more piercing beneath artfully smudged liner. And with her soft waves pinned just so, she looks like smoke made woman.

You fasten your earrings with a quiet click and smile at your reflection. You feel good. Confident. Not just in the dress, but in your skin.

There was a time when what you felt for him lived quietly in your chest—soft, persistent, and patient. Over time, it faded into something else. Something easier. You let it go long before anyone knew you were holding on.

But it never disappeared completely. Not really. Not in a way that matters. Not in a way that would stop you, if he ever hinted at wanting something more.

Downstairs, the low murmur of male voices curls up the staircase from the sitting room. That deep, familiar hum threaded with laughter. It’s comfortable and easy. The kind of sound born from long nights, drinks shared, and old stories retold—brothers teasing one another into comfort.

Cassian’s laugh is unmistakable—loud and unrestrained over the clink of glass. Rhysand’s is more of a drawl, lazy and pleased with itself. And then there’s Azriel. Low, steady. A quiet current that runs beneath them all, silk wrapped around steel.

The sound of heels on the stairs draws their attention—Cassian’s first. He whistles, low and appreciative, as Mor appears at the top step, her dress catching the light with every step. Rhysand gives an exaggerated bow from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch. Even Azriel lets his gaze linger, just a touch longer than polite, before returning it to his drink.

Then comes Feyre, laughing at whatever wicked comment Mor whispered over her shoulder. Rhysand is off the couch and moving before she’s even halfway down, reaching for her hand like gravity’s got nothing on the pull she has on him. He murmurs something low against her ear as he takes her hand, earning an eye roll and a muttered warning that sounds suspiciously like a threat. He grins like a male entirely too pleased with himself.

And then—

You.

The last to appear. Not intentionally, of course. But you’d be lying if you said the timing didn’t work in your favor.

There’s a pause—just a breath—but enough. Enough to feel it.

Cassian is the first to recover. “Damn,” he says, voice a little rougher than before.

Mor beams, smug and delighted, as if she’s taking personal credit. Rhys gives a low hum of approval, already spinning something cocky to say—but whatever it is goes unheard.

Because Azriel’s gaze is already there, fixed on the landing, like he’d been watching the space just waiting for you to step into it. And when you do, he doesn’t look away.

His stare lands heavy��enough to steal the air from your lungs.

You wait for the usual—some sharp, clipped remark, maybe a too-smooth deflection. But instead—

“...Huh.”

That’s it.

A single, unimpressed syllable that cuts through the air like a blade dipped in ice.

You blink. Huh?

He doesn’t elaborate. Just turns back toward Cassian, nodding at his shirt—half unbuttoned, chest on shameless display as if confidence could count as tailoring. “Bold of you to challenge her like that. One of you’s going to end up hypothermic.”

Cassian grins like he’s been handed a gift. “At least I’m not stuffed into those jeans you’re trying to pass off as comfortable. One wrong move and we’ll be calling a healer.”

Azriel’s lips twitch, barely. He doesn’t rise to the bait. Just takes a slow sip of his drink.

Your eyes drop of their own accord. Those jeans are unforgivable. So is the way they fit him.

You force your gaze away, descending the final step with all the poise you can muster.

Cassian, with a mischievous grin, offers his arm like it’s second nature. “Guess we’ll be whores together tonight.”

You loop your arm through his with a grin that could make the Mother herself blush. “Fine. But I’m the classier whore. More expensive.”

He barks a laugh, delighted. “High-class whore. Got it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Mor teases, stealing the rest of Rhys’ drink without a shred of remorse (he mutters a tight ‘Hey’ through clenched teeth, swatting at his cousin as she ducks away).

Feyre checks the time with mock exasperation. “Stay any longer and we’ll miss half the night.”

“Then let’s go,” Mor cheers, grabbing you and Cassian like a female on a mission.

And then—chaos. Magic coils, wind rushes, the floor disappears beneath your feet.

A heartbeat later, you’re outside, blinking against the lights and noise of Rita’s.

Your stomach flips—like it always does. It never gets easier.

Music pulses from the open doors, thick in the night air, and faelights paint the pavement in deep gold and violet. Mor’s fingers slip from your wrist; she’s already halfway to the entrance, weaving through the crowd like it’s parting for her.

The cool night clings to your skin, but the heat radiating from the club ahead makes it all feel alive, electric with possibility. The air is saturated with cologne, alcohol, and the faintest hint of smoke as you approach the bouncers. The low hum of the waiting crowd blends with the deeper thrum of bass that threatens to crack open the night.

The moment you step inside, the atmosphere hits—thick and heavy with energy. The music is deafening, the bass a living thing that thrums through your chest, infecting your limbs with a restless kind of excitement. Faelights strobe in wild streaks—purple, blue, red—and for a second, it feels as though you’re in some kind of dream.

Feyre pulls you into the crowd first, her grin wide and wicked as she leads the way toward the bar. Mor follows close behind, laughing, already calling out to familiar faces. The guys trail after—quieter, maybe, but impossible to miss in the way they cut through the crowd.

Drinks are ordered. Jokes fly. Within minutes, your group claims a half-circle booth just off the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for the music to pull you all in. Cassian downs half his drink and drags Mor out first, the two of them already moving like they’ve danced together a thousand times—and they probably have. Feyre loops her arm around your waist, eyes glinting beneath the lights. “Come on,” she yells over the music.

You don’t need convincing.

Rhys just waves you off with a smirk, already settling into the booth like he plans to stay there all night.

The next stretch of time blurs—song bleeding into song, breathless laughter and clinking glasses, the bass settling into your chest like a second heartbeat. The lights cast everything in hues of violet and electric blue, cutting shadows across flushed skin and gleaming teeth. You’re dancing with Feyre, the two of you falling into easy rhythm. Mor and Cassian egg each other on nearby, reckless and unbothered, like children left unsupervised.

At one point, Mor grabs your hand and twirls you fast enough to make your head spin. You stumble into her, both of you breathless with laughter, alcohol making everything weightless.

Feyre slips between you and Mor, twirling with abandon, her hair catching the light like strands of liquid gold. Off to the side, you spot Cassian mid-charm offensive, working a pair of females with that lethal grin—the kind that guarantees more than they can handle. Judging by their reaction, it’s going well. Rhys lounges nearby, nursing his drink and watching Feyre with a crooked grin, content to let her shine.

But a few beats later Feyre drifts away from you both, drawn by something only she and Rhys can hear. Across the floor, Azriel leans against a column in the shadows, arms crossed, the picture of cool disinterest. You throw him an exaggerated beckoning gesture—all wide eyes and mouthed dramatics. Mor mirrors you, adding a pout for effect.

He doesn’t move, just shakes his head, unimpressed.

You and Mor exchange a look—then stick your tongues out at him, childish and triumphant.

You think you catch the ghost of a smile.

Then Cassian appears beside him, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, mischief written all over his face. “Her friend’s cute,” he shouts over the music. “Be a good wingman.”

To your surprise, Az lets it happen.

As he moves past, his arm brushes against yours—barely a touch, but enough to feel. He angles toward the other female—tall, elegant, with dark eyes and a laugh that rings above the music. She’s beautiful in a way that turns heads.

Still, some stubborn part of you insists she’s not that pretty. Not compared to you.

The thought surfaces unbidden—and you shut it down just as fast. Jealousy doesn’t suit you. And this? This isn’t that.

To anyone watching, Azriel looks engaged. His smile is easy, even bordering on smug, and he leans in like he means it. But you know better. That’s your best friend. You see the signs: the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes skim past her, too fast and too often.

Which is probably why you keep catching him glancing your way.

Or maybe you’re reading too much into it. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the lighting, the way this dress hugs your curves like a second skin. Still… you’d swear his gaze lingered. And not just on your face.

The music shifts—louder, dirtier, the kind that grabs your spine and doesn’t let go. Mor’s gone to get drinks, and for the first time tonight, you’re alone. But with the alcohol warm in your veins, you don’t mind. You let the beat carry you, movements fluid and loose, like your body already knows the song by heart. The crowd thickens, lights blur, and everything becomes a haze of motion and heat. The tempo rises. You drift closer to the center, caught in the music, untethered.

Then, during a rare lull between songs, you glance back toward the booth—

And spot Feyre in Rhys’ lap, flushed and breathless. Her hair sticks to her forehead as she lifts a tiny glass with exaggerated flair. Rhysand just raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, as she tries to coax him into a shot.

He refuses. She pouts. Then she steals his beer instead, chugging it right there in his lap. He fumbles for the glass, shouting something you can’t hear. But she just twists away, triumphant, dodging him until the glass is empty. With a dramatic gasp, she slams it on the table and struts off—slightly wobbly—leaving Rhys with nothing but the small shot of dark liquor.

You laugh—can’t help it.

But the sight of Azriel freezes your grin halfway between amusement and something more. Because he’s still talking to the female—who, from what you can tell, is more than happy to let him steer the conversation. But even as his words flow smoothly to her, his eyes are locked on you—piercing and intense, like he can’t look away, even if he’s supposed to be.

And that gaze… it cuts straight through you.

Warmth blooms low in your belly. Not from the alcohol. Not entirely. You hold his gaze, and the rest of the room fades. The music, the lights, the crowd—they’re distant noise now. Because though the space between you is still wide, it feels like a wire pulled taut, vibrating with something that isn’t the music.

Maybe it’s the buzz. Maybe it’s the bass still pounding in your chest. Maybe it’s the fact that his gaze is still on you.

The music shifts again, and your body follows without a thought. You let the music guide you, every slow roll of your hips deliberate, every look daring him to match you. You aren’t sure why you’re dancing for him (because it is for him, isn’t it?), or why your eyes haven’t left his once, but the rush is intoxicating.

His expression doesn’t change. Not at first. But then something flickers in his eyes—brief and unreadable.

For a heartbeat, you wonder if maybe you’ve imagined it all.

But then he claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, leans in to say something. He nods once at the female—goodbyes, maybe? You can’t be sure.

And then Azriel steps through the crowd. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t smile. He just starts toward you, weaving through the crowd with that unhurried, measured stride you know by heart.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t have to.

When he stops in front of you, the music swells again—and this time, it feels like it’s for you. Drunk enough not to overthink it, you don’t hesitate—you just reach for him, pulling him into your orbit.

And just like that, you fall into step with him.

Effortless. Unspoken. Like your bodies had been waiting for this moment—like they remembered each other from another lifetime. There’s no need for words, not when the music does all the talking. Not when the bass pulses through your spine and Azriel’s warmth curls in your blood like smoke.

His hands settle low on your hips—too low, maybe—and the contact short-circuits something in you. Through the thin fabric of your dress, his palms burn. You swear his grip tightens as you move, subtle but unmistakable, like he’s testing how far he can go. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

You move in tandem, one body split in two. Every step aligned. Every breath shared. The sway of your hips becomes a silent conversation, and even as the crowd surges around you, none of it touches you. All you feel is the slow drag of his hand, the brush of his chest when he leans in too close. All you hear is the rasp of his breath in your ear.

Somewhere in the haze, you wonder where Mor is with your drink. You hope—fervently—she’s seen you like this and decided to give you space. You don’t want to be saved.

Then Azriel catches your hand. Twines his fingers through yours. Wordless, he spins you out, guiding you around him with a kind of reverence that feels like worship. The fabric of your dress strains, hugging every curve as you spin. His palm stays anchored to your waist, steady and possessive. And when you slip behind him, your gaze catches—hungry—on the curve of his ass in those sinfully tight jeans. The stretch of cotton over his back. The muscles shifting under his shirt like a promise.

By the time you return to face him, breathless and hot-faced, he’s already watching you. And he knows. Cauldron, he knows.

His hair sticks to his forehead, dark strands damp from the press of bodies, the heat. His collar’s still loose, open just enough to hint at skin, at the strong line of his throat. A silver chain catches the light where it rests against his collarbone, the cobalt glint of his siphon nestled low—one of the simpler siphon pieces you’ve seen him wear, reserved for nights like this when the full set would only get in the way.

And then there are his eyes.

Not friendly. Not protective. Nothing safe. They’re molten—dark and slow and unapologetic as they trace the length of you. They leave scorch marks in their wake. And when you meet that gaze, something primal shifts inside you. Something ancient and aching.

He pulls you in, flush against him, his hands spanning your back, scarred fingers grazing bare skin. The contact is searing. Your breath falters.

Still, you manage to play it cool—or try to. “What’s wrong, Az? You’re staring.” It’s meant to be teasing. Light. But it comes out quieter than you intended. Softer. As if even your voice can’t help giving you away.

His breath stutters. Just enough. “Don’t tease me right now.” His voice is low and rough, his eyes now dark enough to drown in. “It’s not the dress.”

And then—then—his thigh slots between yours and he drags you close enough to steal your balance. The dance shifts—slower now, hungrier. There’s something dangerous uncoiling between you.

The pressure of his thigh is subtle, maddening. The friction sets a slow-burning ache deep inside you, and without thinking, you move. Just enough to chase it. Just enough to make yourself feel something. He notices. Of course he does. His fingers press firmer at your back, holding you there, and you wonder—ache to know—if he feels it too. This tension. This current humming under your skin, magnetic and irrevocable.

Your hips move in time with his, a rhythm that no longer has anything to do with the music. You brush against him, again and again, and each pass stokes the fire curling low in your belly. His hand steadies at the small of your back—firm, coaxing, guiding the rhythm of your hips until you’re moving in time with him. Until you’re grinding slow and sure against the solid line of his thigh. He watches every flicker of reaction like it’s a secret he’s been aching to unearth.

His shadows brush your skin—light as breath, bold as fingertips. They slip under the hem of your dress, past the dip of your neckline, exploring, learning, teasing. It’s not enough to satisfy, but it’s enough to tempt. To make you dizzy.

Your breath stutters, and for a moment, his gaze dips to your mouth.

You barely manage a smile. “Still not about the dress?” you murmur, your voice low, throat dry.

Azriel’s eyes flicker—then settle on you like a storm about to break. “Not even a little.”

And when his nose grazes yours, it isn’t a kiss. But it could be. It’s the moment right before—the breath, the space, the choice. A thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But the song changes, the spell snaps, and suddenly the room exists again. Someone bumps into Azriel from behind, and his hand drops to your ass to steady you. A reflex. But it brands.

You both laugh, too breathless, too wired, too aware of what just almost happened. And his hand is still on your ass.

You need a second—a buffer, a breath of air before you do something you can’t undo.

“I need a drink,” you murmur, voice hoarse.

His hands linger but eventually fall away. Slow. Reluctant.

You glance up at him, give him a look you hope says this isn’t over, and slip through the crowd toward the bar.

The bartender slides a drink your way before you can even remember ordering one. You catch it on instinct, fingers curling around the chilled glass just as the condensation begins to bead. It slicks your grip slightly, grounding you in the present—the weight of the glass, the sting of alcohol, the echo of Azriel’s touch still humming beneath your skin.

You barely have time to take a sip before an arm braces beside yours on the counter—long, inked, and annoyingly familiar. Then the rest of Rhysand follows—tall, rakish, and far too smug for someone clearly on the brink of losing his balance.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, voice syrupy and just loose enough at the edges to toe the line between charming and concerning. “If it isn’t our little heartbreaker.”

You blink at him over the rim of your glass, your mouth still parted mid-sip. “How drunk are you?”

“Moderate,” he says, with the blind confidence of a man absolutely not moderate. Then, solemnly: “I think I just tried to winnow to the moon. Cass said no.”

A laugh bursts out of you, sharp and surprised, catching you off guard. “You were supposed to be the responsible one tonight.”

Rhys makes a sweeping gesture with one hand that nearly sends a nearby cocktail crashing to the floor. “Fuck responsible. Do you know how hard it is to stay sober when everyone around you is glowing and half-delirious? Mor and Feyre have been spinning like drunk ballerinas for the last twenty minutes. Cassian challenged a table of strangers to an arm-wrestle for ‘honor and glory.’ And Azriel—”

He cuts off, lips twitching. That grin, slow and sly, curls like smoke.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he sing-songs, turning away to steal a sip from someone else’s drink before grimacing and abandoning it.

Gods, you’ve never seen him like this. Loose. Unfiltered. Unbothered by image or control. You make a mental note to corner Cassian and Azriel as soon as possible, if only to demand every humiliating story they’ve ever collected on him.

“You were going to say something,” you groan, watching him closely.

Rhys gives you a beatific smile that practically screams I’m lying. “Me? Never.”

You take another slow sip of your drink, trying—failing—to will the heat from your cheeks. But Rhys, of course, is infuriatingly perceptive. Even through a haze of liquor, he clocks you immediately.

“Oh no,” he breathes, voice gone delighted and a little too loud. “Oh no, it’s happening.”

You arch a brow. “What is?”

“You’re falling in love with my shadowsinger.”

The words land like a match dropped in dry grass.

You choke, spluttering into your drink. “I’m not—”

“Sure, sure,” he says, cutting you off with a patronizing pat to your arm. “And neither is he. You two are just dry-humping in the dark, panting like—like you’re seconds away from devouring each other. All very normal friend behavior, I’m sure.”

You groan and let your head fall forward, forehead thunking against the bar top. The cool wood offers no relief from the mortification burning behind your eyes.

“Go away.”

Rhys props his chin on his palm, utterly content. “Can’t. Too drunk to move.”

You turn your head just enough to peer at him, face still pressed to the bar. “Do I need to find Feyre?”

His expression shifts to something like panic. “Please… do not.”

“Right.” You sigh, dragging a hand down your face and letting it rest there. “You’re impossible.”

Rhys smiles lazily, lashes low and smug. “And you’re glowing. All flushed and starry-eyed. It’s disgusting.”

You flip him off without looking.

That’s when the night starts to blur.

At some point, you find yourself curled under Cassian’s arm, both of you howling over a story he refuses to finish because he keeps laughing too hard. He smells like sweat and cologne and a bad idea—not that you haven’t entertained the thought once or twice. When you reach for your drink, he snatches it just out of reach with a devilish grin.

“You’ve had enough,” he slurs—then immediately downs his own.

You wait until he’s distracted, then snatch your drink back and down it in one go.

Across the room, Mor is spinning Azriel in a slow, ridiculous waltz to music that’s far too fast. Her head is thrown back in laughter, one heel discarded, and Azriel’s grinning wide and unrestrained as she twirls herself dramatically beneath his arm. One of his shadows retrieves her fallen shoe and dutifully returns it. He pretends not to notice.

Rhys, for some reason, decides the whole place needs another round—again. He’s at the bar holding up fingers in rapid succession—four, five, seven—gesturing to absolutely no one. When the bartender ignores him, he levitates a bottle of amber liquor off the shelf with a flourish and begins personally pouring shots into the mouths of nearby patrons like some deranged, drunken Father Solstice.

Cassian finds Azriel in the crowd and immediately throws an arm around his neck, dragging him close with a sloppy grin. “My brother,” he declares, far too loud, smacking a kiss to Azriel’s temple before pulling him into a one-armed hug that rattles both of them. “Do you know—do you know—how much I love you?”

Azriel just blinks. “Unfortunately.”

“Shut up,” Cassian slurs, already halfway into his next declaration. “You’re the best of us. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Except me. Sometimes. But even then—”

“I’m going to kill you,” Azriel says—quiet and deadly. But he doesn’t move to escape. If anything, he leans into it.

Later, you, Feyre, and Mor vanish into the bathroom, which starts as a mission of necessity and ends in chaos. The line’s too long. The floor’s sticky. You all start yelling about how no one cleans the stalls in this place. And somehow, ten minutes later, Mor’s knees are on the tile while you and Feyre crouch beside her, holding her hair back and cackling as she curses Rhysand’s name for “making” her take that last glowing green shot.

“You’ll live,” Feyre says, patting her back with the resigned affection of someone who’s done this before.

“Probably,” you add.

Eventually, the three of you stagger back to the booth—giggling, disheveled, makeup slightly smeared but still beautiful. Because drunk girls in packs always are.

You collapse into the cushions, and for a moment, everything just is—a tangle of warm limbs, laughter, glitter. Cassian’s still trying to tell a story no one can follow. Azriel is methodically peeling an orange he must’ve stolen from the bar. Mor keeps interrupting to dramatically rehash her brush with death on the bathroom floor.

Somewhere between the fourth retelling and a new round of drinks, Feyre bumps into your side, giggling as she climbs— climbs—into Rhysand’s lap.

“Oh my gods,” she breathes, burying her face into his neck. “You smell like night and sin and trouble.”

Rhys hums, stroking a hand up her thigh. “And you, darling, are my favorite sort of trouble.”

You try to ignore it. You really do. And, for a few minutes, you’re fine. But then Feyre whispers, “I swear to the Cauldron, if you keep touching me like that I will drag you into the shadows and make you beg to—”

“No,” you say sharply, holding up a hand. “Absolutely not. You cannot do this in the communal booth.”

Rhysand and Feyre both blink at you. Slowly. Like they’re just now realizing the rest of you exist.

“Oh,” Feyre says, blinking again. “I said that… out loud?”

Cassian groans and drops his head to the table. “Yes. You did.”

“We all heard it,” Mor says, looking personally offended.

Rhys looks vaguely affronted. “We were talking through the bond—”

“You weren’t,” you, Cassian, and Mor all say at once.

Azriel only sighs and catches your eye, mouthing, Every damn time.

And then—

Too much light. Too much warmth. Music in your bones. Glitter on your cheeks. Someone grabs your hand and drags you back to the dance floor. You don’t know who. Doesn’t matter. You let the rhythm carry you, laughter bubbling up like it’s been trapped for months.

Azriel finds you in the chaos. Quiet. Solid. He takes your hand, spins you once—lazy, sweet—then pulls you close with that look. Like the world is loud but you are not.

And then—

The night slips.

You and Mor, arms around each other, cheeks dusted with shimmer.

Cassian balances a shotglass between the clawed tips of his wings—a feat that’s nothing short of impressive—while Azriel leans in to drink from it for the fourth time and misses. Again.

Rhys stumbling through a dance with Feyre, refusing to let go of her hand even as he trips.

Azriel laughing, loud and bright, shirt drenched in spilled liquor and clinging to him like a second skin.

It’s beautiful, in the messy, ephemeral way nights like this always are.

And when it ends—when the cold air bites and your heels dangle from your fingers—you’re walking beside him.

Azriel. Silent and steady.

Side by side. Arms brushing.

Still friends.

Still not in love.

Definitely not.

Probably.

… Maybe.

The others are a few paces ahead, their laughter echoing down the cobbled street, mingling with the night’s quiet. You’d all chosen to walk back to the townhouse instead of winnowing—mostly to spare Mor another tragic bathroom incident.

You glance at Azriel, his profile softened by the pale glow of distant streetlights, the sharp edges of him mellowed by the dim light. He’s quieter now, more anchored, like the buzz is finally starting to bleed out of him too.

For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, and something shifts, an unspoken weight hanging in the air between you. It’s not just the silence—it’s everything that comes with it. He looks away first, but the tension doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, thick and undeniable.

“So,” you say, your voice light, but there’s a brittleness beneath it, a crack in the calm. “You get this fucked up before?”

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound familiar and warm, but with something in it that feels like the night itself. “Should’ve seen us three while we were training. You wouldn’t have recognized us.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Azriel smirks, eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite place, a mystery veiled beneath his calm. “I’ll answer that when I’m sober enough to remember half of it.”

A teasing grin tugs at your lips, unspoken but understood.

His gaze shifts toward you then, and the playful edge in his expression softens, ever so briefly. It’s a shift so subtle, it feels as though the air around you changes. His steps slow, just enough to bring him closer—his presence, steady and grounding, a quiet comfort against the coolness of the night.

And then, before you can fully comprehend it, his hand is at your back again—a subtle, possessive touch, just above your waist. It’s not new, this gesture. He’s done it before, but tonight, it feels different.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, low—barely above the city’s hum, but it cuts through everything else.

You swallow, suddenly aware of the weight behind the question, the way it settles in your chest. You nod, forcing a smile, though it feels less like a smile and more like a fragile shield. You meet his gaze through your lashes.

“I’m drunk,” you admit, a small giggle escaping, but the sound feels a little too light for the heaviness in the air.

Azriel huffs a soft laugh, warm breath brushing against your skin. “Yeah, I figured.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, in a way—a strange sort of peace between the two of you. The laughter and raucous chatter of your group fades further ahead, their voices lost in the night, leaving only the faint echo of their noise behind. Here, between you and Azriel, there’s nothing but quiet. His hand still rests at your back, the lightest touch, but you can feel it—every brush of his fingers against the fabric of your dress, like an unspoken promise.

You glance over at him, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Answer my question though. Did you have fun tonight? I know you don’t like coming out much.”

Azriel doesn’t look at you. His gaze remains fixed on the path ahead, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Fun?” he mutters, his voice light but carrying an edge. “If I’d known the night would end with me trying to drink out of Cassian’s wings, I might’ve stayed in.”

You laugh softly, the sound laced with warmth. “Oh, but you looked like you were having a blast.”

“I was,” he admits, voice lower now, quieter.

His words hang in the air, settling between you, filling the space with something deeper, something more. You glance at him again, and this time, his gaze finds yours. Dark, steady, unwavering.

And in that moment, everything feels charged, like the next move is inevitable.

You stop walking.

Azriel doesn’t pull his hand from your waist. Instead he swings around, turning to face you with an abruptness that feels almost instinctive, like the idea of letting go wasn’t even an option. Like keeping his hand on you mattered more than keeping his feet on the ground. Now, he stands before you, close enough that the heat of his body bleeds into yours, the cool night air thick with the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

For a moment, there’s nothing—just the two of you, suspended in the quiet, the distance between you and your family growing with each passing second.

It’s like a pulse, something deep within both of you that knows this is the moment, one that’s been silently building, lingering, biding its time.

You feel it in the way his eyes lock onto yours, how his body shifts ever so slightly—so close now you could reach up, could touch him, but you don’t move.

Then, as if it was always meant to happen, his hand slides from your back, cupping the side of your face gently. His thumb brushes across your cheek, soft and tender, a quiet, unspoken question hanging between you.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in first. Your lips find his—soft, uncertain at first, like you’re both holding your breath. But the second they meet, it’s like something clicks into place. Like every unsaid thing between you is finally, finally speaking.

But then it deepens, the kiss turning more urgent, the gentle press of lips becoming something more, something full of warmth and heat. The taste of alcohol lingers, but underneath that is the familiar, the comforting—years of friendship tangled into something new, something wild. The world shifts, or maybe it’s just the two of you, with everything else fading away.

Azriel’s hands slip into your hair, finding the nape of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, pulling you closer. And the kiss is no longer just soft; it’s a quiet intensity, like something between you both has been building for far longer than either of you realized.

When you part, it’s only just enough to breathe, just enough to meet his gaze. Your lips feel swollen, your heart racing in your chest. But all you can think about is how desperately you want more. Not just his mouth, but all of him—his body, his touch. The press of him, hot and solid against you. The drag of his hand down your spine, the way his fingers splayed across your waist like he never wanted to let go. You want him closer. You want him everywhere. His hand between your legs. You want—

You blink, the haze slowly clearing.

As you lean past him, you finally take in the world around you again. The rest of the group is a fair distance ahead now, moving in a disjointed knot—Cassian with his arm slung lazily around Mor, Feyre pulling Rhys by the wrist as he slurs something half-laughing.

“Guys,” you call, breathless, voice a little hoarse, “we’re going to the… to the House of—” But you realize, mid-sentence, that no one is listening.

“Forget it,” Azriel mutters, and without warning, he grabs your hand.

He tugs you right, pulling you away from the main walkway and down a narrow side street, dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights overhead. You follow without hesitation, heart racing, your legs moving before your mind can fully catch up. The sounds of the city—music drifting from an open window, the distant clang of something dropped—feel muffled now, like they belong to someone else.

All you know is the heat of his hand in yours, the excitement blooming in your chest as a grin spreads across your face. And then, you’re running.

Laughing, breathless, borderline euphoric as your feet hit the cobblestone in time with his. His fingers are laced with yours, and he doesn’t let go—not once—not even when you nearly trip on a loose stone and bark out a curse through your grin. He just squeezes your hand tighter and keeps going.

The wind rushes past, sweeping your hair into your face, and still you run, streetlights flickering overhead like stars caught in motion. You glance at him once, just once, and gods, it knocks the breath clean out of you.

He looks good. Stupidly good. His wings are tucked in tight behind him, shadows trailing in his wake like they can't quite keep up. There’s a flush high on his cheeks from the alcohol or the running—or maybe the kiss—and his smile. His smile is rare and wild and real, splitting his face in a way that makes something in your chest twist. His eyes find yours, dark and bright all at once, and the way he looks at you feels like falling without ever hitting the ground.

You’ve known him for years. Fought beside him, argued with him, trusted him more than you’ve trusted most. You’ve always thought he was beautiful in that silent, devastating kind of way. The kind of beautiful that hurts if you look too long. But this is new. Or maybe not new at all—maybe it’s just undeniable now.

He slows only once the path narrows again, steps easing to a walk, his hand still firm in yours. You're panting, your heart racing in your chest like it’s trying to tell you something urgent, something important.

Azriel glances at you, still grinning. “Want a shortcut?”

You eye him, arching a brow. “A shortcut, or are you about to throw me over your shoulder?”

He shrugs, unbothered. “I could throw you over my shoulder.”

You snort. “You’re drunk.”

His smile deepens. “Tipsy.”

You tilt your head. “Drunk, and you think you’re in any shape to fly us home?”

He smirks, swaying slightly. “I could.”

You blink at him. “Could you even land us properly?”

He pauses—just for a beat—then looks at you with a glint in his eye that’s half mischief, half something far more dangerous. “I’m so fucking glad you didn’t know me growing up.”

Before you can ask what the hell that means, he sweeps forward. One arm wraps around your waist, the other slides behind your knees, and suddenly you’re airborne—held tight against his chest like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders without a second thought.

“Azriel—”

But he’s already launching into the air, wings snapping wide, the wind catching beneath them as the city drops away below.

You press your face into the side of his neck, your laughter half-dazed, half-horrified. “You’re actually insane.”

He hums, voice a little smug. “Maybe. But you’re the one who kissed me.”

And gods help you, you’re already wondering when you can do it again.

Maybe he feels it—senses it—because before you can even finish the thought, he adjusts his grip just enough to shift you higher against him. Your arms loop instinctively around his neck, noses brushing, breath mingling. The wind whips past, cold and biting, but you don’t feel it.

You only feel him.

Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s nothing like that first kiss—nothing tentative or hesitant about it. It’s needy, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and breathless hunger.

You moan into him—can’t help it. The sound is swallowed by the sky, lost to the night. But he hears it. You know he does. His grip tightens like he needs you closer, like there’s not a single inch of air he’s willing to spare between you. His shadows are stirring again, curling around you like they want in on the taste.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as your teeth graze his bottom lip, and he growls—deep and low and barely restrained.

“Azriel—” you gasp against his mouth. He huffs a laugh, sharp and wicked.

“Careful,” he murmurs, lips trailing hot over your jaw. “I might miss the landing on purpose.”

You barely manage a breath. “We need to land,” you murmur, though it sounds more like a curse than a request. “Now.”

He lets out a sound that’s half-groan, half-laugh, and the next moment, he angles downward.

The house appears below in a blur, the lights from the windows streaking past as he descends fast and sharp. The landing is rougher than usual—feet hitting the balcony hard, wings flaring wide to catch the worst of it—but neither of you care. Not when his mouth crashes back onto yours the second you touch solid ground.

He walks you backward through the open doors, his hands already skimming beneath your dress—rough and hungry, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you first. The fabric slips higher with every step, until it's bunched around your waist and you’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt like you might tear it clean off.

Instead, you reach behind him, fumbling at the slats that hold it together around his wings. The second you get the first one undone, he groans into your mouth, kissing you harder. His hands slip down your back, eager and sure, grasping for the zipper of your dress.

You undo the next, and the next—moving fast, clumsy with urgency. By the time the last one comes loose, he’s all but panting against your jaw.

“Off,” you whisper, and he shrugs out of the shirt with a sound that’s damn near a growl.

He lifts you again like you weigh nothing, kissing you through the hall like he’s starving—stumbling a little, both of you half-drunk on each other and the leftover buzz of the night. His shirt falls somewhere by the wall, your heels were long since discarded on the veranda, and your dress slips off your shoulders as you reach the stairs, falling in a silky heap at your feet. You barely register the path, only the heat of his mouth on your throat, the scrape of his teeth at your collarbone, the low, broken noises he keeps making like he needs this—needs you.

The bedroom door slams shut behind you, and then you’re falling back onto the bed, and he’s following you down.

The mattress gives beneath your weight, cool sheets against your back—his body a furnace as it presses to yours, bracing on his forearms.

His lips find yours again, slower now, but no less desperate. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the way you taste, the way you sigh into every kiss like it’s the only one you’ll ever need.

His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking gently over your cheekbone as he leans in deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that feels far too practiced for two people who’ve never done this before. But you have, haven’t you? In glances. In moments stolen in shadows. In the soft touches that used to mean nothing—until they meant everything.

You arch into him when his hand skims down your side, across your ribs, ghosting the curve of your waist like he’s still not sure you’re real. Like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, breath catching. “You’re so—”

He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.

You feel it in the way he lowers his head and wraps his lips around your nipple, warm and wet and slow. Your back arches off the bed, a gasp escaping you as he laps his tongue over the sensitive bud, sucking just hard enough to make your thighs clench around his hips.

You dig your fingers into his hair, letting your head fall back, eyes fluttering shut as his hands roam—one cupping your other breast, the other smoothing down the length of your thigh. He shifts, nudging your legs apart with his knee, sliding between them like he belongs there.

And gods, he does.

You open your eyes just enough to look at him—his dark hair falling into his face, his mouth wet and red from kissing you. He’s never looked more beautiful. Or more wrecked.

“Az,” you whisper, breathless, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone.

He lifts his head. Meets your gaze.

The look in his eyes nearly undoes you—like he’s never seen you before, not like this. Like something old has cracked open between you and there’s no going back.

“I’ve wanted this,” he says, voice low and raw. “Longer than I ever let myself admit.”

You don’t reply. Because his hands shake as they trail down your body, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. You barely have time to catch your breath before his fingers tug at the fabric, dragging it down your hips and past your thighs.

“Cauldron, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, the words thick with desire, as he works your underwear off your legs. His eyes trace the path of his hands like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “It took everything in me not to stare when you came down those stairs,” he says, voice rough. “You looked like you’d strung up the fucking stars just to watch them burn.”

Your heart gives a traitorous flutter. He was looking. He did care. And knowing that makes something inside you ache.

You spread your legs for him, a silent invitation. His gaze flicks back up to yours, hungry and wide, a dark promise in his eyes. But it’s not just hunger in those eyes—there’s something deeper, more tender, that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

He shifts, dropping to his stomach, his wings spread out behind him like a dark, protective shield. You gasp as his lips brush the inside of your thigh, the heat of his breath against your skin making you shiver. He’s barely touched you, but your body is already aching, already craving more.

Azriel hums as he presses his mouth against the soft skin of your inner thigh, the sound a low vibration that runs straight through you. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs as he settles between them.

He can’t wait any longer.

His lips finally brush your folds, and you can’t help the needy whimper that escapes you. His mouth is hot—so hot, and as soon as his tongue flicks against you, your back arches off the bed, hands flying to his hair. He groans, low and satisfied, and the sound makes your chest tighten with need.

Azriel loves this—loves the taste of you, the way you tremble under his touch. It’s like he’s starving, and your pussy is the only thing that will ever fill him. He’s quick to bury his face deeper, his tongue lapping at your clit with the precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times, each movement a studied perfection. You feel him groan into you, his entire body trembling, like he can’t get enough.

And then, he starts grinding.

You feel the slow, desperate rut of his hips against the mattress—like he needs the friction, like it hurts not to be inside you. His cock throbs against the fabric of his underwear, and still, he doesn’t stop. He moans into your cunt, a low, broken whine of a sound, his mouth locked to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

You reach for his hair, tugging him closer, hips moving of their own accord as you grind up into his face. He moans louder this time, his hands pressing down on your hips to hold you still just long enough for him to really feel you.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just long enough to breathe, “you’re so fucking sweet. Can’t get enough.”

“Then don’t stop,” you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, Az—just—”

You don’t need to finish. He’s already back, his mouth pressing against you again like a man starved, devouring you with everything he’s got. Every flick of his tongue against your clit, every deep stroke, sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, building you up higher and higher until you can’t think of anything else but him—his tongue, his mouth, his need.

He’s lost in you, his hips still grinding desperately into the mattress as he eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You grip his hair tighter, pulling him even closer, rocking your hips against his face, each thrust of his tongue like a promise.

And when you finally let go—when you shatter, your body arching against his mouth and your vision going white—he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, keeps licking and sucking until you’re trembling, until you’ve been pushed past every point of endurance.

He pulls away slowly, his face glistening with you, and his dark eyes are glowing—feral, hungry. His lips curl into a satisfied grin, like he just won the most important battle of his life.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters, voice thick, and then he crawls back up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can feel his chest press against yours, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours. He pulls away, and for a moment, you just look at each other—eyes locked, the world outside forgotten.

He brushes his nose against yours, a soft, lingering touch, and then lowers his forehead to yours. “You okay?” His voice is rough, still full of desire, but there’s a softness to it now, a care that makes your chest tighten.

You nod, breathless, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. “More than okay.”

His lips curl into a smile, and he presses a soft kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise. You reach for him, your hands shaking just a little as you trail your fingers over the muscles of his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under your fingertips. His eyes close as your hands move lower, tracing the defined lines of his stomach. You want to memorize him—want to feel him, every part of him.

As your fingers brush against the waistband of his underwear, your breath catches in your throat. The tension in the air thickens, and for a moment, you hesitate, fingers trembling just above the fabric. His body is taut beneath your touch, but his eyes remain locked on yours—expectant, but still tender.

You pull them down slowly, the fabric sliding off his hips, revealing him fully for the first time. Your gaze flicks downward.

And gods, he's big.

You blink, your heart racing as you take in the sight. The soft glow of the room highlights the sharp, defined lines of his body, but it's him, his cock, that makes your breath hitch. Thick and hard, standing at attention, the tip flushed with need, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, wide-eyed and speechless.

Your stomach does this strange flip, a mix of awe and anticipation. You’ve seen his body before—shirtless, after sparring, sweaty from training—but this... this is something else.

It’s nothing like you imagined. It’s bigger than you thought, intimidating in a way that makes your cheeks flush.

The heat between your legs flares, but it's not just lust—it’s the overwhelming realization of how much he desires you. The connection. The intimacy. This is your best friend, exposed in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s more than you expected. Bigger, thicker than you thought—intimidating and... a little overwhelming.

A warmth starts to bloom in your chest, spreading down to the pit of your stomach. It’s not just lust, though there’s plenty of that. It’s a sort of quiet shock that makes your whole body feel electrified, like you’re standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure you’d ever have the courage to leap into.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally look up at him. He looks nervous—his gaze flicking down, then back up again, like he’s unsure how you’ll react. “I can handle it, Az.”

He doesn’t answer at first, just watches you with those dark, stormy eyes, searching for something in yours. His breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

“Are you sure?” His voice is thick, strained. The weight of his hesitation settles between you. You nod, pressing your hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

“I’m sure,” you breathe out. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

A shudder runs through him at your words, but he doesn’t move to rush it. Instead, he leans down, placing a soft kiss to your lips, his hand gently cradling your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue coaxing and tender. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours again.

“I’ll never rush you, okay? Anything—you let me know,” he says, his voice low and filled with such sincerity that it makes your chest tighten. He slowly begins to ease himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against you.

It’s everything you imagined and more—every inch of him solid and warm, the weight of him just right as he finally pushes into you. The stretch is slow, controlled, and you wince slightly at the initial burn, but it fades quickly as he inches in deeper, his hands gentle on your hips. He pauses once he's fully seated inside, both of you panting, your body adjusting to the sensation.

Azriel’s breath is ragged as he pulls back slightly, then presses in again—slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust. “Fuck, you feel so good, (y/n),” he groans, his voice thick with desire.

You feel him everywhere, his every movement slow and deliberate, the depth of his tenderness filling you in ways you never expected. But as the heat builds in your belly, a need rises in you too—a need for him to give in, to let go, to stop holding back.

“I need more, Az,” you whisper. “Please.”

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of conflict and desire flickering across his features. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his voice rough, but you can see the way his hands grip the bed, his muscles straining as he tries to hold back.

You reach up, hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him again, more urgently this time. “I said I’m sure,” you whisper against his lips, fingers brushing the edge of his wing.

And that’s all it takes. He straightens suddenly, hands sliding down to grip your waist as he begins to move, his thrusts steady and sure. He’s still gentle, his rhythm slow but building in intensity with every movement. His eyes never leave yours, and in them, you see the same fierce desire mirrored back at you, mixed with something deeper—something softer.

Each stroke is powerful as he drives into you with growing urgency. You moan, fingers digging into his biceps, your body arching to meet every snap of his hips.

“Azriel,” you gasp, your nails scraping down his back as the pleasure begins to build inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a breathless growl as he thrusts harder, the force of him filling you completely. “Always got you.”

The heat builds fast, that deep, aching tension curling tighter with every thrust, stoking the fire within you. His hands find your hips, fingers curling hard into the flesh—gripping you like he’s claiming you, like he can’t bear to let go—as he pulls you onto him again and again. He angles his movements just right, drinking in every sound you make and relishing each one more than the last.

His movements are still slow, deliberate, but there's a hunger there now—something primal in the way he grips you, the way he pulls you closer, urging you to take more of him.

“Please,” you whisper, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, desperate for more, for him to push you over the edge.

Azriel responds with a low, hungry groan, his thrusts becoming a little quicker, a little harder. He can feel the way your body trembles beneath him, the way you react to him. He loves it, loves knowing that he’s the one who’s breaking through all the walls, all the restraint you both held before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growls, his voice rough with need, words spilling out in a rush as he braces himself over you. His forearms cage you in, hands on either side of your face, cradling your jaw, holding you there like you’re the only thing in the world worth seeing. He thrusts deeper, pushing you further into the mattress, and the room seems to spin. Your world narrows to just the two of you, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

Your breath hitches as you feel yourself tightening around him, your body winding up with a force that threatens to snap. You can’t stop the moan that escapes you, the pleasure building inside you, getting closer, almost overwhelming.

“Az, I’m—” you choke out, unable to finish the sentence as the pressure inside you becomes almost unbearable.

“Let go, baby,” he says, low and raspy, urging you on. “Let me feel you.”

You never thought you’d hear him like this, hoarse and hungry and just a little wrecked, and fuck, it’s the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life.

And then, it happens—the release hits you like a wave, washing over you, taking over every part of you. You cry out his name, your body trembling as your nails scrape down his back once more.

Azriel groans your name, the sound raw and desperate, and as your body contracts around him, his thrusts falter for a moment before he loses himself too, the intensity of the moment taking him to the edge.

He buries himself deep with a guttural moan—low and wrecked, like the sound’s been punched out of him—his breath hitching, hips stuttering as he spills into you, body trembling with the force of it. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck—”

You’re both still breathing hard when he suddenly stills, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are wide.

“Shit,” he pants. “I didn’t even ask—are you on the tonic? I’m so sorry, I just—fuck I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean to—”

You laugh, breathless. “Az, I am. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay. Good. Fuck, good… Just—yeah. Okay.”

For a moment, all there is is the sound of your breathing, the feel of him against you, and the pulse of your hearts racing together. You both just stare at each other for a moment, trying to catch your breath, the weight of everything hanging between you in the most beautiful, unspoken way.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, still hovering over you, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

You nod, your fingers gently tracing his jawline. “More than okay,” you whisper, your voice still breathless, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel presses a kiss to your forehead and slips out, easing onto the bed and tugging you with him until your head rests on his chest, your body draped over his. One arm wraps around your waist, and his wings wrap around you both like a blanket.

You lie there in silence, skin sticky with sweat, limbs tangled, breath slowly evening out. You’d deal with everything in the morning—whatever this was now, whatever it meant. You’d figure out what to say to Mor, to Cassian, to Feyre and Rhysand. But for now, you just press your face into Azriel’s chest and let yourself rest, wrapped in him, wrapped in this.

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #drunk on you

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byshens · 4 months ago

Text

nasty girl ─── wang yixiang ( f. reader ) -> wc 1,794

ⓘ breast fucking, deep throating, cumming on face, breast worship(?), nipple sucking, petnames ( baby, nasty girl, princess, good girl ), needy nicholas, cum eating, raw sex (dont), creampie, fingering. lmk if i missed any !!

note i just had to write this after posting my hard thought abt it … but oh em gee?! first &team work posted LESS GOO !!! if you wish to be tagged in works, apply here !! 💌 ── back 2 catalogue!

── requests are open! ( pls ignore any typos .. )

“f-fuck, baby—“ nicholas groaned, his fist full of your hair as you took his cock in your mouth, softly gagging around his length.

you dont even remember how you got in this situation. one minute you’re just chilling on the couch and the next nicholas has you on your knees in front of him, forcing you to take all of him into your mouth.

not that you were complaining, though.

the painful grip that your boyfriend had on your hair mixed with your throat being full of his cock, your eyes started to tear up. you glanced up at nicholas and his hips stuttered, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh my god—dont—dont look at me like that,” nicholas moaned, pulling your head back slightly so he could watch how deep his tip hits the back of your throat.

“fuck, im close,” he moaned, his pace quickening. your hands gripped his legs as you watched him chase his high. his hips jerking forward before he stilled, his cock still deep inside your mouth while it filled with his cum.

you choked around him which made him pull out, but before you could even do anything else, he was kissing you. forcing you to keep his cum inside your lips, having him taste himself as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“swallow it,” he demanded once he pulled away, his eyes staring back at yours, cold and stern. he loved watching you become his nasty girl.

and you did as you were told, you swallowed his release and took a breath, finally able to breathe again from all that. you watched his eyes light up with admiration, he loved watching how pretty you looked whenever he messed you up like this.

he moved you over to your shared bed and climbed on top of you, his hands instantly cupping your breasts from under your shirt. you never wore a bra when around him, knowing how obsessed he was with your tits. it always gave him free access to them whenever he wanted.

“baby, can i take this off?” he asked, referring to your shirt, which you quickly nodded. your nipples immediately hard as the cold air hit them, but it didnt last long before your boyfriend’s mouth was on them.

“fuck, nicho,” you whined. his tongue swirling around each bud, giving both breasts fair attention from his mouth. you could feel yourself getting wet just from this, nicho’s hand giving your tits a squeeze which caused you to whimper.

“you’re so perfect, so so pretty.” he praised as he kissed along the soft skin of your breast, his tongue flattened and sliding across them, leaving saliva all over.

whenever you and nicholas had sex, there was always a break section between the rough and dirty fucking, and that was nicho worshipping your tits. it wasnt until the 2nd year of you dating when you found out his obsession with your chest.

you always knew he liked your tits, what man wouldnt like a nice set of breasts? especially on the woman he loves? but nicholas.. oh he was a freak, he fantasized about yours. all his friends knew it too, he never shut up about it to them.

but he never wanted to rush you to his freaky desires, especially if you didnt like it. but during sex one time, you gave him the word. you pushed his head towards your boob and his face lit up.

“suck.” was all you had to say to change your sex life with him forever. now he never misses his chance to admire you, your body, praise you like you’re the finest piece of art in the world—and to him—you are, of course.

your thoughts were interrupted by his teeth, softly biting down on your skin. oh nicholas, always needing to leave his marks on your skin.

“please,” you moaned, looking down at him. he looked like he was in heaven, your chest covered in his spit and love bites, his cock fully hard again while you soaked up your inner thighs with need.

nicholas’ head snapped up at your plea, his face red with blush but his eyes filled with hunger. hunger for you. he nodded and smirked, settling into his spot right in front of your face, and you knew immediately.

your hands pushed both your breasts together so they were on either side of his hard, leaking cock. it twitched once it felt your soft skin, his lips releasing a loud whine before he looked into your eyes, begging if he could start.

you nodded and his cock started fucking between your tits, his thrusts sloppy due to the weird angle but he didnt care, you didnt care, no one cared.

he sped up, desperately trying to find that intense pleasure he always got from just this, how your head was leaned forward, mouth open, tongue out, so every time he fucked forward the tip of his cock would slide into your warm mouth.

no matter how many times this occurs within your sex life, it will never not be fucking sexy to you. watching how needy and pathetic nicholas gets just from your boobs always amazes you, and you love every second of it.

“oh fuck, fuck, princess—“ nicholas moaned, his cock twitching and begging to release, but he didnt want to end it so fast. he held in his climax, looking down to watch how dirty you looked in this position.

you leaned onto your elbows, causing a shift in the direction of his thrusts but made it even better, but now his cock slipped deeper into your mouth with every thrust. your tongue hitting his slit, nicholas felt like he was on fire.

“oh, oh, shit—“ he cursed, his hips jerking forward as he came. white strips of cum splattering across your face and onto your tongue, nicholas was breathing heavily when he moved himself off of your body to hover you, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

you moaned into the kiss, your hands moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, deeper. he could taste himself again, never really enjoying it but nothing mattered to him when his lips were on yours, kissing the soul out of him.

his hand moved down to your panties, he gasped against your mouth as he felt how soaked you were. slowly feeling bad about how he didnt notice your needs sooner, but now its here. he pushes your undies to the side and inserted two of his fingers into your wetness.

your back arched at the sudden touch, your eyes rolling back behind your eyelids as you pushed your hips down onto his fingers. nicholas’ tongue still deep inside your mouth, inhaling your every sound.

your legs spread wider for him, giving him more room to finger fuck you. angling his fingers in all the good places, your thighs shaking slightly. “nicho, please, i need you.” you whined, finally pulling away from the passionate kiss.

nicholas didnt waste anytime after those words slipped through your lips. he removed his fingers from your cunt and ripped your panties off. he positioned himself between your legs, his cock already hard again before he pushed himself inside your heat, earning a loud cry from you.

“oh! my god,” you whimpered, finally embracing his cock with your soaked walls. nicholas groaned as even with how wet you are, you were still a bit tight but that didnt slow him down. he knew you needed to be fucked good and fucked good you will be.

“c’mon, princess, you can take it, hm?” he smirked before his pace quickened. the sounds of your needy cries and squelching of his cock sliding in and out of you, oh he was going mad.

you nodded, a small ‘yeah’ was whimpered out of you as you took him, as he used your cunt for his and your pleasure, needing to fill you up with his seed.

his hands gripped onto your hips tightly to keep you still as he pounded into your pussy, the tip of his cock nearly hitting your cervix, your stomach tightened with all the pleasure.

your skin was on fire, you were breathless but couldnt stop moaning, couldnt stop needing more. you felt like you needed him to live inside your pussy, never leaving. that’s how good nicholas always makes you feel, you never want him to stop.

“mmph—please! fuck!” you cry out, your hands gripping the bedsheets, back off the bed in a long arch. he wasnt slowing down, he wasnt going easier, he was fucking you with all he had. he was desperate, almost as desperate as you were.

“fuck, you feel so fucking good, taking my cock so well,” he praised. he was sweating, the sounds of skin slapping against each other was loud, but neither of you cared. you were always prepared to deal with noise complaints, but your pleasure was way more important right now. to the both of you.

“nicho, i’m close, im close!” you squeaked out as your thighs trembled on either side of his body, his nails digging into your skin. he was close too, his cock overstimulated with how much he had already came before.

“cum for me,” he groaned, snapping his hips roughly into you, slower but harder. you let out a loud broken cry as you came, your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling. nicholas was close behind you, his hips snapping hard and still as he filled up your cunt with his cum.

“good girl, good girl..” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck, breathless along with you. he stayed inside your cunt, giving you time to come down from the high, his fingers now soothing your hips. his lips kissing softly all around your skin, whispering soft nothings to you.

“‘m good now, fuck..” you breathed out, a small giggle leaving your lips as nicholas gave you his dumb cheeky smile. and just like that, he was your silly annoying boyfriend again.

“let’s stay like this for a while.” he said in a soft loving tone, all seriousness in his voice but all you could do was scoff. he was—mind you—still deep inside your cunt, and he wanted to stay like that? while his cum was dripping out from the sides?

“baby, thats nasty.” you whined, already feeling the stickiness from it all, but nicholas grumbled and pulled you closer to cuddle, a gasp leaving your mouth as his cock moved in you with it.

“you’re nasty, though.” he fought back, a grin across his lips as he held your hand and he said something you couldnt even deny. in the most sincere tone, he said—“you’re my nasty girl.”

2K notes · View notes

aernx · 1 month ago

Text

IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( oneshot ver. )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ 13.1k

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister, tbh no srs hating js silly rivalry, crack , heeyn parents r silly

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of seventeen (ily joshua n hoshi)

◌ warnings﹒ profanities, harsh language, jealousy, heeyn hating eo, kissing, fluff, heeyn silly stuffs, denial, i think that's it, oh probably bad and inconsistent grammar at times, miscommunication (that shiii)

aerinotes ⟢ u guys don't know how much i giggled at the screen when i write this 😁 THIS FIC MEANS SOOO MUCH TO MEE I HOPE U GUYS GIVE IT SOME LOVE 💗💗💗 also MY FIRST EVER LONG FIC??? aerin long fic debut!!! so im sorry if there r lots of mistakes n it's kinda messyy n if the pacing is badd !! i'll improve next time guys TRUST‼️‼️

this was previously a smau but now the smau is discontinued. i can finally say goodbye peacefully to my heeyn 🙁 i’ll miss them <3 hope you guys enjoyed this! be sure to leave a like, comment n reblog to let me know watchu think abt it !! ENJOYYYY

"MOM YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?" It’s only been a week since you returned from your exchange student program in Japan yet your mom was quick to throw you a bucket of ice water on a hot summer evening.

“Which part of it is not clear, dear? Heeseung is going to start working in our dumpling shop this in this last month of summer and I want you to be his mentor tomorrow.” Excuse me what? Mentor?? “You know, teach him how to use the register, how to serve the customers, and later how to wrap the dumplings.”

No way there was no chance in hell that you were going to do this. Become Heeseung’s mentor? Hell no! You would rather give Taehyun your first born privileges.

Okay, maybe reasoning with her would opt her to change her decision. “Yes, I heard you for the first time but I can’t really place the reason why you want me to do this, mom. You know that we don’t…get along that well.”

Don’t get along that well? You scoffed internally at your choice of words, it was clearly an understatement, your mother knew that too.

You and Heeseung never got along. At all. Your mother and his mother were the best of friends so ultimately that means that he was there for good and you could not escape him. At first, mini-you was glad at the thought of having a childhood friend. Maybe you two could replicate the friendship of your mothers.

Yet at the age of five, where the two of you met for the first time and he stole your toy and decided to hide it from you, you knew from that moment that you would never get along. That first impression only triggered the competitiveness in you and it became a never ending game of chase. Of course, your mothers showed disappointment with the fact that their children did not enjoy each other’s presence, hoping that as they grow up, you and him would learn to overcome this little feud of yours.

Oh how they were wrong. Along the years that follow, your hatred towards each other only grew. Even though you both hated each other, he was still a big part of your childhood. And him being your neighbour didn't even help. You were so fucking bored of that face of his.

Eventually everyone got used to this relationship you shared with the boy and both parents didn’t try to do anything about it anymore. After all there was no point.

Although your feelings towards Heeseung were more on the negative side, you adored his parents, and your parents adored him too. Your families were close but you two weren’t. When you were younger, you would make it your life mission to get Heeseung to cry and he made it his to make you irritated. But as you both grew into adolescence your behaviour began shifting.

Now, instead of sitting by your side to provoke you, he would sit the farthest from you at the dinner table and you would do your best to ignore him at every family event. This never changed, even when you got into highschool. Both of you would try your hardest to let the other’s presence turn to ghosts, yet the tension around you remains haunting.

“Come on Yn, I know you don’t have the best relationship with Heeseung, as you guys are always fighting like cats and dogs,” Your mother muttered the last part quietly. “But I trust you with him, dear. Even though you both hate each other, you’re the one that knows him best there and I feel like he’ll focus more under your gaze instead of anyone else.”

Gosh why was your mother so persistent? “Mom, have you met us?” You can hear your mother’s snicker. “Then you should know that he won’t listen to me! There’s a reason why we don’t get along, mom. He’s gonna cause so much ruckus if I become his mentor. I find no problem with asking Taehyun to guide him instead.”

Your mother knew that you didn’t want to go forward with this. But it was really a last resort of sorts. And a little part of her wished that maybe this occasion would end your feud with him because she and Mrs. Lee always wanted their kids to get along well, just like them.

“Initially, I thought about that too. But Taehyun already has a lot of plans for tomorrow and you just went home like a week ago so you have lots of free time before your senior year starts.” She pointed out.

“Who knows maybe Heeseung changed these past six months without you. Maybe he even misses fighting with you everyday.” Chuckling, your mother gave you a knowing look as your face scrunched at the thought of that.

Hah! He? Missed you? There was no way. Heeseung was probably glad you were gone for six months. In fact he probably wished you were gone forever.

“Come on, my Yn. We’ll go shopping together with Aunty Lee and I’ll get you those concert tickets for that group you like so much. I’ll buy 4 for Chaewon, Yeonjun, and Soobin too. So you guys can watch it together.”

Your eyes lit up as her offer ringed your eardrums. One day of mentoring Heeseung for shopping sprees with your mom and Aunty Lee PLUS concert tickets for you and your friends?? Sounds like a fair deal.

“Ah…you know me so well, mother. You know I will never decline those.”

“You know it, darling.”

“You want me to-what?!” Disbelief, Heeseung stood from the couch and turned towards his mother who was currently sitting cross legged on her armchair.

“What did you expect?! I told you to stop sneaking around all the time and this is final! You are working in MANDU4U, Yn’s family dumpling shop tomorrow.”

Spending his summer break working? Are you fucking kidding?

“Bu-”

Mrs. Lee stood up from her chair, levelling her gaze with her son. “No buts! I already talked to your Aunty Kang and all you have to do is show your ass over there and work.” From the tone of her voice, Heeseung knew that he messed up. It was bad, like REAL bad. Maybe he should’ve listened to his friend's advice to NOT sneak out.

Mrs. Lee shrugged before continuing. “Think of this as a new experience. You’ll be learning new things and you’ll be earning money. I see nothing wrong with this. You don’t have any right to complain, young man.”

As much as Heeseung dreaded it, he knew no point in resisting. He was at fault and if it was in other circumstances he would stand his ground but he knew better. Oh well, at least she didn’t forbid him to hang with his boys.

And besides it’s not as if he’s going to meet her. He’s aware of the fact that she went back from that program a week ago. Of course he was, his family insisted that they also accompanied picking up Yn from the airport.

Did he come along? Yes. Did he have the option not to? Also yes. Did he know why he came along? Not really. Maybe he missed her and their fights just a little bit. Or maybe not. That question remained ominous as he himself didn’t even know the correct answer.

But was he glad with the fact that she was gone for the past six months? Of course he was! Well it was a bit more quiet than usual but hey! Quiet is good right? Yeah of course. Now that she’s back does he still hate her guts? For sure, yeah definitely.

“Also Yn will be your mentor and I want you to be on your BEST behaviour and do whatever she says.” Mrs.Lee abruptly added before striding out of the room trying her best to contain her smile.

“Mom WHAT?!”

You idly stood on the gazebo of your family’s shop, glancing back and forth towards your watch as the digital digits morphs into what seemed to be eight past twenty. Heeseung was supposed to be here at eight sharp but here you were, still waiting for his stupid ass to come.

It was only five minutes after that, the sight of Lee Heeseung appeared in your line of view. Fucking finally. “Heeseung, you’re late.” You aligned your body opposing his, blocking the entry of the door with your figure as he tried to brush himself through.

“Tch, it’s whatever. Let’s just get started.” His hand longed for the handles but you were quick to stop him. “Drop that attitude, Heeseung. I don’t want this as much as you do so you better not make this any harder on me.” Your grip on his hand opted him to fix his gaze with yours.

You tighten your grip on his wrist. Not caring whether it hurted him or not–which it probably didn’t. “Use that tone on me one more time and you’ll be scrubbing the bathroom floors instead of working behind the cash register.”

Heeseung clenched his fists in between your grasp on his wrist, a low attempt of wanting to break free. “You’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do.” He gritted as an annoyed expression washed over his features.

“You’re right, Seungie. I’m not. I’m your employer. And you-” Your point finger shoved his chest “-have to do exactly what I say."

Lee Heeseung hated it–hated this. That helpless feeling of not being in control. Especially when his arch enemy is the one stringing him like a puppet.

Kang Yn loved it–loved this. How couldn’t you when your arch nemesis had to grovel in submission for the sake of punishment from his mother. It’s fun really. It's like having a maid–you mean– personal assistant of your own.

“No Heeseung, that's not the right way!”

“Be more thorough when checking someone’s order!”

“Gosh this is tiring. Heeseung, get me a coffee.”

Ignoring some mistakes made, the first day of work went surprisingly fine. You taught him various things. Starting from how to work the register and basic manners to serve customers and he was actually going along with what you instructed. Gee, maybe your mom was right all along–you could be really intimidating sometimes.

“This is it for today.” You said, handing him a pen to sign his attendance. “Okay, Thanks.” He calmly received it before signing under his name. Along the string hours of work between you and Heeseung, the atmosphere remained tense. But much to your surprise (and a certain part-timer named Sunoo who went to your school) the both of you endured the entire shift without biting each other’s head off.

Sure there were some occasional fights here and there but the graph always dies down after, returning to its normal wavelength as the days progress. And you were quite happy with the outcome.

One; you did not let the intrusive thoughts win and slice his throat when he was on his break and two; you did not embarrass yourself in front of the customers by screaming frantically at him (although you did do it in private) You could say that this day was a success and you were proud of yourself. Ah you were finally free from him.

Or so you thought.

“So you’re telling me your mom told you that you’ll be mentoring Heeseung for the rest of the summer break?” Soobin questioned, making you groan against your pillows. You raised your head towards the window still, the sight of the moon greeted you in an instance, gracing your room with its incandescent glow.

"She made sure to leave that part the first time she mentioned, alright." You grumbled under your breath.

Chaewon patted your head as she noticed your current distress while Yeonjun and Soobin looked at you with sympathy laced upon their irises. It was currently near twilight in the nearing end of summer. From a distance, you can hear a few neighbours that stood up late making BBQ in their backyards, while some of the houses remained still and quiet.

The light on your window was like a singular lamp amidst a dark room to your unlit neighbourhood. It was summer break so your parents didn’t mind you staying up late. They even let your friends stay over with the exception of Soobin and Yeonjun sleeping on a spare mattress on the floor.

“Yn, I knew it was too suspicious that your mom was offering you THAT much just for one day of mentoring!” Yeonjun pointed out from his mattress below before joining everyone on your bed.

“At least you’re getting money out of this, am I right?” Chaewon said after smacking the poor boy with her elbows, triggering a laugh from Soobin as he saw Yeonjun’s current state.

“-Ouch! Gosh Chae that hurt!” He threw her a nasty glare and Chaewon stuck her tongue out in response. “Plus the fact that Mama Kang AND Mama Lee promised to take you shopping makes it too good to be true to just make that a one time thing.” Yeonjun shrugged before dodging another hit from Chaewon.

“Ugh I hate it when you’re smart sometimes, Junnie.”

“Don’t forget the fact that your mom promised to buy us all concert tickets!” Soobin reminded. “Work your ass off Ms.Kang. We would be thanking you for your services!” He stood from the bed, bowing 90 degrees to you causing the room to erupt in laughter.

“You all better be thanking me for this! I don’t know how I'm going to handle him for the rest of the summer! He’s literally my neighbour! I see him everyday. I can even see him across my window!” Once more, you buried your head on the pillows, gaze unconsciously averting to the blinds covering the glass panels.

“But you hadn’t seen him nor contacted him for six months right? Surely he changed.” Chaewon pondered earning a scoff from you. “Girl let me tell you, he did not.” You answered, emphasising the “not”.

Yeonjun laughed at your misery, opting you to throw a pillow at his face. The room had gone through its nth time of laughing fit before you all started to calm down.

As the room went down from its climax, Soobin’s question seemed to pique everyone's interest. “By the way if it’s okay to ask, how did you and heeseung hate each other like this? I mean the two of you never got along. Everyone knows that but like you both definitely seem more intense now like ever since you got offered to join the exchange student program.”

You sighed before answering. “Well it’s a long story but-”

“-I was supposed to get the offer to join the exchange student program.” Just a few meters from where you and your friend gathered, Heeseung and his friends were doing the exact same thing you were doing.

They all gathered on his mattress, sharing stories as the moon reaches its peak of serenity. “Ohh i get it, so from your point of view, it seemed as if she “stole” your future.” Jay nodded at his friend as the room was filled with collected hums and a few shocked faces.

“No lie I would’ve hated them too if someone did that to me.” Jake added, agreeing to his friend’s current situation."

Heeseung only shrugged and buried himself in the comfort of his pillows. “So what are you gonna do now, hyung?” The youngest of them questioned. “I don’t know. I mean there’s no point in defying my mom when she’s persistent. So I guess I’ll just go with it.”

“Do you still hate Yn because of it now? I mean it’s been six months.” Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “I…I don’t know. We’ve never gotten along since we were five so I don’t think our relationship changed a lot.” Heeseung raised himself from his pillows, now sitting upright.

“But it's not entirely her fault, is it? If you had been a better option for the program you would still be chosen regardless.” Jay knocked some sense into his friend.

“I guess I just blamed her for being better.” A strain smile settled on his lips.

“But to be honest I don’t really care about it anymore, you know? If i really did get that exchange student program, I would've missed so many moments with you guys, including how Niki literally got a girlfriend?? Earlier than me??” Their hearts warmed to Heeseung’s statement before laughing at his last.

The night on both sides of the window ended after crescent smiles and glee surrounding the atmosphere as the sun began to rise causing them to go to a much needed slumber.

“Hey, Noona. Looks like you're in a good mood.” You entered the shop with a smile as you greeted the smiling Sunoo. “Yes because you're the first person I see here, and not that brat.” You whispered the last part.

“Quite the charmer you are, Yn.” A familiar voice rang your eardrums. Speak of the devil. “Right, I was praying you would forget this whole thing and just go sulk in your room all summer.” You grumbled, not bothering to avert your gaze to align with your nemesis behind you.

You feel his presence drawing closer and closer before halting just a few inches from your back. Sunoo is long gone now, opting to prepare some stuff in the storage room.

“And make you look good, whereas I look like the rebel child? Keep dreaming, Kang.” He whispered, voice dripping with mirth.

You scoffed rolled your eyes in response, moving forward towards the register, leaving Heeseung to fend for himself at that moment.

This is going to be a long day.

One week has passed and you are now used to seeing Heeseung lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively.

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn in Summer! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door, the sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise.

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette.

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms.

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Thanks, baby. Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!”

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.”

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being.

“Crazy bitch.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not. Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1.

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny.

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first.

Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure. (except for the laughing part) “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time mom taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat. “Let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumplings’ little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room with a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you avert your attention to your drawing as your mothers chatter dissipates in the back.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he was ever going to admit that. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that everything is okay

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips was so warm and inviting and he felt a suspiciously warm feeling slowly settling on his chest. Well that was new. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it today. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

“Mom, I’m back!” You enter the living room, goals set to lay comfortably down at the soft cushions of your couch. “In the kitchen, sweetie! Come Yn, Aunty Lee is here.”

The smell of homemade cooking dragged you to your mother. “Hi mom, hi Auntie Lee.” Eyes crinkled as you smiled widely at the two most important figures in your life.

“Hey, honey. Hope Hee hasn't given you a hard time.” Mrs. Lee softly smiled. “Do you really need to ask that to know, Auntie?” Your joke (not) prompts the two middle aged women to laugh. “Jokes aside, I guess he's tolerable when he shuts up.”

“Yn!”

“Kidding, mom!” Not really.

“Anyways, we owe you a shopping spree. Let's go this weekend. Your shift ends at noon right, darling? What do you say?” Your eyes lit up at the offer.

Who were you to refuse?

Smell of dumplings and busy chatters crowded the shop, sunlight beaming through glass tinted windows as customers took over the vacant seats available. “Here’s your freshly steamed mandu, Auntie Park.” Mrs. Park was a regular, don’t get me wrong, she was lovely, but she could be a little…nosy.

“You’ve gotten much more beautiful since coming home from Japan.” She smiled knowingly. “Tell me, have you found any Japanese boyfriend, dear?”

Your eyes widened–not expecting her direct question. “ I can assure you, auntie. No boyfriends here.” The curve of your mouth formed upwards. “Is that so?” She squinted her eyes in suspicion, eyes darting to follow Heeseung’s moving figure a few feet away. “I see that Ha-eun’s boy is here helping. Is that one your boyfriend?”

Heeseung? You boyfriend? You grimaced at the thought. You would rather eat a raw dumpling.

“Oh auntie, literally anyone but him. Besides, I’m too busy studying and helping with the shop while dad is busy planning on opening other branches.” You chuckled, denying her assumption.

“What a perfect daughter you are! I bet Ha-yoon and Ji-woo are proud to have you as their daughter.” You were about to leave before hearing her continue. “You know, I have a son your age. You should know him, he goes to Decelis too. Park Jeongsong, are you familiar? Maybe I should set you guys up.”

She lifted her point finger to her chin. “I think you guys are compatible, he's mature….”

Park Jeongsong. Of course you were familiar. He’s one of Heeseung’s close friends and the only one that you tolerate. To be honest you were quite tempted at her offer. Jay’s got it all. Perfect looks, ridiculously sharp jawline, and most importantly manners (one that Heeseung lacked for sure). You scoffed mentally at the thought. But unfortunately, you were not looking for anyone to date for the time being.

“I’m sure he’s great, auntie. I’m just focusing on myself right now.” You politely turned her down. “Enjoy your dumplings, please tell me if you need any assistance.”

“Yes, thank you dear. I hope I wasn’t being too nosy. I’m still working on that.”

“Don’t worry about it, auntie.”

Mrs. Lee and your mother promised to pick you up right after your shift ends. It’s been two weeks since Heeseung’s arrival and you notice that he’s becoming accustomed to the work before him. Given so, this was your first time leaving him alone in the shop. Even though there were other workers, you still hadn’t completely trusted the boy.

“Double check the orders, got it.”

“-And shut the blinds when closing.” He repeated after you.

“Honestly, why are you so anxious? I’m not going to bomb this place when you leave, Yn.” Heeseung crossed his arms. “Don’t trust me enough, flower?” His glint is mischievous, teasing apparent in his tone.

“First of all, don’t call me that.” You shudder at the nickname. “Second of all, no I don’t trust you. What if this place turns to ashes when I return.”

“Okay, flower.” He was playing with you, you knew that. “I’m not even in charge of the kitchens, I promise I won’t blow this place down.”

“Hmm, okay.” Your pupils shifted left and right–as if you were looking for someone. “Sunoo, watch over him for me when I’m gone.” You untie your apron from the nape of your neck before nearing the exit earning a nod from the young boy.

The shopping spree was fruitful, they really went all out on this one. Insisting on buying you dresses, cute tops, pants, shoes, as well as a few accessories. You were grateful–of course–but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t tiring. Though as tiring as it can be, you were having fun.

You entered your house with shopping bags occupying your upper limbs, the weight heavy on your arms. Your mother had a few of her own too and you wonder how she was carrying them with grace. You both dropped the bags on the floor before entering the empty living room. “Huh, I guess Tae and your father have gone to sleep.”

To be honest, any sane person would. It was almost twilight. The three of you found a night market on your way back, compelled by the mannequins and price tags, the two women dragged you out of the car to have a look around.

“So, Yn, now that we’re alone.” Your mother settled on the couch. “Tell me-”

“-how’s everything going on in the shop?” Lee Hae-in met her son still sitting in the lounge room upon her return, his eyes glued to the show on tv. But now, the dark screen reflected two figures sitting on the cushions, a mother with the son she grounded.

“It’s not that bad, I guess.” Heeseung started. “At first it was-”

“-dreadful. I hated mentoring him. He did everything wrong and would make annoying expressions everytime I corrected him. I felt like I wanted to pull his hair out!” Your hands went up to your head in frustration triggering a laugh from your mom.

“Is that so? Now that we’re basically halfway there,-

“-How do you think about her now? About all this, I mean.” The Lee woman questioned, ears perked as she listened contently to her son before her. “Uhm, I guess we’re getting along more? I mean we don’t fight that often anymore. A few insults are thrown now and then but that’s just how we always are at each other.”

“That’s good to hear.” A satisfied smile graced the older Lee. “How about the shop? Are you doing your tasks well, dear?”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

The two older women were happy at their children’s answers. Just two more weeks or so and maybe just maybe this will mark the end of awkward dinners and uneasy tension.

“Heeseung, honey, I know you were upset with Yn after she won the exchange program instead of you. However, you’re almost an adult now. I think this is bothering her as well, why don’t you two take some time to talk about it?”

Heeseung pondered before answering his mother. Even though the tension has resided between you two for the time being, it was mostly due to professionalism to maintain poise in front of other employees and customers. If he wanted this to remain forever (or at least longer than the summer break) he would have to clear the air.

“I’ll think about it, mom.”

“Heeseug, I told you to be gentle with that!”

“Yn, I’m doing it exactly like what you told me!”

Shuffling noise and exclamation marks were the first thing Taehyun heard as he entered the shop at the break of dawn. “Gosh it's six am, they better not be fucking.” He grumbled under his breath before going into the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Body leaned at the doorway, Kang Taehyun watched his hyung and noona–who claimed they hated each other–wrapping dumplings (more like wrapping each other) in a very close proximity.

Ha! Two weeks in, and they’re already getting closer. He was right. Now mom and Auntie Lee owe him so much cash for this.

You were quick to add some space in between you. The blood rushed to your face resulting to a pinkish hue. “We’re just preparing the mandus for today.”

“Riight. I’ll be at the register if you need me. Which you probably won’t.” He turned his back from the seniors behind him, the smirk on his face widened as he imagined how much money he’ll receive upon winning the bet with his mom and Heeseung’s.

flashback (few weeks ago)

Rays of sunlight occupied each corner of the living room as the songbird sang its morning praises. It was a perfect day to relax. Lee Hae-in and Kang Ha-yoon sat amidst thick cushions as they waited for their steamed milk buns to cook.

“You know, that was cheeky of you when you suggested this summer activity for Heeseung.” Ha-yoon started earning a light giggle from her dearest friend. “I have the biggest opportunity laid bare in front of me! I couldn't resist even if I could help it.”

“How long will it take for them to warm up to each other?”

“Two weeks.”

A familiar voice urged them to snap their heads in its direction, only to find the youngest Kang standing with his hand crossed over his chest.

“How are you so sure, Taehyunnie?” His mother questioned. The Lee woman also looked reluctant. “They've been hating each other for years, Tae. I don't think they will get along in two weeks.”

“Are you willing to bet on it, Auntie Lee, Mom?” His challenging tone was inviting. Who were they to deny a bet? Without a second doubt, the two women nodded their heads and smirked. “You're so on.”

With a final click!, the shop was officially closed for the day. Heeseung handed the key to you before taking something from his bag. “Yn, hold on.” His hand is placed on your shoulder, urging you to turn towards his direction.

“Hm? What’s wrong? You tilted your head, confusion written all over your face. The boy released the light grip he had on you before lifting up his free hand and unfolding his wrapped fingers.

A gasp escaped your lips at the item he held before you. There it was, a small lego figurine sitting on the center of his palm. And it was not just any figurine, but it was your favorite back when you were five. Your eyes wander into his own, the small smile adorning his face along with the swirl of emotion pooling in his vision.

You remember the day you lost it. How the world seemed to crumple beneath your feet as you lost–no–Heeseung stole the main character of your ultimate favourite lego friends set.

“Missed her?” He nudged the figurine towards you, a sign for you to take it and you did just so. “So you did steal her, huh. You denied it so much back then, I still remember.” You bite your lip in effort to suppress the curve that was slowly creeping in, but seemingly failed as you examined the small toy in your hands.

The plastic was old and details were worn out due to aging but aside from that, all the parts remained intact and well kept. Heeseung did not break it nor ruined it like you thought he would. Instead he took great care of it. Why?

“I recall, it was the first time we met. We were at my housewarming party and I really wanted you to play with me and Tae, but you didn’t.” The raven haired boy reminisced, the smile still etched on his face. “You kept playing with this lego set without any bother in the world. I really wanted to play with you but all you do is ignore me.”

“So you stole the figurine to get my attention?” You raised your left eyebrow, an attempt to guess where he was going. A small chuckle rang through your ears. “Well, it worked I guess but not in the way that I hoped. After that I just–I don’t know–kept annoying you because that’s the only way you’ll ever pay attention.”

His words settled heavily on your heart. All this time, your feud growing up was just a matter of attention. Guilt crawled from the depths, slowly leaking through your eyes. Heeseung was quick to notice. “Yn, that was so long ago, no need to be guilty.” His hands went back to your shoulders. Somehow, the warmth radiating from him felt nice–comforting.

“We could’ve been those childhood friends.” You whispered, rewriting memories inside your head. Echoing a “what if” scenario if you got along from the beginning.

“We could be now, if you want.” Dozens of stars are reflected in the dark pupils of Heeseung’s doe eyes and you can’t bring yourself to look away, not even if you tried. Your gaze shifted to his lingering hand on your scapula before urging closer in his embrace. Arms wrapped itself around his body, your movement slow and careful, giving him space to walk away. But he didn’t. He enveloped you further into himself. Your face is pressed against his chest, eyes closed. No words are spoken but the gesture speaks volumes.

“I’m sorry, Yn.” Heeseung broke the silence between you. “For everything I did to you since we were five.” He whispered, fingers trailing the strands of your hair. “And more importantly, for taking out my anger on you when you got accepted to the exchange program instead of me.”

“I’m sorry too.” You replied, head turning up to meet his waiting gaze. “I joined the program to spite you. Didn’t think I would get it, but I somehow did and made everything worse.” You unwrap each other from the embrace, solemn looks embroidered on your faces. A gulf of harsh wind swept through you, your body shivered slightly at the impact, instantly missing the warmth from the previous action.

“You deserve it, Yn. I was jealous, I could admit that now. If I had been the better choice, I would still be chosen regardless.”

“Oh, Heeseung.” Your frown is evident, denting your features and the boy before you feels the urge to wipe it off so badly as if it had no right to tarnish your perfect face.

“It's all in the past now, flower. We're good now, right?” Heeseung smiled and after, you feel a hand slip itself into your own, relinquishing the comfort from the hug. You looked at your entwined hands before offering a small nod.

“It’s getting late. Let's walk home together, yeah?”

A week has gone by in a blur of routine. Summer break is ending and no amount of complaints is going to stop the time from running. Heeseung now stands right in front of your door, heart palpitating and hands sweaty. It's been 5 minutes now and he's still contemplating whether he should knock on your door or just leave at this point.

After that night, your relationship with him began to shift. As you arrive at your designated homes, you two meet again across the windows of your rooms. Exchanging waves and passing short notes through the glass barrier before bidding good night. It was like straight out of a Taylor Swift music video.

Heeseung caught a smile corrupting his features before closing his mouth in shock. Did he just smile at the memory of you?? What. The. Fuck. He shook his head abruptly from side to side, almost as if he had a goal to remove something from his mind.

Just as he was doing so, the door suddenly swung open. “Heeseung?” A voice called out, confusion lacing her tone. “Auntie Kang, Hi!” The boy offered a flashy smile, almost blinding the middle aged woman. “What are you doing here, Hee?” The woman smiled at the sight of him and raised her eyebrow in amusement at his…enthusiasm?

Heeseung was happy in the early morning. This was a first.

“Are you okay? Why do you seem so happy? Too happy maybe.” Her eyes squinted in suspicion. “Whaaat? Nothing, Auntie! Just excited because dad said I could use his motorcycle today.”

Your mother hummed in understanding. Muttering how kids these days are so funny before asking the bambi-eyed boy, “What are you doing here thou-”

“Hee, you're here!” An excited voice called out, prompting the two figures on the doorway to look your way.

So this is what it's about. Mrs.Kang bit her bottom lip to contain the smile from seeping through. Noting the interaction in her mind to tell Heeseung’s mother for their planned brunch in a few hours.

Your mother wasn't oblivious, something clearly changed between you too. Gone were the two kids that used to chase each other in the courtyard, sabotaging each other’s items for revenge. You’re all grown up now and Kang Hayoon almost felt a tear drop from her left eye.

Call her dramatic but hey, Heeseung is as much like her child as you are. Just like you are a daughter to the Lees. And these two children used to be muttering curse words why chasing each other.

Kang Hayoon felt a wave of surging proudness. While your father is busy taking care of building another branch for the restaurant, you offered to manage the current one for the summer so your mom could rest. Even with your position as Heeseung’s mentor, you still insist doing so with the excuse that Heeseung is already well adapted with everything now.

You reached the door, giving your mom a quick kiss on the cheek and a goodbye before leaving with the boy. “Bye mom, it’s almost eight. We’re going to the restaurant now!” You greeted her from the motorcycle seat. “Bye, Auntie! We’ll be careful, don't worry!” He smiled once more and with a final wave, the two sped away from the driveway leaving the smiling woman on her porch.

“Hae-in needs to hear about this.” Your mother giggled before calling Heeseung’s mom on dial and closing the door as she decided that she could not wait for brunch to tell her.

To say Sunoo was shocked was an understatement. He stood behind the register, preparing the cash for change as he was met with his boss (you) and the intern (heeseung) got out of a motorbike together. His eyes were like saucers and his jaw was wide open. He’s so used to seeing you both fight in the mornings that it felt so…weird seeing the two of you all smiley.

“Fuck, I owe Taehyun 5 bucks now.” He whispered lowly, silently cursing at the bet he lost. The boy smiled and greeted you as well as Heeseung before returning to his current task, not forgetting to make those classic Sunoo bewildered faces behind the register and away from your prying eyes.

Taehyun arrives later with some special premade dumplings made by your mother. Passing by Sunoo as he received the cash with a swift motion in triumph. You and Heeseung are both too easy. He thought, suppressing the singular curve forming on his lips.

The restaurant thrives under your management. You silently thank your dad for teaching you these skills since you were little. Heeseung is currently working as a waiter (because you think he is still wonky at wrapping dumplings), busy tending to curious aunties with his charm. After your little heart to heart, you start to see him in a different light. The way his smile deepens as he is asked about his interests, the politeness seeping through his crinkled eyes when he excused himself and moved closer to you-wait what??

“You think I wouldn't notice you staring, flower?” You grimaced at the decor beside you, finding any mistake palpable in your surroundings, and ignoring the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname he just called you. Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding you adorable.

“Staring? Hah! You’re so full of yourself, Heeseung.” Your false laughter echoed through the restaurant, turning a few heads from other workers before you threw them a glare to go back to work. “That was Jay and Jake’s moms. They were wondering how I’m doing.” You scrunch your eyebrows at his explanation. “Okay? I didn’t ask what you were doing, Lee.”

“Back to last name basis? You wound me, baby.” The bambi-eyed boy placed his hand on his chest, feigning a hurt look on his face. You rolled your eyes at him (and that ridiculous petname) before shoving him lightly. “Go back to work, employee.”

“On it, boss.” He replied, not forgetting to throw a wink at you before opting back to work. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

You’re pacing back and forth across your room, hands on your hips, and hair all disheveled. Chaewon laid comfortable on your mattress, elbows supporting her upper body as she watched your distressed state with amusement. “Yn, you’re going crazy.”

Tonight was an overdue girls night, meaning Chae is over at your house for the weekend. This day also marks the second last week of summer. That means one more week ‘till you are back to textbooks and exams. You groaned at the thought (and at Chaewon) before inching towards the window. Your eyes subconsciously reached the house across yours, revealing your beloved neighbor–shirtless–his ridiculously sculpted figure standing there on the other side of his window for the whole world (you) to see as he held what looked like shirts on his left hand and his phone on the right pressed on his ear as if he was calling someone.

“Uhm Yn, you’re gawking.” Your best friend peered behind you. Her hands on your shoulders as she took a peek of the sight before you. You hurriedly closed the blinds in reflex. “Damn okay, you don’t want me looking at your man. I’ll be respectful.” A sheepish smile kissed Chaewon’s face before turning her back on you and jumping back into bed.

“Chae, something is wrong with me.” You fall face flat to your bed, right beside your girlfriend. “Everytime I see him, I feel this weird feeling in my chest–and no it’s not the urge to pull out his hair.” You murmured, flipping your body to align with the ceiling before continuing. “Which is really weird because I used to always feel that way.” You pointed out, index finger up to enhance your stance. “But now everytime I see his face I just want to-want to-”

“Kiss him?” Chaewon’s smirk is glowing in her features, fully dripping with mischief. You sat up at her reply before turning your head towards your best friend, your expression shaped in disbelief. “Chaewon, what the hell.” You grab your nearest plushie–one that you stole from Taehyun’s best friend, HeuningKai–before (affectionately) beating the brown-eyed girl with it.

The sound of laughter filled the room like oxygen. “Yn, you can hit me all you want but you can’t deny it.” The raven haired girl said between her fits of giggle. “After that little apology session, you just want to kiss him pretty.” The wiggle of Chae’s brows urged you to throw the plushie right at her face. Your friend groaned at the impact before recovering as if it was nothing.

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down like an airplane with a failing engine. You paused abruptly, a huge thought bubble forming above your head. Fuck did you like him? Like, like–like him?? No, you can’t. You can’t be catching feelings with the boy you just made amends with a week ago. The boy you swore to hate since you were toddlers.

Chaewon read the expression on your face like an openbook before opting to sit across from you. “Yn, for what’s worth, he’s a really nice person. And he’s practically already family.” Her hands made their way to your shoulders. The feeling is familiar but different. Chaewon’s arms are lighter and more poised in contrast to Heeseung’s warm touch. Your head darted to your covered window, curiosity pooling in your heart at what he was doing and what he would think of this–of you.

“Imagine telling your family that you and Heeseung are a thing.” Your best friend started. “Auntie Lee and Auntie Kang are going to start jumping in glee and start preparing for your wedding with an eight week honeymoon plan to the Bahamas.” You rolled your eyes at Chae’s daydream. Though deep down, your heart swelled at the thought, offering a silent prayer as hope for the future.

“Ever since that day, he’s been, I don’t know, different.” Distress is evident in your sigh, storms of doubt clouding your thoughts. “Maybe I’m getting attached to him, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m spending too much time with that guy.” You place two hands on Chaewon’s shoulders before shaking her. “Chae, baby, loml, cleanse me, like right now.” Chaewon nodded at the request like a diligent soldier before shaking you with much more intensity.

“All cleansed now?” She asked, before stopping the vast movement. Your head is spinning, figuratively and literally, and you raised both of your thumbs toward the raven haired girl. “Fuck, I like him. I like Lee Heeseung.” You confessed against a pillow you found beside you, banging your head at the soft cushion before muffling your exasperated scream as Chaewon sat behind and patted your back in reassurance.

What a way to start girls' night.

Heeseung thinks you’re acting weird. You’ve been avoiding him lately–more than usual. Was it because he’s not improving with his dumpling wrapping skills? Or was it because that stunt Jake convinced him to pull, ending with him shirtless before his opened window across your own as he pretended to call someone, looking all important, while it was Jake on the other end, fully assuring him that this plan is foolproof. That it will make you go all drooling on him and finally fall in love.

The bambi-eyed boy mentally cursed at Jake. His plan definitely made you think Heeseung was some weirdo. Fuck, he just ruined all his chances with you and it’s all because of that stupid Austrilian.

Heeseung came true to his feelings one random night in the middle of a night ride with you. You both just finished closing up the shop, bidding farewell to your other workers before logging off for the night.

The boy noticed your tired demeanor, immediately slipping your hand in his before leading you to his bike. “What's the hurry, Hee?” You giggled softly at his antics, the sound speeding his drumming heart ever so slightly.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” He unclasped your joint hand, and the warmth soon returned as he fixed your helmet on your head before adjusting his own.

Heeseung drives at a medium pace. Not too slow to bore you but also not too fast to risk your lives. The bambi-eyed boy passed your houses, earning a curious look from you. You watch as you exit the suburbs to a little road near the highway. The view from above was breathtaking, city lights cover the vast land like pieces of your lego city collection. You gasped at the beauty ahead of you. The dark haired boy stopped at the hook of the road, taking off his helmet and yours as his steps started inching towards the railings of the empty road.

You follow closely behind, basking on the beauty of the night. The city is still lively–it always is. A contrast to the sleeping stars that hung on the horizon, blinking in haze as humans are left to wonder from below.

Your hand is placed beside his on the railing. Gentle wind kissed the tip of your nose with grace, prompting you to close your eyes to enjoy the serene moment. “This is nice.” You whispered, releasing all the stress harboring on your shoulders and Heeseung hummed in agreement, his head turning in your direction.

The boy watched the sight before him with much intent. His focus shifted to the details of your skin, blurring the busy city’s whispers. Remnants of neon lights were reflected on your face below the moonlight. He noticed your lids fluttering before gazing at the stars above. “What a pretty view.”

Heeseung’s eyes remained on you, the city and sky distorted as he pinned his vision on you. “Yeah, it’s breathtaking.”

The two of you went home in comfortable silence. Your head slowly drowsing on his back before you fix your position to sit upright. Heeseung chuckled at your sleepy state before muttering, “You can sleep, flower. We’ll be home in no time.” His tone is soft on your ears and you hummed at him–too sleepy to voice a proper reply. And before you know it, two arms wrapped itself around Heeseung’s waist, prompting his heart to stop for a second before running at a faster pace. You settle comfortably behind him, your cheek pressed on his back as he drives with such carefulness and grace to your homes.

After returning to his own room, we wasted no time to call his closest friends, confiding to them about his newfound realization. He was in love with you, so badly.

Today was the day. The day where Heeseung is going to confront you. He’s tired of having to walk around eggshells around you, he wants to make things right, clear out any misunderstandings (and maybe confess if it all goes right). You texted him yesterday that you won't be needing a ride from him as you had to tend to other matters earlier than usual. As much as it disappointed him, he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to push past the boundaries you built.

Heeseung arrived at the restaurant much earlier than usual. He glanced at his watch, the time read 7:30. Seven fucking thirty. Gosh it was dawn for holiday mood Heeseung (even though it was 30 minutes earlier than his usual routine, BUT that was 30 minutes of sleeping wasted) The things he’d do for you. The boy sighed, fumbling with a copy of the key you gave him before.

He inserted the key towards the hole, turning it to the left in an attempt to unlock the door but failed in doing so. Heeseung paused before examining the handle, confusion glazing his features as his hand grabbed the knob before slowly pulling it down and opening the door with success.

What? Did you forget to lock the door before closing yesterday? No, he was sure you didn't. You were never that irresponsible. In fact you were probably never irresponsible at all. Did someone break in? There were no signs of force breaking in so that was not possible.

An echo of laughter rang through his ears, stopping Heeseung from his tracks. He peered his eyes at the sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Slowly, the boy made his way towards the source, curiosity tugging his heart.

The kitchen light was on and through the window, Heeseung could perfectly see two people standing at the dumpling-making-table-thingy. His eyes widened at the revelation, there was you talking to another man beside you. He's seen him before, but he just can't quite place who. It’s one of those boys you hang around with. Soobin and Yeongjum? Whatever it was.

The boy squinted his eyes, trying to make out who exactly was this person beside you. A distraction to suppress the gnawing feeling pooling in his chest as another line of laughter escaped your lips.

His heart ached when your laugh settled on his mind. A pang of jealousy hit him across the face. You never laughed that much with him. Well maybe it was due to your past rivalry, but it's all gone now, right?

Well maybe he was wrong because your words proved him otherwise.

“By the way, Yn.” The man before you called out, prompting you to hum in reply. “How's everything, you know? With the Heeseung thing and all.”

“It's been really tiring. With school coming soon and everything, ugh.” You sighed, the crease in your eyebrows deepening and Heeseung felt the urge to kiss it away. Though he grounded himself at his position, still behind the walls as he listened to your conversation.

“I’ve been avoiding him lately, Junnie.” His ear perked up at your confession, subconsciously leaning in to hear you more clearly. Ah yeah, Yeonjun. That was his name.

“Why?” Yeonjun asked, confusion wrapping his tone as his hands skillfully wrapped the dumpling before him. Your lack of answer shifted Heeseung's focus to the ridiculously perfect dumpling sitting proudly on Yeonjun’s hand and how quickly he moves on to the next one, wrapping with such professionalism as if he's been folding dumplings since he was born.

Heeseung’s annoyance was cut short as he heard your answer. “I don't know. I just…don't want him to get the wrong idea.” Your voice is small, barely heard, but Heeseung could hear the words clearly.

You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. That was it, that was basically a rejection. You don't feel the same. The bambi eyed boy felt his heart sinking in his chest. The same organ weighs fifty thousand pounds heavier than it usually was, dragging him down with it.

“Anyway, you're driving to the concert, right?” You questioned, tone picking up ever so slightly.

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows. Concert?

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He heard Yeonjun reply. “You've worked so hard to earn these tickets, we’ll have the best time there together, Ynnie.”

The boy behind the kitchen window resisted the urge to scoff. So that's it? You agreed to mentor him for a stupid concert date? Jealousy was a drug and Heeseung dwelled in it with no hesitation. He ignored the way his heart clenched at the thought of losing you. Well, you were never his in the first place.

They boy left the restaurant in the same manner he went in but with more passive aggression. Taking the keys with him before driving off back to his house. Fuck this stupid mentoring shit and Fuck these stupid frelings.

You remained unaware of the tragedy that happened outside as you continued to focus on preparing the delicacy. “Yn, you have to tell him.” Yeonjun’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You still, knowing exactly what he meant, while hands are still moving–folding the dough as if it ran an automatic program. “I don't know, Junnie. What if he doesn't reciprocate my feelings?”

“He would be stupid not to.”

Yeonjun was right, you had to be true to your feelings. Your friend left after he finished helping you with the dumplings, leaving you alone amidst your thoughts as the workers arrived one by one. You watch by the front door carefully, eyes focused to find a certain bambi-eyed boy. Concern clouded your mind, the clock strikes nine and Heeseung has yet to make his appearance.

This was weird, he was never late (save the first day). Well maybe because you’ve been going here together for the past few days, but he was never late even at the beginning. Did something happen to him? “Sunoo, have you seen Heeseung?” You turned your head towards Sunoo behind the register, eyebrows furrowed in question. The boy shook his head in response and you ignored the way your heart sank.

You grab your phone from your pocket, muscle memory automatically hovering towards his contact. These past few days you and Heeseung’s been texting more often, and though you hate to admit it, the feeling made you giddy to the heart. Your fingers typed on the keypad in a swift move, texting a quick “where r u it’s late” and a “r u okay?” right after.

The boy in question was laid in his bed. Back against the mattress as he wallows in heartbreak songs all morning. The ping from his phone urged him to open the screen, his chest heaved heavily upon seeing your messages. Why do you care? He scoffed after reading the message mentally. Just let that Yeonjun replace him or something. Heeseung suppressed his impulsive thought to type that in and settled with a lame excuse instead. “not feeling well, won’t come today. sry." Before turning up the volume as Mr. Loverman comes to play.

You frowned at his reply, a worried expression taking over your features. “oh no :( get well soon hee.” Your fingers moved before you could control them. “rest up. I’ll come over after my shift.”

Heeseung widened his eyes as he read your reply, clearly not expecting your last statement. He quickly sat up, thinking of yet another lame excuse to avoid you seeing him. Fuck this was bad, his plan surely backfired on him. “U CANT! Uhm it’s infectious, don’t come near me or u’ll get sick.”

Infectious? What? Is Heeseung okay? You spent the whole week maybe even month with him lately, and whatever it is he caught, there’s probably a big change you’ve caught it too. “Did u get covid or smthn?” You typed in, concerned for yourself too slowly creeping in. It’s been years since the pandemic, you were even surprised it was still a thing. “does it mean I cld have it too? Shld i get tested? Yk what imma get tested rn.”

“It’s not covid!” His reply made you pause on your tracks. “It’s nthn srs, u don’t have to come. Js focus on the shop.”

“Will u return tmrw?” You questioned, no effort in containing your curiosity. “Idk, we’ll see.”

Yeah right, “we’ll see.” Heeseeung scoffed at his own text. He’ll see if he recovered from heartbreak enough to be able to see your stupidly beautiful face. The boy locked his phone before opting to throw it to his bed as he continued to blast to a thousand more sad songs. Fuck you and your perfect self. Why don’t you just go take care of Yeonjun when he’s sick of something.

Friday comes in a flash. The sun has set twice since Heeseung’s disappearance and he thinks two days are enough time to sulk and return to his current summer disposition. It was his last day here anyways. After this, school will return and you both will just pretend the other doesn't exist as usual.

He makes his way past the front doors, mind unfocused as he ventures inside the restaurant. His tired eyes met yours, and for one second Heeseung forgets everything he eavesdropped that morning. “Heeseung.” You called out, surprise laced on your tone, clearly not expecting his return after disappearing from the face of earth. The boy resisted the desire in his heart to just run and hug you until you suffocate. But the remnants of your voice that haunted him till this day pulled him back. “I’ve been avoiding him, Junnie. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Right, you don’t like him that way. He has to remind himself of that and drill it onto his brain. “Heeseung?” You draw closer at his silence. Your hand slowly made its way to his arm, touching the skin slightly before the boy nudged back, avoiding your grasp.

Oh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, whatever. I’ll just go to work now.”

You don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know what’s wrong. His tone is indifferent, cold, and weaved with a harsh emotion you can’t quite place. The boy passed by you, accidentally bumping your shoulder before starting his usual routine. You could almost hear your heart breaking in your chest, the feeling dragging you down as rain started to pour, the clouds diminishing the ray of sunlight left in your eyes and the sky.

The rest of the day is filled with awkward tension and forced professionalism. Heeseung is aware of his status in the restaurant so he maintained his poise. Though he can’t help but steal glances of you, managing the schedule and tending the customers with such light in your eyes, contrast to his gloomy vision. The pain in his heart is subduable but he hates it. It was stupid of him to fall for you in the first place. You were always there, not even 200 meters away from him everyday, yet why do you still remain so out of reach?

Yellow hue dissipates into serene blue, the stars finally waking up to light the dark night. Heeseung waits behind, leaning on his motorcycle as you close up for the day. This was it, his last shift and probably his last one-on-one interaction with you.

As much as Heeseung wants to avoid you right now, he doesn’t have the heart to make you walk back alone. After all the past two days has been enough.

The ride back home was quiet, awkward silence cut through the tension like knife slicing though a piece of room temperature butter. The boy stops in front of your driveway, waiting for you to remove your helmet before parking the bike in his garage.

“Thank you.” Your whisper graced his ear, your gaze finding him like a pirate longing for her lost treasure. “For the ride…and for everything.” Was what you said before turning your back on him and reaching towards your front door.

Heeseung was quick to return home, not forgetting to wipe the strain tear that escaped his right eye as he reached the comfort of his room. Gosh was he stupid.

“Babe, do you think Hoshi is going to notice me if I use this top or the other?” Chaewon stands in front of the full length mirror, opting two tops each on her left and right hand. The question rang pass through your ears, your focus all poured towards your window, gaze stuck on the glass panels across your own, his midnight blue curtains covering the interior, screaming at you like it held a “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS” sign right on your face.

Your best friend turned her head towards you at your lack of reply, eyebrows furrowed as she noticed your current predicament. She was quick to move towards your window and closed the blinds, bursting the rain cloud forming above your head. “Yn, spill the beans.” Chaewon’s voice is serious and compelling, and just like that, words start spilling from your mouth. You told how gentle and considerate he’s become for the past week, the occasional night rides, the conversation that continued till midnight, the little notes you passed from your window, and the fact that he suddenly started to act cold and weird on you since Wednesday.

Chaewon listened with much intent, her hands moved quickly to wipe your damp cheeks as the tears fell without any warning. Well good thing you haven’t started your makeup. “You have to talk to him, baby.” She started, hands gentle on the crown of your head. “I’m going to beat him up for making you cry.” She whispered lowly, triggering a chuckle from your throat.

“How? All he does is avoid me. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

The raven-haired girl hummed in response, the gears of her brain spinning. “Don't your families have a joint dinner together every last Sunday of the month?” You nodded slowly at her question, mind deliberately following where she was going. “That’s tomorrow, you’ll talk to him then. Steal him away after dinner or something.” She lifted up her arms to your shoulders before shaking them hard. “Let me cleanse you. For now, let's have fun, look at hot men dancing and doing fanservice. Forget ALL the drama.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as the light made its way back to your eyes. She’s right. Today you’re going to forget about Heeseung and that stupidly pretty face of his. Tonight you’re going to go to that SEVENTEEN concert and occupy your mind with Joshua Hong.

Family dinner is awkward as usual. Well for you and Heeseung, not for your parents and brother. Taehyun talking about something with your parents as you sat across the boy that’s been avoiding you. You dismissed the desire to look at his face because right now you are stuck in a perplexity. You don’t know if you want to punch him or you want to kiss him. Well you do know that you want to do it hard, either of the options doesn’t matter.

Your mothers left the dining room to prepare dessert and Heeseung excused himself to go to take something from his room. You took this as an opportunity, muttering “I need to go to the bathroom real quick.” before exiting the space to follow after him. Missing the way Taehun spoke to your dad and Heeseung’s. “50 bucks say that they’ll make out in his room.”

You sped towards the hall, taking his hand as you pulled him into his chambers. The bambi eyed boy felt like an intruder at his own living quarters, his eyes widened in shock, not expecting your actions. “Heeseung, let’s talk.” You start, voice sturdy and serious, cornering the boy before you with an arm beside his shoulder to block any escape route, his back pressing against the wooden door.

“What…what do you mean? Th-there’s nothing to talk about.” The boy grumbled, trying his best to not fluster under your gaze. Gosh why were you so close? Heeseung’s breath became shallow and quicker, the tips of his ears morphed into a crimson shade as he noticed your proximity.

Your eyes squinted at his sheepish reply. “Don’t act stupid, Lee. You’ve been avoiding me all of a sudden with like absolutely no reason!” A polished finger made its way to the dark-haired boy’s chest before he felt a light pressure at the contact. “You disappeared from the shop for two days–you’re welcome by the way for not telling our parents–and started acting like I don’t deserve your time or something.” You shove repeatedly at the same point, frustration swallowing you entirely and Heeseung? He just braced the impact like it was nothing to him.

Heeseung stilled as he waited for you to calm yourself, his gaze tenderly settled on you, in contrast to the emergency sirens that’s swarming his head like a busy ER hospital. Fuck, what was he gonna tell you? That he overheard you and Yeonjun and that he avoided you because he can’t handle a little jealousy and perhaps competition? Were you and Yeonjun even a thing? His mind is in scrambles and he can’t seem to get anything out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” You peer towards the floorboards, features flushing scarlet as guilt wraps the previous emotion away. Your finger is still on his chest and before you can lower it down, a warm hand enveloped your knuckles. Chocolate colored iris melt into your own letting a thousand emotions seeping through like an overflowing glass of water akin to an eternal fountain. “Yn, let me explain everything.”

So he did and you let him. Heart echoing in sync against your ribcage, his hand not leaving yours anytime soon as he rubs soft circles. You almost melt in his touch. Keyword: almost. Gosh Yn were you that touch starved? Or did you really miss him that badly?

“I overheard your conversation with Yeonjun last Wednesday morning.” He confessed, thumb caressing your skin in a gentle motion. You can hear the gears of your brain spinning before wondering, “Last Wednesday…Yeonjun…What? It was like half past seven, how were you there? You said you were sick.”

“Yeah, let me continue first.” You nodded at his statement. “I wanted to, uhm I don’t know, like surprise you by going there early?” Heeseung paused, silently questioning his past self. “Oh, I also got curious why you didn’t want to ride together that morning.” The boy spontaneously added. “First when I entered I was confused why was the door unlocked but then I heard laughs–your laugh from the inside and I guess I wanted to know who made you laugh like that.”

You soaked his words like a sponge’s first contact with running water. The pattern of his thumb movements is still softly caressing your epidermis, offering you a peace of mind as you sink in his explanation. “Then I saw you with Yeonjun all comfortable and I got jealous. I realise you never smiled at me like that or laughed that much with me around. I got so jealous that I just couldn’t see you or I’ll burst in frustration.”

He stopped stroking your palm and instead squeezed it firmly before fidgeting it with both hands. “I also heard about the concert date. So I found out you mentored me for a month to get a concert date with another man. He must be pretty special, huh.” His movements went to halt and you hate how your heart seemed to ache for more–more of his touch.

“Yeonjun and I are just friends.” Your whisper is gentle upon his ears, the implication of another statement relieved his whole body. You’re still single. “He was helping out because he lost a bet and well he was damn good at wrapping dumplings too.” You chuckled, mind drifting to that particular moment and as if on cue, Junnie’s wise words echoed through your mind. You have to tell him how you feel, Yn.

“Yn I-”

“Heeseung-”

You both started simultaneously startling each other with the synchronisation. “You go first, Hee.”

“Are you sure? You can go-”

“You look like you need to get something out that badly.” You attempted to joke, lifting up the heavy mood that surrounds you like a thick fog.

Heeseung took a deep breath as he stepped closer towards you. His back is not leaned against the door anymore and his gaze is stuck on yours. “Yn I…I like you. Fuck, I love you, even, probably, I don’t know.” The boy pulled your still joint hands, lifting it up before kissing the skin in a gentle manner, one that leaves you yearning for more.

“But I want to…figure it out. With you, if you don’t mind.” Your connecting gaze doesn’t break. You breathe in his confession like a drug, addicted to the true sound of his heart. The light in his eyes dimmed at your lack of reply. But before he could turn away, a force pulled him down from the nape of his neck as warm lips pressed against his own, soft but also fierce, not lacking of passion. Almost as if you’ve been waiting to do this.

The boy doesn’t wait to reciprocate, one of his hands slithered on your waist like it was meant to be there as the other cups your cheek, angling it sideways to deepen the kiss. You could feel it, all the raw emotion rushing through the action. And right now, this is all that matters. His lips are gentle on yours, moving with such care like you were the most precious thing in his possession. Years of tension and harbored feelings melted into the kiss, you pulled him even closer to you, like you can’t handle any remaining distance between you.

Heavy breaths echoed across the room as your faces deepened into five shades of maroon, your past actions finally settling into you. You couldn’t believe it. You just kissed Lee Heeseung. And he kissed you back. If you were to tell this moment to your five year old self, you swore she was gonna punch you in the face for having Heeseung’s cooties.

“So…uhm, I like you too?” You sheepishly smiled, still enveloped in his embrace. The warmth excluding him started to feel like home.

The boy before you mirrored your smile before quickly pecking your lips. You both laughed at the carefree moment. Finally after a decade and two years of constant fighting and suppressed feelings, you both came true to another.

“Come and give me another kiss, girlfriend.” Heeseung felt the corner of his mouth curling up, eyeing his love. The newfound status rolled out of his tongue like it was second nature, like he had practiced it a couple hundred times before.

The butterflies swarming your stomach still continued to linger and even increased tenfold. The tips of your ears showcasing the color of your favorite fruit–strawberries. But instead of melting into a mush (like you would prefer to tbh), you hummed in thought, leaning backwards with his hands wrapped on your waist supporting your back before replying, “Girlfriend?” Your eyebrow shot up. “Maybe after one date, then I’ll consider.”

Heeseung harbored no other emotion in his gaze rather than one reeking of amusement and love as he kissed the tip of your nose, amplifying the crimson shade of your facade.

"Okay, next Saturday, 7pm. Wear something nice, baby."

BONUS:

You and Heeseung made your way back to the dining table with flustered faces, (slightly) swollen lips, and a suspiciously good mood. Taehyun raised his eyebrows at the two older people before him, his gaze later shifted to the side, making eye contact with your dad and Hee’s before receiving two fifty bucks under the table.

Ah, what a good day. Now he just needs to collect the remaining money from Auntie Lee and your mom’s bet.

Kang Ha-yoon and Lee Hae-in watched as their children exchanged sheepish glances instead of muttering curses at the other, a surging proudness fills the air like oxygen, letting the two woman finally breathe in the air with no cut throat tension radiating from you and Heeseung.

They might’ve lost a hundred bucks and may or may not owe Taehyun a new PS5, but as awkward dinners turn into lively conversations (without any passive aggression lacing in your tones) the two women send knowing smiles to each other.

It seemed as if their plan had worked. A little too well maybe but hey, maybe they'll officially be family if this continues. After all, your mothers have always secretly fantasised about yours and Heeseung’s wedding without any knowledge that there is a bigger chance of it coming true.

The private pinterest board rotting in your mother’s account may be for good use after all.

Fin.

TAGLIST -> @jiwuu @xylatox @ttulixia @iboughtnjz @bubblytaetae @wintereals @manuosorioh @ddolleri

AERNX 2025

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x you #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #enhypen x y/n #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung x you

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aeriikiesss · 21 days ago

Text

ONE MORE DRINK

WORD COUNT: 2.0K

TAGS: DBF!hwang in-ho, smut (18+), age gap (reader is in her 20s, in-ho is in his middle 50s), bathroom sex, oral receiving (f receiving), semi-public sex, praise kink, p in v, fingering, aftercare

A/N: you guys dk how much i love dbf in-ho LIKEEEEEEEEEE, i fantasize abt it everyday…also im starting a taglist soon so maybe request in the comments for a taglist?🧍‍♀️ also ts is kinda boring but enjoy i guess..needed something to deal with my everyday ovulation and thats on him

DIVIDERS: sxmmerberries, (i forgot the other one sorry 😭)

PAIR: hwang in-ho x fem!reader

Your father’s birthday party was as exhausting as you expected—crystal glasses clinking in every corner, outdated jazz playing from the outdoor speakers, and the same old family friends you grew up pretending to like.

You were nursing a drink at the bar table tucked near the end of the garden doors, playing with the straw, letting your eyes scan the crowd without interest. Until he showed up.

Hwang In-ho.

The man your father always greeted with a firm handshake and a rare smile. He was older than the rest, quieter too. Carried himself like someone who’d seen too much and spoke too little. His presence didn’t scream for attention — it simply commanded it. And tonight, he looked like sin in a black suit, dark eyes catching the light when he stepped toward the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, settling in beside you with a glass of something deep and amber.

You offered him a sideways smile. “It’s my father’s house. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never stay long,” he noted.

You swirled your drink slowly. “Maybe I was waiting for a reason to.”

He looked at you fully then—and didn’t look away. His gaze traced your face, lingered on your mouth, dipped down to the neckline of your dress and back up again.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he said quietly. “Not to men like me.”

You tilted your head, playing innocent. “What kind of man are you, Mr. Hwang?”

His mouth twitched at the title.

“The kind who doesn’t believe in playing games,” he said. “The kind who knows better.”

“But wants to anyway?”

His jaw ticked.

“You’re too young.”

“I’m old enough to know what I want.”

He didn’t reply—but the way his fingers tightened around his glass, the way his eyes dropped again to your lips, said everything.

You leaned in slightly, voice soft. “If you’re so sure it’s wrong, why haven’t you moved away?”

He stared at you for a long beat.

“I don’t run from temptation,” he said lowly. “I learn how to handle it.”

time skip..

The air between you had grown unbearably thick. You stood first, casually brushing your hand along the edge of his jacket as you walked away — toward the guest hallway. No one noticed. No one cared. Except him.

You didn’t have to look back to know he followed.

The bathroom was dim and spotless, lit by a single warm fixture above the mirror. You leaned against the counter, heart thudding, trying to breathe. Then the door clicked shut. Locked.

When you turned, he was already there—close, controlled, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

“You know this is wrong,” he said, voice low and rough. “Your father—”

“—isn’t here,” you interrupted gently. “And I don’t want to talk about him.”

You stepped closer, until your chest was nearly against his.

“I want to talk about how long you’ve been looking at me like that.”

He exhaled through his nose, trying to pull back. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Then teach me,” you whispered.

His hand was on your waist before you finished the sentence. Not rough — not yet. Just steady, firm. His eyes searched yours, giving you one last chance to walk away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you whispered, “Touch me.”

And he did.

In-ho kissed you like a man who’d waited too long—not frantic, but deep and hungry, like he was trying to commit the taste of you to memory. His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you gently onto the counter behind you, between the twin sinks and the tall mirror.

“You wore this dress for me, didn’t you?” he asked against your neck, voice gruff. “No panties. Bare. All for me.”

You nodded, breath shaky. “I wanted you to see.”

His hand slid up your thigh, slow, warm, until his fingers grazed your bare folds. He paused. You felt him smirk against your jaw.

“Filthy little thing,” he murmured, fingers sliding through your slick. “You’re soaked. All that teasing, and now you’re shaking for me.”

You whimpered as he pushed a finger inside—just one. His other hand braced your lower back, steadying you.

“That’s it,” he said. “Take it. God, you’re tight.”

He added a second finger, slower this time, curling them just right. You gasped, hips lifting from the counter instinctively.

“Eyes up,” he told you, nodding toward the mirror. “Look at yourself.”

You blinked, then obeyed.

In the reflection, you saw everything—the way his broad frame dwarfed you, how flushed your chest had become, the tension in his jaw as he worked you open with practiced hands.

“See what you do to me?” he whispered into your ear. “See how pretty you are when you’re coming undone?”

Your moan echoed softly off the tiled walls. His thumb found your clit, circling slowly—never fast enough, always just shy of overwhelming. It drove you crazy.

“In-ho, please—”

He stilled.

“You don’t get to beg yet,” he growled softly. “Not until you’ve earned it.”

Then he dropped to his knees.

His tongue met your cunt with slow reverence—warm, wet, and endlessly patient. He ate you like it was his last meal, like he’d fantasized about this moment for years. Your thighs trembled around his shoulders as he licked, sucked, and moaned into you.

“Fucking divine,” he muttered. “You taste like sin.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled you apart with nothing but his mouth and the occasional thrust of his fingers. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking uncontrollably, until you came hard and loud against his face.

He stood after, mouth glistening, hands still gripping your hips.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s more like it.”

You reached for him, flushed and dizzy, and pulled him into another kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

“You still want this?” he asked, unzipping his pants slowly.

Your answer was a whispered “yes”—and the desperate look in your eyes.

He was already unzipping his pants, watching your trembling figure on the counter, legs still spread, cunt dripping. The way your chest rose and fell, how your lashes fluttered from the aftershock of your orgasm—it lit something feral in him.

“Tell me again,” he said, voice ragged. “Tell me you want this.”

You reached forward, fingers slipping into his waistband. “I want all of it. I want you inside me, right here. I want you to ruin me.”

That broke him.

He kissed you again, deeper this time—like he hated how much he craved you. He unbuckled his belt one-handed, sliding his slacks and boxers down just enough to free his cock. He was thick, veiny, flushed, already leaking, and he hissed softly when your hand wrapped around him.

You stroked once—slow, deliberate—and he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t tease.”

You swallowed, wide-eyed. “Then take me.”

He dragged you forward to the edge of the counter, lining himself up. His tip brushed through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, not quite pushing in yet.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he muttered. “God, you’re tight—I can feel it.”

“In-ho,” you breathed, nails digging into the counter’s edge.

He looked up, locking eyes with you in the mirror.

“I want you to watch,” he whispered. “Want you to see what it looks like when I make you mine.”

Then he pushed in—slowly, inch by inch, stretching you until your back arched and your mouth fell open.

“Oh my god—”

“Shhh,” he rasped, hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still. “You can take it. Such a good girl… fuck, so good for me.”

It burned a little—he was thick, and the angle was deep. But it was perfect. The fullness, the weight of him pressing deep inside you, the way he hissed through clenched teeth, like your body was the tightest thing he’d ever felt.

“You feel that?” he whispered, grinding in all the way. “No boy’s ever fucked you like this. None of them know how to handle you.”

You shook your head. “Only you.”

“That’s right,” he growled. “Because this pussy belongs to me now.”

He started moving—slow thrusts that built a rhythm, his hips snapping forward with deliberate control. You felt every drag of him inside you, his pelvis brushing your clit just right. His fingers gripped your waist tighter, guiding your movements as he fucked you against the counter.

Your moans filled the room—soft, breathy, desperate.

He caught your gaze in the mirror again.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “Such a dirty little thing. Getting fucked in your daddy’s bathroom like a good girl.”

You whined, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“Feels so good,” you gasped. “You feel so fucking good—”

His enormous cock was parting your walls and stretching you wider than you had ever been stretched before.

"Ohhh fuck!" you cried out, your voice echoing off the bathroom walls as he hilted inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit.

"Take it, you dirty little slut," In-ho growled, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace as he fucked into your clutching heat. "Take my big fucking cock, sweetheart. This is what you needed, isn't it? To be split open on a real man's dick?"

"Fuck yes, it's exactly what I needed," you moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. "Your cock is so big and hard, stretching my pussy so good. I've never felt so full before..”

In-ho laughed darkly, one hand fisting in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your spine to arch. His other hand snaked around your hip to find your clit, his fingers rubbing the sensitive little nub in tight, rough circles.

"That's right, baby. This hungry cunt was made for my big fucking cock," he snarled, his hips never faltering in their brutal pace. "I'm going to ruin this pussy for all other men, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck it so hard and so deep, you'll be ruined for anyone else."

He could feel your walls fluttering and clenching around his pistoning shaft, your body struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him. In-ho knew he was hitting your cervix with each driving thrust, his heavy cockhead kissing your womb as he fucked you with deep, powerful strokes.

He pulled you closer, your thighs hooked around his hips now, the angle deeper. Your back hit the mirror with every thrust. The glass fogged from your breath, and your hand braced behind you to keep steady.

“You gonna come again for me?” he asked, voice low and ragged. “Come on my cock like a needy little slut?”

“Y-Yes—please—”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Let go. Come all over me.”

You fell apart on him—trembling, crying out his name softly, barely remembering to keep quiet while the party murmured in the background outside. Your walls clenched hard around him, and that’s all it took.

He cursed harshly, hips stuttering. Then he pulled you flush against him, burying himself one last time and spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan.

“Fuck—fuck, mine—”

He stayed there, panting against your neck, both of you flushed and trembling, slick with sweat.

…

After a minute, his hand came up to your face, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead. He kissed you—softer this time. Careful. Warm.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, still breathless. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He kissed your shoulder, then the corner of your mouth.

“You deserve more than this,” he murmured. “More than a quick fuck in a locked bathroom.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then don’t make it just that.”

He smiled—sad, almost. “I’ll get you cleaned up.”

He took his time. Helped you off the counter, used warm water to wipe you clean, kissed your thighs with an ache in his eyes. He zipped you back into your dress and made sure your lipstick was fixed before unlocking the door.

Before you stepped out, he leaned in close.

“Text me when you get home,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him.

“I didn’t know you cared.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just gave you that look again—like you were dangerous, and he was already too deep to escape.

masterlist

#hwang in ho #lee byung hun #lee byung hun x reader #squid game #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho x you #squid game fanfic #inho x reader #my fanfiction #inho x you #player 001 x you #player 001 x reader #player 001 #frontman #frontman x you #frontman x reader #squid game smut #smut #dads best friend

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natsswife · 1 month ago

Text

I kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend if you dont mind<3

pairings: nat x fem!reader

summary: nat is head over heels and kinda obsessed w you but thinks you have a boyfriend:(( (u dont)

cw: nat hatesss your “boyfriend”, brief mention of alcohol and cigs, “cheating” on ur bf from nats pov

notes: just something silly a wrote in one sit while listening to after midnight by chappell<3 *starts blasting it*

men&cishet ppl dni ty

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

༘⋆ obsessed!Nat who loves to sit next to you during classes everytime she has the opportunity and that ugly rat- i mean boyfriend of yours isnt near bothering and taking all of your attention, because these little moments are one her biggest opportunities to talk to you, gossip about anything and try to see if there's at least a small chance that you like girls???

༘⋆ obsessed!Nat whose favorite time of the week is when the team have soccer match because that means she can shower u with lots of compliments without sounding weird (so in love with you) cuz for her you're one of the best players in the team, and also take it as an opportunity to ask you for advices and why not? train together everyday after classes so nat can improve her game (pass more time with you) <33

༘⋆ obsessed!Nat who sometimes finds her obsession with you weird because how comes the most “i dont give a fuck abt anything” girl is now giving too much fuck about someone and is now tracking down that ugly boyfriend of yours to see if hes cheating or something so she can tell you and enjoy how you break w him on front of everyone, cuz that means she will a chance with you.

༘⋆ anddd obsessed!Nat who got bored of tracking him down because she now discovered a whole new level of nerd thanks to your ”boyfriend” she almost finished her packs of cigs and he was still stuck at the library reading and reading some boring shit and not talking to anyone, not even some girl that help her caught him red handed or something, but the real question is how can *you* the coolest girl ever, be with such a loser?? how did you never got bored of just hearing him yap about some nothingburger comic?? maybe that's why she never saw you kissing or closer with him, and thanks to that Nat now knows that you need some real fun and she’ll make sure she is the one making you have it, because Nat needs to steal you from that man who’s making u lose your time and be with someone who really loves you and that's her!!!!

༘⋆ so its all set up, during that party some random is gonna throw in a few days Nat's gonna confess her feelings, and she's confident, not because shes kinda obsessed with you and tired of waiting (she is) but also bc it never went unnoticed to her how sometimes you looked at her while she was writing something during class, it always made her sweat and fuck up whatever she was writing, but she never moved because you looking at her made her feel that god heard her non existent prayers and made her feel like she might have a chance? whatever mixed signals you were giving her had nat jumping full of joy mentally

༘⋆ and when the day comes, everyone’s wasted and as soon she spot you with Tai and Van, Nat takes her last shot of whatever deadly combination of drinks kevyn made for her bc for sure she will need some alcoholic encourage to express her love and how she capable of kissing the floor you walk.

༘⋆ she just takes you to a more "safe of men and that ugly rat you have as a bf" space and lets everything out in a kinda “im sorry doll dont hate me but you look way too gay to be with a man, especially that ONE” way while looking at your bf who is talking with jeff and his group (how did he managed to not get bullied by them? she doesnt know and doesnt care lowk)

༘⋆ Nat’s heart did a 180 backflip inside her chest when she saw your beautiful smile just got wider after her confession and a “oh my.. nat are you serious” from you made her sweat like she has been in a marathon, were you expecting this orr…

“yeah why would i lie” she let a nervous giggle and with that something she never expected happened

༘⋆ you just threw yourself into her arms?? and started kissing her??? It was a short, nervous but sweet kiss, both of you nervous as hell but Nat is now confused because why are you cheating on your rat in front of everyone??

༘⋆ but anygays would he mind if she kinda wanna kiss his girlfriend? again after she made the first move?

“NONONO HES NOT MY BOYFRIEND DUMBASS” you let that out almost yelling, do you really look that straight??

༘⋆ u couldnt even hide your excitement because you’ve been waiting for her to make the first move, since you were such a pussy to do that, especially in the toxic world you're all living but now who give a single fuck, the beautiful girl you have been crushing for ages, the one who isnt afraid of showing who she is, dont give a fuck about anything (she now do and thanks to you) is now confessing how much she loves you, and ofc you wont miss the opportunity to kiss her again and again and again, after all everyone is wasted right now.

༘⋆ Nat couldnt believe when you told her that he’s just your childhood friend who got recently transferred and thats why you were close, helping him adapt to the highschool and everything, nat now knows she kinda fucked up by calling him names, tracking him down and deliberately hating him but thats on another topic.

༘⋆ but what she REALLY can't believe is when you confessed that you liked her as well!!!

“I dont know if it's maybe the moonlight who have horny powers, this moment or whatever but… wanna go to my house?” Nat just kissed you as an answer, she’s not gonna waste the opportunity to have you all for herself this night and is gonna make sure you wake up in her arms everyday by now<3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆˚

Do not translate w/o permission, copy or use for AI training, train ur useless brain instead<3

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eclipixels · 6 months ago

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i might have baby fever rn but i can’t stop thinking abt isagi and reader having a son that’s almost an exact copy of isagi in appearance nd being that one meme that’s like “nine months in my womb making me suffer and you look like your stupid dad!” 😭

Ctrl C + Ctrl V

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

[1,149 words]

There is no way, you thought, as you stared at your few-hours-old newborn, cradled in your arms.

Your baby looked just like your husband. Not just in the usual way that babies sometimes resemble their fathers—no, this was almost uncanny. The way the little human looked up at you with the same big blue eyes, blinking sleepily, and that same slightly clueless but endearing expression made you wonder if you had actually just given birth to a clone.

It was almost comical. The same messy dark blue hair that refused to be tamed, the same pout when something didn’t go their way, the same chubby cheeks you had spent years pinching, the same nose that scrunched up just slightly when they yawned. Even the shape of his tiny ears mirrored Isagi’s.

How? Just—how?

You had spent nine long months carrying this child. Nine months of swollen feet, back pain, cravings at ungodly hours, nausea that never quite left, and nearly ripping Isagi’s arm off during labor. And for what? A miniature version of him. A tiny, living, breathing replica of your husband, complete with his wide, dumb grin.

You squinted at your son, shifting him slightly in your arms as he let out a soft coo, his small fingers wiggling in the air. Then, your gaze flickered over to your husband, who was practically vibrating with excitement beside you, looking like he was about to explode from sheer joy.

You scowled.

Then back to your son.

Then to Isagi.

It was like looking at the before and after of a single person. One with slightly more experience in the world and the other just discovering it.

“Nine months,” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with disbelief and just a hint of betrayal. “Nine months in my womb making me suffer, and you come out looking exactly like your stupid dad.”

Your baby gurgled happily, the sound strikingly familiar, and you swore you heard Isagi’s idiotic laugh echoing in that tiny giggle. That was the last straw.

Your husband laughed at your deadpan expression, feigning offense. “Hey! You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You shot him a look before sighing dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

Isagi, who had been eagerly waiting for a chance to hold his son, reached out with grabby hands. “Come on, let me hold him!”

You hesitated for just a second—after all, this was your hard work, your baby, your little bundle of exhaustion and joy. But then, seeing the almost puppy-like expression on your husband’s face, you relented, gently placing your son into his father’s arms.

Isagi’s grin stretched impossibly wide as he carefully cradled the baby, holding him up like he had just won the World Cup.

“He’s so tiny,” Isagi breathed, his voice filled with awe. His hands that were almost broken a few hours ago (courtesy of you) handled the newborn with a tenderness that made your heart melt. He was so good at being a dad.

The baby let out a soft babble, tiny hands reaching out, fingers curling toward Isagi’s face. Your husband immediately leaned in, letting the little fingers brush against his nose before pressing a series of noisy kisses to your son’s chubby cheeks.

“I hate you.” You tell Isagi as he pouts, it looks as if Isagi was the one who gave birth, not you.

“At least someone loves me right now,” he declared proudly as he turned to face the baby in his arms, making exaggerated kissing noises. “Isn’t that right, B/n?”

You scoffed, but the fondness in your gaze betrayed you. “Unfair. He’s supposed to be my baby.”

Isagi turned his wide eyes toward you, feigning shock. “Our baby, you mean.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. “Debatable.”

Isagi gasped in mock offense. “Hey! What are you insinuating? I thought you loved me.”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

Your husband let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head, ”Can you believe her, B/n?”

Your son, oblivious to the playful banter between his parents, let out a tiny sneeze. Both you and Isagi immediately snapped your attention back to him.

“Ack, was that a sneeze?” Isagi asked, his voice rising in pitch with alarm.

“It was just a tiny sneeze, calm down,” you reassured him.

“What if he’s cold? Does he need a blanket? Should I hold him closer?”

You groaned. “He’s fine, Ichi. Babies sneeze.”

Isagi narrowed his eyes at you, skeptical, but ultimately sighed in relief when the baby simply yawned and nestled deeper into his arms. A moment of silence settled between you both as you watched your son, his tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. The weight of the moment seemed to sink in fully for the first time, this was your family now.

Your husband let out a breathless chuckle, shifting to sit beside you on the hospital bed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He gently pressed your son back into your arms, making sure you were comfortable before leaning in close, his chin resting lightly against your shoulder.

“He’s perfect,” Isagi murmured.

You sighed, glancing down at your son, tracing a finger along his soft cheek. “Of course you’d think that when he looks just like you.”

“I don’t hear you disagreeing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. “Let’s see if you still think that when it’s your turn to wake up for late-night feedings and crying.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Anything for my little clone.”

You playfully shoved him. “Your clone? You’re not helping your case.”

Isagi just grinned, unbothered, eyes twinkling with mischief before ever so softly whispering. “Maybe the next one will look like you.”

You froze, your entire body stiffening. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. “Next?”

Isagi burst into laughter, clearly amused by your reaction. “Just saying, we make cute kids.”

You groaned, resting your head against the pillow. “Give me at least a year before you start talking about ‘the next one.’”

Your husband chuckled, leaning over to nuzzle against you and the baby. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sighed in exasperation, but there was no real annoyance behind it. As much as you liked to tease him, you knew, deep down, that there was no one else you would rather be doing this with. There was no one else you’d rather be the father of your child. Your baby let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer against your chest. You wondered if at least he’d get your personality if not looks. You whispered a soft, ‘I love you’ to your baby before tilting your head towards the man you were bound to spend the rest of your life with.

“I love you, Ichi”

“I love you, too,” Isagi replied warmly, “and you too, little one.”

A/N: Made the meme for this fic 😭

#blue lock yoichi isagi #blue lock yoichi #blue lock isagi yoichi x reader #bllk yoichi isagi #bllk isagi yoichi x reader #blue lock isagi yoichi #blue lock #bllk isagi yoichi #bllk #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi #bllk isagi #isagi x you #yoichi x reader

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xxgoldie · 8 months ago

Text

ns/fw ramblings - minors dni

ik we all like to imagine lighter as some sort of sex god - it comes with the territory of a confident n hot male character. but the more I think abt how much of a down-bad dork he is, the more the idea of him being a virgin, or at least having very little experience, is so so delicious to me. like, he could absolutely fuck if he wanted to, he canonically has fangirls, but he's a sap and he wants to wait for the right person. not to say he isn't horny - he fs watches porn and his head is full of fantasies.

imagine your relationship reaching that point, messily making out while you grind on his lap, both of you in nothing but your underwear. being able to touch all of you like this, the feeling of your clothed crotch rubbing against his, the soft little noises you made when your clit pressed against him - all infinitely better than his wildest fantasies, and he doesn't think to stop you until its already too late and he's cumming in his boxers with a stuttered groan.

he hadn't told you it was his first time. he had meant to, but things got hot and heavy before he got the chance, and he didn't exactly know how to slip it into conversation when you were taking your shirt off. it certainly looked like you were putting the pieces together now, a brief silence falling over you as you realised what had happened.

"lighter, did you just-" "i. i am so sorry-" "hey, don't apologise. are you okay?"

you aren't mad, visibly more surprised than disappointed, but even as you reassure him, his thoughts spiral. he finally found his person, finally felt ready to do this, and he'd gone and fucked it up. your sweet words fly in one ear and out the other, only making him feel more guilty that you were being so nice about it. he wanted to make you feel good, recreate all his late-night fantasies where fucked you until you couldn't think about anything but the feel of him, catering to your pleasure over and over again - you deserved that. yet here he was, falling apart at your slightest touch.

he only really snaps out of it when you kiss him, feather-light against his lips. your finger is tracing soft patterns against his bare chest, the feeling grounding him.

"trust me, love, its okay. i'll take it as a compliment."

there's a slight teasing glint in your eye - not making fun of him, but showing him this wasn't a big deal. when you kiss him again, he deepens it, as if he's trying to push all his scrambled thoughts of love and devotion from his mind to yours. your hips had been hovering over his, but you lowered yourself back into his lap as the rhythm of your tongues intensified. he almost felt relieved when he felt his dick twitch back to life.

"i really am sorry, baby." "i told you, you have nothing to apologise for. besides-" you wiggled your hips a little, drawing a sensitive hiss from his lips "-it feels like you're getting ready to make it up to me."

it may be an awkward start to his first time, but when he finally feels you sink down onto him, lighter feels like he's just found a heaven he's been waiting his whole life for. you feel impossibly good around him, but he thinks that even if his dick was numb, he could cum just from watching you - your low whine as he fills you up, the way your whole body tenses at the stretch then relaxes into pleasure, how you have to brace against his chest when he starts to thrust up into you.

he doesn't last long this time, either - any stamina he had built up by jacking off was for naught when you felt so much better than his hand. but he's so eager to please, a newfound addiction to the way your hips buck and eyes roll back. he makes you cum with his fingers, experimenting to see what makes you tick, eyes roaming your body and logging every little twitch and keen, confidence skyrocketing every time you praise him or beg for more. he's a fast learner - he has to be, he wants to see you fall apart like that over and over and over again.

(okay this turned out WAY longer than I intended it to be but I'm brainrotting so hard abt him, like can you blame me. also this is completely unedited and i wrote it one go lmao)

#he has a massive praise kink and you cant convince me otherwise #goldie thirsts ♡#zenless zone zero #zzz #zzz lighter #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter lorenz #lighter zzz #x reader #zzz lighter x reader #lighter x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #zzz x reader #zzzero x reader #zzzero

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itoshislave · 2 months ago

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hi babe! i’m so new to your account and we repost sooo many of the same fics and i like your taste xoxo

i was wondering if maybe you could write a fic abt tsukishima (haikyuu). an x reader that’s post high school like summer before college. friends-lovers pls pls pls pls. they go to a party after the last day of school and reader has always been shy and never found the right time to say something to kei but gets a little tipsy and gets some confidence to confess. and like since they’d always been friends he thinks she’s joking but it gets nsfw when he realizes she’s serious. if it’s not too much? 🙏🏼😚

nonnie, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭it's been so long since I've been around here. My God, I'm so embarrassed to answer your ask after all this time, but I hope you like it♡♡♡

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨𝘋𝘙𝘜𝘕𝘒 𝘖𝘕 𝘠𝘖𝘜, 𝘚𝘖𝘉𝘌𝘙 𝘐𝘕 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ — Tsukishima Kei

۶ৎ Amidst the golden lights, the overly sweet drinks, and the dangerous smiles, you realize that you’ve spent too long running away from your feelings for him. And Tsukishima—with his bored expression and eyes that see too much—may have been waiting for this moment all along. On a night when everything pulsates—the floor, the bodies, the truths—you finally stop pretending that it’s just a game. And you start to discover what’s really hiding behind it.

cw: explicit sex, unprotected sex (consensual, with emotional context), strong sexual language, use of alcoholic beverages, spanking, dirty talk and light domination, sex in a public place (bathroom at a party), adult characters. English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are a lot of spelling mistakes. Enjoy!🤗

The night was alive in a strange way. The beats of the music passed through the house, vibrating in the floor, in the windows and the ribs. Laughter came from every corner, bodies huddled on couches, in the hallways, even in the backyard lit by strings of yellow lights. And there he was — leaning against the wall, with a glass of soda in his hand, watching everything with that bored look that you knew was just a facade.

Tsukishima had always been there. Ever since freshman year. Too tall, too sarcastic, always with a ready comeback. And you? Always trying to keep up, stumbling over your words, blushing more than you'd like to admit every time he stared for too long.

The conversations came and went. Someone pushed a glass of something too sweet for you, and you accepted it. Then another. A third warmed your chest, and suddenly everything seemed easier to say.

You spent the whole night circling around him. It was always like that. People thought it was cute —“look at them, always together”—but no one knew that there was a weight on your shoulders every time he touched you by chance. That you had words stuck in your throat since first grade.

“What a dangerous combination. Are you lost?” He asked as you approached, his tone drawn out, almost lazy. A small smile curved his mouth. “Or did you just stumble into another conversation with me?” He said, raising an eyebrow, the mischievous smile slowly forming, as if he found you amusing.

You huffed, crossing your arms. He looked at you appraisingly, as if he were measuring the distance between your courage and your shame.

“You sound like I do this all the time.”

He took a sip from his glass and looked over the rim.

“You do.”

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Heat rose to your face. Again. Of course.

That was the game. He liked to see you stumble. To keep you on the edge between “Get out of my way” and “I won’t bite if you’re so desperate to kiss me.” You thought it was just a tease. Until you realized he only did that to you. That sent butterflies into your stomach.

“You suck,” you muttered, taking the glass from his hand. You took a sip, tasting the sweet, cold drink. “I should stop talking to you.”

“But you won’t.”

"Why?"

He shrugged, approaching with that slowness that made your heart race.

“Because you love it… And I have so much fun watching you try to hide how much you like me.”

You froze. The words stuck in your throat and the silence between you seemed to scream. He didn't look away. He just waited. Enjoying the chaos he caused in you.

But this time, you were different.

Maybe it was the heat. Or the drink. Or the certainty that if you didn't say anything, you would spend the next few years hating yourself.

You took a deep breath.

“What if I don’t want to hide it anymore?”

Tsukishima arched an eyebrow, that smug smile making your stomach churn.

“Oh, sure... You must be so in love with me, right?”

The heat rose again, but you didn't back down.

“What if I am?”

He was silent for a moment. It was not a silence of superiority, but of surprise. His eyes blinked rapidly, his mouth opened and closed, and he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t joke about that, idiot.”

“I'm not joking.”

The silence seemed thicker now. Tsukishima looked you up and down, as if searching for some trace of playfulness on your face. He didn't find any.

His smile faded. And something else appeared in his eyes. Something warm. Something dangerous.

“Damn,” he muttered. “You’re serious.”

You just bit your lip and shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

The change in him was subtle, but real. The tension in his jaw. The eyes fixed on yours, suddenly darker.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

“I have. For a long time now.”

He shook his head slowly, chuckling softly. Tsukishima curled his lower lip into an almost predatory smile, as if he was finally starting to really enjoy himself. He leaned his face toward you, so close that the heat of his breath touched your skin. His voice was low, husky, made just for you to hear:

“And now that you confessed... what are you going to do with it?”

Your heart was beating too loudly. Loud enough for him to hear.

You swallowed hard, but tried to maintain your composure.

“I don’t know yet. Are you going to give me options?”

He smirked, satisfied—the kind of smile that made your stomach sink and your knees threaten to buckle.

“Ah, yes…” He said, his voice almost lazy, but filled with restrained malice. “I have many in mind. But I don’t know if you can handle it.”

His gaze moved down over you slowly, as if he were analyzing you, testing you. No rush. The touch of his fingers returned, now lightly brushing your waist, as if he were already teasing you with that alone.

“I can be quite… creative.” He continued, with an air of knowing exactly what effect he was having. “But only if you promise to take whatever I give you.”

You laughed, a little nervous, a little defiant.

“Do you really think I’m the running type?”

He took a step closer, closing the space between you until there was nothing left. His nose was almost touching yours, and his gaze was direct, fixed on your eyes with an intensity that almost hurt.

“No. I think you’re the type to stay… until the end.” he said, his voice low, husky, full of promise.

The silence between you was broken only by the muffled sound of party music in the distance. The rest of the world seemed suspended. Tsukishima looked at you as if he was finally seeing everything—as if every provocative thought he had ever had about you was now free, unbridled, unfettered.

Then he came closer.

The kiss wasn’t immediate. It was a slow brush of mouths, as if testing. As if asking if you were sure you really wanted this. And your answer came when you pulled his shirt with your fingers, wordlessly. His mouth found yours more firmly now, hot, full of intention. It was restrained desire, mixed with that silent provocation of someone who knew the effect it caused.

Tsukishima pressed you lightly against the wall, in a darker corner of the house, away from the hubbub of the party. His hand slowly moved up your back, firm, until it reached the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, controlling the rhythm of the kiss — sometimes slow, sometimes too deep to be just a kiss.

His fingers slid down your waist again, this time under your shirt, touching your skin. Cold and electrifying. He murmured against your mouth, between one kiss and another:

“You're shaking...” He smiled. “What’s wrong? Nervous, are you?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled softly and let his lips trail down to your neck, slowly, testing your limits, teasing your with every subtle bite, every sigh he drew. His hand moved up your belly, warm and determined, until it reached your breasts over the fabric, squeezing lightly, exploring. He was in no hurry. He wanted to feel your every reaction.

When you moaned softly, he stopped just to look into your eyes, his face so close that you could feel his warm breath mixing with yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

The answer died in your throat when he kissed you again, this time with more hunger, more urgency. Your bodies fit together naturally, as if they had been silently rehearsing this for months.

The muffled laughter of someone in the next room reminded you of where you were — and the involuntary startle that ran through your body didn't go unnoticed by him. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his fingers still tangled in the hem of your shirt, his chest pressed against yours.

“Do you remember that the house is full, is that it?”

You looked around, as if you only now realized how wide open everything was. He smiled, with that subtle malice he learned to use to unsettle you.

“Then let’s find a place where you can moan freely,” he whispered against your mouth.

Tsukishima intertwined his fingers with yours and, without waiting for an answer, calmly pulled you down the hallway, walking confidently between the rooms. You passed by a few groups too distracted by the music and their own conversations. No one noticed. He led you to the house's guest bathroom, locking the door behind you as soon as you entered.

The space was small, with dim yellow lighting, the muffled sound of the party vibrating through the walls. As soon as the latch clicked, he turned to you with that hungry look in his eyes—and within seconds, his mouth was back on yours.

This time there was no hesitation.

His hands went straight to the hem of your blouse, lifting it up and taking it off with restrained haste. His lips slid from your mouth to your neck, down to your collarbone, while his fingers unbuttoned your shorts. He backed you up against the sink, his hands firmly on your waist.

“Look at you here, all surrendered,” he murmured, his voice low, warm against your skin. “At a party full of people, and yet so quiet when I touch you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but all that came out was a moan as his fingers slipped inside your panties. A sure touch—his firm fingers finding the warm wetness of your needy pussy. He smiled against your skin.

“What do we have here… You’re so easy, aren’t you? Or is that because it's me?”

Tsukishima watched you with half-closed eyes, his fingers moving skillfully and rhythmically. One of them slid inside, slowly, and then another. Moving them slowly in scissor movements to get used to your walls. The muffled moans against his shoulder made your body instinctively arch, seeking more. And he took advantage. With his free hand, he pulled one of your legs up, opening more space between you, fitting himself there.

“I knew you would react like this…” he whispered. “So beautiful, all mine.”

You reached for the hem of his shirt and began to pull urgently, and he helped you pull it off, revealing his warm skin, his tense muscles. His hips pressed against yours, his hard cock through his pants rubbing against your pussy—and it was almost enough to make you beg.

He kissed you again, now with his entire body pressed against yours, his fingers still teasing you as he began to undo his own clothes with his other hand. The kiss turned into a bite, the touch turned into a need.

And finally, with his gaze locked on yours, he asked softly, almost in a hoarse whisper:

“Do you still want the options, or can I show you how much I really want you?”

Heat covered your body like a blanket. Your legs trembled in excitement at how close he was. Looking down, you could see his erect cock, thick, hot and heavy, the tip swollen in a fiery shade of pink that left your insides begging to have him inside you as soon as possible.

You don’t know what came over you, but your hand seemed to have a life of its own as you dragged your short nails down the back of his neck, creating a sinful path of welts that met the happy trail of blond pubic hair below his belly button. Boldly dragging your curious index finger lower, until the weeping tip smeared in pre-cum was within your power.

Wrapping your hand around the glans, you used your thumb to catch a thick drop of pre-cum that was slowly dripping from the slit. Moving the foreskin up and down, you watched in almost awe as his cock grew wetter and wetter, making low popping noises as you moved your hand.

“Kei…” It comes out breathlessly, almost like a plea.

“Fuck, don’t do this to me…” You suddenly lifted your face, stopping your movements. Tsukishima had his forehead resting on your shoulder, breathing heavily and starting to thrust his hips against your hand as he began to miss the stimulation.

“Do what?” You ask hesitantly. Did you did something wrong?

He slowly raised his face, his eyes half closed and his cheeks slightly flushed—which was rare, and absolutely beautiful.

“Saying my name like that…” He murmured, as if admitting it cost him something. “Like you’re begging me to fuck you. I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do to you if you keep going.”

The tension between you grew thick, electric. You could feel the weight of his confession hanging between you, and the way he was looking at you now—as if he didn’t know whether to kiss you or devour you—ignited something hot in the very center of your body.

Without saying anything, you wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered very close:

“I want it all. Do whatever you want to me.”

That was all he needed.

Tsukishima ripped his glasses off his face and threw them carelessly onto the sink counter, grabbing your thigh with one hand and lifting your leg again, fitting himself more firmly between them. His other hand ran quickly between the two of you, grabbing his hard, heavy cock, which rubbed against you, slippery with excitement. He rubbed the tip between your wet lips, his teeth clamped on his lower lip as he watched you with unbearable attention.

“Tell me that you want it,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, broken, urgent.

“I want it, Kei,” you said without hesitation, your eyes locked on his. “I want it so bad…”

He groaned softly, almost as if he had lost an internal battle, and thrust his hips in one movement, entering you slowly, practically whimpering as the tip was crushed by the tight, gummy rings of your pussy. Practically sucking him deeper inside until he reached the bottom.

You gasped loudly, gripping his shoulders, your back pressed against the cold bathroom mirror. He paused for a second in there, completely encased, as if he wanted to memorize the sensation. The heat. The tightness. You.

“Fuck…” he whispered against your neck. “feels s'good inside you baby... Oh fuck”

The rhythm started steady, controlled—but it wouldn’t last long. The thrusts came precisely, each one deeper than the last, making your body slam against the mirror in sync with his. Every time you said his name, every time you moaned loudly, he lost a little more of his composure.

His hands explored your skin as if they wanted to map every inch, and his mouth didn't stop — kisses, bites, heavy breathing. Tsukishima was out of his mind, and you loved seeing him like that. So far from the cold and calculated pose.

“Oh God… fuckk– pussy so good gonna make me cum so quickly” He said in a raspy voice. “Keep squeezing me with that pussy baby – ahh f-fuck fuck fuck keep milking my cock until it explodes inside you” Tsukishima accelerated a littlemore, keeping the thrusts shallower.

“Cum with me baby, please? Cum on my cock so I can cum inside you.” His hand moved down between you, finding your clit and massaging it in firm, rhythmic circles, in time with his thrusts. You cried out at the mastery of his fingers, thrusting your hips against his to feel him in your throat.

“Oh y-yess fuck me back with that pussy,” Tsukishima's strong hands ran shakily to grip your sides firmly, guiding your body like a rag doll to hammer even harder inside you. “Come on pretty baby, let'me see that tiny cunt cum nice and easy f'me…Just like that– oh fuckk yea… you gonna make me cum baby, Ah fuck yesyesyesyes gonna cum… o-oh fuck, gonna cum so fucking hard – ahh Fuck–!”

You felt your climax building fast, like a wave about to break. His thrusts became sloppier, more desperate, his moans mixing with yours. And when the orgasm hit you, taking you apart completely, he came with you, burying himself all the way in and letting out a deep, hoarse moan into your neck, shaking all over.

The bodies remained glued together for silent seconds. Only the sound of the two trying to breathe properly filled the stuffy bathroom.

Tsukishima rested his forehead against yours again, still panting, and smiled—a slow smile, of someone satisfied and completely surrendered.

“Tell me you’ll stay after this.”

You smiled back, your fingers still playing with the back of his neck.

“I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”

He laughed, and you felt the laughter vibrate against your body.

“That’s good to hear… because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

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mookiesspace · 11 months ago

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𝑆𝑂𝑈𝐿𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸𝑆

ony x black fem reader , mentions of cheating , toxic relationship , jealousy , angst , use of pet names ( mama, baby ) , short story , not proofread

a/n : this is js a late night scenario I thought abt w cheater ony he been stuck in my head all night 😭 . + this is not part 2 !!

"I give you chance after fucking CHANCE Onyankopon and you still pull this dumbshit on me." feeling the tears start to burn your big doe eyes you throw all of ony's shit at him. you had already pack all his shit up that he left at your house just like last time. "I'm done trying to please and pamper yo lyin ass! WHY DO I HAVE TO PROVE TO YOU THAT I'M WORTH MORE THAN THOSE BITCHES YOU LIKE TO FUCK AROUND ON?!?!" he didn't even try to argue nor fight back with you. he knew he fucked up.. again. and this was by far your last straw. you've had it with him sleeping around with random bitches coming home to you acting like he loves and values you when in reality he doesn't. was it so hard to stay loyal?? what was it all for. you've spent to much time on this man and this time you were really done. as you finish throwing his shit at him you glare at him sucking back the small hiccups & salty tears you feel like expressing. "GET out. and I mean it this time Onyankopon. don't you EVER come back here." "Ma-" "OUT ONY!" and those were the last words you ever spoke to him before kicking him out for good. until that very night..

there he was. your good for nothing ass ex boyfriend, Onyankopon, standing up tall holding a bouquet of red roses as if nothing at all happened. "you've gotta be fucking kidding me.." you muttered in a shaky tone rubbing your puffy red eyes from pervious crying you'd done earlier. "Listen mama I know you mad bu-" "mad?? FUCKING MAD ONY!?!" you yell angerly cutting him off. is he fucking serious you thought. you didn't know if you wanted to cry or scream in that moment.. "I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN ONY!!" before getting the chance to fully slam your door a hard hand brings it to a sudden opening again. "Please mama, just listen to me.. you know ian mean it.." "Ony get the fuck out" "Please mama. baby I need you to hear me." "On-" "Please baby..." and just like that it was last month all over again.. ony cheating on you, throwing him out, just to find him at your doorstep that very night with a bouquet of flowers sneaking his way back into your already broken heart. you feel your hot tears start to stream down your puffy cheeks and your lip begins to quiver. and there ony was, lifting your chin up only to lean in and kiss those pretty lips of yours knowing damn well you'd never get rid of him for good. because like you said you were soulmates..

#mookiesspace !#attack on titan #attack on titan x black fem reader #attack on titan x black reader #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black fem reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #toxic ony #attack on titan x reader #aot x black reader #ony x black fem reader #mikasa x black reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #mookies fics <3

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faehellure · 1 year ago

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ｗｈａｔｓｈａｔｔｅｒｓｙｏｕ？

BETRAYAL.

you are so tired of giving your trust away, only to have it thrown back in your face… your heart has been broken, again and again, by those you've mistakenly believed in. "perhaps this time will be different", you say. my dear, it won't. your heart is too gullible for the cruel world around you

#* [ queue. ] out for a bite .#* [ abt. ] kiss me like it's your last chance !

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jujuprincesinhasofia · 6 months ago

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because Stranger Things did not say

“you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to" in s1,

"Nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world" in s2,

"Instead of dating somebody because you think's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around?" in s3,

and screamed "It's forced conformity. That's what's killing the kids! That's the real monster." in s4

for people to assume a character's sexuality and use it as an argument to say there's no chance a ship is endgame, ignoring countless parallels with canon ships (crazy together, lost you, hand holding, screaming for the name, running to apologize, sleeping in the hospital, characters sacrificing their feelings, looking at lips, and more)

the show is called stranger things, its about NOT being what's considered normal, it will NOT have the boy and girl who met at 12 and kissed a few days later when she didn't even know what she liked be endgame if they don't work their many problems out (for example mike lying in the monologue)

but ultimately, its a show for the "nerds and freaks," it's a show for the "I'm not like your other friends. And I'm not like Nancy Wheeler"

it's about realizing that "I may be a shitty boyfriend but turns out I'm a pretty damn good babysitter" and that being "Platonic with a capital P" with a girl can be "bitchin" too

it wont be mileven endgame until el knows who she is without almost dying for more than one episode and without a boyfriend. come on, why do people want her to get proposed to at 18 when "there's more to life than stupid boys"

the show is about making "when you’re different, sometimes you feel like a mistake" people "feel like she’s not a mistake at all. Like she’s better for being different."

and well, if "fruit on your pizza is gnarly, you say? Well, I say try before you deny"

update abt posting a similar on reddit: people are surprisingly nice!!! im happy to have been proved wrong. 6 upvotes, a respectful comment saying im reaching, and not banned!!

update two: some downvotes :(

update three: some very mean people, some very nice people!!!!

update four: some are confusing, but no one cussed me out yet, im still happy bc of that nice person who doesn't even ship byler

update five: i got removed and called a very awful person lmao, it lasted an hour

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #byler tumblr #will byers #eleven hopper #stranger things 5 #byler nation #byler endgame

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amourtoken · 5 months ago

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So I've slept like shit for days and in my exhausted state all I can think abt is this fucking image unfortunately so YALL SUFFER WITH ME also god this is so unedited and uncoordinated but forgive me I am psychotically sleep deprived

(tw in case anyone's bothered by mentions of partaking in the devils lettuce btw)

Can't see it without thinking of being squished between the two of them on the already too small couch at the lake house. Jack invited you over, promising to get you high and offer up plenty of snacks afterwards. Not that you'd ever need an excuse to spend time with him, but how could you ever turn that down?

When you arrived you didn't expect Quinn to be there but by no means were you complaining. You feel like you rarely see him nowadays so of course your best friends oldest brother is a welcomed sight. You'd dropped everything at the door and Jack all but drags you down onto the couch, his hands lingering on your hips a little longer than what could be considered normal. Again, you can't complain.

It takes no time to get you just as high as they were, a handful of hits had a comforting warmth spread through your body until you felt like you were melting into the cushions with a contented sigh. Your face was pressed against Jack's shoulder and you could feel Quinn's thigh pressed up against yours, if you weren't leaning into Jack then he'd probably be even closer.

When was the last time you really looked at your best friend? Like really looked? You swear you don't remember him being so...pretty. He's always been pretty but not like this. Right?

Your eyes traveled down his arm, watching him roll a few extra for later. The way his fingers moved made your insides heat up and the way his eyebrows knit together when he's focused has become insanely endearing. He feels so warm against you you can't help but nuzzle your face further against his arm, tucking your face against his neck when he finishes up and finally leans back. Jack's arm instinctively tightens around your shoulders to keep you close, his head tilts back against the couch cushions and you can visibly watch the tension in his body ease away. The mix of his cologne and the smell of smoke lingering has your thighs squeezing together, fuck.

Jack's hand squeezes your shoulder gently before sliding down to your waist to sit more comfortably. You thought you would've been more shocked to feel Quinn's hand tracing little shapes on your thigh but nothing could bother you right now. You feel weightless, it's been ages since you've had the chance to smoke maybe that's why it's hitting you so hard? Quinn's hand on your thigh snakes down to your knee, hooking under it and dragging it to sit over his own so your legs were spread wide.

"You doin' okay, pretty girl? All you gotta do is say the word and we'll stop okay?"

Jack's free hand tilted your face up to meet his, making sure you were paying attention. The eye contact made you feel small, and it felt like your heartbeat fell from your chest to settle between your legs. You would've squeezed them together again if Quinn hadn't kept them forced open, his hand kneading at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Everywhere his fingers trailed felt hot, like he was transferring an electric current through your skin. Are you sure this is real? This seems a little too coordinated.

Just as Jack leaned in for a kiss, Quinn's fingers slid under the hem of your shorts, brushing your clit through the fabric and making your hips jerk involuntarily. The kiss muffled the sound of your whines, not that it really mattered since no one was home yet. Quinn worked your shorts down your legs while you were occupied with Jack, tapping your thigh to get you to lift your hips for him enough to slide them off. You're so attentive, doing so good for him. Without the pesky fabric in the way he could really do whatever he wanted now, thankfully.

Much to your displeasure Jack pulled away from the kiss, short strings of saliva connecting the two of you before breaking off as he got too far away. His hands slid down your torso to drag your shirt up and off your body, leaving you totally stripped for them. You felt extra exposed since they were totally dressed but it only added to the buzzing in your skull from earlier.

Theres barely enough room on the couch as is but they'd make it work. Jack shifted to turn sideways, dragging you into his lap so you were both facing Quinn at the other end. Your brain was so fuzzy you happily let them maneuver you however they needed, leaning back against Jack's chest like it's second nature. His body heat felt like it was melting you from the inside out and you knew you really weren't in your right mind but if this were actually a dream you'd be upset to wake up from it.

Quinn's hands immediately worked their way back between your thighs, Jack's legs keeping yours spread conveniently for his brother.

"Fuck, pussy's so pretty- bet you taste so fuckin' good-"

Quinn's voice sounded strained, he didn't wanna make this all about him but he needed to feel you one way or another. His fingers barely brushed your slit and came back drenched in your slick, you're really enjoying yourself, huh? You thought you'd pass out seeing Quinn bringing his fingers up to lick you off of them but you scrambled to hang onto whatever was left of your mind by tiny threads.

It took no effort to sink two of his fingers deep into you, laughing to himself at the way your back arched so harshly when he scissored them inside you. The wet sound of Quinn's fingers fucking into you made your face heat up, you tried to hide it by burying your face against Jack's neck but it was pointless. As Quinn stretched you out, Jack's hands roamed your body like it was his job to map out every inch and commit you to memory. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples just to hear you whine his name, you could feel his cock twitch in his sweats from behind you every time his name rolled off your tongue. Its never sounded sweeter than when it's falling from your lips, he's sure.

Quinn's fingers curved just right inside you to hit spots that made your eyes roll back, you're sure you couldn't replicate his efforts if you tried and in the back of your mind you dread the day you'll have to. Jack left one of his hands to knead at your tits while the other trailed down your body to help unravel you just a little bit faster, circling your clit while Quinn focused on filling you up. You've never felt the coil in your stomach twist up so fast in your life, it felt like you could barely catch your breath and your thighs were shaking terribly. You'd think you've done this a hundred times the way they seemingly know just how to please you.

"Gonna cum for us, pretty girl? I know you're close, it's okay. We want you to feel good, baby"

Jack pressed a kiss to your temple to reassure you, the pet name making you clench around Quinn's fingers. Everything felt so out of control, your nails sunk into Jack's forearm for some leverage before you tipped over the edge of your orgasm with a pathetic yelp. Quinn worked another finger into you to work you through it, the feel of you pulsing around them made his cock strain against his pants so hard it hurt. Black spots flooded your vision heavily and you held onto Jack like he was the only thing keeping you glued to earth in this moment. As far as you're concerned, it's the truth.

"That's it, fuck- you're doing so good for us, angel. Good girl."

"I got you baby, don't worry. Just wanna make you feel good."

It took ages for your vision to clear up but your legs never stopped shaking, there's no way you'd be standing anytime soon. Jack's arms tightened around your waist to keep you steady and you could feel him grinding against your ass from behind before you even opened your eyes again. God he felt big but the feel of Quinn's slapping his tip against your clit jerked you out of your haze quickly.

"Think you can handle another round, baby?"

#Jack #Quinn #Jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #Quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader

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axxa-the-allikatt · 6 months ago

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Dude I finally got the time to write this but the story kept going on and on and on and- so I sorta decided to do two parts of this. Istg I didn't expect it to become this long but here we are.

Ps, the last time I did an anon request they didn't find out l'd posted it until like a month later so if you do read this please text me something so I won't be paranoid abt it TwT.

ALSO, shout out to that one horny Brant fan in my requests box. I feel you homie e. Lmk if you like this.

Enjoy!

***

Brant X Top Male Rover:>

***

It had been almost two months since you started visiting the fools ship almost every other day, and it had been almost two months since you’ve looked Brant in the eye.

The first time you’d met him, you were too busy getting your brain circuits in check after that little accident with the big- fish?- and your eyes were too busy wandering over the ship to let them linger too long on those comfy looking man boobs of his.

But now that all that commotion was put on a pause? You did not miss a single chance to let your eyes wander down from his pretty lips to his neck (oh lord how you wanted to mark him up) to the gap between his perfectly cut shirt that let you catch a glimpse of all that skin and muscle underneath.

It’s not like you were ashamed of it. You had noticed him staring at your arms every time you did the heavy work around the hide out, the way his eyes trailed your adams apple when you took a sip from the water bag he always carries around and the way his breath caught when you placed a hand on his hip as you stood behind him, leaning into him as you butted into whatever conversation he was having with someone.

Oh no, you weren’t ashamed at all. And if anyone accused you of doing these actions exaggeratedly in the presence of the other man, you would admit it in the blink of an eye.

But despite being aware of the obvious chemistry between the two of you, you both avoided a conversation about it like it was the plague. The crew, who had found it amusing and entertaining at first, now felt that finding a cure for a deadly disease would be easier than getting you two to have a conversation about this little whatever thing was going on between you.

Since verbal communication wasn’t an option and they couldn’t possibly force the two of you to kiss, they did the next best thing they could think of. They locked you up in the ships cabin and refused to let you go until you both figured your shit out. At first, you tried breaking the cabin down but realised with disdain that breaking the cabin meant letting the sea water in. Which brought you to your current situation.

“Uhhh” you muttered intelligently, eyes flitting around the room until they landed yet again on the other man’s chest. You couldn’t help it. They looked too comfy and you had way more than once thought about what it would feel like sleeping on them. As your thoughts continued to go south into a prohibited lane, you heard a low chuckle, then his voice. “My eyes are up here, Rover”.

You swallowed as your eyes flitted up to meet his. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips again and you could see his eyes follow the motion before copying it without a thought. You wanted to smack yourself as your eyes again started trailing down the path they had followed so many times, to his lips, down his neck, then back to where they usually were.

You were startled out of the little scenario that you were creating in your head when something slid from under the door, sliding to a stop at Brant’s feet. He picked it up, and your eyes yet again followed their target, his clothes slipping a little and giving you just enough view of what was hidden to let your blood start flowing south.

Brant stood up again, as he ripped open the tape of a brown paper bag, then peeked in to see the contents before throwing it with an unexpected force, startling you out of another scenario you were going through. “What the- hey what was that?” You asked, turning around little to walk over to the bag. “Uh nothing! Don’t- don’t worry about it.” He exclaimed, motioning you to let it go. Now you were curious. What had gotten your pretty boy all pink and cute like that?

You continued to make your way over to the corner of the room where the bag had fallen until he hurriedly slid across your path. “It’s nothing. Just a joke between the crew” he reassured you, trying to walk you back. “Oh, so you don’t consider me as your crew yet?” You faux pouted, abruptly turning around, causing him to knock into you, face dangerously close to yours.

You could hear his breath hitching, then trying to relax as he tried to explain himself. “That’s not- I’m not-“ he sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant” he replied, eyes looking at anything but yours. “Then what did you mean?” You asked. He sighed again as he closed his eyes and you took this chance to dash past him, reaching the corner and grabbing the bag, before Brant nearly crashed over to you.

You leaped out of his reach and looked into the bag, ready to tease him about whatever was in it, until your breath caught in your throat and you froze. Inside the bag, was a bottle of what seemed suspiciously like lube and a few packs of, what were definitely, condoms.

The two of you stood there for an awkward moment until you decided to be a petty bitch. “Oh? So what was the joke between the crew, captain?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes slightly widening, as he gave you a half annoyed, half desperate look. “It’s- it’s nothing. Forget it.” He murmured, turning his back to you as he made his way back to where you two had initially been standing. You could see his hands shivering slightly.

You followed him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, and landed yourself on a wooden crate as he stiffly sat on another one a considerable distance away from yours. Silence ensued.Seconds passed into minutes. Your mind was racing a mile a minute. But you were sure of one thing. If you let this incident slide as a joke, it would forever stay a joke.

“Captain?” you called out. “Mn” he replied, refusing to meet your eyes. His hands were now shaking. You eased off your crate, slowly making your way over to him. As you neared him, you reached out your hand, cupping his face. You felt him hold his breath, eyes still on the floor, waiting on your every word. “Talk to me” you said softly. “…What is there to talk about?” He replied, voice almost a whisper, as he oh so slightly leaned into your touch.

You sighed. Letting go of his face, you slid your hand to the back of his neck, making him tilt his head to look at you in the eyes. His eyes were slightly wide, a look on his face that you could only describe as desperation. It made your heart crack with adoration. You wanted to kiss this man stupid. But you, not knowing where you would be in the future, and him, hating where he was in the past made the red string connecting the two of you twist and knot in a cruel way.

But who were you, the great Rover, if not one to laugh in the face of pain. Oh how dramatic.

“Tell me what you want, Captain.” You whispered leaning in against his lips, a mere inch between your faces. He let out a strangled noise, eyes blowing impossibly wide as you felt him melt in your hands. After what felt like eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, he slowly leaned towards you, brushing his lips against yours in a barely there kiss.

As much as your body and soul wanted to devour him, your mind reminded you to let him take it at his pace. Slowly, a brush became a gentle press, and a press became a wanting lick, until he finally put his arms around your neck pulling you closer to him. Not finding your balance, you place a knee against the crate, standing between his legs. He let out a beautiful whine against your lips and you realised what your knee was pressing against.

You teasingly pressed harder, feeling his rising erection with glee. He gasped into your kiss and you took this opportunity to gently slide your tongue inside his mouth. Your mind was reeling with a million emotions. Love, adoration, possessiveness, wanting, craving, lust. So much. You let your hands wander down to his hips, fighting against the urge to lay them against the smooth muscles of his chest. Hands gripping his hips, you picked him up with one fluid motion, as he instinctively wrapped his thighs around your waist.

Seconds passed into minutes, your lips separating only for a second or two catch your breath before diving back in. Finally, a few minutes later, he pulled back completely, breathing in deeply, as he unhooked his legs, arms remaining around your neck. You gave him a soft smile, hoping it would ease his nerves.

What you didn’t expect was the way his lower lip started trembling, eyes wetting with the tears that were about to fall. You had a moment of panic, as you held him tighter against you. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, leaning your forehead against his. He sniffled, staring at you. “We shouldn’t do this” he mumbled, a few moments later. Your breath caught in your throat. “Why?” You questioned gently, one hand reaching up to wipe a stray tear off his cheek. He took another moment.

“Because you’re- I- You’re a person who’s destined to save the world, and I, I’m a stupid fool who couldn’t even fight for his own homeland. I’ve tried for so long to save my home, but I could only do it this time because you were here. I’m- I’m not the only one in this world who needs saving Rover, and in the days to come-“ he took a deep breath, “you’ll have to leave. And I- I know you have to. So please. I don’t want to make this harder for both of us.”

A painful silence followed this confession, words of reassurance dying in your throat. He was still in your arms, shallow breathing the only noise in the room. “I’m sorry” he whispered, voice cracking uncharacteristically, snapping out of your stupor. You took a deep breath. “And if I-“ you licked your lips, choosing your words carefully, ”and if promised you I’d come back to you even if I had to go away… could we make this possible, Captain?”

He stared at you, the drying tears springing up in his eyes again. Something was off. You felt it. “Captain… Brant, speak to me.” He shook his head, laying against your shoulder, as he let out a quite sob. “You…” he whispered. You soothingly rubbed his back, praying to any god who would listen, to take this man’s pain away. “I’m selfish. I want you all to myself but…”

“You deserve someone better, Rover. I’m only a fool.”

“…”

“What?” You whispered in disbelief. Getting no reply, you gently took his face in your hands, looking at him in confusion. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He refused to reply to you, instead opting to look down at the floor. “Brant” you said sharply, making him flinch and finally meet your eyes. You softened your voice, speaking as slowly as possible, making sure he heard every word you said. “I like you. So fucking much. I want you. And god forbid you ever think you’re not worth every second of my existence. Do you understand?” You felt his jaw tighten under your hands, still no reply.

You sucked in a deep breath. Fine then. “Brant.” You said, looking him in the eye. “Answer me.” Another moment of silence. You let a hand slide down to his neck, down his side and come to a rest at his hips, as your other hand tilted his face, your own face dangerously close to his. You felt him shudder under your touch. “Would you listen to me if show you how much you mean to me?”.

A moment passed. Then two. Then, a slow, shivering voice. “Show me, Rover.” A deep breath. “Please.”

You crashed your lips on his, the hand on his hips pulling him tight against you, as he let out a almost silent cry, before wrapping his arms around your neck like his life depended on it. You carefully picked him up. He wrapped his legs around you again, moaning against the kiss as you squeezed his ass playfully. Walking over to a conveniently placed table, which you were sure wasn’t here earlier, you placed him down, standing between his legs.

Breaking the kiss, four hands hurriedly began undoing the clothes separating you two. Finally, finally, after two months of dreaming of them, your hands made their way to his chest, leisurely kneading the muscles. The sinful moan he let out sent all your blood rushing down as you rolled your hips, your own erection rubbing against his. Clothes. You still had to get these clothes out of the way before you went crazy. He seemed to be having the same thoughts as you both began undoing what remained of your clothes, lips separating once in a while to take a breath before crashing back in.

Within minutes, he was naked. You broke away from the kiss, breath hitching in your throat as you admired the view before you. Your eyes trailed from his beautiful face, down his neck (you finally had a chance to mark it now), over his perfect, toned chest, his nipples now obviously hard, down to his chiseled abs and those thick thighs (damn, he had thick thighs too. You wondered how it would feel to be choked by them. You had plenty of time to find out) and your eyes landed on the painful looking erection, his tip already flushed red.

You unconsciously licked you lips, and heard him suck in a breath at this. You saw the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard and you dived in to press loving bites against his neck. You made sure to leave marks.

Taking his hands in yours, you held them behind him, making him ever so slightly arch his back. You continued nibbling at his skin as you made your way down his neck to his collar bone, then to his chest until your lips finally reached a nipple. Flicking your tongue against it, making the man under you let out a whine, as he arched his back further, pushing his chest in your face. It was exactly as you’d dreamt it would be. Soft and comfy.

Another whine escaped his lips, as he mumbled a little ‘please’. You grinned to yourself. “Hm? Tell me what you want baby” you cooed softly, looking up at him. He blushed a furious red as he stuttered over his words. You let out an amused chuckle. “Shh. It’s alright, don’t worry. Just let me take care of you, sweet thing.” You murmured, gaining another whine.

You gently pressed a palm against his belly, pushing him so that his back was against the table, now holding his hands above his head. You were again struck with how absolutely stunning he looked, even more so now with that pretty look on his face. You wanted to worship this man, and make all his self-deprecating thoughts go away, so that the only thought left in his head was that he belonged to you and that you most certainly belonged to him.

Leaning in for a kiss, you pressed your lips against his for a moment before leaning back to look at him. “Good?” You asked, giving him a soft smile as you kneaded his thigh with your free hand. He let out a whimper, then a whispered ‘so good’. Your hand pushed his legs apart, as you slowly rubbed against him, letting out a breathy moan at the friction. It was taking all your strength to control yourself. Your hand rode further up his thigh until it finally reached leaking cock.

You leaned in to take it in your mouth, relishing the keen it dragged out of the other male, and the way his thighs tightened around your face, just how you’d imagined them. You had already let go of his wrists but his hands obediently stayed above his head, earning him a rewarding moan against his cock, as you slid it into your mouth.

You loved the weight of it on your tongue, and the taste of pre-cum slipping down your throat. You began bobbing your head in a slow pace, taking your time adjusting to the feeling, until he began slightly jerking his hips towards you. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, all you could see was his beautifully arched chest, his head thrown back against the table. His whines and moans were getting louder, music to your ears as you increased your pace.

As the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, you let out a choked moan, tears springing to your eyes. The feeling was heavenly, as you took him completely in your mouth, hands gripping his thighs tighter against your head. Honestly, you never knew you had a such a kink until this moment, but whatever this feeling was, you wanted to drown in it.

It was barely a few minutes later, when the man beneath you finally brought his arms down, hands gripping at your hair, as broken ‘’m close’ and ‘please’ fell from his lips over and over again. With a scream, he came, his come spilling down your throat as you forced yourself to swallow all that he was giving you. It was a few seconds before his cock went limp in your mouth, and you slowly pulled back, using your thumb to wipe the cum dripping down your chin and licking it clean, making a show for his hazy eyes.

You leaned in, nuzzling your face into his neck as you gently rubbed his thighs. “You wanna keep going?” You murmured against his skin. He put his arms back around you, letting out a groan before slightly shaking his head. “Not here. This thing is going to give me bruises with splinters.” He grumbled. You chuckled then let a hum of agreement, moving away from him to pick up your clothes. Cleaning him up with your coat, you dressed him with care, before dressing yourself.

You walked over to the door, with him walking right behind you, and were ready to try breaking it down again, but to your surprise and annoyance, the door was already unlocked. Hand in hand, you walked out to the deck only to find the entire crew assembled there with something of a bizarre party in full swing.

***

There. That's that.

Part 2 will be up in a week. Probably.

I'll get there, I promise guys TwT.

#hissykat <3 #wuwa x male reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa rover #wuwa #wuwa brant #sub wuthering waves #wuthering waves #wuthering waves brant #brant #brant wuthering waves #brant wuwa #top male reader #sub brant #sub wuwa #top male reader X brant #Brant X top male male reader #fanfic #wuwa fanfic

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