#my finals are coming up and so are my practicals

[tobeholyistobeempty]

you’re drunk - simon ghost riley

part two. find part one here.

“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”

sober you is a lot less bold, but simon is a man of his word. 18+. insane amount of dirty talk, reader afab, PIV. smut smut smut smut. size kink.

——————-

the headache you wake with is devastating.

biblically so.

and not in the sunday service, water‑into‑wine sort of way. this is old‑testament vengeance. locusts and brimstone and a hammer slamming the earth between your temples. divine retribution for every godless thing you said, every blurred line you crossed - like some higher power watched you drink yourself stupid last night and said let there be suffering.

and fuck, suffering you are.

you’re barely coherent, hardly sentient, when you squint into the cold morning light and find the realization of what happened last night dawning in on you in fragments. out of order, scrambled like eggs - simon’s arm around your waist. you calling him big. military‑issued. ruin‑her‑life‑in‑a‑single‑night kind of hands. been into you for ages. god yes. please. y’don’t know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart. the way he said you’re makin me hard like it physically pained him.

practically moaning into his motherfucking palm.

wait - practically? no. you did.

you spend majority of the morning with your head buried under blankets and pillows mourning the death of your past self because you know your soul must be charred. burnt like the edges of hell where your feet are now firmly planted.

“you, wakin up with my dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

fuck sakes.

you’ve known hangovers, you’ve known embarrassment, but this - this is some divine hybrid of the two. a cocktail of humiliation and mortification laced with whatever residual high you’re still riding from him saying come say it t’me sober like a goddamn dare.

and of course it only gets worse when you finally make it to your feet - teeth brushed twice after two whole water bottles and a shower hot enough to burn the devil out of hell - and notice something silver glinting on the table by your door that most definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning.

“oh…god.” your heart flips up into your throat.

his dog tags.

you’ve known simon long enough to know what this is. he didn’t forget them. he didn’t misplace them. he left them there to tell you he heard every fuckin word you said and he’s not letting you off the hook for it. it’s a test. if you meant it - which you did - you’ll bring them to him. you’ll say it to him sober like he asked.

a man of morals. who knew war criminals had it in them.

you spend what has to be a full ten minutes just staring at them - like maybe you’re still drunk, maybe you’re seeing things and they’ll vanish if you focus hard enough. maybe you can unsay every devastatingly honest thing you said with sheer mental fortitude alone and they’ll magically fly back to him on their own.

spoiler alert: they don’t move. because of course they don’t. and it takes another ten before you finally stuff them into your pocket.

it’s probably best to just rip the bandaid off. bring them to him before you have to face him infront of the others in mess or briefing - damage control before the rest of the world finds out about the stunt you pulled. you don’t even know what you’re going to say - sorry? thanks? let’s just pretend i never told you i fantasize about fucking you when i can’t sleep?

fuck. it doesn’t matter. you know you owe him the return. a peace offering, a penance, a silent white-flag kind of knock on his door.

and so you walk the hall like it’s the green mile. you’ve never done a walk of shame but you imagine this has got to be as close as it comes. his door is shut when you reach it, and you stand in front of it like a coward for another unnecessary amount of time - complexion almost ill. ghostly. like you could float right through the fuckin wood if the wind blew hard enough.

finally, you knock.

it’s a moment, and then he answers, filling his doorframe with those thick shoulders stretching a tight black t-shirt, looking right as rain besides damp hair and bloodshot eyes.

you wonder, fleetingly, if he even slept. but then his gaze drops over the length of you and you busy yourself with fighting the urge to run for your fucking life.

you clear your throat. “can i..uh. can we talk?”

he nods and pops the door open, gesturing for you to come in. you take a few steps into his room - dark, organized, rather sparse - and nearly jump out of your flesh when the door shuts behind you. the click of a cell door closing, announcing your sealed fate.

you spin to face him once his boots have stopped dragging across the tiles, and find him leaning back against his desk - ankles and arms crossed.

you swallow, and pull the tags from your pocket. “i um. i think you forgot these.”

his brow twitches, barely, as he takes a glance at your hand. a flash of something behind his eyes you can’t name.

“did i?” he doesn’t move.

you shift your weight. the mortification could eat you alive. you’re certain it currently is.

“figured i’d bring them back.” you add, quieter now, trying your fucking hardest to sound normal. like you didn’t just spend the night saying all kinds of unholy things into the palm of his hand. “incase…uh, you were looking for them.”

he still doesn’t take them.

“strange,” his lips tilt. the first sign he’s shown that he's enjoying this. “coulda sworn i left em’ somewhere on purpose.”

your stomach flips. you try to laugh but it’s brittle. “right. sure.”

he shrugs. “not the kinda thing i usually misplace.”

you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed, unsure how to respond to that. it’s hard to even breathe with the way he’s watching you - like he’s taking notes - reading everything you’re not saying in the line of your mouth, in the way your fingers tremble around the chain of his tags.

“shaky this mornin, yeah?” he says, just casually knocking the rest of the wind out of your chest.

“i-“

you falter, because what the fuck are you even supposed to say? no, i’m fine. i’m totally good, actually. i definitely didn’t spend all morning curled fetal, praying to gods who’ve certainly damned me for a head injury so i can forget the mental car crash that was last nights events.

simon waits, eyes blazing like you’re a twitchy little experiment. trying to see which wire makes you spark the hardest.

you clear your throat. try again. “m’just tired.”

“mm.” he hums with a lazy nod. “musta been all that talkin you were doin.”

and there it is. here it comes.

“can’t really remember, but i’m sure it’s part of it.” you lie with a forced laugh. lie so awkwardly it hurts. “tequila. you know how it is.”

“do i ever.” he replies, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

silence stretches thick, after that. it’s so thick it makes the walls feel closer, the floor feel further away. you avert your gaze, and realize almost immediately how big of a mistake that is because the motion pulls your eyes across his forearm - his bare, inked forearm, tendons flexing with the movement he’s making.

you remember that arm last night, wrapped tight around your waist. pulling you close before you moaned god yes and please beneath the big hand attached to it like fucking gospel.

when you flinch, he smirks. not even pretending like he didn’t notice. “y’remember nothin from last night, then?”

your eyes snap up to his. you hate yourself for the fact that all of last nights confidence seems to be no where in fucking sight.

“well, uh, it’s fuzzy but…i remember bits.”

“bits.” he echos. nodding. “yeah. must be a shame.”

oh god.

“shame?”

“shame t’forget all that detail.” he lets the words sink in, watching your face as he leans a hand on the desk behind him. “pretty interestin things. real deep. could write a bloody novel, the way y’were goin on.”

“oh.” you choke, again, and mentally slap yourself. get it together. “well. thats-“

he hums again. “suppose i could walk y’through it.”

“walk me-“

earth tilts. he doesn’t let you finish. “y’know. help piece it together. fill in the gaps.”

“you don’t-you don’t have to-“

he lifts a hand to gesture vaguely toward his bed. your pulse races to the moon.

“your room, y’were right there. lookin at me like i was gonna eat y’alive.” his voice lowers. you swallow and it tastes like sin. his finger shifts to the space before his bed. pointing at the edge. “and i was right there, tryin’ like hell t’be a fuckin gentleman.”

you could laugh, maybe cry, or just absolutely combust right there on the floor because it all floods back in an instant. the way you moaned his name when he knelt over you to undo your boots. the way your thighs tensed as you told him you think about him. the way you stared at him while your brain short circuited and your mouth betrayed every secret you thought you’d die with.

part of you did die, you suppose. the part with your dignity. right there on the floor of your room, next to your boots he took off.

“look, simon-“

he steps closer now. just a step. “y’said you’d been into me for ages.”

you blink, holding your breath.

“said y’think bout me when y’cant sleep.” his voice is a rasp now, the muscle in his jaw ticks. “i asked y’a question, then. d’you remember it?”

fucking hell.

“yes.” you exhale.

“what was it.”

your heart is a jackhammer, breaking through your sternum.

“you-you asked if i think about you when…” you hesitate, and he cocks an eyebrow. “…when i touch myself.”

“yeah.” he says lowly. a breath, not a word. “tha’s right.”

your skin is burning and your limbs feel foreign, at this point. you feel nerve endings pulsing in place you didn’t know you even had nerves.

“d’you remember your answer?” he continues, taking another step toward you.

and it’s then that the anxiety takes over - you blink twice and bite down until you taste blood, shaking your head no. not because you’ve forgotten - fucking hell you remember everything - but because saying it out loud feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

he doesn’t buy it.

“mm, sure y’do.” he calls your bluff, says it so soft it’s almost a coo. “y’know i know your tells - two blinks while bitin the inside of your cheek.” his eyes gleam as his lips twitch. “y’can’t lie t’me, princess.”

christ, you can’t help but laugh at that. it’s exactly the reason why you’ve been into him - he’s perceptive and cunning and cocky all at once.

this is the man you’ve thought about fucking for months.

“yes.” you whisper in admittance. “i said yes.”

“god yes.” he corrects with another step until he’s so close you have to kink your neck back to meet his eyes. his shoulders swallow the edges of your vision until all you see is him. “…still true?”

you nod. a broken thing. “yes.”

“yeah?” his head tilts, the heat of him sweltering. “y’think bout me when y’put hands on yourself?”

“simon-“

he hushes you with a shake of his head, eyes dipping to your lips. “tell me.”

it’s then that you realize dragging this on is for nothing. whatever drunken confession you made last night clearly cracked open whatever restraint simon’s been exercising for months.

clearly whatever you feel, he’s feeling it too.

“yes.” you confess, as firm as you possibly can. nothing coy in it now. “yes, i think about you when im alone. when i touch myself…doesn’t even feel right unless im picturing you. your hands. touching me.”

it all comes out of you in a rushed whisper, desperate and dripping sweet from your lips like it’s been saturating behind your teeth for too long. when he doesn’t respond right away, you realize you’ve stunned him, and pull on whatever courage you have left to press forward.

“i’ve wanted you for so long ive stopped tryin to figure out when it started.” you murmur, lost in his eyes. “and you?”

his breath catches. just the faintest hitch, like he wasn’t prepared for the edge of your honesty to turn and face him instead. it’s delectable, the slight composure tilt, but it doesn’t last long. because slowly - slowly, his mouth curls into something wrecked. something that says fuckin hell, it’s on.

his knuckles come up to graze your jaw, he lowers his head until his lips find your ear—

“y’askin if i think bout you when i’ve got my fist wrapped round my cock?” you inhale sharply, then choke on it when his mouth brushes your lobe. “course i fuckin do.”

your hands lift timidly to find his shirt, curling into it, dog tags still clinking between your fingers.

“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”

your lashes flutter. his free hand slips around your waist. “fuck, simon-“

“i know, sweet’eart.” he murmurs it, almost gentle, like it’s something you share. “tha’s what y’need, ain’t it? f’me to admit you’re not the only one losin mind here.”

you nod, partly frantic and partly delirious, and he exhales something strained - something from somewhere deep, catching on the parts of him dying to stay patient.

“good.” his hand slides up the back of your shirt, while the other finds the one of yours still holding his tags. “y’really come here just to return these, then?”

“no.” it chokes out of you instantly, mouth tilting toward his. “you wanted me to say it to you sober. made a promise bout what you’d do if i did?”

something feral flashes over his face, at that. translated through the grip he tightens on your waist, the exhale he washes over your jaw.

“yeah.” he says, tight. “i did.”

his mouth is barely a breath from yours.

“well here i am. sober.” you whisper. “wanting you more than i did while drunk.”

he makes a sound you’ve never heard before. not a groan, not a moan, something deep and feral punched straight out of his chest.

“fuckin hell.”

and then he’s kissing you.

no more waiting, no more games. simon’s a man of his word and it shows in the way his mouth crashes into yours - hungry and bruising and impatient - teeth knocking, one hand fisting in the back of your shirt and tearing it off you while the other pulls you in. he spins you both so your ass hits the edge of his desk, and then breaks away - trailing spit slick lips down your jaw and throat, thick fingers working to tease the band of your sweats.

“tell me where y’want me, sweet’eart.” he growls into your pulse.

you blink, dazed. “i-what?”

his teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, before his mouth drags back up beside your ear - ruinous in the inflection.

“tell me how you’ve imagined it,” his finger tips slide under your waistband, just teasing. “what you’ve pictured when you’re thinkin’ of me like this. right ‘ere.”

“oh god, simon.” you moan by his words alone, too wound to be embarrassed, fingers cinched tight in the fabric of his shirt. “your-your fingers. your mouth. your cock-“

that sound again. deep and devastated. restraint being ripped out by the roots.

“fuck. filthy thing f’me, aren’t you?” he says, as two fingers slide lower, slipping under heat soaked fabric and finding your slit, pressing in no further than they need to before circling back up - spreading the mess you’ve made just to feel it. “you’re fuckin soaked.”

you whimper as he teases your clit. his mouth finds your throat again, teeth grazing where your pulse stutters wild beneath flushed skin. you don’t trust your legs to hold you upright under the weight of it all - his touch, his voice, the feral gleam in his eye when he looks at you like you’re some prophecy being fulfilled.

“s’this what i do t’you?” he murmurs. “just from talkin t’you like this?”

you nod, a frantic little thing. “yes-god, yes.”

he exhales hard like it's kicked out of him, tugging your sweats down until they slide off your ankles before he lifts you back onto his desk and parts your thighs with hands so big they nearly span the entire width of them.

you fucking moan at the sight.

and of course it only fuels him - braces you back on your elbows, spine arched, breath caught in your throat as he steps in close between your legs. his eyes drag down to where you glisten in the dim light - slick, flushed, waiting - and he lets out a curse before returning his fingers to your aching cunt.

he presses in one digit slow, then adds another. knuckle deep until your eyes roll, hips jerking at the stretch.

“oh, fuck-“

he hisses through his teeth. “tight little cunt. fuckin meltin f’me.”

his thumb catches your clit in the same motion - rubbing soft circles, pushing you closer, dragging you toward the edge with every brutal curl of his fingers inside you.

“that feel good?” he growls against your jaw. “touched y’self in bed thinkin bout me between your thighs like this?”

you’re panting now. shaking.

“i-“ you gasp. “yes, simon-yes-“

“yeah?” his thumb speeds up, his fingers pump deeper, your head spins. “and did y’cum like this? like you’re about to f’me now?”

you don’t answer fast enough. he bites at your jaw.

“tell me.”

“no-n-never like this—”

he growls something vile under his breath. “poor thing. s’okay. i’ve got you.”

your walls flutter around him, your thighs shaking where they frame his hips, and he feels it - feels the beginning of the end stutter through you.

“simon-“ you whinge.

he cuts you off. “look at me.”

you do. barely.

“tha’s it,” he breathes. “cum on my fuckin fingers. show me what i’ve been missin.”

you’re starved for it, beyond saving, and its only a couple more deep pumps before you break.

it floods through you - white hot and searing. you cry out his name as you clamp around his digits, trembling apart on his desk while he watches you like you’re art - jaw clenched, pupils blown - his fingers still moving, dragging you through it until you’re sobbing into his shoulder.

“there we go.” when it passes and you’re limp, blinking up at him stunned - he withdraws slowly. “attagirl. s’fuckin good.”

you swallow, watching wide eyed as he brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“been dreamin bout that taste, knew it’d be sweet.” he purrs as he leans down, wiping his spit slick digits over your cheek. “gonna need it proper soon.”

you don’t even have time to question or respond to that, because then he’s unbuckling his belt.

when you finally look back up, his eyes are wild.

“s’this what y’want?” he murmurs, tugging leather through loops before undoing the button at his waist. “when you came t’me this mornin, all flushed and pretendin t’be innocent. was this it? wantin’ me to bend y’over and take what y’fuckin offered?”

you choke as he tugs himself free - thick, leaking at the tip and throbbing - bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, nevermind taken.

the nod that follows is compulsive desperation. “holy fuck-yes-“

he smacks light at your thigh. “stand up. bend over f’me.”

you do as you’re told without hesitation - legs shaking as you stand spin and lean forward over the desk - breath still stuttering in your chest, heart going a mile a minute. your hands barely meet wood before he’s on you - no preamble. no breath between. grabs your hips like it’s instinct, like his hands were molded to hold you like this, and yanks you back against him with a roughness that steals whatever’s left in your lungs.

you shudder when he slides his cock against your slit once - twice - dragging the head through slick and stalls notched just shy of your entrance, breathing hard like it’s killing him to wait.

“y’remember what else y’said last night?”

you barely manage a nod. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he exhales something like a laugh.

“not compliments. not the fantasies. not the whining.” he drags through your mess again, slower this time. deliberate. “you said—“ his hips press forward just enough to make you gasp. “—you wondered if it’d hurt.”

you whine, embarrassed, but god it shoots straight through you. he bends low now, chest flush to your back, mouth to your ear.

“truth is, it might.” his lips curl into a smile. “so don’t fuckin run now.”

and then - only then - he pushes in. you gasp so hard your chest deflates on impact, thick head stretching sopping walls wide and dragging deeper than you’ve ever imagined - too much and not enough all at once.

“ohfuck-simon-“ your head drops toward the desk, eyes stinging.

“mm. tha’s it.” he groans, loud, burying himself halfway before pausing there. “tightest fuckin—bloody hell.”

he presses forward a little more - just enough to make your knees shake as he steadies you with one hand at your hip and grits his teeth. he pulls out just to feel you clench, then shoves back in - hard enough to jolt the desk and feed you all of him before you can even brace for it.

“ffffuck-ohfuck-“ you wail, knuckles bloodless where they clutch the desk. “you-you’re-“

“deep.” he bends over you, grabs a fistful of your hair, and drags your head back to his mouth, voice hot on your skin. “i fuckin know.”

he thrusts once. hard. then again. slower. deeper.

“jesus christ,” he undoes your bra with his free hand, paws at your tits until it hurts. “walked around this whole time with this cunt made f’me and didn’t say a fuckin word.”

“fuck simon-“

“yeah.” he grits against your ear. “tha’s how you moaned it last night. just like that.”

it’s punishing, the pace he sets. each snap of his hips smacking against your ass drags stars down into your retinas - body rocking and cervix kissed with each thrust - his grip is bruising and his mouth works at your neck, forcing noises out of you loud enough to rattle the fucking walls.

it doesn’t take long before your chest collapses onto slick wood, drool coated cheek pressed to the desk - vision bleeding white around the edges. he’s relentless - driven, brutal in rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck the memory of your voice out of his head, the memory of your thighs pressed together last night when he walked away instead of dropping to his knees and giving in.

he groans, open-mouthed, flushed everywhere. he’s not just fucking you. he’s wrecking you. dragging you across the edge by the throat and holding your broken pieces together with his own.

“mmf-fuck.” he snarls, burying his fist back in your hair. his palm cracks hard across your ass before snaking around your thigh to find your clit. devastating. “this. this is what i thought of for months. you. fuckin boneless f’me.”

he pulls out slow with a shuttering exhale, just enough for you to whine before he roars back in - hard and fast, fingers never slowing.

you shriek, squirming with no where to go.

“y’got no fuckin clue what y’did to me last night.” he’s panting, fingernails burning your scalp. “sat there slurrin filth. darin me t’do somethin bout it. tested every fuckin moral i’ve got.”

your second orgasm is a charging tide - and god, you know he feels it. you know by the way he rolls his fingers faster to chase it, moans in your ear when your walls flutter around him, fucks you deeper and slower just to drag you over by your hair.

“cum f’me. give me another.” he grits. “let me fuckin feel it sweet’eart.”

“ff-fuck simon! yes-yes-“

you sob, and then it hits you - violent and wet and cataclysmic - like every single one of your fantasies brought to life, like every pathetic orgasm you gave yourself to the thought of him and his fuckin hands all combined to create this. it’s stratospheric depths of bliss, all the colours of the rainbow erupting behind your eyes as he fucks you through it, not stalling his fingers until you’re sobbing.

“mhm. messy little thing.”

he growls with it before pulling out just enough to slap his cock against your soaked cunt, watching the slick stretch, the way you whine and arch out of pure fuckin instinct.

“look at this pretty cunt,” he rasps, teasing his tip over your clit. “drippin. tremblin. fuckin cryin f’me.”

you try to say something, try to catch a breath, but that all falls void as he thrusts back in without warning - one brutal, complete thrust, pushing everything out of you. screams, his name, your fucking soul. he groans as his hand finds your jaw, forcing your head to turn just enough so he can see your face. cheeks flushed, tears caught in your lashes.

“shh. don’t run—don’t fuckin run,” he growls against your mouth, arm cinched tight across your waist when your hips jerk away like it’s too much. “y’asked for this. said it t’me sober.”

“si-simon. please.” it’s breathless, ruined, wrecked beyond meaning, your mouth falling open on another sob when his hips grind deeper, when the head of him kisses a spot that has your knees giving out entirely. “fuck. s’good. s’m-much-“

“yeah?” he snarls. “s’good, huh?”

you nod something pathetic, lost for words. broken around him.

“want y’to think bout this when you’re alone.” his free hand drags down to your stomach, rests just high on your pelvis, feeling where he’s drilling. “how deep m’buried in this tight little cunt. how good my name feels in your fuckin throat.”

another nod. another hiccuped moan dragged out of you. “y-yes-yes i’ll think about it-mmff-“

“mhm,” he kisses you once. fleeting and viscous and hot. “good. s’good.”

a few more ragged thrusts and a sound gets torn from him, pulled from somewhere deep, feral and hoarse and ragged. his hips punch forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and then—

“fuck—fuck.”

he lets go.

he groans, voice breaking at the edges, forehead falling to the space between your shoulder blades. he pulses deep inside you, all of his pent up heat flooding you full until he’s spent, until he’s got nothing left to give and collapses against your back in one shuddering, boneless exhale.

and when it’s over, it’s just breathing - a long quiet moment full of everything neither of you know how to say before you register that he’s moving - leaning over you to grab at where his dog tags were discarded on the desk.

he slips them around your neck, and then pulls out.

“man of m’word, sweet’eart.” he whispers against your jaw. “this isn’t over.”

———————————-

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[straykidsnerd255]

Omg hiii!!! I’m loving what Saja boys hcs and I loved the pop mart hc u wrote!! (*^▽^*)

What would the saja babes be with an alt/goth gn!s/o? Their demon performance literally sparked this request (0///0)

Oh stop, you are too kind. Thank you so much! And thank you for sending in this request! I hope that you enjoy<3 Had to listen to Your Idol on repeat and don’t regret it. They can have my soul. I’m sure if I wore the goth reader all that well but I hope it's still good! 

Jinu:

Jinu is a sucker for your gothic style. Considering he is a demon, black and deep purple are his colors. 

Seeing you wear those very same colors made both his human side and demon side preen with happiness

Jinu had appeared as his demon one night in your shared apartment and you saw him, in the middle of putting your make-up on. 

You both had a seriously long talk that night

You didn’t understand why he would hide his demon side from you but the fear that filled him when he told you that he believed you would leave him made your heart break. 

You took his hand in yours and pressed it to your chest, just over your heart. 

“You are the only one that makes my heart race like I’m wearing pastel colors and flowers in my hair. Just like when you performed Soda Pop.” You giggled as the tips of his ears turned red.

When you and Jinu went on dates, he wore the pastel colors, you wore the black, a 180 to his demon persona. 

You designed your nails after his actual claws and Jinu could feel his heart racing like he had been running a marathon.

Scratch his head when the both of you are lazing around. Specifically in his demon form because he will purr. 

His demon will practically beg for back scratches when the two of you are lounging in the dorm room watching tv.

His demon form will clasp your hands together and hold them tightly when he feels overwhelmed. 

You show off all your black clothing and make-up on different nights when he is feeling down, hoping that will cheer him up. (It does. He’s a sucker for you.)

Abby Saja:

He is all about the bright colors. He is constantly wearing the bright blues and greens and pinks while you wear only black. You did occasionally wear a dark red whether it be contacts or a belt to hold your pants up. 

You fell for Abby Saja at a concert and when he saw you, he fell harder. Literally, he fell off the stage and landed at your feet, dust slowly settling as he rubbed his head and took your offered hand, worry in your eyes. 

From that moment, he knew he needed you by his side. He asked the security to take you back to their waiting room so he could talk to you and possibly get your name. 

Dating a demon for 3 years is still pretty new to you but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Abby Saja always asks for head rubs when he comes back from a rather long concert or a long tour that has finally ended. 

Even in his demon form, he is gentle when he holds you. He refuses to hurt the person that actually likes his demon and will ask him to show his demon randomly. 

The moment he stepped into the apartment, he saw you sitting on the couch in one of his black t-shirts and black basketball shorts. His demon appeared and he dramatically fell onto your lap. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your stomach as he closed his eyes and breathed in your scent.

“Long day?” You asked, immediately removing the black hat and running your fingers through his hair, occasionally screeching at his scalp. 

He shivered but nodded his head. “The longest day I have ever had. Please don’t make me go back and do it again.” He would whisper but you knew he loved it more than anything.

Mystery Saja:

He loves your goth style. He even asked you if you would be willing to dress him up the same way, his demon getting excited to try it out. 

Mystery had been getting ready for a concert when he saw you putting the make-up on, your eyes trained on the lines you were making on your eyes. 

He stopped, jaw dropped as he watched you. 

“You should apply as our makeup artist. You are talented with that.” He said, walking into the bathroom and stood behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he watched you. 

You giggled and finished the last of the make up before turning around and wrapping your arms around his waist and laying the side of your face against his stomach. 

“Gotta make myself look good for my boyfriend's concert. Where would the fun be if I didn’t show up in the colors that matched your demon side?” You asked, watching as his human form slipped away and his demon form appeared. 

You left an hour after he had left, knowing that was when you would be let into the stadium.

You watched him and his group with a soft smile, your heart pounding as he danced his heart out. 

When he caught sight of you, you smiled and waved watching as his whole face lit up.

The second the concert was over, you made your way to their dressing room but before you could even open the door, Mystery opened the door and pulled you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You were amazing, my love.” You whispered.

Romance Saja:

Even in his demon form, he refused to take your soul. The way you looked dressed in all black, chains falling around your hip and the black makeup around your eyes made him feel fuzzy. 

Romance will flirt with you non stop when you are getting your clothes on and makeup on.

When they were on stage in their demon forms, Romance refused to use his voice to control you. He watched you from the stage as you jumped up and down, ignoring the other fans around you. 

His chest swelled with pride as you danced along to the song. 

When the two of you are out shopping for new clothes to add to your closest, he does his best to learn the gothic style and does his best when it comes to choosing something you want. 

At one point, Romance asked if you would be willing to put the same eye makeup on him and you, in a giddy excitement, immediately sat him on the chair in the bathroom as you got to work.

When you two were getting ready for a date, Romance dressed in more lighter reds and pinks, pulling his hair back into a half bun to keep it out of his face while you pulled on a oversized black t-shirt, slipped into black cargo pants, clipping a few chains on the right side, and pulled on socks and combat boots.

Romance wrapped his arms around your neck as you applied the last of your makeup, his eyes shining when you turned to face him.

He will also sit and paint your nails black while he talks to you about his demon side, giving you all the details and such about it before pink smoke surrounds him and his demon is sitting in front of you. 

You can only stare at him mesmerized as he finishes painting your nails. Yes you have seen the demon before but from a distance. Having him in his demon form in front of you makes your heart thud against your chest like it has never done before. 

You are also taller than Romance, and built a little more than him so Romance has a thing for you standing behind him when fans are talking to him. 

Romance, when he is tired and you don’t have your full outfit on, will lay on your chest and sleep.

Romance will actively show you off in his instagram posts, holding your hand or pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

Baby Saja:

Baby Saja will walk around you, studding the clothing that you decided to wear on your date. 

His hands would graze the chain that sat on your hip, trace over the chain around your neck before taking you hand in his, looking up at you and smiling softly. 

He will never admit it but the way you dress in all dark clothes makes him happy. His demon likes the darker colors. It's easier on his eyes.

When he performed Your Idol, he could see you copying all his moves, mouthing all his words all while staring directly at him. 

You are slightly stronger than him when in human form so he will ask you for piggyback rides, mainly so he can nuzzle into your neck better. 

When he comes home after having to act like a popstar, he just collapses into your chest, while you are laying on the couch, scrolling through your phone. 

His demon appears as he rests his chin against your chest, silently begging for your attention. 

When you finally look at him, he blushes and buries his face in your chest, making you chuckle and wrap your arms around him.

He will insist on doing your makeup when you don’t feel like doing it yourself, carefully do your hair in a half bun leaving half your shoulder length hair down so he can play with it. 

Because of your gothic style, he will beg the rest of the group to let you be their manager, knowing that you have seen their demons and don’t care one bit. 

Your black nails are just long enough that he will ask you to scratch at his head when he is extremely tired and will actually fall asleep against your chest when you do so.

[izzih22]

u should write a fic abt a post practice/ post game pazzi facetime call

Yours No Matter the Distance

Note: I promised yall I would post today so here you go. Also this is not based off a real game or anything just an fyi

Azzi Fudd had the Wings game pulled up on her laptop the second tip-off happened.

It didn’t matter that she had training at eight the next morning. Didn’t matter that she had weights, film, and a whole to-do list of team responsibilities. It didn’t even matter that Paige had told her not to stress about it, to “get sleep, baby,” and “catch the highlights in the morning.”

Azzi wasn’t missing a second.

Not of Paige.

Not of her girl.

Not for the world.

She sat cross-legged in bed, oversized UConn hoodie on Paige’s, obviously and her phone on Do Not Disturb as she watched #5 lead Dallas with a kind of control and intensity that gave Azzi goosebumps. There were flashes of that same old swagger, that glimmer Paige always got when she locked in. Her jumper was clean, her dimes even cleaner. Azzi swore she could watch her play for hours and never get tired of it.

Even the commentators were gushing, talking about her vision, her IQ, how the Wings were starting to feel like Paige’s team.

Azzi just smiled and whispered under her breath, “Damn right it is.”

By the time the game ended, Dallas had won by twelve. Paige had finished with 17 points, 9 assists, and a couple of defensive stops that had Azzi actually yelling at her laptop like she was courtside. And now, with the post-game interview wrapped up, Azzi was waiting, phone in hand, the FaceTime already set to Paige’s name.

It rang once.

Twice.

And then—

The screen lit up with a familiar face, damp hair slicked back under a towel, cheeks flushed from the game.

“Hey you,” Paige said, voice a little hoarse but still teasing, that grin pulling wide as soon as she saw Azzi.

Azzi melted. “Hi. You look hot.”

Paige raised a brow and tugged at the towel draped over her neck. “I’m literally sweating through my shirt right now.”

“Exactly.” Azzi leaned her cheek into her palm and gave her a soft smile. “You were so good tonight, P. Like—really good. I’m so proud of you.”

Paige’s expression softened, her shoulders sagging slightly like the weight of the game had finally let go. “Thanks baby. Felt like I finally found my rhythm tonight. Took me long enough.”

“You’ve been so good, though. The stats are crazy. But more than that? The way you lead out there?” Azzi shook her head in awe. “It’s like you were born for this.”

Paige snorted, but it came out shy, like she couldn’t quite take the compliment. “Coming from you? That means everything.”

“Damn right it should.”

They shared a smile, the kind that lingered, the kind that said I miss you even if neither of them had said it yet.

Paige broke the silence first, shifting the phone to show more of the locker room behind her. “I’ve got like twenty minutes before they kick me out. I should shower but…I kinda just wanted to see your face first.”

Azzi curled tighter into the hoodie, which still smelled like Paige even after a few washes. “I was waiting the second the buzzer went off. Had my phone in my hand like a clingy girlfriend.”

“You are a clingy girlfriend.” Paige grinned wider. “Thank God.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughed. “Like you’re not the one who texts me every two hours on game day for good luck.”

“That’s…different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you. Duh.”

Azzi buried her face in her hands, giggling like she was sixteen again and falling for Paige for the first time. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst.”

They paused again, both smiling too hard to speak. Paige leaned back in her chair, towel still hanging around her neck, and gave Azzi a look so full of love it almost hurt.

“Wish you were here,” she murmured, quieter now. “It’s not the same when you’re not on the bench or waiting for me in the tunnel.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. “I know. I wish I was, too.”

“I swear, every time I make a big play, I look over like I’m gonna see you there. And then I remember…” Paige trailed off with a shrug.

“Paige…”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard. I miss you.”

Azzi blinked hard. “I miss you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. “I watched the whole game in your hoodie. Had it on the second I got home.”

Paige smiled so wide it nearly broke her. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

“You deserve it.”

They both laughed softly, and for a moment, the distance didn’t feel so heavy.

Paige tilted her head. “You doing okay, though? Like, really okay?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded. “I am. It just…sucks, not being there. I wanna be the one running into your arms after games, not sitting here on my bed pretending like FaceTime is enough.”

“It’s not enough,” Paige agreed. “But it’s something. And you’re still the last person I see before I fall asleep. Even if it’s through a screen.”

Azzi smiled again, sad and full all at once. “You know I watch every game, right? Every single one.”

“I know.” Paige’s voice got quieter. “It means everything.”

“I mean, I’d watch you do anything. Basketball just happens to be the sexiest option.”

Paige choked on a laugh. “Oh my god, Azzi.”

“What? You want me to lie?”

“You’re unreal.”

Azzi smirked. “And you’re lucky.”

“So lucky.”

They sat like that for a while Paige in the dim locker room, Azzi curled up in bed, their connection as strong as ever despite the miles between them.

Eventually, Paige let out a sigh. “Okay. I gotta shower. They’re giving me the side-eye already.”

Azzi pouted. “Fine. But FaceTime me again before bed?”

“You already know.” Paige looked right into the camera. “Love you, Az.”

Azzi felt her whole chest swell. “Love you more, P.”

“Not possible.”

“Wanna bet?”

Paige laughed, that raspy, tired sound that still somehow made Azzi’s heart skip. “I’ll call you in twenty, babe.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

They hung up.

Azzi leaned back in bed, still in Paige’s hoodie, screen dark, heart full. It wasn’t the same as being there in person. But it was theirs. And that was enough for now.

Because no matter how far apart they were, Azzi knew one thing for sure:

Paige was hers.

And she’d be watching every game until they were in the same place again.

Side by side. Where they belonged.

[monicahar]

bark like you want it...?

in which you jokingly treat them like a pet.

characters; phainon, mydeimos, anaxagoras

— gender neutral reader, established relationships, fluff, sugestive at anaxa's part, need ts after the hellscape the current amphoreus is in andddd hi yes im back with a kinda fun idea and uhhhh yeah sleep pronto (*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

It was supposed to be all fun and games. you'd say 'sit' and you'd expect him to raise a brow or two before whining about how you're treating him rudely. instead and very much contrary, the next second, PHAINON is immediately sat without question.

"well, you told me to sit!" is his meek excuse, turning red just as fast when you doubled over and laughed for a minute straight.

you think it's weird and cute. he thinks it's betrayal.

"is it so bad that i want to please you?" he says weakly whilst patting down his attire upon as he stood up straight, still burning up in sheer embarrassment. it's truly a sight to see someone as proud as him get shy. "as if it's my fault..."

you disregard his mutterings as you finally calm your giggles down, "to that extent, though? what if i asked you to bark? hm?"

phainon displays a waver in confidence, constructing his words carefully and said, "well, i'd do anything for you," he then slides you a sidelong look, one that's clearly not impressed. "even if it's something like... barking and sitting on command."

it looked like it pained him to say the last part.

still, you're unable to keep the corners of your lips at bay, genuinely elated at his response.

but unfortunately for him, there always has to be a catch when it comes to your very-easy-to-tease boyfriend...

so you let your lashes flutter, watching carefully as his smile grows a tad wary at your shift in demeanor.

"phainon... you sure you're not into this?"

the future leader of the chrysos heirs — your cute little snowy, explodes into another burst of red, looking as scandalized as you expected.

"wha — what is that supposed to mean?!"

his pouty expression makes him look like a kicked puppy now that you think more about it — of which reminds you the way he begs for attention and kisses, is eager to please, also likes your praise, and often sulks in a corner whenever you don’t... like a puppy.

the resemblance is almost uncanny. how amusing.

"maybe you were a dog in your past life,"

"..."

"..."

"...um, are you going to elaborate?"

you simply smile in return.

MYDEI stares like you'd slapped him across the face when you tell him to roll over.

"what?" you prod further when he doesn't say anything in response, "you shy or something?"

a glint appears in his eyes and you already know what he's going to say next.

"there's no such thing in the kremnoan langua —"

"mydei," you stare back, rid of all humor. he stares back, equally fiery. "roll. over."

you can practically see all the stages of grief flash in his eyes within mere seconds, weighing his options against you. you inspect your nails in an attempt to hide your anticipation. mydei is a wildcard if anything.

would he pretend he didn’t hear anything? probable. would he be mean about it? probable too. would he actually go along with it? pfft, yeah, and pigs would start falling from the sky —

to your most and utter horror, he starts lowering himself to the ground.

you shriek and stop him from continuing any further by grabbing a hold of his shoulders. (drool...) "hey, hey! i was kidding, you freak!"

"who are you calling a freak?" he snaps, not looking very intimidating as he's already kneeling down on one knee before you. "and i'm just following as you told me, am i not?"

"y-yeah but..."

he stands up, half-heartedly glaring you down. "i set aside my pride for your antics and you halt me. why?"

"it's more like why were you about to go along with something that's obviously said in jest..."

"hm. aglaea told me that you would often have weird tendencies and commands," he shrugs your hand off of his shoulder, "and that i should obey them without question if i want a... happy you. something ridiculous like that."

your jaw hangs open. mydei akwardly closes it shut. "you... you consult aglaea about... me?"

he gives you a weird look, "relationships, to be more exact. and why wouldn't i? you're a lot of work."

you deflate, "that's mean, mydei."

the proud chrysos heir shifts his footing, frowning at the air like it wronged him. his words are strained yet truthful, "i just... want to make you happy. that is all."

oh my.

you couldn't hold it any longer and proceed to jump him, whilst pigs do start falling from the sky.

it's pretty much established that ANAXA would yoink you out of the room should you decide to pull that on him during one of his lectures. in front of his students? yeah, you're grounded whether you liked it not.

though, it'd be a completely different story outside such settings...

currently sifting through scrolls sprawled out on his desk was the man of the hour himself, and having decided to accompany him in your free time — your boredom had long kicked in before the idea popped into your mind.

you approach him quietly, before placing your hand on top his head.

"who's a good boy?"

his gaze does not waver from the surface of his desk, but you do catch his contemplative expression freezing for a short moment.

"if you wanted a chalk to your face, you could've just said so."

how romantic. you really can't go a day without your loving boyfriend.

you beam at him, pretending like he hadn’t just threatened you with his 'teaching' gun tool. "that's not very good of you, anaxa. want me to punish you?"

"i believe you're acting up because you haven't gotten plentiful rest. be a dear and go back to your room, will you?"

"you want me gone?" you playfully pout up at him, finally earning his attention as he directs his gaze towards you — a brow raised. "you're being reallyyy bad, right now. i can't believe you'd kick me out just like that."

a sigh escapes anaxa. his singular eye opens to stare you down. you subconsciously gulp down your nerves. did you provoke him too much?

"unprofessional conduct by reffering to me casually during work hours, petting me like some dog and threatening to punish me... pranks like these shall not be tolerated." his eye twinkles in something akin to amusement, "i'll take care of you later."

the tension reaches a stalemate.

your brain short-circuits.

"uh, what do you mean by —"

"you know i dislike it when people ask questions they already know the answer to," as cryptic as ever, he spares you one last glance before returning his attention down to the scrolls laid upon his desk.

heeding his warning of sorts, you depart and stand outside his office — unmoving.

you seem to have brought upon yourself another day of being... unable to walk.

3.4 is taking forever...

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it. 

[jamiewrites-stuff]

Hypnotic

[002] [003]

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE😭 WHERE DID Y'ALL COME FROM- Thank you for enjoying my fic so far, I'm overwhelmed-

Anyways, here's another one. I'll try to make the chapters longer but no promises 😗✌

Please make sure to comment on what you think so far, I love reading the comments, it motivates me to write more💕💋

Btw, I gave them names to this- well, I didn't come up with the names. Credit goes to: @filijester (I think? Please correct me if I'm wrong) , I just picked these because it seems like the names a lot of people agree on, plus I think it fits them.

Abby Saja: Beomseok

Romance Saja: Jae-Hyun

Mystery Saja: Garam

Baby Saja: Daeun

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They descended from the ground, their feet gently planting on the stone pavement.

Luckily no one was around to witness such a sight.

They didn't want to be bothered by the trouble of humans seeing them appear from the depths of Hell.

"This is.. much different from what I was expecting"

Beomseok muttered, letting out a small whistle as he looked around. It's been a while since he visited the human realm, its the same for all of them.

"What now boss?"

Jae-hyun asks in a teasing manner, leaning an arm against Jinu's shoulder.

The Leader of this little group stayed silent, eyes carefully observing the area around them.

The Tall buildings, the blinding lights, the loud noises. He was in unfamiliar territory.

He didn't want to admit it.

But he didn't expect to get this far.

He had a plan in order to defeat the hunters, but he didn't think far enough ahead on what they'll do in between.

"You'll need a place to sleep"

A familiar voice said, as the ground in front of them opened up a portal, a silhouette of a familiar woman made her appearance before them.

But she looked more solid.

More human.

She wore a Black suit along with a matching pencil skirt and heels, though some of the top buttons of her suit were open, revealing more of her cleavage.

Her eyes lingered at the group.

She did all that she could to improve their appearances, but she could tell that her work wasn't finished yet.

"What are you doing here?"

Jinu questioned, not expecting her to join them on the surface, especially in that outfit.

"I figured you needed a manager"

She smirked, making some eye glasses appear at just the flick of her wrists, calmly putting them on.

She had to look the part if they were gonna pull this off.

"And based on what I'm looking at, I'm right"

She stated, giving them one final glance before turning around, she snapped her fingers, gaining their attention as she walked on ahead.

"Come."

With one simple command, the group looked at each other hesitantly before following after her.

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They arrived at a Hotel, it seemed like it was the expensive kind based on the decoration.

They just walked right in, None of the guards didn't bother to question their identity and just allowed them entry.

Their appearances immediately caught the attention of nearly all of the people in the area, yet they paid them no mind.

Beomseok glanced over at a group of women gazing at him from the waiting area, he couldn't help but send them a little wink, causing one of them to dramatically faint into another's arms.

He smirked, getting the confidence to walk towards the counter.

"A room for 6, please"

He said, placing a hand on the marbled surface as he looked down at the person behind the reception counter.

She only gave him a look of unamusement, despite her coworkers practically drooling at the mouth at just the sight of him.

"Do you have a reservation sir?"

She questioned, moving her gaze down at her computer screen, typing away at the keyboard.

Beomseok's smirk faltered at her attitude towards him.

That wasn't right.

He couldn't understand.

Why wasn't she reacting like the rest.

He glanced at the others beside her, seeing that familiar desire in their eyes, before his gaze went back at the Woman, who looked at him with complete disinterest.

It took a toll on his growing ego.

But before he could say anything, he was pushed aside by their self proclaimed Manager.

He let out a small shriek at her rough push, making him stumble back until his group mates caught him just in time.

"Excuse him, he's new"

She chuckled, leaning her body against the marbled counter. Her voice definitely caught her attention as the Woman looked away from the screen to look at her.

The woman took in Y/n's appearance, how the suit hugged her figure perfectly, that seductive gaze, her hair perfectly in place, not a single flaw in sight. The receptionist's body tensed up a bit as a swell of sudden nervousness overwhelmed her.

"I apologize if we're drawing in unwanted attention.."

Y/n muttered, placing her chin against her palm, referring to the crowd that was beginning to form behind them.

"It was.. Never our intention to cause trouble.."

Her said, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

The woman's ears turned a light shade of pink, as she tried her best to keep her focus on her eyes and nowhere else that was deemed... inappropriate in the workplace.

She cleared her throat, fumbling a bit on the keyboard.

She couldn't afford to get distracted.

"That's.. Quite alright, but we still need a reservation Ma'am."

Y/n smirked, her hand reaching over to the computer, grazing her fingers lazily along the screens edge.

"Oh, I'm sure we do..."

She said, keeping the woman's attention purely on her, the computer screen glitching for split second before reverting back to normal.

Y/n smiled innocently, leaning back a bit as she tapped the monitor.

"Y/n L/n, care to type it in for me Doll?"

She instructed, sticking out her bottom lip just a bit in a slight pout, drawing the other woman's gaze for just a split second.

Before she grew stiff and awkwardly typed in the name.

As if by a miracle, her name appeared on the screen, assigning her and the group to the penthouse, located at the very top floors.

She cleared her throat, turning back to Y/n who was wearing a patient smile.

"Yes, I see that you have a room reserved"

She nodded, grabbing the room card and handed it to her. Ignoring how the moment their fingers brushed against each other, it sent shivers down her spine.

Y/n grinned, happily taking the room card key, while her little demons leaned closer to her to get a good look at the key.

"Thank you so much"

She smiled, subtly bumping her elbow against Jinu's stomach.

He stammers, glancing at their manager then at the receptionist, quickly catching on.

"Yes, thank you"

Jinu said, politely bowing at them with the rest of the group mimicking his actions.

Y/n glanced at him with a hum, it was good that he caught on fast, but not fast enough.

That needed work.

With that thought in mind she walked on ahead, the boys swiftly following close, stepping inside one of the Elevators.

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Once they were inside, Y/n lift herself off the ground and went to the couch, a large cloud of history formed around her body for a split second.

Changing her clothes into something more comfortable.

Jinu watches Y/n drift down on the plush mattress, now wearing a Bathrobe that loosely hung on her body.

He took off his shoes, placing them in the shoe compartment near the door before stepping further inside, the rest followed his actions, just purely by instinct.

"Why are you helping us?"

He couldn't help but ask, that question has been ringing in his ears for a while.

Why did she agree to help him?

He would've left the topic alone, if it weren't for the fact that she's here with them on the surface, instead of falling back into a deep sleep.

Actually going out of her way to become their manager.

Y/n flicked her wrist, letting a glass of red wine appear in her hand, she didn't answer his question right away.

She let's his thought linger, she lifted the glass to her lips and carefully drank from the glass, her body melting against the couch in utter relaxation.

"Ease up Jinu"

Jae-hyun said, patting their leaders shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, the others were already making them selves at home.

Daeun and Beomseok were raiding the kitchen for something to eat.

Garam quietly made his way to the couch, casually sitting down beside Her, staying perfectly silent as usual.

"You'll get wrinkles from thinking too hard"

Jae teased, placing a finger on the others forehead, pretending to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles.

Jinu scoffs, lightly slapping his hand away with a small glare, Jae chuckles before walking away to go join the other two in the kitchen.

Y/n sighed, still feeling the man's gaze linger at her for some sort of answer.

"I told you didn't I?"

She says with a playful smirk

"I needed some good entertainment"

She chuckled to herself, her eyes hiding a mystery to them that Jinu couldn't seem to solve, at least not yet.

Her eyes flickered to the side, flickering with amusement as she pointed the glass at the spot beside him, where a familiar Tiger with quite a derpy expression made his appearance.

On top of his head sat another familiar face of a bird wearing a cute Gat.

"I was also interested in that little cub of yours"

She says, cooing when the Tiger slowly made his way towards her.

"Sweetest baby"

She whispers, letting the large Tiger practically lay himself on top of her, he let's out soft purrs nuzzling his head against her chin.

The bird cawed at his companion, flying over to sit on the backrest of the couch.

His eyes glaring at the Tiger, silently judging him for being so oblivious to the obvious danger, who was currently smothering him with scratches.

Jinu raised an eyebrow at the sight, not knowing how to feel about his large cat getting swept away so easily. So much for loyalty.

Garam slowly turned his head to the side, watching how Y/n smothered the Tiger with pets and small forehead kisses, unintentionally covering his blue furr with red lip marks.

His lips twitched a bit.

She didn't even notice how he slowly scooted closer to her on the couch.

"You're just the sweetest little thing, yes you are~"

She praised, finding a spot underneath his chin that made his purrs grow louder. Oblivious to the fact that the Saja next to her was quietly trying to get her attention as well.

Jinu shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh before turning around

Quite possibly to find a room where he could plan more clearly without any distractions.

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Taglist💋: @gremlinartstudio @nisarelle @enerofairy @ajunoiseee @whodis-26

[chrissssssmut]

hi do you take request? ive been feeling something with winter’s latest teaser photos of her with one dude and black dude so im thinking maybe u can come up with something, will appreciate it if this goes considered. <33

MAKE ME YOURS

Winter x 2 Male OCs

AN: Had to do this one first since I'm a sucker for this Winter (Winter in general XD)

The lighting in the apartment was warm and low — not romantic, but lazy. It was nearing midnight, but none of you looked tired. Winter was sprawled across the loveseat in the middle of your living room, hair wild and curled, glowing in that burnt orange lamp-light like something out of a fever dream. Her tight cropped top clung to her like a second skin, showing off smooth curves, a peek of toned stomach, and chains dangling from her hips.

She was chewing on a lollipop.

And staring.

At both of you.

Jae leaned back on the couch beside Minho, whispering, “She’s been doing that all night, right? The looks, the... licking?”

Minho didn’t even look away. “Bro, she’s practically eye-fucking us. At this point, I think the lollipop’s just for show.”

Winter smirked like she’d heard them.

She stood, real slow, walking over to the couch like a cat on the prowl. Her platform boots clicked on the floor. One hand on her hip, the other popped the lollipop from her mouth — lips wet, tongue sliding over the candy before she tossed it into the trash behind her without looking.

“I’m bored,” she said. “And horny.”

Jae blinked. “You don’t really ease into that, do you?”

Winter turned to him, eyes dark, lips curling. “You want me to pretend I don’t notice the way you both keep looking at me like you want to ruin me?”

Minho chuckled low. “And what if we do?”

“Then stop being cowards,” Winter breathed, climbing into Jae’s lap in one fluid motion, knees on either side of him. “And take what you want.”

Her fingers ran down his chest, dragging over the front of his jeans. Jae’s breath hitched.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” she whispered against his ear. “You. Him. At the same time. Stuffing me full. One cock in my mouth while the other’s buried so deep I can’t even think.”

Jae’s mouth parted, heat crawling up his spine.

Minho leaned forward, voice husky. “You talk like you’re the one in control.”

Winter looked over her shoulder and smirked. “Am I not?”

In one sudden movement, Minho grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back onto his lap instead.

Winter gasped, a flash of excitement in her eyes. “Oh? You’re gonna do something now?”

Minho’s hands roamed under her top. “You keep teasing like that and we’re not stopping till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it,” she purred.

Jae stood and pulled off his shirt, breathing hard. “Bedroom?”

“No,” Winter said, licking her lips as she slid off Minho’s lap and knelt between them. “Right here. I want the couch. Want you both where I can feel you.”

She undid Jae’s pants first, tongue darting out when his cock sprang free — thick and already hard. She gave it a few slow strokes before turning to Minho and doing the same, giggling when she saw he was even harder.

“You both taste so different,” she whispered, flicking her tongue up Minho’s shaft while stroking Jae. “Bet you feel even better inside.”

Minho growled. “Quit teasing.”

Winter took Jae’s cock into her mouth first — slowly, tongue swirling, eyes locked onto him. He hissed, head falling back as her mouth worked up and down with wet, hungry slurps. Just when he started to twitch, she popped off him and turned to Minho.

Her mouth stretched around him too, deeper this time, both hands stroking the other cock while she sucked. It was obscene. Saliva dripped from her chin, moans muffled around thick cock.

“Fuck, she’s good,” Jae groaned, his hand in her curls.

Winter finally pulled off, breathless and flushed. “I need more. Now.”

They didn’t hesitate.

Minho stood and bent her over the couch, tugging her pants down to reveal a soaked black thong. He groaned at the sight.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “Dripping already?”

“Been dripping since I walked in,” Winter gasped.

Jae came up in front of her, cock in hand. “You sure about this?”

Winter met his gaze with a wild smile. “Fucking wreck me.”

Minho pulled her thong aside and sank into her pussy from behind — slow at first, then all the way, hips slapping against her ass.

Winter cried out, hands clinging to the back of the couch.

“Holy fuck—Minho—yes—”

Jae fed his cock into her mouth again, and she sucked greedily, muffled moans vibrating through him as Minho pounded into her from behind.

“God, you feel good,” Minho grunted. “So tight, baby.”

Winter was dripping everywhere, stuffed between the two of them — saliva running down Jae’s shaft, slick coating Minho’s thighs.

She whimpered when they paused.

“Switch,” Jae said. “I want her.”

Winter didn’t even complain — just turned around, climbing onto Jae’s lap, guiding his cock into her soaked pussy and grinding down hard.

“Fuck yes—” she gasped. “Fill me—don’t stop—”

She bounced on him like she was desperate, hands on his shoulders, curls sticking to her face. Jae grabbed her hips and thrust up into her, deep and slow, while Minho stood behind her.

“Think she’s ready?” Minho said, slicking his fingers.

Winter looked over her shoulder, lips parted, voice shaking.

“Put it in,” she moaned. “Both of you—please—just fuck me together—”

Jae held her steady while Minho pressed against her ass, easing in slow.

Winter screamed — a sound of pure bliss and pressure — as both cocks filled her.

“Jesus,” Jae breathed. “She’s so fucking tight—”

Minho was panting too. “Can’t move... feels too good…”

They began to move — slow at first, working in sync, hips slamming into her from both ends. Winter was a moaning mess between them, body shaking, eyes rolling back.

“More—faster—don’t stop—”

They fucked her through it — bouncing her between them, switching rhythm, pushing her into every position.

They bent her over the armrest and double-penetrated her again, watching her entire body tremble.

They laid her on her back and had her legs in the air, fucking her one after the other, lips all over her skin.

They made her ride one while sucking off the other, her mouth full, tears in her eyes from how much she loved it.

Winter came two times — crying, choking, gasping their names — and begged for more each time.

Winter’s whole body trembled between them — lips wet, curls plastered to her forehead, thighs shaking. She’d already came hard, twice, stuffed full and stretched wide, but her eyes still burned with hunger. Her hips kept grinding on Jae’s cock, even while Minho’s fingers teased her slick entrance again.

Jae brushed a hand over her cheek. “Still with us?”

Winter laughed breathlessly, voice low and soaked in heat. “With you? Baby, I’m just getting started.”

Minho raised a brow. “That was already three rounds.”

She licked her lips and turned between them, crawling over the cushions like a predator. “And none of you came yet.” She smirked, brushing her thumb over Jae’s cock. “Still this hard? That’s a shame. Should I fix that?”

Jae’s voice cracked as she stroked him slow. “Fuck… yeah. Fix it.”

Winter looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, voice dripping with filth. “Wanna see me choking on it again? Want me to cry while you use my throat like a toy?”

Minho stepped behind her, spreading her ass again. “Don’t tempt me.”

Winter wiggled her hips back at him. “Why not? You didn’t even finish in my ass yet. I want it. I want to feel it dripping out of me when you’re done.”

Jae hissed through his teeth. “You’re such a fucking slut.”

Winter smiled like it was a compliment. “Your slut.”

She turned to Jae first, licking his cock from base to tip, then wrapping her lips around it with practiced heat. Her throat worked, sucking him deeper, tongue swirling. Jae groaned, hand tangling in her hair as her head bobbed.

Behind her, Minho guided his cock to her asshole again — already stretched, but still tight.

“You ready, princess?” he teased.

Winter moaned around Jae’s cock, eyes rolling up as she nodded.

Minho didn’t wait. He pressed in slow and deep until his hips met her ass again. Winter choked and gurgled around Jae, drool spilling down her chin as both men filled her from either end.

"Jesus, you look good like this," Minho growled, rolling his hips.

“Such a fucking mess,” Jae panted. “You love this, huh?”

Winter pulled off Jae with a gasp, spit stringing between her lips and his cock. “I love being used,” she moaned. “Fucking ruin me. I want your cum in every hole. I want to smell like you both for days.”

Minho slapped her ass, hard. “That can be arranged.”

He grabbed her by the waist and fucked into her ass with hard, deep strokes, while Winter wrapped her lips around Jae again. Her moans were filthy, every sound soaked in need. Jae's hips bucked helplessly into her mouth, groaning louder.

“Wait,” Jae gasped suddenly, pulling back. “Lay her down. I want to see her face.”

They repositioned her onto the floor rug, spreading her out, back arched and legs wide. Jae knelt between her thighs and slid back into her dripping pussy.

Winter whimpered loud. “God, yes—fuck me—keep going, I wanna cum again.”

Minho straddled her chest and fed his cock back into her mouth. “You better swallow it this time.”

Winter’s reply was a throaty moan, mouth full, eyes glassy as she bounced between both thrusts. Jae pounded into her, watching her tits jiggle with every slam, while Minho grunted and shoved deeper into her throat.

“Fucking tight little cunt,” Jae hissed. “You’re soaking me.”

Winter cried out around Minho’s cock, spit flying as her whole body jolted. She came again, gushing around Jae’s cock, legs twitching, but she didn’t stop.

“I’m not done,” she choked out when Minho pulled back.

They flipped her onto her side. Jae spooned her from behind, cock sliding back into her pussy while Minho knelt in front of her.

She opened her mouth again like she was begging for it.

“Fill my mouth,” she whimpered. “Fill my pussy. Then switch. I want you both deeper. Want it to hurt.”

They used her like that — pushing her into the rug, fucking her through every messy orgasm, switching positions.

Minho fucked her on her back while Jae sat on her face, his cock sliding past her lips until she gagged. Winter gripped his thighs, moaning like a girl possessed.

“God, I’m gonna cum—” Jae groaned.

Winter tapped his hip twice, and he pulled out just enough to let her breathe.

“Not yet,” she panted. “Together. I want it together.”

They pulled out and sat her on all fours again. Winter looked over her shoulder, breathless, makeup ruined.

“Please,” she begged. “Both of you. Inside. Fill me up. I wanna be dripping for hours.”

They positioned her again, Jae sliding into her pussy from behind, Minho pushing into her ass above him.

Winter screamed.

The pressure was intense, both holes stretched to the max, her body stuffed and trembling.

“Oh my god—oh fuck—fuck—I’m gonna cum again—”

Jae grabbed her hips and slammed into her. “I’m close—shit—”

Minho was gritting his teeth, cock twitching in her. “She’s milking me—fuck—”

Winter came again, crying out, and that finally did it.

Jae grunted hard, shoving deep and spilling inside her pussy. His whole body jerked as he came hard, hips twitching.

Minho wasn’t far behind — he slammed in and groaned as thick ropes of cum filled her ass, both of them shooting deep inside her at the same time.

Winter collapsed between them, body shaking, holes leaking, face glowing.

They slowly pulled out — watching as thick white cum oozed from her pussy and her ass.

Winter’s voice was hoarse but smug.

“Now that’s how you ruin me.

But neither Jae nor Minho were done.

Jae looked down at her flushed, ruined body. His cock — still rock hard, slick with her cum — twitched. Minho met his eyes, then looked down at his own length, smeared with the mess from her ass, and groaned.

Winter looked up at them lazily, licking her lips. “Still hard?” she said, voice hoarse and teasing. “Didn’t get enough yet?”

Jae knelt down beside her, brushing a finger along her jaw. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be ruined.”

“And you will be,” Minho added, grabbing her hair and gently pulling her to her knees. “Open your mouth, baby.”

Winter did — slow, tongue out, eyes wide with that same dirty glint — and both guys stepped in closer, cocks right in front of her face. She didn’t flinch. She looked thrilled.

“You want both?” Jae asked, already stroking his cock near her lips.

Winter nodded, dragging her tongue across the tip, then let it slide across her cheek and lower lip. “I want to taste you both at the same time. Stuff my mouth full. Use my face like a toy.”

Minho grinned. “God, you’re filthy.”

She opened wider and tilted her head back.

They both leaned in, Jae guiding his cock to the left side of her tongue, Minho to the right. Winter’s eyes fluttered as both tips rubbed against each other inside her mouth.

“Mmm—fuck,” she moaned, the sound vibrating through them.

Her tongue worked between them, licking up the underside of both shafts as they slowly slid in together. Her mouth stretched wide to fit them — drool pouring from the corners, spit coating everything in wet, shiny sheen.

Jae groaned. “She’s really doing it.”

Minho slapped his cock lightly on her tongue. “You like this, don’t you?”

Winter answered by looking up and moaning again, tongue flicking out, then tapping both their cocks with it playfully. She licked across them slowly, dragging the fat length of her tongue under one then the other, making a mess.

“You’re so fucking nasty,” Jae panted. “Look at you.”

Minho grabbed her head and thrust in shallowly. “Let us fuck your throat, baby. No hands.”

Winter let them.

They started slow — easing in, sliding past her lips in sync, until both cocks hit the back of her throat. She gagged slightly, eyes watering, but she didn’t stop. Her hands clutched her own thighs for stability as they face-fucked her together, switching tempo, slapping against her cheeks, the stretch brutal and perfect.

“She’s drooling all over,” Minho hissed, watching spit drip from her chin to her tits.

Jae pulled out just enough to let her breathe. “Show us how bad you want it.”

Winter gasped for air, coughed once, then opened wide again with her tongue out.

“Put it back in,” she begged. “Use my mouth. Cum down my throat. I don’t care — just keep fucking me.”

They took turns sliding into her throat while the other smeared his cock across her cheeks, tapping her tongue, watching her eyes flutter every time they hit deep.

Winter moaned through it all, grinding her thighs together like she couldn’t help it. She started to finger herself between gasps, whimpering around them.

Minho pulled out and smacked her cheek lightly with his cock. “Get on the couch.”

Winter obeyed instantly — crawling onto the cushions with shaky limbs, laying back and spreading her legs wide.

Jae knelt between them, dragging his cock through her slick folds before slamming in. Winter cried out, back arching as he bottomed out.

Minho stood over her face again, feeding her his cock while Jae started pounding into her pussy.

She was moaning around Minho now, hips jerking with every thrust Jae gave her, tears streaming from how good it all felt.

“You’re so fucking full again,” Jae groaned. “Your pussy’s swallowing me.”

Winter popped off Minho’s cock just long enough to moan, “Then put it in my ass again. Both of you. Please—again—I want to be stuffed.”

They flipped her onto her side, Jae behind her sliding back into her pussy, Minho lifting her leg and slowly easing back into her ass.

“Fucking hell,” Jae groaned. “Every time, she’s tighter.”

Winter was gasping now, mouth open, eyes glazed. “F-fill me—god—*harder—*fuck me harder—”

They doubled their pace.

Her body jolted with every thrust, her holes stretched tight, messy and leaking. She came again — hard — screaming into the cushions, her legs trembling uncontrollably.

“You’re gonna take our cum again now,” Minho hissed. “One in every hole.”

“Please,” Winter sobbed. “Do it. In my ass. In my pussy. In my mouth. Claim every part of me—please—I want to feel you dripping out of me—”

Jae slammed into her harder, holding her hips still. “Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna cum—”

Minho groaned behind her. “Me too—shit—”

They both drove into her deep — and then spilled.

Jae’s cock pulsed inside her soaked pussy, filling her full and hot, while Minho groaned and slammed deep into her ass, shooting thick ropes that made her clench even harder.

Winter shook violently — her body collapsing, twitching, dripping from every hole.

Minho pulled out first, watching cum leak from her gaping ass.

Jae followed, and both of them watched together as their loads mixed, slowly dripping down the backs of her thighs and pooling on the couch cushion.

Winter lay there, flushed, panting, trembling.

But her voice still came, soft and sinful:

“…who said I was done?”

[holycest]

content warnings: incest + intoxication (and therefore dubcon). female reader.

satoru doesn't shy away from the fact that he's your brother in the slightest. in fact, you'd bet on the notion that he's turned on by the intimacy that only a brother-sister relationship could bring to the bedroom.

it's one thing for him to throw a party while your parents are away for the weekend and fuck any of the many drunk girls that'll be throwing themselves at him. but it's another thing to intentionally keep you at home so that he can dose you up on drinks and have his way with you in the bedroom you used to kick him out of as a moody teenager.

you had wanted to go out with some friends and avoid the noise of toru's house party. you'd even gone as far as to make plans, dress up real nice and bid your brother goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. but of course he came up with an excuse to keep you in.

"you're my responsibility," he says, despite your being an adult. "i can't take care of you if you're whoring yourself out in some dank bar now, can i, sis?"

that earns him a slap across the cheek, which he likes all too much. the feeling of your skin against his, even when hitting him, has his cock stirring needy in his pants already. he can't wait to see how handsy you get once he's gotten a few drinks in you.

you've explored eachother before. stupid late movie nights when a sex scene has come on and you've grown a little too curious about the growing boner satoru was sporting has lead to a few handjobs in your relationship, but you've never gone further than hands.

and making out, though satoru insists that a kiss is a kiss regardless of it being on the lips or cheek, and an older brother has every right to kiss his little sister. it's a healthy display of affection, after all.

though of course never in front of others. which makes it very difficult for satoru to keep you away from prying eyes once the party kicks into full swing and he's managed maybe one-too-many drinks in your system. you're practically grinding on him, and in the dim light satoru can't see much of you, but he can feel your ass against his dick and that is more than enough incentive to make a poor judgement call and drag you up to your bedroom.

your brother fucks you for the first time that night. he locks the door behind the two of you and lays you down on your bed and eats you out until his jaw is clicking. you're so wet for him in a way that you could never be for anyone else. he knows you'd never spread your legs like this for any of the men that were eyeing you downstairs, because they're not him.

and once you've cum twice against his eager tongue he flips you over and presses your face into the pillows so he can fuck you deep. he loves you in more ways than one: in the brotherly way that has him scolding you for wearing a dress so short, were you trying to get someone's attention? but also in the way of a lover, which makes him so fucking excited to finally be sinking into your slick pussy that not even five strokes in, your brother is emptying his balls inside of you.

it's embarrassing as fuck! still high on the experience though, he keeps fucking his softening cock into you... feeding you inch by inch of his dick until you're such a drunk babbling mess that his body has no other viable natural reaction than to get hard all over again.

and as satoru hopes you're drunk enough to forget just how quick he came... you're hoping he doesn't find out that you didn't drink a drop! so what if you just wanted an excuse to act out of line, satoru's baby sister gets what she wants. :)

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

princesskook!reader and rafe being coked out and dry humping at a party

DRY HUMPING W/ RAFE . . .

the party’s a chaotic blur, a haze of thumping bass, spilled drinks, and bodies packed into some kook’s sprawling beach house. the air’s thick with the sharp tang of liquor and weed, laughter and shouted conversations fighting to be heard over the music. you’re perched on a couch in the corner, legs crossed, your tight little dress riding up just enough to make you feel like the princess you are.

rafe’s next to you, one arm slung around your shoulders, but he’s not all there—his eyes are glassy, pupils blown, that jittery edge to him that only comes when he’s been sniffing lines all night. he’s coked out, buzzing with energy, his leg bouncing as he talks too loud to some guy across from you, his hand gripping a red solo cup that’s mostly vodka by now.

you’re annoyed, lips pursed, arms crossed under your chest, pushing up your cleavage just enough to make rafe’s boys sneak glances. you’re over this scene—over the sweaty crowd, the sticky floor, the way rafe’s too wired to notice you’ve been giving him the silent treatment for the last twenty minutes.

you’re horny, aching for him, the kind of need that’s been building all night, fueled by the way he looked earlier, all sharp jawline and fitted shirt, before the coke took over. you want to go home, want him to take you apart in your bed, but rafe’s not picking up on it, too caught up in his high.

“rafe,” you say, voice sharp, leaning into his side, your hand on his thigh, nails digging in just enough to make a point. “can we go? i’m bored.”

he doesn’t even look at you, just laughs at something the guy says, his hand squeezing your shoulder absentmindedly. “chill, baby, we’re good,” he says, voice loud, that outer banks drawl slurring slightly from the liquor and the coke. “party’s just gettin’ started.”

you huff, rolling your eyes, shifting so your dress hikes up a little more, knowing he’ll notice eventually. “rafe, i’m serious,” you whine, leaning closer, your lips brushing his ear, voice dropping to that bratty, pouty tone you know gets under his skin. “i wanna go home. now.”

he finally glances at you, eyes flicking down to your legs, your cleavage, then back to your face, and there’s a spark there, that dark, hungry look he gets when you push him. but he’s still buzzing, not ready to leave. “what’s the rush, princess?” he says, smirking, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your thigh, gripping it hard. “you lookin’ this good, we ain’t leavin’ yet.”

you scowl, crossing your arms tighter, turning your body away from him slightly, giving him the full brat treatment. “fine, stay then,” you snap, voice dripping with attitude. “i’ll just sit here and die of boredom.”

he laughs, low and rough, and you feel his hand slide higher up your thigh, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. “oh, you’re gonna be a little bitch tonight, huh?” he says, voice teasing but with that edge that makes your pulse race. he leans closer, lips grazing your ear, his breath hot. “what’s got you so worked up, baby? tell me.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your annoyance, but the way his hand’s creeping up your thigh, the way his voice is all low and dirty, is making it hard. “i’m horny, rafe,” you admit, voice a little whiny, turning to face him, your hand grabbing his wrist to stop his teasing. “and you’re just… ignoring me.”

his smirk widens, eyes darkening, and you can tell he’s getting off on your attitude, on the way you’re practically squirming already. “poor thing,” he says, mock-pity in his tone, his hand slipping under your dress now, fingers brushing just close enough to make you tense. “my princess all needy and i’m not givin’ her what she wants, huh?”

“rafe,” you hiss, glancing around, aware of the crowd, the people not far off, but he’s already moving, shifting you so you’re straddling his thigh, your dress hiked up just enough to stay decent. your eyes widen, and you grab his shoulders, whispering, “what are you doing? people can see.”

“let ‘em look,” he says, voice rough, one hand on your hip, the other gripping the back of your neck, pulling you close so his lips are at your ear. “you’re my girl, yeah? gonna take care of you right here.” he’s high, reckless, and you know he doesn’t care who’s watching, that possessive streak in him flaring up at the thought of anyone seeing you like this, knowing you’re his.

you’re about to protest, but then he flexes his thigh, the hard muscle pressing right against you, and you gasp, the friction hitting exactly where you need it. “rafe,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, and he chuckles, low and dirty, guiding your hips to rock against him.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with that drawl, his hand on your hip setting a slow, steady rhythm. “just grind on me, yeah? gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good.” his words are filthy, coaxing, and you’re too far gone to care about the party anymore, your body moving on instinct, chasing the pressure, the heat.

you’re trying to be discreet, keeping your movements small, but it’s hard when he’s watching you like that, eyes locked on your face, all intense and hungry, like he’s getting off on every little sound you make.

“fuck, you’re so hot like this,” he says, voice low, his grip tightening on your neck, pulling you closer so he can kiss you, messy and deep, tongue claiming you. “my needy little princess, humpin’ my leg in front of everybody.”

you moan into his mouth, half-embarrassed, half-thrilled, the risk of it all making it hotter. people are close, but the couch is tucked in the corner, and the music’s loud, the crowd too drunk to care. still, the idea that someone could see you, could know exactly what you’re doing, sends a thrill through you, mixing with the way his thigh feels, the way his hands guide you.

“rafe, please,” you whimper, voice shaky, and he smirks against your lips, flexing his thigh again, making you jolt. you’re soaked, you know you are, probably leaving a mess on his jeans, but he doesn’t care, just keeps you moving, keeps coaxing you with that low, dirty voice.

“c’mon, baby, you can do it,” he says, lips brushing your ear, his hand on your hip grinding you down harder. “wanna feel you come like this. wanna see my pretty girl lose it f’me.” his words are your undoing, the praise and the filth mixing with the pressure, and you’re trembling, so close, your breaths coming fast and shallow.

you’re trying to hold it together, but it’s too much—his voice, his hands, the way he’s watching you like you’re his whole world. “rafe,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, and he groans, low and rough, his own breathing uneven now, like he’s right there with you.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he mutters, his hand slipping to grip your ass, urging you faster, harder. “come f’me, baby. right here, let everybody know you’re mine.” his words push you over, and you’re coming, hard, a soft cry slipping out as you shake against him, clinging to his shoulders, his neck, anything to anchor you.

he’s not far behind, his grip bruising as he tenses, a low “shit” hissed against your ear as he comes, his jeans probably a mess now, but he doesn’t care, just holds you close, kissing you sloppy and deep as you both come down, panting against each other.

you’re dazed, giggling softly, still straddling his thigh as he leans back, smirking, looking way too pleased with himself. “still wanna go home, princess?” he teases, voice rough, his hand stroking your back, possessive and soft all at once.

you swat his chest, half-embarrassed, half-satisfied, but you’re grinning, leaning into him. “you’re such an asshole,” you mutter, but you’re kissing him again, slow and sweet, knowing you’re not going anywhere for a while.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

𓂅 taglist ― @littlelamy @dollyfiles @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt @urcoolgf @camercns @pointocean @dsfault @rafestoothbrush @huhidontknowstuff @drewssgirl

[neeeooon]

Hello my gorgeous queen Elle (with insane rizz)

I wanted to make a request if thats alright 😛 Could you do one that's just like your recent bllk fic, the one where they find their s/o's jealousy adorable but with the wind breaker boys? I will show up to your house if you add Sakura, Suou, Umemiya and whoever else you like! 😈👅🙏

Thanks for reading!!💖💖

TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH LMAO but here you go!! bllk version here KAJI ART BY @monraggedy HERE!!!

when they find your jealousy adorable

bf wbk x gn!reader. cussing, crack, fluff

sakura haruka

-> being with sakura is a constantly test on your patience and jealous, especially when people comment on his habit of getting flustered around physical intimacy

-> you were getting lunch one day when a couple of girls spotted you (your boyfriend) and took it upon themselves to approach him. “wow. your hair is genuinely so pretty. where did you get it done?” “are you an idol trainee or something?” “can i touch it?”

-> sakura went red at the attention, and the girls took his uncomfortable flush as interest. when one leaned over to touch his head, you took it upon yourself to intervene and smacked her hand away

-> “did he say you could touch him?” “i—“ “get lost before i get a criminal record.” they scamper off, leaving you with your still-blushing boyfriend. “thanks..” “i hate it when people do that. you can defend yourself, you know.” your grumbly tone made his lip quirk. “but it’s cute seeing you jealous.” and now you were the blushing one

suo hayato

-> suo is so fake, and you find it endearing if not a little infuriating, the latter especially when he doesn’t switch from happy boy to fuck right the fuck off when someone gets a little too close

-> you were shopping for shoes when a boy about your age accidentally bumped into you. he immediately apologized, but something changed when he saw your boyfriend. you could practically see cupid’s arrow sticking out of his back as he trailed after you guys, conversing with your smiley, unbothered boyfriend

-> you tried to be subtle at first. “we’re just shopping for shoes.” “babe, how about this section?” “i’m hungry, we should just go.” but this boy was reluctant. he was laying the charms on heavy, even you got a bit blushy at his compliments to suo

-> finally, you had enough when he offered to take suo to lunch. despite you standing right there. your nostrils flamed as you got in his face and said, “that’s my husband, by the way. and we have a child on the way. so back off before i put my hands on you.” he did not make you ask twice

-> “adorable.” suo cooed at the check out. “i’m glad you think so, because i was two seconds away from breaking his face with my fist.” “i didn’t realize we were married.” “yeah, well, surprise. our child is the basil plant on the windowsill.” he kissed your cheek and held your bags on the way out

umemiya hajime

-> you know umemiya would never entertain the idea or being disloyal to you, but he’s so nice. he cares so much, and sometimes he don’t know when to end a conversation. that’s where you come in!

-> “i’m thinking we could start growing pumpkins now and have an event in the fall for the boys!” umemiya lit up when he talked about gardening or furin, and a woman shopping for flowers noticed. she cleared her throat, handing over a pack of pumpkin seeds when you both turned to face here. “i recommend this brand, cutie.”

-> cutie? cutie?! absolutely not. when umemiya let out an awkward chuckle and rubbed his head, you snatched the seeds and placed them back on the shelf before attaching yourself to his arm. “we’ll find our own, thank you very much.”

-> you tugged umemiya away before the lady could retaliate and looked up when you felt his shoulder jiggle. he was laughing. at you! “what?” you pouted, and umemiya pressed a gentle peck to your nose. “nothing. you’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

kaji ren

-> a girl on the bus had been looking at his mouth way too long for your liking

-> kaji had his eyes closed, head tipped back slightly, and headphones on as he mindlessly swirled a lollipop. he was minding his business, escorting you home from school, yet this girl would not pull her eyes away from him

-> when kaji swallowed and the girl blushed, you stood up. “can you stop eye-fucking my boyfriend? it’s seriously gross.” the girl ran to the opposite side of the train so fast you would have been impressed if you weren’t so disgusted by her shamelessness

-> only when you dropped back into your seat did kaji peek an eye at you. he grinned at your flushed and agitated face. “cute.” “me defending your honor is cute?” “you getting jealous enough to want to defend my honor is cute.” you humphed but didn’t pull away when he slipped his hand into yours and held it the rest of the ride home

togame jo

-> he’s all patient glances and soft smiles when you drag him around the grocery store, not-so-subtly dodging the employee who cannot keep her eyes to herself

-> you notice her in the produce section. the frozen section. the snack section. it feels like she’s everywhere, and it makes your blood boil

-> as togame distracts himself with some shrimp snacks, you give him a gentle nudge and announce that you’re going to grab something from another section. you don’t notice him following as you hunt for the employee who can’t mind her business

-> “can you not see that we’re clearly together? keep stalking my boyfriend and i’ll go full karen on your ass, i promise.” you spun away from her shocked face and directly into your boyfriend’s chest. “oh! hi, babe.”

-> he squeezed your shoulder. “that was adorable. ‘full karen.’ i’m shivered, my love.” you gave him a playful whack on the shoulder and let him drag you back to the snack section. “you don’t have to be jealous, though. i only have eyes on you.” “ooh, you want to kiss me so bad.” so he does <3

[raven-dor]

illicit affairs

in which you distance yourself from bucky barnes, and he won’t rest until he knows why

PAIRING: congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, morning sickness, pregnancy, miscommunication (but ig it's more like refusing to communicate), given last name! (Clark), arguing, ANGSTY ANGSTY ANGST, more arguing, kissing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

🎶 : illicit affairs - taylor swift

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - this is like my favorite angsty fic of all time, like it's up there with me and my husband (gwayne hightower) EEEK HAPPY READING!! also i might write a part two where the use the house she bought if that's something you guys would be interested in

The sun shone through the curtains, yellow and bright. You stared at the man dead asleep beside you, a contented smile creeping on your lips. He looked so peaceful, not at all like how he looked awake, always stressed, always worrying over something. If it wasn’t Congress or the team, it was you. Worry was Bucky’s main emotion, you would say when you teased him. He worried over your safety the most, often trying to convince you to stop working in the office, practically begging you to work from home. 

You glared at him every time. 

You could never bring yourself to stay angry, though. He was caring, more than most had ever been with you. You were fragile, something he cherished. 

It made you feel valuable; your cheeks warmed just thinking about it. 

He grumbled, burying his face further into your torso. His arm was lazily wrapped around your waist, and he smiled in his sleep, pulling you closer. You hadn’t wanted to wake him, but he had a meeting in forty-five minutes, and he still needed his routine cup of coffee. “Buck. You have to get up.” 

“Five more minutes.” 

“Bucky…” You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll be late.” 

“I could run there in five minutes.” You knew from the look on his face that he was considering it. Thanks to his super soldier serum, he really could run around the entirety of Washington D.C. in less than an hour. 

“You could, but your hair would be a mess.” You frowned, reaching down to run your fingers through the sleep-tangled tresses. “A lot like it is now. Besides, think about the people who voted for you, who elected you to this office. They wouldn’t exactly enjoy learning that their congressman was late to a meeting.” 

“I hate when you’re right.” He groaned, rolling over and walking toward the bathroom, leaving the door open as he fixed his appearance. “Have I told you how lovely you look this morning?”

“No.”  You playfully glared. “And if you did, you’d be a liar.”

He scoffed. “You’re timeless, Doll. Would’ve took my breath away even in the ’40s.” Your heart fluttered from his compliment. “Are you coming into work with me?” 

You shrugged, biting your lip as you admired his back muscles. “Dunno. I think I’ll take a half day. Probably go on a walk, find a nice cafe to get some work done in.” 

He frowned. “What am I going to do without you?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be just fine. The world will turn without me running the office while you’re gone.” 

“I don’t know.” He was rather dramatic in the morning. “My executive assistant is important-” 

“We can’t go to work together.” You hissed. “You know that. The press would have a field day-” 

“I don’t care.” He sat on the edge of your shared bed. “Don’t you think it’s time the office knows?”

“Bucky. Think of your career, your position. It would look like an abuse of power, I would have to stop working-” 

“Perfect.” He looked terribly pleased with your last statement. “I’ve been trying to get you to stop working in the office for months.” 

“I like working.” You glared. “And I thought we’d finally gotten past that.” 

“We have.” He smiled, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “I just want you to be-” 

“I know.” You sighed. “But I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours. “Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” 

Your eyes welled up, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You love me too much.”

He shook his head, eyes darting to your lips. “Not such thing as too much, Doll.”

You leaped up, pulling him down to you, his eyes wide as you kissed him senseless. “God, I love you.” You murmured against his lips. 

He grinned, kissing down your neck. “I love you more.” 

He’d been late to work. You had to peel yourself away from his touch and practically push him out the door, waving goodbye until his car had vanished from your sight. 

His townhouse was perfect, warm and inviting. When you first started dating, it was empty, with only the bare necessities. You’d laughed when you’d entered, insisting that he let you take him shopping. He’d agreed, and you would later find out he would agree to anything you asked simply because he loved the way your eyes lit up when you were determined.

 Your stomach lurched, and you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut to try and quell the nausea. Finding your way into the kitchen, you grabbed your favorite mug, one that Bucky had bought with you in mind, and made yourself a cup of peppermint tea. Another wave of nausea, stronger than the last, hit you as the steam hit your nostrils. You realized that this was not something you could solve with a couple of deep breaths and a cup of tea; your stomach once again grumbled as you rushed toward the bathroom. 

Denial. 

That was the first stage, right? 

You stared at the tests on the bathroom counter, too shocked to cry. There was no possible way this was real. You’d been safe, you’d taken extra precautions. The science behind the super soldier serum coursing through his veins was something neither of you understood, and so you decided you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

Apparently, you thought as you stared wide-eyed at the positive pregnancy tests in front of you, your extra precautions had been for nothing. This was horrible timing, plain and simple. He’d finally made a name for himself other than the ‘Winter Soldier’. He was finally coming into his own, and you’d ruined it. 

You had to resign. You had to leave before the press found out. 

No, you reasoned with yourself. No one knew you were dating; if you simply pretended that you were pregnant by some random man, the office would believe you. 

There was one major flaw in that plan. What would Bucky think? What would he think if his girlfriend of almost two years suddenly broke up with him and showed up to work a week later, visibly pregnant? 

You decided to stick with your original plan, resigning from the office and fleeing DC. You ran up the stairs, shoving everything you’d accumulated into the two bags you kept here. Your drawer would be empty by the time he came home.

He would eventually understand that you were saving his job, saving what you’d both worked so hard for him to achieve. Besides, who knew if he even wanted that with you, a child, a domestic life? This was James Barnes, the World War II veteran, Avenger, and congressman. He had no time for trivial things like that. 

Anger. 

Your life was exactly what you’d wanted, perfect in every way that counted. Your relationship with Bucky was perfect.

At least, until now.

He had been the first man to truly love you, to care about you. You weren’t some object, some underling. You were his equal, his great love, his partner. 

You’d finally achieved your dream. You came to DC to head an office, to become a political weapon. You’d done that, you’d seen the potential in Bucky, and you had gotten him into office.

This wasn’t fair. 

You loved him, you loved him so much that it hurt. He was a gentleman. He held the door open, he respected you, he was- Angry hot tears ran down your cheeks as you lugged the bags over your shoulders, locking the front door behind you, leaving your key underneath the mat. 

This really sucked.

You hailed a taxi, smiling gratefully when the driver helped you with your bags. “Where to, Miss?” 

“Doll?” Bucky called out, shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t show up to work! Something wrong?” 

No response. You were probably upstairs, too tired to call back out to him. He set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his sports coat. “I brought Indian food from your favorite place down on 8th street.” 

By this point, you were typically barreling down the hallway, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses over his face. He frowned, the house much too silent for his liking. “Baby? Are you home?” 

The hallway was dark, too dark for his liking. You were known for leaving the lights on, too scared to walk around his house in the dark. He laughed when you’d told him, but he’d never judged. If it made you feel safer, then he was all for it. 

He’d checked every room, every possible place you could be, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you’d never even existed. His mind began to cloud, dark and poisonous. 

His first thought was that someone had taken you. That they, whoever they were, had followed the pair of you home one day, found out where he lived, and taken you as collateral. He began to dial Sam’s number when he pushed your shared bedroom door open, frowning at the sight before him. 

Your drawer was open, empty of all the things you’d brought over. He shut the door behind him, pushing the bathroom door open to find that even your products in the mirror above the sink and the shower had disappeared. His heart stopped, hands shaking as he deleted Sam’s number to make way for yours. It had rung two times before you picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Thank god.” His voice was quiet. “Came home and you weren’t here. Thought something had happened.” 

“I um…” You felt horrible, horrible that he had thought you’d been taken. You almost gave in, almost told him the truth. He loved you, and you knew he would be excited. “I-” No, you shook your head, you had to do this for him, for his future. He loved you, and you loved him, which is precisely why you had to do this. “I think we should stop seeing each other.” 

This was his nightmare; this was infinitely worse than someone taking you. That he could fight, he could win; this was uncharted territory. His heart clenched, on the verge of breaking clean in half. “What?” 

“This has been on my mind for some time now.” Lie. “It would be best, for both of us, for your career-” You willed yourself not to cry, not to break from the sound of his voice, more anxious than you’d ever heard him. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Where is this coming from, Doll?” He sounded desperate, broken. A tear ran down your cheek. “Did something happen? Did I-” 

“Bucky.” You cried, the tears you’d tried so hard to hold back breaking free. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “I am going to make this harder than it has to be, because I love you."

Bargaining. 

His voice broke, desperate for an explanation. “Just tell me what happened, baby.” 

“I’d like to take the rest of this week off, please.” He would be better off without you, without this whole mess. This was for the best, you tried to convince yourself. “I’ll be back to work next week.” 

“Where are you?” If he could just see you, he would know. He was sure of it; he could read you like an open book. It was for that very reason that you did not want to tell him where you were. 

“I’m-” It was only a matter of time before he found where you were. Hell, he’d had your location in his phone since before you started dating, for safety purposes, of course. You’d laughed when he'd asked, giving him yours in return. It had been sweet, the way he nervously bit his lip. You remembered your cheeks flushing, stomach fluttering at the action.

Now it made you want to cry.

“I’m at my apartment.” 

“Your apartment?” He felt like he was dying, his heart clenching so tightly he thought he was having a heart attack. Maybe he was. You hadn’t been to your apartment in months, spending virtually every waking moment at his place. He’d even persuaded you to move in last week. “Thought you were moving in with me-” 

“Things change, okay?” You snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to snap like that.” You wiped your face clean of tears. “We were never going to last forever.” Lie number two. “Please, just let me do this.” 

“No.” He shook his head as if you could see him. “I can fix this, we can-” 

“I’ll see you in a week, Congressman.”

True to your word, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week. The radio silence made him jittery, and he began to lose focus in meetings, his peers growing more and more annoyed by his apparent lack of care regarding the nation’s interest. 

He wished he could tell them that his life turned upside down on a random Tuesday, that the love of his life had left him out of nowhere, but he knew better. 

They wouldn’t care. 

He’d been counting down the days, staring at his door for some form of life, for your familiar frame. 

Your desk was right outside his office, and he often found himself watching you through the glass wall. Now he just stared at nothing, at the empty desk that turned his mood sour. He frowned, dropping his face into his hands, wallowing in misery.

“Congressman?” 

His heart skipped, head whipping up. “Ms. Clark.”

You hadn’t wanted to go back to work, but you couldn’t just quit over the phone. 

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could have, probably should have, but your heart craved him, your eyes had to see him once more. 

Then you could hand in your resignation letter. 

You waved hello to the office as you walked toward your desk, almost laughing to yourself at the sight before you. There sat Bucky Barnes, in all his glory, with his head in his hands. If this were normal circumstances, if you hadn’t just broken up with him and were planning on moving across the country, you would have laughed. 

You draped your coat over the back of your chair, pulling your resignation letter out of your bag. “Congressman?” You cleared your throat, heart thumping hard against your chest.

“Ms. Clark.” His head whipped up, eyes wide as he stared at you. “You’re back.” 

“I am.” You reminded yourself that you were in the office and thus had to behave professionally. Placing the letter in front of him, you mustered up the weakest smile known to man. “Here is my resignation letter.” 

“Resignation letter?” Bucky rubbed his eyes, like you weren’t real, a figment of his imagination. “Ms. Clark-” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, not having the strength to look at him any longer. “For understanding.” 

“Wait just a second-” He stood up, practically racing toward the door to shut it before you could leave. “Don’t thank me for understanding.” His cologne threatened to overpower your senses. “Don’t thank me because I don’t understand.” He looked miserable, hands twitching like he was forcing himself not to touch you. “You haven’t given me any real reason.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was like a warning, a plea not to escalate things.

He didn’t happen to care, because he couldn’t let you go. Not without a fight, or at the very least, a reason for your sudden end of an otherwise happy relationship. 

He whispered your name so faintly you could have sworn he’d never said it. “I can’t let you go.” 

“This is highly inappropriate. We are at work, anyone could walk in at-” 

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “I love you? Do you know how much I love you?” 

“Of course I do.” You whispered, scared of someone overhearing. “And I- I loved-” 

“Bullshit.” He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “We were happy. You were happy. You told me you loved me that morning. What happened in nine hours?” 

“If there’s nothing else you need…” You straightened your posture. “I’ll be just outside.” 

“I need you.” He said it like it was a fact, like it was certain, etched in stone since the beginning of time. “You might not need me, but I need you.” 

Oh, how you wanted to correct him. You needed him like air, like the very oxygen that filled your lungs. You’d been in love with him for so long that you’d forgotten what it had been like before him. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hear you reject him one more time. Not when he knew that you still loved him. He knew it, even if you didn’t. “That will be all.” 

“Fine.” You nodded, turning on your heels like you hadn’t just broken his heart. Like you hadn’t just broken your own heart.

Depression.

You were actively fighting through it, fighting against crumbling into ash and letting the Earth swallow you whole. You’d been to a total of two doctors’ appointments, and even that had done nothing to improve your mood. 

If anything, it made it worse, knowing that Bucky would never be there, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He would never see her first steps, her playing in the front yard, her first dance recital. 

And that was fine, because he would be doing great things, he would be changing the world. 

You didn’t even know if it was a girl or a boy. You had a feeling that it was a girl; your feeling was more of a wish than intuition. You’d always known you’d have a girl; it was something that had been part of you for as long as you’d loved playing with dolls. 

Your hand fell to your stomach, caressing it gently as you whispered. “Hello, my darling.” It was too early to tell if it was a boy or a girl, too early for kicking, too early for most things. 

You felt crazy when you talked to your baby; it wasn’t like she (or he) could hear you or show you that it could. “You’re going to be so loved, so deeply loved.” 

The bed in your apartment was comfortable, but you missed your bed, the one you’d been sleeping in for almost a year. Bucky’s bed. You missed his smell, his warmth. You slept in the one shirt he’d left over here every night, pretending as if nothing had gone wrong, that you hadn’t broken the one thing that kept you sane. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered again, eyes tearing up as you thought of him. “I miss your father.” 

Only two more days until you leave DC. 

Technically, one and a half. 

It felt surreal. You’d come here with such big dreams, and now, here you were, leaving with your tail tucked between your legs.

It was fine, not everyone was made for this life. 

You thought you had been. 

You’d already put a down payment on a modest house in a small town somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was pale blue, with three bedrooms, two stories, and it took everything in your savings. 

The front yard was perfect for playing in, for growing up. The large oak tree that shaded the house was perfect for climbing, even a tire swing. 

Maybe this was it, acceptance. 

It felt like it, in some horribly strange way. You’d finally reached the last stage of grief, of mourning your past life.

Mourning your great love. 

The office was relatively quiet, a nice reprieve from a normally chaotic environment. You’d decided to make the most of your last two days to finally organize the file system, hopefully enough so that his next executive assistant had an easier time finding things than you had. 

You wondered as you flipped through a folder labeled ‘The Superhero Support Act’ if he and his next assistant would fall in love, if she would make him forget about the pain you’d caused. 

You hoped she did; he deserved happiness.

By noon, you’d already organized all the digital files, your desk, and Bucky’s office. It was time for the white whale - the file closet.

It was dingy in here, the one hanging light doing nothing to brighten the space. You groaned, knowing that this would take longer than you thought. The files were dusty; they had obviously been neglected since the invention of the computer. Deciding to organize the files chronologically, you began your last mission.

 “Thought I’d find you here.” 

You cursed at the sky, wishing that Bucky would just leave before either of you said something you’d regret. You continued to face away from him, still sorting through the files as diligently as before. “Just doing my job.” 

“Mhm.” You imagined he was leaning against the doorway, looking as handsome as always, his jacket unbuttoned. “I see that.” He didn’t speak for a while, simply watching you organize. You wished he would leave once more. 

Wishes, apparently, are not granted on Capitol Hill. 

“I love you.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Congressman-” 

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned. “C’mon, Doll-” 

“Don’t.” You stood up, finally facing him. “We are at work.” He raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut. Your eyes widened, and you stepped forward, trying to open it. “If someone finds us in here-” 

“What will they do?” Bucky laughed. “You're leaving, as you love to remind me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” 

“Funny.” He took in your face, trying to memorize it before you left. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whispered.

“Like what?” He whispered back.

“Like you still love me.” 

“Of course I still love you.” He scoffed, following after you as you walked backwards, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “I’ll always love you.” 

Your eyes welled. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Stop telling me what I mean.” 

Your back hit the file shelf, gasping. “I-” 

He was barely a breath away from you, eyes darting toward your lips. “When will you understand that I love you? That I’m here, and I’m not leaving. That I’ve loved you since you walked into my campaign office, all frazzled, barking out orders?” His hand came up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen against your will. “That I wake up in the middle of the night, and the first thing I do is look over to make sure you’re still there, that you’re breathing, that you're real?”

“Bucky-” You were sobbing, fighting every instinct that screamed to let him in, to tell him the truth. “Stop.” Every time he spoke, it softened your resolve, made you want to tell him what you’d been carrying by yourself. 

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not going to leave you alone. I know you love me, I know-” 

You place one hand over his mouth, the other on his chest. “It’s for the best, trust me. You said you love me, so just let me do this. Let me do this for you.” 

He raised an eyebrow, delicately peeling your hand away from his mouth. “Do what? What’s going on, baby?” He grew more and more worried every second you sobbed, every second you refused to open up to him. “Did someone-” 

“No.” You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bucky, I love you so much-” 

He grinned, a glimmer of hope breaking through his otherwise melancholy face. “I love you too-” 

“But this is for your own good.” Both of your hands were on his chest, pushing him away like he was temptation itself. “You’re meant to do great things, and you can do those, but I can’t be the person who slows you down.” 

“Is that why you broke up with me?” He laughed. “I appreciate you looking out for me, really I do, but you can’t make that decision for me.” 

“Too late.” You cried, his shirt wrinkling under your hold. “It’s too late.” 

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head, his hands holding your face like it was precious. If you had asked him, it was. “You’re scaring me, baby. What’s got you so upset? Talk to me.” 

“I- I can’t-” 

“You can-” 

“You don’t get it-” You sobbed. “I-” 

“C’mon, Doll.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m right here.”

“I’m pregnant, alright?” You sobbed. “There you go, there it is.” He staggered back, staring at you in disbelief. You felt jittery, manic with fear from his reaction, or lack of reaction. “I’m sorry, I just-” You hugged yourself, rambling as you tried to explain the reasoning behind your decision.

“I found out after you left for work, and I-I couldn’t live with myself if I slowed you down. You’re amazing, you’re really making a change for these people. And I’m so proud of you, so so proud. You’re my finest achievement, and I-I couldn’t see it all go to waste. I knew if I told you, you’d drop everything, and I couldn’t have that. Because you care too much, and it scares me. It’s horrifying how much you love me. I’m not used to it. You’re supposed to be more selfish, you have to be more selfish, especially in this-” 

You tilted your head, glaring at the man in front of you. “Are you even listening?” He had that same glazed-over look in his eye, still staring in disbelief. “Are you serious? I know I messed up, but the least you could do is say something.” Bucky slowly walked back toward you, like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m sorry, I really am. Just please, say something, say anything-” You gasped when his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you carefully into his hold. “Bucky-”

His lips dove to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. He grinned, your teeth momentarily clashing, neither of you wanting to let up. Your knees weakened, glad that he had an arm around your waist, holding you up with ease. “We can’t-” 

“Are you sure?” He pulled back, breath heaving as he spoke. “Are you sure that you’re pregnant?” 

You nodded, smiling timidly. “Eight weeks yesterday.” 

“Eight weeks?” His eyes welled with tears as he stared at your stomach. “Oh, baby…” 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to-” 

“I love you.” He grinned, peppering kisses all over your face, your laughter bubbling in waves as you squirmed under his attack of affection. “I love you so much, and I-” He fidgeted with something in his pocket. “This is horrible timing, I know that.” 

“What?” Your heart dropped as he lowered himself onto one knee. “Bucky-” 

“Before you say anything, just let me get this out, and then you can scold me or kiss me, whatever you want.” He smiled, pulling out a small velvet box. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, and now seems as good a time as any.” The ring inside was old, simple, but elegant all the same. “This is my mother’s ring. Rebecca still had it.”

“Bucky-” 

“I want to marry you. So badly it hurts. Marry me, and I swear you’ll be happy as long as you live.”  

“You know my answer is yes.” You cried, leaning down to kiss him. “A million times, yes.” 

He smiled, placing the ring on your finger. “Thank god. If you tried to leave again i was just going to blurt it out, and I didn’t think that-” 

“This is perfect. You’re perfect.” You grinned, staring at the ring as he stood up. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, Doll.” He kissed the back of your hand, smiling when he saw his mother’s ring. “I do have one request.” 

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

“Next time you’re pregnant…” Your heart skipped at the way he so casually said ‘next time,’ like it was inevitable. “Tell me before you do anything rash.” 

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sounds reasonable enough.”

taglist: @milesdrift @eddiemunsons-lover @maryjaneeeee

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[taeyongdoyoung]

cherry

summary: you are looking for danger to distract you from your dark thoughts but you find something you weren't even hoping for... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: strangers to lovers, smut warnings: stranger danger, mentions of alcohol, spiked drink (not by cheol !), lying, swearing, non-consensual touching, bar setting, morally grey characters, unsafe drinking practices, danger/risk kink, threatening, brat!reader/brat tamer!cheol, kissing, unprotected car sex, pet names, attachment/abandonment issues, lowkey angst with a happy ending, roleplaying as strangers author's note: okay so...my initial idea was a fun night out with cherry-flavoured kisses but i got carried away and delved more into the realm of troubled psychology, proceed with caution & please stay safe out there! 🍒 word count: 2.3k playlist

Seungcheol watches the situation from afar, somewhat concerned for a total stranger. You are staring at your third cocktail for the night, absent-mindedly playing with the maraschino cherry on top of it. The guy talking to you looks sketchy from a mile away but for some reason, you keep entertaining his advances. Or rather…you feel unsafe to outright reject him?

For now, Seungcheol decides to observe only. Maybe he's making an assumption based off the guy's looks, which isn't very nice of him. Then, he notices you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. He wonders if the alcohol is starting to affect you. Seungcheol is about to go back to his own glass whiskey when he notices something even more suspicious. He swears he sees the creepy guy putting something white in your drink! Seungcheol's grip on his glass tightens.

Everyone seems to be lost in their own business. Should he intervene? Would things escalate? Should he attack the weird guy trying to drug you? But then again, he has no proof for what he saw other than his honest word. You come back from the bathroom and Seungcheol is on the verge of approaching, when he overhears your conversation.

"I don't wanna drink more," you mumble dizzily. "I've had enough."

"Come on, don't be such a party-pooper," the creep tries to convince you.

You shake your head in disagreement and that total shithead of a man has the audacity to bring the spiked glass towards your lips in an attempt to force you to drink.

Oh, hell nah! Seungcheol can't watch this any longer and dashes in, gripping the guy's wrist mid-air, causing the drink to spill.

"The lady said no," he hisses.

"Yah, why are you butting in our business? I know what my girlfriend wants," the beast grunts.

"I'm not your girlfriend," you say in a slightly louder, more confident voice.

"Pfft, babe, don't be like that," the guy loops an arm around your neck, but even in your drunken state, you attempt to get him off you.

"We literally met tonight. Leave me alone already," you reply, obviously emboldened by Seungcheol's presence.

"You heard what she said," Seungcheol insists. "Leave her the fuck alone."

His fiery gaze seems powerful enough to burn holes in the wicked guy's soul. Wanting to avoid a physical confrontation, the creep finally gives up and leaves the bar.

You breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for your help," you mumble nervously. "I was trying to get rid of him all night."

"He spiked your drink," Seungcheol informs you suddenly. "I probably wouldn't have intervened otherwise."

"Shit…" you drawl but you don't look particularly worried about that discovery.

"Why did you drink alone if you didn't want attention? And why did you leave your drink unsupervised?" Seungcheol can't resist asking all these questions.

"Apparently, it wasn't unsupervised, if you were watching," you respond only to the second inquiry.

"You shouldn't do that. It's…dangerous. What if I hadn't seen it? Do you have any idea what might have happened if I wasn't here on this particular night and if I hadn't decided to step in?" Seungcheol is starting to get angry.

"Do you want a reward or something?" you scoff sarcastically. "You don't know me. Maybe I was looking for danger."

Oh, you were like that. Self-destructive tendencies. A bit of a brat. Nothing he hasn't seen before. And yet…

"There are better ways to feel an adrenaline rush," Seungcheol explains patiently.

"Do you want me to buy you a drink?" you ask out of nowhere. "Will that get you to stop fucking lecturing me?"

Ouch. Nobody speaks to him that way. Ever. Nobody who knows him anyway…

"I can afford my own drink, thank you very much," Seungcheol rolls his eyes. "But no more drinks for you."

He doesn't know what possesses him to do that but he grabs your wrist and leads the way towards the door. He usually isn't like that but your ungrateful behaviour is so frustrating he feels the overpowering urge to teach you a lesson.

"What are you doing?" you whisper in a small voice, as he opens the door to his car and pushes you inside, locking the door. What the fuck?!

"Showing you what happens when you drink alone and leave your drink out of sight," Seungcheol growls.

"W-what?" you mumble and the actual fear in your eyes stuns him.

"Are you scared?" he laughs maniacally and leans in, facing you from up close. "Imagine what might have happened if you actually got drugged by that guy. Imagine if-"

"P-please, s-stop, I g-get it," you cry out, eyes tearing up in terror.

Seungcheol realizes his point was driven home and lets go of you, unlocking the car door.

"Get out of here," he orders.

You blink in shock and drunkenly stumble out of his car. No goodbyes are exchanged. The encounter so unusual, intense and emotionally charged that a goodbye would only mar it with its trifling nature.

A couple of nights pass and Seungcheol can't bring himself to go to his favourite bar. What was once a relaxing activity after a long day at work now seems like it would be a stressful ordeal. What if he sees you again? Drinking alone, purposefully putting yourself in danger?

He tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter. You're just a stranger he'd probably never cross paths with again. And yet…his curiosity gets the better of him.

Seungcheol returns to his favourite bar. Dreading (or perhaps hoping) that he'd find you there. And just like that, as if his thoughts manifested your appearance, he sees you.

Only this time, you are not alone, but with a girl friend who seems very happy to be spending time with you. Another major change is that you are gripping your drink tightly, not letting it out of sight. Good. Even though you're with a friend, it looks as if you learned your lesson from that bittersweet night.

Seungcheol wonders if he should approach you. Despite the fact that his intentions were noble, his behaviour back in his car was near abominable. He decides against ruining your fun night with your friend and tries to focus on his own drink, slowly sipping from it.

However, you seem to have a different plan.

"Long time no see," you greet him, as if he's an old friend and not a complete stranger. "You haven't been here recently."

"I didn't want to catch you getting yourself into trouble again," Seungcheol reminds you.

"I've been good," you promise, but for some reason he can't fully believe you. "And besides, what does it matter to you? We don't even know each other's names."

Are you asking for his name, then?

"Seungcheol," he introduces himself calmly. "I would say it's nice to meet you but I don't lie."

"Harsh," you chuckle. "I'm Y/N. I love lying, so…nice to meet you."

"Where did your friend go?" Seungcheol suddenly notices, not paying attention to your little jab.

"She went home to her boyfriend."

"So, you're drinking alone again?" he points out.

"I'm here with you, aren't I? So, I'm not alone," you explain logically.

"You don't even know me," Seungcheol shakes his head, as if to convince you that he's not trustworthy enough.

"I know your name, though. Doesn't that count for something?" you tilt your head to the side, taking a bold sip of your cherry-flavoured cocktail.

"You haven't changed," he groans bitterly. "You're just pretending to be more responsible to grab my attention."

"I thought I already had your attention," you grin flirtatiously.

"You do," Seungcheol admits reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I'll act on it."

"What if I want you to?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"You're insane, you know that?" he laughs.

"Aren't we all?"

And Seungcheol loses every last ounce of self-control he prided himself in usually possessing. He kisses you savagely, conquering your mouth with his own. The need to have you, to wipe that bratty smile off your face is overpowering.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, ravaging his lips.

"Let's get out of here," he suggests. Only this time, the words carry a different meaning from when he kicked you out.

Seungcheol leads you to his car again, too impatient to bother with finding hotels. It's so dark outside and he's parked at a place so empty and hidden that it gives you goosebumps. Not a soul in sight.

Perhaps, he is right. Perhaps, you are acting up, no self-preservation instinct in your body. But who cares? You've spent too long not feeling anything. This is the first time in a long while you've felt something so real.

There is no tenderness in the way he fucks you on the backseat of his car. It's as if Seungcheol makes it his mission to corrupt you even further, satisfying your reckless need for adrenaline.

"You're so sick, letting a stranger do this to you," Seungcheol grunts in your ear, as he rubs your pussy.

"You're not a stranger," you stand your ground, fully convinced this is normal behaviour.

"Knowing my name doesn't make this any better," his words are drowning in anger, but his actions are overflowing with the desire to pleasure you.

"What does this say about you, though?" you fight back verbally. "You're just as irresponsible as me."

"I. Need. To. Teach. You. A. Lesson," he punctuates with each thrust.

"Too bad I'm terrible at learning," you confess, scratching his back with your sharp nails.

"Say my name," Seungcheol demands.

"Seungcheol," you mumble obediently.

"Again."

"Seungcheol. Cheol. Seungcheol-ah," you repeat mindlessly.

"Good girl," he whispers.

"No, I'm not," you argue, biting his neck, while he's still fucking you viciously.

"I'll make you," Seungcheol promises and you are stunned by the assuredness in his deep voice.

"I'd like to see you t-" you fall apart beneath him before you can finish the word "try".

He truly ruins you so deliciously, making you forget everything that ever bothered you.

The only thing that remains in your mouth is the taste of whiskey mixed with the flavour of cherries.

Your first instinct is to run away. Every time you meet someone decent, you do that. Because if you don't, they'll leave you first. And you'd never let that happen again.

You start to put on your clothes hurriedly, attempting to flee the scene.

"Chérie..." Seungcheol pleads tenderly.

Fingers on the car handle, you hesitate upon hearing the gentle French endearment.

"What?" you ask despite yourself.

"Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter. Did you think I'd stay?" at this point, being mean is a defense mechanism. Looking for danger, finding it and then running away.

Only Seungcheol is more dangerous than danger itself. Because you can see in his eyes that he cares.

A total stranger, you don't even know if you have anything in common. And yet...he cared enough to intervene that night. He cared enough to discipline you. He cared enough to give you just what you need.

But you are so afraid. That he'll start to care too much. And one day, he'll stop.

"I'm not done with you," Seungcheol stands firm, gripping your wrist. "I told you I'll make a good girl out of you, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," you confirm weakly. Too weak to fight him on it. Too weak to escape...

"Well, I'm a man of my word."

"And if I want to go?" you still try.

"You don't," Seungcheol pronounces with certainty.

"How do you know what I want?"

"Because we want the same thing."

He doesn't say what that is. But he's right.

You bury your head in his chest, allowing him to hold you tightly.

Somehow, this turns out to be not just what you wanted. But what you needed.

"I'll take care of you," Seungcheol vows. "I'll be so good to you."

And for some reason, you believe him.

You let him consume your darkness with his own. And bring your shared light to the surface.

Bonus:

~ A year later ~

That same bar where you met. A cocktail in hand. Your red dress. The dim lights.

"What's a bad girl like you doing in a nice place like this?" Seungcheol teases you, pretending to be a stranger.

Oh, how times change.

"Looking for love," you joke, as you slide the maraschino cherry into your mouth.

"You seem like the kind of woman who already has that," Seungcheol reminds you of the reality of your relationship.

"And how would you know what kind of woman I am?" you play along, enjoying this game far too much.

"Because of the ring on your finger," he points out.

Oh, right! You never take it off. You completely forgot how about you'd explain it in such a scenario.

"Careful, there. My fiancé is a very jealous man," you poke fun at Seungcheol.

"Is he, now?" your fiancé leans in. "What would he do if I did that?"

Seungcheol kisses you warmly but possessively. What starts as innocent turns more heated and passionate. Never before have you felt so safe and wanted.

"He'd probably kill you," you shake your head, gasping for air. "Lucky for you, you're him."

"I must be the luckiest man in the world," Seungcheol announces proudly.

"Not really," you jest. "Your fiancée is a bit of a brat."

"A bit?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a lot. But she loves you very much," you admit honestly.

"Then, it's a good thing I love her, too," Seungcheol hugs you strongly.

You don't get the urge to run away anymore. Because this? This is better than any adrenaline rush.

"Watch me dance," you request mischievously.

"Oh, I will," he promises.

Seungcheol watches you at a close distance. Always concerned. Only this time, you're not a stranger. You're dancing freely, feeling protected from danger. Not keeping an eye on your drink. It's okay. He's here now to keep you out of harm's way. You allowed him to use his darkness to devour yours. But there is light, in this world, too. And light will always prevail.

The End

[catcze]

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

Cowboy Sylus on my twt TL ?? OUH 🤭🥴

Sylus staring at u from under the brim of his cowboy hat, eyes near glowing as he watches you. Him sipping from a glass of whiskey, tipping his hat when he catches your eye, his smirk an invitation to come closer. His voice being a low purr when you finally hear him speak to you— there’s just the slightest of an accent there. Just so slight, barely there, noticeable only when you listen to his words closely do you hear the slight drawl, the slight twang. It makes you want to listen to him speak for longer.

Or when you finally do get him in his bedroom, him on his back and his broad, tanned chest under your palms, his back on the sheets and you in his lap, stuffed full on his hefty cock, the stretch so intense that it has you whimpering while you get used to the weight of him stretching you out. His roughened hands are gentle yet firm on your hips, rubbing circles in the skin there with his thumbs, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders in both praise and apology.

And when you finally do adjust— when you can finally rock your hips tentatively, making his chest vibrate with a moan, Sylus snags his cowboy hat from the bedside table. He plops it onto your head and it doesn’t fit at first, much too big for you that it covers your eyes and obscures your vision ( and oh, you look adorable ) and your hips stop, surprised. But then he bucks up into you, making you gasp, body tensing as you feel him deep, snug, and your hands shake where you hold the hat on your head, keeping it from getting into your eyes again. You whimper, and Sylus swears he sees stars.

“Well?” He goads, a smirk on his lips, even though his face is breathless. You’re tight— tighter snd warmer than you had any right to be.

He bucks his hips up again, teasing, and it draws a sinful whine from your lips that he hungers to hear again. “Didn’t someone say they were going to, ah, ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’? Where’s all your confidence gone, sweetie?”

“Asshole,” you grumble, though the word is saturated with need. You swallow, adjusting your hold on the hat still perched on your head, one hand finding purchase on his chest, and tentatively, slowly, drag yourself up his cock. You go slow at first, trying to find a rhythm, and it’s hard when the girth of him is practically rendering you stupid each time you bounce carefully on his cock. With each downwards movement, his leaking tip presses against that one spot inside of you that makes you clench like a vice, making the both of you keen.

But you get it, eventually— soon, each bounce is more confident, the sticky, vulgar slap of your hips meeting resounding in the room, alongside Sylus’ moans and grunts and your gasps.

“Good,” he groans, when you press down so heavily into him that your whole body trembles. His hands are squeezing your hips, likely to leave bruises tomorrow, helping you lift and stuff yourself back on his cock each time. “Good job, baby, doing so well.”

Sylus’ voice is ragged and deep like sin, and it makes you shake— it doesn’t escape his cunning, all-seeing eyes.

“Taking me so deep,” he purrs, praise dripping like honey, and he delights when you clench around him. “You feel like a damn dream, sweetie.”

His skin shimmers with sweat, beading on his hairline and slicking his hair down onto his face— and when Sylus grins, he looks like he wants to devour you.

“So good at riding,” he coos. “You’re a natural, baby.”

[onyxluvjiro]

PLRASE PLEASE PLEASR PLEAE PLEASE PLEASR PLEAE PLEASE PLEASR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MORE MAC SMUT HEADCANNONS AND MAYBE A TOUCH OF DIALOGUE THANK YOU SO MUCH UR WRITING IS PEAK 🥺🥺🥺🥺✌️✌️

shout out to @veryfruitywriting they wrote a headcannon on mac and the online underwear scene cause, it’s got me thinkin real hard, and i wanna delve down into it.

and i KNOW mac has a thing for lingerie, i know it. And their a pantie sniffer, i KNOW it.

reader is afab/has female genitalia !!

—

You had a plan, it could go completely wrong or, perfectly right. You wanted to show off that sexy pair of panties to Mac, tease them a little bit, with how much the two of you flirt back and forth, you were sure it would go perfectly as planned.

Starting a casual conversation with mac was an easy enough task, step one of your plan, done. And as you talk, you uncross your legs, spreading them, ever so slightly, making Mac’s eyes frantically glance up and down.

You were sure their cpu was starting to overheat, a flush crossing their face, but you were far from finished. Pretending to glance back at what you were doing earlier, you “accidentally” lift your skirt further, finally revealing the red lacy fabric adorning your body.

You could hear a choked noise come from Mac, their eyes burning holes into the fabric adorning your most private parts. Your eyes dart to Mac’s face, an immediate satisfaction crossing your face as you practically see them malfunction for a moment.

It takes a second for Mac to realize that you were in fact showing off that pretty pair of panties that you had bought, on purpose, the same ones Mac had complemented you about. And now they were seeing it, on your body.

You could hear the crackle of their brain frying. They of course teased you the other day about it, but never did they think, their human would be so bold.

“Oh my goodness. I was right, they look stunning on you.”

They manage to say after a few moments of silence.

“want to see them closer?”

—

And that’s how you ended up standing in front of mac, their fingers pressed against the fabric, teasingly tracing up and down the folds of your pussy through the fabric, ever so lightly, watching your facial expressions with innate satisfaction. They pull their fingers away from the fabric for a moment, only to look at their fingers in fascination.

A string of slick, your arousal coating the tip of their fingers. They glance from you and to their fingers, back up at you, a silent ask for permission. With a nod of your head their hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you in closer.

Mac is a certified panties sniffer cause once they get a wiff of your cunt, they can’t get enough. mouth latching to the fabric resting right where your clit is, sucking on the fabric and what’s underneath.

Once they finally get their lips on you , oh it’s over for them. A new addiction started as they lap at you through the fabric, the stimulation almost too much, the combination of mac’s soft and hot tongue versus the rough fabric against your skin has you reeling. Hands tangled in their hair, keeping them there, exactly where Mac wants to be.

It’s not until you feel a cord wrap around your thighs do you really realize how deep mac is into it, and how far gone they are. You squirm, but the cord holds you in place along with Mac’s hands.

It wasn’t until your first orgasm did mac pull your panties to the side, the excuse of getting closer, to taste more slipping from their mouth as they latch back onto your clit. they bully their tongue deep into your cunt, a wire finding its way to rub against your sensitive bud.

You realize how fucked you are, but at the same time you’re just as into it as mac is, you don’t want to stop just as much as mac doesn’t either. Not until they’ve had their fill. And maybe, just maybe, mac pocketed those panties for a little while. And maybe, you let it happen.

—

Mac i am just a dog WOOF WOOF

also to the person i @ ed, if you want me to take you off/take down the post cause i wrote smth similar to your post, i will! I want everyone to be comfortable with my posts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[misaerabl]

𝝑𝑒 thigh grinding with abby (and using those grinding pads hehe)

- alright, alright, i know i said i would post less smut and more longer fics buuuuttt i just needed to write this sb.

Abby’s sitting on the edge of the bed, broad and steady, thighs spread a little wider just for you. There’s a calmness to her face — that kind she always has when she knows exactly how this is going to go.

The grinding pad is strapped tight around her thigh, rough and perfectly placed, practically begging for your slick. She doesn’t say a word as you crawl into her lap, already flushed and trembling, your panties sticking damp to your folds.

You hesitate for a second — just a second — and Abby catches it.

“C’mon, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and warm as her hands settle on your hips. “You’ve been squirming all night. You need this, don’t you?”

Your nod is breathless, almost shy.

Abby smiles, slow, knowing thing. “Good. Then ride my thigh.”

The moment your soaked heat presses down onto the grinding pad, your body jerks. It’s rougher than you expected, firm and textured just right. A whine slips from your throat before you can stop it.

Abby’s eyes darken. “Shit… you’re already dripping through those panties.”

You try to move slow, rolling your hips in little circles, but the friction is too much too fast. The pad drags against your swollen clit with every grind, and your thighs start to tremble almost immediately.

“That’s it,” Abby says, her voice just a little huskier now. “Rub that needy little pussy on me. Don’t be shy. I want to hear every sound you make.”

You can’t help it... you whimper, gasping as your pace picks up. Slick’s soaking into the pad now, sticky and loud, and Abby watches the mess between your thighs with something close to reverence.

“God, look at you,” she breathes. “You’re fucking soaked. Making a mess all over my thigh like a desperate little thing.”

You moan, hips jerking forward harder, chasing friction like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

Abby leans in close, her breath hot against your cheek. “You needed this that bad, huh? Couldn’t wait for my fingers. Just wanted to hump yourself stupid on my leg.”

You nod — or maybe sob — you can’t tell the difference anymore.

“Such a messy girl,” she murmurs, one hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently. “But that’s okay. I like watching you fall apart.”

And fall apart you do.

You grind harder, faster, chasing your high like you’re starving for it. Abby keeps her thigh steady, tensing it just enough to press back against your cunt. Her other hand holds your waist in place, guiding your rhythm when your legs start shaking too hard to keep going.

But you don’t stop when the first orgasm hits. You cry out, breath catching, hips bucking wildly, but Abby doesn’t let you slow down.

“No,” she says, voice firmer now. “You’re not done. Keep going.”

“I—Abby—” your voice breaks, thighs quivering, but she just presses a kiss to your temple.

“You can take it, baby. Be good for me.”

You whimper as another wave crashes over you, mess soaking through your underwear, probably through the pad by now. You’re so wet, it’s everywhere. You’re trembling, practically twitching, and Abby finally lets out a soft groan when she feels how much slick you’ve left on her skin.

“Goddamn,” she mutters. “Did you even breathe through that?”

You’re blinking up at her now, teary-eyed and overwhelmed, hips still jerking forward in needy little stutters even though your body’s long past spent.

Abby’s voice softens again, but the teasing edge is still there. “Look at you. Thought you could handle it, and now you’re fucking ruined.”

You make a weak sound, trying to pull back, but she stops you with a hand to your lower back.

“One more, baby,” she whispers against your ear. “Let me help you finish.”

Her hand slips under the waistband of your soaked panties, and the second her fingers brush your swollen clit, your whole body jolts.

“There it is,” Abby says, her voice thick with heat and pride. “There’s my messy girl.”

You’re crying out, broken and overstimulated, legs barely holding you up. Her fingers move with purpose. Slow, then fast, then exactly what you need — until you’re coming again, hard, gasping her name like a prayer.

Abby holds you through it, murmuring praise into your ear, gentle kisses to your jaw.Then she chuckles softly, voice smug and fond.

“My sweet girl"

[sxcretricciardo]

dear god - L.N4

-

The flash of cameras reflects off the sleek black velvet of your dress as you step onto the red carpet. Your heels click against the stone as you pause, pose, and let the photographers get their shots. You offer a practiced smile, shoulders relaxed even though your heart is racing.

This isn’t your usual environment.

Award shows? You’ve done those. Stadiums packed with fans screaming your lyrics? Totally normal. But this — an F1 movie premiere — is uncharted territory. Your name is on the soundtrack, not the marquee. The final scene fades out under the notes of your most intimate song, and tonight marks its cinematic debut.

You expect questions about your music.

What you don’t expect is the sudden chorus of voices calling:

“Y/N, over here! What do you think about Lando Norris?”

“Are the rumors true?”

“Did you come with Lando?”

“Was the song about him?”

You blink. A confused smile flits across your lips.

Lando Norris?

You’ve never even met him. Never even spoken to him.

Sure, you’d noticed when he followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago. And maybe you’d followed back. And yeah, okay, you may have liked a few of his photos. The one in Japan with the rain. The one where he’s half-laughing mid-interview. Sue you — the guy’s cute.

But that was it.

Until TikTok decided you were soulmates.

Apparently, someone had edited clips of him racing to your lyrics — “I don’t want perfect, I just want real” — and suddenly there were shipping accounts, fancams, and theories that you were secretly dating. Fans even pointed out that he used your song in a recent Instagram Story.

You assumed he’d found it on a playlist. But now…

Now you’re walking the same carpet. And it feels… intentional.

Inside, the lobby glows with warm gold light. Guests sip champagne and mingle under tall banners of the film’s title. You step to the side for a breather, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear when a voice — low and smooth — cuts through the crowd behind you.

“So… are we telling them we’ve never met, or should we keep the fantasy going?”

You turn around.

Lando.

Standing less than a foot away, dressed in a navy suit that fits him a little too well. Shirt slightly unbuttoned, no tie. Curls a bit messy — like he ran his hands through them moments ago. He’s grinning, arms folded, watching you like you’re the punchline to his favorite joke.

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “Depends. Are you going to keep using my song in your Instagram Stories?”

He looks mock-offended. “It was a good song.”

“It is,” you say, tilting your head. “But now half the internet thinks you inspired it.”

He steps a little closer, eyes never leaving yours. “Did I?”

You laugh — soft, surprised. “You’re bold.”

He shrugs with an innocent smile. “Just honest.”

There’s a flicker of silence between you. A warm pause.

You glance at the crowd around you, then back at him. “So… you really didn’t know me before the edits?”

“I mean, I knew of you,” he admits. “Heard your stuff, thought you were insanely talented. The follow was… let’s call it wishful thinking.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he says, flashing that cheeky smile, “I’m standing here with you. So I’d say it worked.”

Before you can answer, one of the premiere organizers calls out that the movie is starting soon. People begin moving toward the theater.

You glance toward the entrance, then back at him. “Well… looks like we’re sitting through a two-hour movie together.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sitting with anyone?”

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Then maybe we can give them something else to talk about.”

⸻

You end up beside him — popcorn in his lap, his arm brushing yours just enough to feel like a choice.

He whispers snarky commentary once or twice during the first half of the film, making you giggle quietly. And then… the final scene comes. The screen fades to black. And your voice fills the theater.

You try to focus on the song. Really.

But you feel him turn to look at you in the dark.

When the lights come up and the audience applauds, he leans in again.

“That song? That was yours?”

You nod. “Yeah. I wrote it after a really complicated almost-relationship.”

“Sounds familiar,” he says with a little smirk. “Maybe the next one will be less complicated.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you offering?”

He grins, boyish and unfiltered. “Only if you want me to.”

You pause… then smile.

“Ask me again after the afterparty.

-