#the rings and both of those loving and firm hands fully wrapped around his neck 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[lonestardust]

"We're going to be a family"

[moxfirefly]

I’m in a certain mood and I’ve had this simmering in the back of my head for a bit now so idk, enjoy? Shoutout to @raphaelsrightarm for inspiring me with their wonderful piece involving the purple boy himself as well.

Moments after a near death experience

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

TW: Blood, Violence, NSFW themes

He takes you up through the fire escape, it’s autopilot to be honest, because there’s still a slight ringing in his ears and you haven’t stopped shaking since he picked you up.

He forces the window open (he’ll fix it later) and gently pushes you in through it. You climb in and can’t seem to move when you stay on the floor, there’s blood caked onto your forearms, wounds aren’t even that bad.

Nothing truly compares to the damage Donatello is sporting.

His gear and bostaff clatter onto the hardwood floor and it’s the first time that he exhales since this whole ordeal. Bruises and cuts protest and there’s a trickle of blood trying to make its way into his eyeball. It dawns on him that his glasses didn’t make it when he feels that he’s squinted slightly more than usual. His bruised hands reach for you and he hauls you up onto your feet.

“Ar-Are you okay?” He feels the inside of his cheek, bitten down and cut from accidentally chomping down during a punch. You’re still shaking, it dissipates at the sound of his voice, Donnie’s words bring you back to right now and he’s running his hand across your face and sweaty hair.

He’s touching you.

Donnie blinks. All things considered, if that gang attack had gone differently, that wouldn’t be the case.

You’re warm, he’s touching you, you’re eyes find his own, he’s touching you.

There isn’t much hesitation, he’s leaning down enough to crash his lips to yours, it stings and hurts but he doesn’t care...

Because he’s touching you.

So much could’ve gone bad, so much could’ve gone worse but the mere contact of his lips to yours reminds him that all this isn’t for naught. He’s so focused on kissing you, molding his lips, pecking the corners of your mouth, your chin, your jaw.

You find yourself back in this moment, the texture of his hands grounding you and urging you. He’s here, he’s here with you and he’s kissing life into you quite literally so. You hold the back of his neck, nails digging into his scales, there’s blood there but it’s not his for there isn’t a wound. Feeling him engulf you in a hug, he picks you up and holds you against him. He’s been kissing you desperately, unsatisfied that he can’t keep his lips on you at all times. When Donnie feels your thighs clutching against his waist, when he feels your hands yank his mask off and try to unclip his suspenders; he becomes frantic.

A frantic need to feel just more than your life on his lips, but to feel everything of you surrounding him. He’s kicking off his boots, not caring that his ankle protest this hard movement, he leans back enough to help you tear at your shirt and cast elsewhere with his own belongings. He squats down with you and his strength never seizes to amaze you. You pull the blanket off the couch just as Donnie gives a firm shove to the coffee table. It’s a makeshift nest, just so your back doesn’t connect with the hard floor.

There’s more desperate kissing. More ‘I love you’s’ scattered against one another’s battered flesh. Donnie isn’t soft about it, he catches your wince when he rips down your jeans, sees bruises at your knee caps that he’ll kiss and heal himself but right now he want to consume you.

And you want him to consume you.

You’re breathing hard and fast and grabbing at him as he tries to push down his pants. His lips find a path from your navel to your neck, you smell of sweat and copper and something so very you that it guts him.

Because he gets to smell that, smell you, be wrapped up in all of you. Your eyes are watery from the stress of wanting him, nails digging in your haste to pull him closer. He rips your bra down the middle, casting the fabric to the side and rubs his face against the mounds, he exhales shakily. You feel those perfect hands cup your breasts, knead into the soft flesh and a moan filled with so much need uttered against your left breast it makes you arch up. Donnie sucks wantonly at your nipples, each one getting the proper amount of dedication, he feels the texture against his lips and tongue and the very fact that he gets to makes him unbearably hard.

Your hands find the edges of his shell, you scratch and rub and caress until he’s churring with a mouthful of your tit. “-in me please, please” Your mouth is dry, legs spread for him as you try to push his face away from your breast and towards your mouth again. With another unceremonious yank your underwear joins the rest of the clothes in the disarray of the living room. You’re lucky you’re wet because Donnie just thrusts in without warning, he feels heat and wetness and that choked gasp of a sound you make whenever he enters you. His hands nestle into you hair, fingertips at your scalp as he cradles your head. A whine escapes him on that secondary thrust, hard enough to make you grab onto him, any part of his. His arms, his sides, his thighs.

Just anything.

He’s so much bigger than you, sometimes all you can see or feel are those hard plates that make up his plastron, the texture feels so familiar in a time like this, against your cheek, lips to them and fingers working through. Donnie isn’t satisfied with how he holds you, he wants more, wants to inhale you and keep you inside of him forever. He settles for burying his face in the crook of your neck, hands gripping your rear when you lift your legs to better accommodate him. He rocks into you with slow but harsh thrust, his own thoughts to consume, conquer and copulate.

You wrap an arm around the back of his neck, the other onto his shell, you let him drive into you with every pent of need, greedily taking that energy for your own desire. Donnie stretches you so good, he fills you up almost maddening so, so deeply it could almost hurt but nothing compares to it. Tonight could’ve gone so differently, instead you’ve got him buried inside of you fucking away the fear of loss.

“Fuckin’...” He groans with a harsh thrust. “Love you!” His fingers dig into the plush skin of your rear, he’s rubbing against your clit so perfectly in this position. Feeling your walls give him a tight squeeze, he picks up the pace for the first time since he started and you’ve forgotten how to breath all over again. “Iloveyousomuch!” You moan out in a jumbled heap, you crane your neck, wheezing from the heat and feel of your approaching orgasm. Both your moans rise, yours consistent, his with every drive of his hips.

It’s desperate, dizzying, it hits you both at the same time without warning but the moment you tighten so stiffly and Donnie buries himself so much he’s glued to your navel, it’s chaos. You cry out, actual tears forming from the intensity and Donnie is so lost in how you milk him for every drop he continues to give small rough stutters to empty himself fully. There’s an awful cramp in your calf and toes, and every bruise from tonight throbs painfully but your insides are so warm with him, your pussy is full with him. Donnie’s sharp intake of breath makes him cough, as he trembles against you, he’s honest to god shaking much like he had during his first time with you.

You’re so overwhelmed you press your face to his shoulder and bite down, trying to suppress more tears.

But Donnie can feel it, and he’s telling you ‘it’s ok it’s ok it’s ok’ and let’s you sob against him. He holds you and kisses your cheeks and promises you...

That it’s going to be alright.

[darkorderaf]

125,26 drabble (if possible smut) with OC🍊

Ty if you do this i love your works ♥️

Ooooh, yes! Thank you so much for the kind words. <3 I did indeed make it spicy; hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Orange Cassidy x OFC. Prompts: “Save some for me.” “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smut! Word Count: 1,981.

(I don’t own gif; credit to hanakimura!)

Sharing a room with Orange Cassidy was relatively uneventful. He functioned off of keeping it casual, taking it easy. And she did too, for the most part. Her and Cass had always been close, even from the early days. She would go so far as to call him one of her best friends and he would just nod if he ever got asked about it.

She didn’t know when the change happened, when her completely platonic thoughts shifted to something decidedly not in the same lane. Or area code.

Maybe it was the time the both of them had way more shots than they should have and they shared the same bed. Completely platonically, of course, but they had never shared a bed before then. When she woke up the following morning, hungover and mouth dry as a desert, she felt him stir under her. His skin was against hers, the lean muscle of him both relaxed yet firm. His hand on her hip.

Her leg had been tossed over his trim waist, her head comfortably in the crook of his shoulder. She didn’t know what to do. Both of them slept in their underwear regularly and they had seen each before in just that, it wasn’t weird. They were just that comfortable with each other. But this was...different. All she could do was stare at him in quiet horror. Horror that dissipated into a heat-driven appreciation as she looked at him. The v of his slim hips, the defined muscles that contracted with each breath, the perfect stubble that framed his perfect mouth. She wondered at how he felt against her and under her, then wondered about him maybe even on top of--

She had pulled away from the proverbial stovetop that was Orange Cassidy and fled to the bathroom.

Oh no.

Her best friend was hot.

They never talked about it. Ever since then, she tried to keep it casual. Take it easy. Tried to ignore the way her heart raced at the sight of him or how she had to press her thighs tight together when she stood outside the ring, being the supportive best friend that she was. They still shared a room and they kept their separate beds. That worked just fine, just what they were used to. She chalked it up to a brief wave of hormones and that was it. She was totally fine and totally not thirsting after her best friend.

Jokes on her, her brain had different plans.

Not but a day later, the dreams started.

The ones where Orange pulled her in the ring and taught her a different kind of submission. Or showed her how to turn it back around on him. The ones where he caught her pleasuring herself and told her “save some for me” before he took her slick fingers into his mouth like it was the easiest thing. The ones where they fit together so well, she woke up with her toes curled and a silent scream of pleasure in her throat. The ones where he slipped his sunglasses onto her as she rode him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched her breasts bounce.

All they were were dreams and when she woke up, she took care of herself in the shower and did her best to shove it to the farthest corner of her brain. It was entirely inappropriate and he was her best friend and he totally didn’t see her that way. She pushed the way that made her heart inexplicably clench and ache to the back of her mind too.

A squeaky hotel bed frame narced on her.

She was in a deep sleep, her mind back in that dreamscape where she opened up for Orange and he murmured to her. Murmured to her how good she felt, how he could feel her squeezing him when he fucked into her just right. How they should have done this ages ago and she moaned in agreement.

Orange was a heavy sleeper. Everyone knew that. But it could take him longer than the average bear to fall asleep. Especially when he listened to the way his best friend thrashed in the opposite bed and the bedframe wouldn’t stop squeaking. Was it a nightmare? She seemed to be having a lot of those lately. Sometimes he heard his name. His dreams were getting more intense too. He never asked about hers and never brought up his. Maybe he should have.

He rolled onto his side to look at her. Her sheets were halfway down her body and sweat made her shirt cling to her torso. He ignored the way he could make out the silhouette of her hard nipples, instead focused on the way she breathed and how her face contorted. Tried to ignore the way he could feel himself getting hard just at the sight of her so breathless.

He didn’t know when that had started. Maybe when she pressed herself right against him that night they got too drunk and mouthed sleepily against his neck that she loved him, that he was her best friend and she was so lucky to have him for a best friend. Pressed against him so tight he could feel all of her. He didn’t look at her like a best friend when the morning light started to bleed into their room. He felt awful for it and when she shot out of the bed in the morning, he thought he might be able to breathe easier about it. It was just a one-off flash of hormones.

Who was he kidding?

“Hey,” he called. She didn’t respond. He shoved the sheets off his body and threw his legs over the side. Maybe they could switch beds or he could talk her out of her nightmare. He stood up with a sigh and crossed the small space between their beds. His hand hovered over her bare shoulder. “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Cass…”

The sound of her heated, desperate voice shot straight to his groin and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Right here. You’re loud. Are you ok--” He paused when his eyes ran over her body. Traced the path of her arm under her sheets and the movement that disturbed the sheets over her. Hear the sound of slick as she worked herself. Heard the way she begged him please. Oh fuck. “Wait...Are you...What?!”

His hand went to her shoulder, squeezed it, and that snapped her out of her trance. That and his raspy panic. They stared at each other in the dim light of the hotel room, their eyes wide and chests heaving. She slipped her hand out from under the blanket and he nearly groaned at the sound of her panty’s elastic waistband snapping against her skin. The dim light caught the slick on her fingers and they continued to stare at each other.

She wanted to vanish. Maybe call Freddy Krueger to pull her through the mattress and murder her because fuck, how were they going to get past this?

“Cass, I’m so sorry,” she fumbled out, unsure of what to do with her hand or the brink of orgasm she was quickly pulling away from. Her eyes burned in embarrassment and frustration. He knew. He totally fucking knew. “I can get a different room and we can just avoid each oth--’

“I have them too,” he said, far more calm than she was. She blinked at him. “Wet dreams.”

“Cass, this is different. This is weird and gross and god, how can you look at me?”

“About you,” he sat down and the mattress squeaked. His desperate, breathy, frustrated tone froze her. “They’re about you.”

In a moment of panic, she tried to wipe her hand off on her shirt but Orange’s long fingers around her wrist made her pause. He muttered don’t and leaned forward. Didn’t break eye contact with her as his lips hovered over her skin.

“Can I taste you?”

His question burned straight through to her pussy and she clenched her thighs. His words stunned her. All she could do was nod. Slowly, his tongue prodded her slick fingers and wrapped around the digits as he pulled them into his mouth. He took his time cleaning her fingers and when he was finished, he sat back up.

“That was one,” he said, his voice strained. She watched how he palmed himself through his pajama pants and she tried to sit up. Pink stained his cheeks, his neck. Made his lips all the more appetizing. “There’s been...a lot.”

“Do you…” She paused. It was hard to breathe. “Should we, um, talk about them? The dreams.”

“Nah,” he said. Orange offered her his hand and she took it. He pulled her over to his bed, one hand on her ass and the other on her hip. His heavy tone, accentuated by his heavy-lidded eyes and the way his hands slid under her shirt to feel her hot skin, convinced her. Left her worries in a pile of ash. “Wanna show you.”

He took his time pulling her to him. Took his time learning her lips, mapping them out with his own. The bed was quiet when he pushed her thighs apart and tasted her fully. She sighed his name, almost screamed it when his fingers slid inside her and crooked just right. He liked the sound of it. His lips on her felt right. He kissed the inside of her thighs as her muscles twitched. He sat back on his heels and looked at her, glowing and sweat-slicked because of him. It was a different kind of glow than the one she got when he made her laugh, when they talked late at night, when they sat by each other at the bar with the boys and giggled over inside jokes.

When he finally slid inside her, heavy and hot and perfect, they groaned in unison. Her fingers anchored themselves in his hair and her thighs made a home around his hips. Shifted back and forth with him as he pumped in and out of her. He wasn’t known for being talkative but that night, he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop praising her. Wouldn’t stop telling her how fucking good she felt, how they should have done this before, how dreams weren’t shit compared to that moment. Her walls fluttered tight around him and he swore.

“Cass, I’m close,” she whined. “Please, please.”

His head fell to her shoulder and his fingers to her aching clit.

“Come on, come on,” Orange gasped out, sweat dripping from his hair and pale chest flushed. “Wanna come with you.”

Her hips bucked against him and her back arched. She squeezed him impossibly tight and he was done for. With another heavy thrust, he came with her and the pulse of him inside her coaxed a filthy moan out of her. He swallowed it with his mouth, their tongues searching for each other in a mess of spit and low moans that was their first kiss. The last shudders of him passed and his forehead fell to her shoulder. Her fingers threaded through his blonde hair and he picked his head up to search her face. Were they just desperate? Where would they go after this? She seemed to read that in his eyes and her post-bliss smile comforted him.

“That was one of mine,” she whispered to him. “But I’ve had a lot more too. I’m...Would you...Want to talk more about them?”

Orange huffed against her and they both moaned quietly when he pulled out of her. He sat back on his heels and brushed his hair from his eyes. His thumb traced her hip bone. He squeezed her soft skin and she relaxed back into the bed.

“Yeah,” he breathed out with a lazy smile. “Sounds cool.”

[plush-rabbit]

LOV + Hand Sizes

A/N: So I know that there are like people on tiktok who do the hand measurements but for the life of me i cannot find them so yeah! I also like to think they’ll have big hands but that's also me projecting because I have small hands. Also, turns into hand holding and hand headcanons so yeah

Bubaigawara Jin:

Jin thinks it’s cute that you want to compare. But he also finds it annoying. He’s busy but he also can’t say no to you, so he’ll sit and complain and put his hand up against yours and give a raise of his eyes as you comment how big his hands are compared to yours.

He just leaves his hand against yours, letting it rest against yours and agreeing that his hands are big, watching as you your smile stretches while your fingers taps against his and he thinks he has to do something- that he has to mimic your actions but it doesn’t quite feel the same as his fingertips pass yours so he’s left drumming in the air while you chuckle.

You don’t make an effort to pull away and neither does he. He mumbles that your hand feels soft and while choke on the words in his throat that he wants to hold your hand. For now, having his hand against yours is fine- it’s more than fine and he’s happy with it as he rambles about how nice your hands are.

He doesn’t bring it up again the next day. He suspects that it was a one-time thing for you to touch him so he swallows the lump in his throat, sits next to you and rests his hand beside yours, fingers extended and palm flat against the table and when you nudge him and place your palm facing up, he’s eagerly placing his hand above yours and holding you tight making a comment about how small your hand is.

Jin has a big hand with long fingers that are thick and a tad calloused- the gloves help protect him from actually being fully coarsed. Holding his hand or even resting your palm against his is enough for you to feel the muscle and strength that he holds and while it is a bit rough, it’s also comforting. 

Dabi:

Dabi is the absolute worst about it. He gives a shrug of his shoulders and holds his hand up. He gives you a look when you comment how big his hands are and will lower his fingers until the press against the tip of yours and comment about  how small your hand is compared to his. He’ll act smug, and lean close to you while his hand holds your in place and will pull away once you can feel his breath on your lips.

He’ll act smug about how much bigger his hand is compared to yours while he keeps you trapped. It doesn’t matter how sharp or dull your nails are, he isn’t pulling away. He keeps your hand against him, held tight as he waits for an explanation on why you wanted to see how his hand compared to yours.

He doesn’t really let go of your hand. He’s touch starved for something that isn’t rough or needful and you don’t make an actual effort to pull away, so he essentially keeps you “trapped” with him. You’ll tug on your hand and complain how you wish you could hold something with both hands but you don’t actually move to pull away so he keeps you there with him, fingers bent to hold onto yours and as his hand and yours lower, his hand just rests above yours.

He’ll see you the next day and lean over a table and hold his hand up to you, asking if you’d like to compare sizes again, taking great delight how your smile strains. He’s taken aback if you were to quip back about how he held your hand or if he enjoyed the tender moment. He’s cocky, a tad insecure if his advancements are rejected, but cocky, so he’ll shrug and say yes and offer his hand and when you place your hand against his, he’s smirking and commenting how small your hands are.

Dabi has slender hands. His fingers are slender and long with a bit of roughness attached to the pads of his fingertips. They’ll snake around your fingers and hold you close, with a firm grip. They’re hot against your hands, burning and leaving you warm for hours long after he’s let go but they’re also comforting and gentle around you.

Iguchi Shuichi:

Shuichi is absolutely flustered by the act. He acts nonchalant, gritting his teeth, and asking why you would want to do something silly and choke once you grab his hand and put it against yours. He shrinks in on himself and will have a dark hue run across his face as you comment how big his hands are.

Comment on his nails and run your fingertips over them and he’s pulling his hand away and telling you it’s not that interesting. He stops talking as soon as you grab his hand and hold it close to yours. You run your fingertips over his nails, calling them sharp and pretty, and he’s mumbling bits under his breath that are inaudible.

Call his scales pretty and he’s dying. His breath hitches and stops and he has wide eyes as warmth floods his body and he’s just dying while you hold his hand and compliment his scales. He was ostracized at a young age and never truly felt as if he belonged so when you openly go to him to hold his hand, he just doesn’t know how to act. He doesn't know if it’s a cruel joke- he isn’t a stranger to those- or if you’re genuinely trying to be nice to him.

He likes how your hand feels in his and will crave the attention without voicing it. He’d rather keep his mouth shut and yearn from afar before he will go up to you and ask to hold hands. He will sit far from you and bounce his leg and squint his eyes when you enter the room. If you were to sit next to him and brush your arm against his or even hold his hand on your own accord, he’s pulling his mouth into a thin line and giving you a slight squeeze.

Shuichi has rough hands with pretty scales that glint under light and he’s gentle when pressing his hand against yours. His nails are sharp and dangerous as they fashion naturally into a claw shape. He seeks out warmth and likes to keep his hands near yours even if the way you draw shapes into his palms leaves him a quiet mess.

Sako Atsuhiro:

Atsuhiro is coy about it. He’ll gladly offer his hand to you and he’ll be the one to point out the size difference, dragging his index along each of your fingers in quick sweeps. If you want to feel his protesthic, he’s raising a brow and raising it up, not sure why you would want to but he won’t say no to you.

He will dance his fingers against yours and comment about how pretty your hands are. Maybe slip his fingers between the gaps of yours and comment how he could probably wrap his hand around your wrist and have a teasing look on his face as you wave off his attempts of flirting.

He really likes feeling your hand against him, it sort of reminds him how much power he holds and will comment about how nice your hand is. It reminds him of how he could literally hold you in one hand and you’re there with him, willingly letting your hand press against his and even snarking back at him with a tint darkening your cheeks. 

He is a showman at heart, lives for the theatrics and will make himself known. That being said, he’ll slide his hand into yours and give you a knowing look before returning to whatever it was he doing before you sat next to him. He’ll slide his hand into yours, make a comment about how you hand or ask if you’re okay with this and once he has the confirmation, he’s pulling the mask off to reveal his eyes and mouth and will chuckle at your disappointed look.

Atsuhiro has soft hands. He wears gloves often and moisturizes so his hands are often soft and welcomed. He holds hands tightly, never loosening unless you make a motion to pull away but drums his fingers in a nervous tic at the loss of the warmth. He loves the simplicity and tender amount that hand holding or even just hand touching brings and means.

Shigaraki Tomura:

If you would have asked him before he gained control of his quirk, he would have brushed you off and only given you the back of his hand to quiet down your pleas. But now that Tomura has gained control, he’s giving you his hand without complaints and giving you a pointed look when you comment about the size of his hands. 

He won’t admit it, but he’s incredibly nervous. He will bite the inside of his cheeks while you press your palm against his, leg bouncing that could be chalked up to a nervous tic. He watches as you touch his hand, patting your hand on him and you make a lame attempt at a joke while holding his hand and he rolls his eyes but stays there perched with you.

He’s incredibly touch starved and he doesn’t even know it since he’s never been given physical affection. He’ll give words of praise and protect those closest to him but it stops at physical touch so when you hold his hand or press your palm against him, his stomach is doing flips and his heart is pacing until he feels like it’ll burst out of his chest but even then, he doesn’t remove his hand.

He has no reason to feel ashamed- you did go up to him to touch his hand so why wouldn’t he go back to you to compare sizes again. He is, however, nervous. He scratches at his neck, curling his ring and pinky finger and grumbling about how maybe the measurements were wrong and he honestly would prefer death at that point as your smile turns wicked. He wants to turn away but then you hold his hand and tell him how nice his hands feel and he can feel his soul leave his body.

Tomura has dry, cracked hands that are strong and hold faint scarring. Brush your fingertips along his scars, trace the edges of his fingertips and the lines on his hands and he’s going to protect you with his life. His hands hold a lot of power and he’s been on the short end of the stick for most of his life so holding him gently, and rubbing cream on his hands with yours- making an effort to touch him- is going to make him square his shoulders and want the moment to last.

Toga Himiko:

Himiko is eager to give you her hands and compare the sizes. She’ll keep her hand flat against yours and will coo about how soft your palms are and thread her fingers between yours and tell you how the difference- whatever it may be- is so cute and that she loves that you wanted to come to her.

She loves affection. She's touch starved and will hold your hand in hers and comment about how pretty your nails are and asking if she can paint your nails. She'll press her hand against yours, make a comment about the size and then after a moment of silence, she'll thread her fingers between yours and just hold your hand.

As mentioned before, she’s touch starved. She’s held hands before and had somewhat genuine love for them but ever since she accepted her true self, she hasn’t had an actual relationship where it’s just acceptance and love so when you offer to compare hand sizes, she’s ecstatic because you offered it, you came to her and wanted to touch her and she just wants to hold your hand for a bit.

If she were to see you the next day, she’d hold her hand out to you and giggle when you take it. She’s swinging her legs and will tug you along if she has things to do. She really misses affection and when you give it to her she’s just going to get as much of it until she’s sick of it. If you’d prefer to just sit around and watch a movie and hold hands, she’s fine with that too and will more than likely doze off. 

Himiko has soft hands- a few rough spots on her palm but she keeps herself manicured for the most part and moisturized so she has pretty hands with slender fingers. She prefers to keep her nails short and painted a soft, pale color but won’t deny a black or red color.

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Reader (F) Tattoo

genre: smut, angst

summary: as he ends things, you desperately offer him your body, telling him to mark you even if it’s for the last time.

wc: 4,200

The darkness of the night takes over your flat, as you refuse to turn any source of light on, dead silence engulfing the space. It's comforting, the dim, solemn room. Lying alone on the bed you shared with your lover, you stare at the seeping light from the windows. If only you could switch the street lights off.

You don't know where it went wrong. This whole time, you settled with the assumption that everything was going well, that he looks at you the same way you do. But you have yet to learn.

It's like he's drifting away every passing day. Like he's growing distant every waking second. His change of behavior doesn't escape your scrutiny, even if his actions are as subtle as they can be. You notice how he scoots away from you on the sheets, and how he almost doesn't seem to need a share of the covers. How he disappears earlier than you can wake up, and how he only leaves you with a note saying he's off to work. It only tends to get worse everytime.

No, he's not seeing another person. After three years and a half together, you're quite confident you know him well. Quite. But eitherway, he isn't the type of man who'd cheat. He's a good guy, you know that for sure.

That's why you don't know how it came to this.

Were you not enough? Did you do something to throw him off? Is he sick of you? Has he lost his interest?

Thoughts and doubts flood your mind like crazy, leaving you wide awake with no room for rest. You check the time, and it's a few minutes past his expected return. He should be here any moment now.

Yet an hour passes by like years, and you feel your heart swell out of nothing good. As you check your phone religiously, you heave a sigh, toss, and turn. You just hope he's not drinking, though he's not the kind to drink until he's wasted. Heck, he's never even reached the point where he's tipsy. A smile creeps up your lips as you recall the times when you'd both drink, you ending up a mess and him always babysitting you, sweeping you up from your feet once you'd had enough and drive home, completely sober compared to you.

Before you know it, another hour passes by. Time feels like nothing. Void and numb. Maybe you should have taken your friends' night out invitation? You haven't caught up with them these past months. But you‘re aware you'll just space out and think of him when you're supposed to be having a good time.

Then, you feel your soul light up as you hear the front door open. Should you pretend you're asleep? Should you greet him and ask him if he's had dinner? Knowing him, he'll only scold you for staying up for too late.

You swiftly turn your back against the bedroom's door but don't bother to close your eyes. You sense him enter, and your heart flutters nervously. You wonder where he's been and what took him so long, just to eventually keep your questions to yourself.

His side of the bed sinks as he sits and loosens his tie, readying himself of some eyeshut. You wait for him to lie down, but he never does. Curiosity filling your brain, you ache to take a peek at what he's doing, but he's still steadily seated.

“You’re still up,” he says, perfectly aware. Your breath was queerly uneven, and you didn’t wrap yourself with the blankets the way you did. He knows.

Your breath hitches, freezing for a moment. Just how critical is he? Unsure whether to speak or not, undecided of what to say, you prop yourself up with your elbows and sit up, back leaning against the headboard. A long, defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It’s painfully silent. You take a glance at him and you’re greeted by his broad back. Both of you stay quiet, waiting for whoever initiates a conversation. It’s not awkward, nor is it uncomfortable. Just… despondent. Low.

“You can tell me,” you suddenly blurt out, voice but a whisper. You look at your hands and mindlessly fiddle with your fingers.

“Tell you what?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already.

“I’m not dumb, you know,” you inform, shifting your gaze to the windowpanes. Curse those street posts, you prefer complete blackness, else he’d see how broken you are.

“Nothing’s up,” he says, and it ticks you off. Does he think you’re stupid or something? This has been going on for months, it’s impossible to try and not talk about it. “Just to remind you, I’m your partner,” you state with a firm voice. Let’s not beat around the bush here, Levi.

His muscles strain upon hearing your “reminder”. You probably caught him there. No one dares speak, letting a couple minutes fly by like nothing. You know he wants to say something, you can feel it, he’s tense. What’s stopping him?

You sigh for the uncountable time, giving up. “Let’s go get our rest, alright?” you place a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen as you hear him. He less than seldom said that phrase, and it fears you the most that he’s saying it now of all times. You wish you were stupid to not get what he means. This is exactly how a guy like him would end it, but you want to play dense and pry it out of him. Everything. Because a sorry won’t be enough to answer your questions.

“Is it me?” you ask dryly, back to fidgeting with your fingers, heart thumping so wildly it’s like it’s about to explode.

“No.”

“Someone else?” It’s not.

“No,” he says, voice calm as ever. Figures.

“Then what?” your brows furrow as you question him, impatience starting to ring in your tone. His back facing you, his short words, his disinclined attitude, they’re frustrating. If he wants to end this, he better elaborate and be his most rational self.

He stays silent. You couldn’t take it any longer and open your mouth to speak, but before you could say a word, he finally answers, “I’m not fit for this.”

You fall mute, letting his words sink in. You wanted to burst into laughter, but you can’t. The atmosphere is simply too heavy, it’s weighing you down. Not fit? For what?

“Give me an idea. I can’t keep guessing here, Levi,” your pitch breaks as you call his name, the tension strangling you to death. “You have to tell it to my face!” you beg desperately. You’re right, he should quit cowering behind his excuses. He’s going to end this, and explain why, because you deserve it of all people. So he turns around to face you, but immediately regrets it the moment he does.

You are, indeed, broken.

No, you didn’t have the tear stained face a lady has when she’s been suffering long. No, your hair wasn’t a mess like you didn’t bother fixing yourself. No, you didn’t get thinner from neglecting food. In fact, you looked too perfect. Too organized, like you poured the whole of your attention into your appearance. Like you wanted to pamper yourself so you wouldn’t descend into an unrecognizable mess. Like you needed to look fine to convince everyone you are.

But the excessive effort goes to waste, the culprit being your eyes. Your eyes gave it away. The exhaustion in them is so unbearably visible, sabotaging your forged front. That, and a hundred more emotions underneath.

He hates it. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting, especially if it’s because of him. And the way you tried to conceal it? He has to end this, fast. He can’t stand making you suffer even more.

“Listen, I tried everything, but I’m just not one for relationships,” he explains, looking you straight in the eye even though it pains him to. “I can’t love,” he averts his gaze for a fleeting moment upon saying the word. It’s too cheesy for his liking, but he has to go on. “And I doubt you can stay with a man who can’t show the least intimacy,” he adds.

Frozen, your brows furrow in helplessness. It’s all happening too quick. He’s definitely breaking up with you. He probably thought of this long ago but just can’t bring himself to do it. Now that you pushed him, he’s decided.

“I’m sorry.” And with that, he turns away and stands up, grabbing his coat and keys to leave. You witness as your world starts to crumble.

That’s it? Because he can’t love? What about the kisses you exchanged? The times you made love? The way he stays and listens as you go on about your day and problems? The meals you prepared for each other? His scoldings whenever you don’t clean to his standards?

More than three years of memories flash before your eyes as he takes his steps toward the door. After all these years, that’s the conclusion he comes up with?

“No…” you mutter, staring at his disappearing figure powerlessly.

You get up on your foot and run to him, later tripping over yourself from your weak strength. He hears the thud and spins around to help you right away. You’re on the carpeted floor, kneeling as you look at the ground. You‘re unable to feel your tears start to well on the corners of your eyes.

Levi grabs your shoulders with both hands to assist you up. “Brat, let’s get you to bed,” he says. A chuckle slips from your mouth by hearing the little nickname he calls you by. It’s funny how you find it more romantic than the sweet endearments people use with their lovers. Hearing something you consider romantic when he just ended things, ironic.

He ignores your unhumorous giggle and tries to lift you but you refuse. “I must’ve not been enough,” you mumble feebly. He doesn’t like it. You’re obviously drained of energy from pretending to be fine for too long, and now that he spilled it, you’re left with nothing but to show how affected you are.

“It’s not that.”

“Then it’s someone else,” you argue as if fully convinced, though you know it isn’t. You’re looking for excuses, anything else other than his reason. Because this is so much worse.

Because from here on, you’re going to blame yourself, look for some flaw, rummage your system for something wrong, and question what you lack. If only you could pinpoint anything, you’d be content.

“I told you already,” he presses, wrapping your hands around his neck to then carry you in his arms. But you refuse. You find the position convenient, and instead lean into his face for an unexpected kiss.

The moment you feel his warm lips, your tears stream uncontrollably. Oh, how you love kissing him. This is gonna be the last, right? There’s no making him stay anymore. You know Levi. Once he’s decided, he’s unbreakable. If so, you just want to savor it, one last time.

He pulls away, shocked by your sudden action. Shit. “Stop it,” he orders in a curt manner, catching his breath. He doesn’t want to see you like this.

“Please…” you beg, going in for another, and another, and another. Your soft tongue enters his mouth, searching for intimacy. He’s kissing back. He could easily push you away and leave right at this very moment, but he chooses to kiss you back.

Is it out of pity? No it isn’t.

He pulls you closer and kisses you back, trying to respond with the same passion. The same emotion. If there’s anything he can do to feel the same way as you, he’d do it at the end of his tether.

You take away one hand to cup his cheek lovingly, rubbing with your thumb his velvet skin. He’s flawless. Everything you could’ve asked for. But he just has to slip past your fingers, past your reach.

A quiet sob escapes your lips as you lean back for breath, face buried into the crook of his neck. He’s so damn warm, you don’t want to lose him. Though you know you have to let him go, you’re not selfish.

“All this time, you stayed with me knowing you don’t love me?” you ask, voice muffled as you speak into his skin. He doesn’t answer, and you hear another sorry. Aren’t you humble today.

You nod continuously before raising your head to look at his soothing, grey eyes. They’re the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen your whole life. “Please… just let me feel you.” You close the distance and kiss him, passion burning in your movements. You love the man so much, it might be a sin in another reality. Sure, you’ll leave him alone and let him be as he wants, but right now, you just want to feel him, deep inside your body. Just one last time.

“Please, Levi. Take me,” you breathe out in between the lip locking, a lone tear sliding down your cheeks. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he follows your request by picking you up and settling you back on the mattress.

Is this okay? Is this taking advantage of her?

It may be crazy, but you could hear his thoughts out loud through his eyes while he climbs on the sheets and sits in front of you. You gently shake your head to convince him that it’s alright, reaching out both hands to taste his lips once more. Levi answers back like nothing’s wrong, like you’re still together. He wants to find something. Anything.

Your hands crawl to his dark strands, running your fingers through them gently. You remember combing his hair with your hands randomly as an intimate gesture, and he doesn’t complain everytime. He’s certainly grown fond of you, but probably not in that way.

You help him unbutton his shirt and he helps you lift your silk top, exposing both your naked chests. He observes you for a second, the dim light casting abstract shadows on the dips and structures of your face. “Take me…” you whisper and he grunts in response as you both fall into the bed, him positioned on top of you. Deep down, you feel your heart sting in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he grazes his lips on your skin, inducing goosebumps on your whole body. You throw your head back to give him moving space and let him explore every inch of you.

He lets his mouth travel onto the peaks of your breasts, lips still wet from the exchange of kisses. The warm sensation forces a mewl out of you, and he continues. This is the last request you ask of him, and he’ll listen to your whims. It’s only one detail different from when you did it before.

He alternates from the two mounds once more, giving it a few shallow pecks before going down to remove your bottom. You’re now lying naked as he watches you for a brief moment.

You’re beautiful. You had what every man can wish for; a perfect body, a considerate nature, and a beautiful face. Of course you have more than just that, he never underestimated you. The problem really is with him and his apathetic psyche, and he can’t stay with someone as pure as you. You might be a mess right now, but you’re a tough one, you can stand by your own, even if he’s not there anymore.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" Levi asks as he hovers just above you. His voice is soothing like lulling you to sleep. You hum in agreement and sling your hands around his nape, kissing him yet again. Though still a bit reluctant, you hear him finally remove his trousers. Before you know it, he enters your depth, and you could feel him become one with you. It's another wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

As your tongue spar with his, he then begins to buck his hips into you leisurely, earning him a couple stifled moans. His pace is slow and sensual, only adding up to the growing illusion that you were inlove.

Your eyes are closed shut, trying to prevent the tears from materializing so he won't see. You feel his length rub against your walls along with the stimulation of him kissing your neck. "Mark me," you beg quietly. He starts suckling on your bare skin just like you wanted, leaving a lone, but red lovebite.

Yes, you'd cherish that until it eventually disappears, because it's the last lingering memory of him you'll have on your body. Is it ridiculous to love someone this much within three years or so? Maybe it is. Maybe you are ridiculous. But can they blame you? You just loved.

As Levi thrusts further into you, the stray fringes of his undercut swaying back and forth along with your breaths running, he gives himself a chance to try and look for something he should feel with a lover. His lips slam into yours endlessly as he rummages.

The harmonious sounds of skin slapping against one another, catching of breath, and restricted grunts and moans cover the entire room, and for once, you feel less alone. The fact that he took on your pleas make you happy. He probably still feels something as well, just not enough. Not enough to stop him from leaving.

You run a hand along his muscular back, nails digging lightly as you feel him hit your good spot. He pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips with his.

“Levi," you whimper. As you look at him with dazy, wanton eyes, he sees how you want more of him. He obliges by touching you everywhere, your love handles, your hair, your cheeks. You grab his jaw so that you're now holding each other's face and give him a small, weak smile. Is it pity that you feel, Levi?Your hand slides down his naked torso, index finger particularly stopping at his heart, vision darting on the same spot. Tell me, is there something there?

Though you know full well by yourself that even if it’s just pity that’s driving him to do this, you’d still gladly accept it.

To hell with dignity, you want to feel him tonight badly, even if this is nothing more than a plea of desperation.

A gasp leaves your mouth and you arch your back in fervor as he rams deeper, keeping his sensual pace at bay. He feels so good, everything feels so good, that you wouldn’t want it any other way. His eyes stay on yours, fierce gaze diving deep into the pools of your glowing orbs. It’s the kind of stare that’d make your knees tremble, and you still remember him using it on you when you first met.

He lets his hand roam around your body, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples, earning him a moan of pleasure. He lets his lips brush on your skin, sucking rashly on the red spot he made just a while ago to intensify it, making it last longer.

He knows just what you want, for him to embed his ownership into your body, burning into your skin. Emotions stir inside you like a tornado on the loose, you love him so much.

Levi grinds his hips down you firmly as he feels you nearing based from your shakier breathing and tighter walls. He uses his thumb to flick on your clitoris, and you transcend into a moaning mess upon feeling your orgasm building quickly in your guts.

You wish things would stay this way, wish for time to slow down, if possible, even stop. This is the last moment you could savor, because after this you know he’d leave the door right that instant, just like how easily he did it minutes ago. By that time, you can’t beg him anymore, nor can you make him stop. This is nothing but an inevitable goodbye.

He gently circles your most sensitive spot, as if you’re bound to break by any motion wilder. It’s almost totally contrary to how you both had sex before, the roughness not being there, the harsh movements, and the need to impose domination. You’re thankful he’s doing it nice and slow, just a little passionate, elongating the short time a tad more. Atleast he’s making an effort.

He was drunkening, starting from his ardent thrusts to the mere skin contact. You then feel your spasms closer, and you wrap your hands around his body for support, the brimming desire bottling inside you about to explode.

“Levi—!”

He continues moving to your will, and it takes you one last hump before an immense surge of pleasure rolls all throughout your body, to your limbs down into the tips of your fingers causing you to erupt and shake. Your trembling cavern wrap around him perfectly while you pulsate, heartbeat in exquisite sync. Momentarily, you forget the entirety. Your memories, his words, your current situation, him leaving you.

As you squirm underneath him, Levi stops to let you be and not make you feel overwhelmed from the aching sensitivity, waiting for your high to wear down before he pulls out. Earlier becoming one with one another, it’s only until then that you feel empty and lonely again.

You fall boneless, gasping for air, vision just a bit bleary. You fail to see him sit upright and buckle his belt to make off. It’s happening.

Levi glances at you to see if you’re out cold and senseless, but finds you covering your eyes with your forearm, hiding your threatening tears from his sight. You’re awake.

He mentally sighs. It’s no use. In the end, he felt nothing.

Once you’ve pulled back your tears before they can form, you uncover your face and give him a look so visibly painful no matter how much you conceal it. “You can stay with me. Even if it’s just as friends,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, but he hears. He gently shakes his head as refusion. That’d be taking advantage of you, and he wouldn’t want to do that.

You look at Levi with worn and droopy eyes, feeling the most helpless. You couldn’t stop him. Your heart stutters vigorously from inside its rib cage as he leans forward and he kisses you. You’re dumbstruck upon feeling his pair of warm lips land flat onto your forehead. Laying back there, immobilized and unable, you couldn’t do a single thing as you watch him quickly slip away from your reach. He wears his clothes, grabs a couple of his important stuffs and finally leaves without looking back, not one time.

The sound of the door shutting echoes inside your lonesome suit, resonating repeatedly in your ears. A dry and excruciating chuckle leaves your throat as if to try and prevail over the looming desolation, bitterness seething inside your veins, crippling like venom.

How cruel. He’s that ready? And he didn’t even bother bringing with him all of his things, huh? Guess you’ll decide later on whether to throw them out or wait for him to get them.

You swear, you tried the best you could to keep it in. You were spent to the bones both mentally and emotionally, you thought you can’t weep any more.

But you cried yourself to sleep for only the heavens know how long, sobs so heavily restrained in such a way that you think he was just behind the door and might hear you. Your hiccups uncontrollable, bursting out in an explosive manner that brought you uttermost difficulty to pull air into your lungs. Months of trying to understand, same time trying to not break, your brain doesn’t understand if finally crying it all out is relieving or only becoming more unbearable.

Your resentment only fuels as you witness the morning sun start to pour into your room shortly before you drift into unconsciousness.

The next day was an even more awfully hard battle, the growing static in your heart devouring your body. Getting used to being without him, coping on your own, practicing your smile as you prepare yourself to work only to ditch it and ask for a sick leave. When you pass by a mirror, you see nothing but a wreckage. Your pain is clear as day it’s utterly impossible to forge a front or make believable excuses.

A wave of alien emotion hits you as you keenly eye the lovebite he left just above your clavicle. You touch it as if the tip of your fingers were magnetized into doing so, as if you can feel him through it. You want to think of yourself as a canvas, and the small mark as his artwork.

You look at yourself once more, gently pressing on the reddened skin. A tiny but self-assuring smile appears on your lips as you observe both the hickey and your physique. It’s surely going to take a while, but you’ll be okay.

Besides, even tattoos fade after time.

[kirishimas-lil-shark]

@bakugous-mamas

“Hi I wanted to request prompts #s 1,5,6 and 11 with bakugou, and could you make it smut if possible?”

🌹Roses- Katsuki Bakugou🌹

-requested-

Warnings: Slight smut, cussing, and of course a lil bit of angst(only if you squint really hard at todoroki). Lots and lots of fluff :)

Also the use of She/her pronouns and feminine attributes(privates :D) but it’s mostly non-gendered.

Anyways I hope you enjoy and always go get some water or some food and stay healthy loves!

This took me a while to write. Around the end of the due date I wanted to re-write it because I didn’t like what I had.

Word count: 2678

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You would have never thought you could be on The Bachelorette, yet here you were standing in front of 33 strange men. You knew most of them were only here for money and you just wanted to find someone who cared about you. You held a single rose in your hand, scanning over the strangers and debating who you should give the flower to. They each walked up to you one by one, introducing themselves with a cheesy pick up line or sassy remark. You swore some of them acted more like females than actual women. A few people did catch your eye, though.

The first, a man who was a good few centimeters taller than you with dark brown hair tucked away in a half bun. He charmed you with a simple smile, dimples popping out and his turquoise eyes sparkling. The second, a dual haired boy with a mysterious scent looming around him arrived in a carriage. How 18th century, you thought. He smiles softly at you and introduces himself. The next boy was more hyper, a yellow- blond tint in his straight hair. A few black streaks running through them. It reminds you of Pikachu and you chuckle. He was sweet and goofy. Someone you thought you could be best friends with.

Then there was the last man. Ash blond hair sitting on his head, spiking up in many places. It looked so soft though and you couldn't help staring. His crimson eyes met yours before he even walked up. He wore a tux, no different from the rest of the men, but there was something different that struck you when he wore it. He looked mad, almost as if he didn't want to be here. You thanked the heavens that he was though because he was one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen. He came up to you, a smile not even daring to cross his features. You didn’t mind the foul attitude though, thinking it adds to his charm. He spoke a firm hello and a hand shake, grumbling softly as he held your hand to his lips. He gave the soft flesh of your hand a chaste kiss and he tried to smile. You couldn't help but chuckle and greeted him back.

You give him the rose.

Challenges and dates spun around as the first month came to an end. Half the contestants remained in the competition and you were sad to see the yellow haired boy leave the mansion without a rose last week. You guys of course exchanged contacts, becoming extremely close friends. You hadn’t chosen him for the week because you both felt like you were only going to stay friends.

It was time for another one on one date and you felt like the ash-blonde and you could use time to get to know eachother better. The first day you learned his name was Katsuki Bakugou and he came from the Shizuoka Prefecture in Japan. His best friend was the one who nominated him as a contestant and you silently thanked that friend.

So, when you went to tell him that you had chosen him for the date he was a little taken aback. He was just chilling on the couch scrolling mindlessly through his social media when you came up to him. He did want to be there, he fell hard for you when you became famous. Your songs playing through his air pods almost daily. When he found out you were going to be on this dumb show, his heart boke. Knowing you would fall for someone.

He made the mistake of complaining to shitty hair who, after hearing him whine, signed him up. And when he got the acceptance email, let's just say he played a little game of blast the idiots.

When you took an interest in him the first day, he managed to stay in the game and not get eliminated. Though he felt like he would be if he kept sliding through from the sidelines. So when you asked him, he was almost ecstatic. But, with a cough, he tried to act coy and play it off as nothing.

The date itself was going great, both of you talking about yourselves and getting to know each other better. He ate a fat bowl of spicy noodles and you went with your usual choice. You both ate, talked and laughed throughout the night and you walked back to the mansion together. You made some remark on how the house you all stayed at was obnoxious and you'd prefer to be somewhere smaller. How you enjoy having the little things. Katsuki swears that he couldn’t possibly fall more in love with you and yet here you were. A hand left his pocket and rested on your face. You looked up at him with those doe eyes and he leaned in. You fluttered your eyes shut and followed suit. When you didn’t feel his lips on yours, you peeked them open. He looked at you with a small smile on his face, thumb caressing softly on your cheek. You smiled at him and washed away his insecurities.

“Nobody’s coming. No one will see.” You say, touching his hand with yours.

“I want them to.” He spoke, taking his hand off your face and holding your hand that already rested on top of his.

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” He breathed his confession. You feel your heart swell and you tiptoe to plant a kiss on his lips. You pull away a little too soon apparently because he just pulls you right back into another one. Camera men forgotten as the whole world was held in his hands.

The final week came around sooner than you hoped, fully prepared for a proposal. Your heart unconsciously ached. You knew both would be filmed and you had asked the director if you could do an answer after an ad break so you could hear the other proposal in private. Todoroki went first and he spilled his heart to you, a bundle of roses in his hands. He tells you he loves you and that he will spoil you as his partner. You decline, telling him that someone forced him into this and that he was only here to make them proud. You tell him that you would like to remain friends and that he needs to find out who he is before he gets into a serious relationship.

“Don’t marry him.” He says to you before you leave.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help who I love.” You reply. He says he understands but you know he's hurt by your rejection.

Katsuki takes you to the candle lit gazebo and you both talk. The sun sets in the distance when he gets on his knee. A small diamond ring placed in his rough calloused fingers. He tells you that he can’t provide much but hell try his damn hardest to make you happy. He says that he's never felt this way before for anyone. That nobody has mattered to him as much as you do. He says his mom helped buy the ring and you recall the home visit, his mom being so sweet to you and so mean to him. You know how much he probably regretted asking for her to help because she won't ever live him down. His eyes shine at you when he tells you he loves you. You take notice of the slight sweat and shaking hands. You can't say much since your eyes are pricked with tears.

You tell him there is nobody else for you and you are so happy he feels the same way because for so long you were insecure for no reason. You were a piece of heaven in his eyes; perfect. He stands and hesitates. You hold your hand out to him and he slips the studded ring on your finger, kissing your hand like the first day you met. He places a hand on your face and you kiss him gingerly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The perfect moment.

It’s been a few months since you walked off the show with Katsuki. Your wedding was today, only because it was for the next season's special. Needless to say you were nervous and fidgeting but you also couldn’t wait. You started down the aisle with your bouquet in hand. Katsuki waited for you at the end of your trek across the room. A smile graced his face and you pinch yourself because you think your dreaming.

He’s dressed in a tux again and this time it’s a little more special. You subconsciously keep glancing at the cameras but he would always pull your attention back to him with a small squeeze to your hand. Smiling, you said your vows and it was your turn to tell him how much he meant to you. You tell him how much you love and care about him and that you’re so grateful he’s in your life. You say that you’re happy with him now and forever and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He’s happy. He reunites his words with your own, saying he’s glad he’s done such a good job. You snort at his ego and the audience laughs. He thanks Kirishima that he put him on the auditions list for the show and he admits he’s always liked you. You tease him and he takes your hand.

“I’m serious. I love you with all I am and I always have.” He speaks to you in such a loving voice and you melt. You exchange rings and he pulls you in for a kiss. Butterflies emerge from the pit of your stomach as you kiss back. His hands sit on your waist and your arms are around him. Cheers erupt when your lips lock together and you pull away, flustered. Katsuki doesn’t pull you in for another this time and you’re grateful he doesn’t. You don’t want to start a heated make out session in front of all these people.

Both of your guys parents and guardians congratulate the two of you. Bakugou thanks them for you, an arm over your shoulder. The ceremony ends and the reception rolls around. You all head to the place Katsuki proposed and you two dance under the gazebo. Candles are lit and roses grace the floor and railing. People cheer from the rest of the dock, dancing to the rhythm with the two of you. However, it felt like it was just the two of you, dancing away on cloud nine. Tears prick the corner of your eyes and he places a chaste kiss on your lips, reassuring you silently.

The event ended and guests went to their respective homes. You both climbed into the car and drove off, cans jingling from the back bumper. The car ride consists of giggles and feather kisses all over your upper body and touches to your thigh. He whispers in your ear that he loves you and each time he says it your heart swells. For a moment you wonder how you got so lucky and you sigh happily. The two of you arrive at a small cabin home in the mountains and Katsuki parks the car in the driveway. You two exit the vehicle and head up to the wooden doors. Katsukis jacket hangs over your shoulders as you enter the room, and you love the feeling. For once in your life you feel truly loved. This house was perfect, he was perfect, everything was perfect.

“God , I wish you’d just look at me!” You huffed out, making Bakugou look at you from the stove.

“What do you mean, I’m making us dinner?” He questioned, rolling his eyes. You both had changed out of your clothes and into some comfy pajamas. You wore a two piece silk set, shorts and a tank top. He wore a black tank top with some dark green sweatpants. “I’ve looked at you all day, but I can't not look at the food. It’ll burn.”

“Hmph.” You sigh out but truthfully, you aren't mad whatsoever. You watch him make the food and you can't help but smile. Wow. He’s really beautiful. Looking harder, you notice a few scars on his arms and fingers. You lean your body on the counter, resting your upper torso on your arms. Dinner is finished quickly and you two sit on the couch, watching a show that has something to do with love. He comments on how it’s sappy and that romance doesn't happen like that. You refute, saying it happened with the two of you. He looks at you, and takes your face in his hands.

“I don’t believe that. We didn’t happen in a moment, we happened over time. The only thing that show did was introduce us, we did the rest” He smiles at you and kisses your cheek. You pull him back to you as he moves away, planting a kiss on his lips. He places his hands on your waist, creeping them up just under your shirt. Your hands are pulling the hem of his shirt, making him unable to move away. You loosen your grip and pull away, looking for breath.

“Katsuki-” You mutter, removing your hands from his shirt and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He leans over you, pushing your back onto the couch.

“Do you- is this okay?” He asks as he looks into your eyes. You give him a nod and you hear him inhale. He leans into you and places a kiss on your neck, biting down softly and licking the bruise. You’re holding onto his bicep and you let out soft gasps as he litters your neck.

“Wait-” You gasp and he pulls away from your flesh. “-On the couch?” He picks you up in response, holding you like a koala. You bury your head in the crease of his neck as he takes you to the bedroom, the door closing behind you.

You lay on the sheets, breathing heavily as Katsuki works your body with soft kisses. Shirt on the floor and you wear no bra, giving the man full access. You start to become impatient. It feels good, don't get me wrong, you just needed more friction. Rubbing your thighs together to get a little relief, a hand presses down on your thigh. It ceases your actions and you look at him with whimpering eyes.

“Patience baby.” He says, digging his thumb into your soft flesh.

“Please daddy, I need you so bad…” You whimper out, tugging on the sheets above your head. He stops immediately and looks at you, smirking.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” He asks you, and you can’t manage to respond. He flips you onto your stomach and he pulls off your shorts. He throws his shirt off and leans down towards your dripping core. You wiggle your hips and try to look at him past your body. You can’t see him very well but you can definitely feel him as he places a finger over your clothed slit. “So fucking wet-” He licks his fingers and slides your underwear down your hips and onto the floor. Your throat lets out a pitiful moan and your face flushes a deep red. You are getting so worked up and he’s barely even touched you. It’s embarrassing when he pushes a finger knuckle deep inside of you and it's audible. He chuckles when you arch your back unconsciously. It feels too good to only have a knuckle inside you but you are pulled to reality when katsukis lips meet the soft bead of nerves. You take in a sharp inhale and look at him.

“Katsuki-” Your legs are shaking as he laces his tongue around your clit. “Please- don't stop” You feel him smirk against you when you realize how desperate you sound. At this point, you couldn't care less and you just wanted him. And he wanted you.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Home

Pro Hero! Iida Tenya x Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

This fic is rated M for Mature audiences only

Warnings: Smut, light temperature play, sensory play/depravation, light bondage, nipple play if you squint, Daddy kink, DD/LG dynamic, soft Dom Tenya, a little bit of fluff <3

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: I have no clue why soft Dom Tenya just popped into my head like a fucking whack-a-mole. All I could think of for hours was his huge hand on the back of my neck, squeezing and comforting me, or pulling me to whisper absolute filth into my ear. Honestly Tenya is slept on, and I for one simp for him heavily. He’s got soft Dom vibes, because he likes rules and regulations, but I don’t think he’s got the attitude of a brat tamer. Idk that’s just me lmao. 

Also, the beginning is a bit weird. You basically fight your family (that you don’t like very much). So yeah, be warned.

Anyway, enjoy the read~

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This wasn’t the first time you’d brought Tenya to a family dinner. In fact, he’d come with you ever since the first time you asked to introduce him to your family. They loved him to pieces, especially considering he was a high ranking hero from a well-known hero family. But this was the first time you’d used your signal around family. 

Your family was unaware of the extent of your relationship with Tenya, so you tried your hardest to keep them from finding out. They wouldn’t take it lightly if they knew about the dynamic the two of you had. The only family that knew was your sister, and she understood the secrecy, she would be in a similar situation if she were in a serious relationship. 

It was only an hour into the night when your family got a bit too politically and religiously aggressive. You were used to this, used to them talking about the workings of the world and their own beliefs. Obviously you didn’t feel the same way as most of your family, but they didn’t know that. You just avoid those conversations as much as possible. 

Of course, your sister was a little more open about her difference in opinion, and you had to defend her and diffuse the situation before things got out of hand. Now things were a bit awkward. She’d left in a bit of a storm and you were left to hopefully explain, in a much more sedated manner, how not everyone will think the same way and people had a right to their own opinions. 

Being the person you are, the elders in the family had overpowered you and you were left to sit and listen to them rambling on in an attempt to change your mind. It was times like these you seriously considered cutting yourself off from them. And it was times like these you were grateful Tenya was there.

Your head was starting to hurt from the stress of the situation, and you were visibly tense, shoulders high, jaw clenched, hands clasped hard in your lap, knee bouncing wildly. You could feel Tenya’s concerned gaze on you. He was worried for you, always so in tune with your emotions. That’s why you trusted him to take care of you.

When you’d finally had enough but had no idea how to get out of the situation, you discreetly reached over and placed your hand on Tenya’s thigh and squeezed twice. That’s the signal you used when you needed to leave as quickly as possible. As he put his mind to work, his hand came up and rested at the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. The motion had you relaxing into his touch, calming your breathing and waiting patiently for him to get you out of the situation.

It only took a few minutes for his phone to start ringing, and he excused himself from the table with a polite smile to take the phone call. Less than a minute later he came back in and explained that there was an emergency at his agency and needed to head into the office. The both of you were on the road within minutes, and the entire ride home his hand was on your thigh, rubbing soothing shapes into your flesh. He explained that no, he didn’t have an emergency at the agency and the call was from Izuku after Tenya had texted him.

Finally home, you let out a heavy sigh. Tenya could tell how exhausted you were, and when the both of you settled into bed he sat up and pulled you into his lap and held you tight, smoothing his large hands over your back. “Are you alright baby?” You nod into his chest, “Yeah. I’m okay.” He hummed, the vibrations running through your body. He knew you were still tense, but he kept quiet, waiting. He always was a patient man.

After a few deep breaths you pulled away and looked up at him. “Can we play?” One of his hands came up and threaded his fingers through your hair. “How do we ask to play?” Your eyes fluttered closed and you took a breath, already settling into subspace, then opened them again as you asked, this time properly. “Can we please play, Daddy?” A soft smile found its way onto his face as he leaned in, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “Of course baby. We can play.”

With that, it all started. It didn’t take long for you to be tied to the bed on your back, blindfolded with noise-cancelling earbuds in your ears. There was nothing for several long minutes, then the bed dipped between your legs. The excitement was building as you waited for him to touch you, not knowing what you’d feel first. 

Your back arched and you let out a gasp as icy cold enveloped a nipple, warm lips contrasting with a cold tongue as it laved over the quickly perking bud. The other was not neglected, thick fingers working it until it was hard, before switching. That same cold tongue was trailed up to the dip in your collarbone, then down your sternum all the way to your pubic bone, making you shiver.

When the cold began to warm, the sensations stopped as Tenya pulled away. The bed shifted ever so slightly, and the next thing you felt was that icy cold on your clit. You shouted out a moan and your body involuntarily jerked, but his large hands gripped your hips, holding you still as his chilled tongue swirls over the bundle of nerves. One of his hands released you and two thick fingers slipped into your already soaked cunt, immediately curling up to hit that gummy spot inside you.

With only a few pumps of his fingers the knot in your belly snapped, and your walls clenched down on his fingers as you shook with your first orgasm of the night. His fingers didn’t stop moving until you were mewling and whining that it was too much. Then all the stimulation stopped, and the only indication he was still between your legs was the dip in the bed.

After a few moments of catching your breath, his hands gripped onto your hips again, and you felt him push just the tip of his thick cock into you. Even just that had you panting and moaning, attempting to squirm and force more of him inside you, but his hands held you firm. His body heat rolled off him in waves as he leaned down, his chest almost flush with yours. 

Then there was cold on your neck, and he slowly pushed himself into you as he sucked a bruise into your skin, bottoming out fully as he pulled his mouth away. He stilled his hips and pulled the earbuds out of your ears, allowing you to hear what was happening. “How does that feel baby?” For a split second you were confused, but then cold reappeared on your body, rubbing around your nipples and breasts and cold beads of liquid dripping down your skin.

You let out another gasp, and he could feel your pussy clamp down on his length. With a chuckle, he pinched your nipple harshly making you squeal and squirm. “That’s not an answer, babygirl.” Your words were breathy, but you got them out anyway. “F-feels good, Daddy.” A deep satisfied hum rumbled through his chest and he kissed your neck softly, “There we go. Now tell me what you want baby.”

He rolled his hips into you, grinding into you before stilling again. You answered through a lengthy moan, knowing he’d fuck you thoroughly, but only if you asked him to. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. “Please fuck me, Daddy. I want you to fuck me.” He sighed out in your ear and his hand found its way to your neck, but there was almost no pressure on your throat. “Good girl,” he growled into your ear, and the praise made you shudder.

Slowly, he pulled out and thrust back into you, grinding his cock into your walls and dragging the head along your g-spot perfectly. He kept that slow pace, the hand at your throat moving to your hip. The other was rubbing another ice cube over your skin, making you shiver and clench down on his cock. He massaged the ice into your skin, slowly rocking his hips into yours, until it was completely melted and his fingers began to warm you again.

It was almost torture how slow he fucked you, how steady he ground his cock along your wet walls. You were mewling underneath him, whimpering and bucking your hips to get him to move faster. Your limbs tugged at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to tangle your hands in his hair and wrap your legs around his waist, pull him into you faster, harder. He knew what you wanted, you knew he did, but he wanted you to ask for it. He would wait, slowly thrust up into you until you asked him like the good little girl you are. And by god were you his good girl. 

“Daddy~ Please Daddy, more~” Your voice was almost a whine as you begged him for more, begged for him to go harder. Still dragging out his thrusts, a hand came up to your chin, thumb rubbing at your bottom lip. His breath was warm on your face, heavy pants rolling over your skin. “More what sweetheart? What does my baby want?” With a whine you bucked your hips, only barely managing the movement with one of his hands still gripping your hip tight. 

“Use your words baby. You have to tell Daddy what you want.” You nearly sobbed when his cock head dragged harshly against your g-spot. “Please fuck me harder, Daddy! I need it~” He groaned out at your needy state, “Good fucking girl. You’re Daddy’s good girl aren’t you~” It wasn’t phrased as a question, more fact, but you found yourself nodding anyway. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting his hips back to yours.

You moaned out with each snap of his hips, his pace slowly getting faster and heavier. Soon he was pounding into you, and that coil in your stomach tightened, your legs tensing and pulling at the ropes connecting you to the bed. Tenya knew how close you were, pussy fluttering wildly around his cock signaling him of your nearing climax. He pressed two fingers into your mouth, and you suckled on them, coating them in saliva before he pulled them away and rubbed at your clit.

The contact had you gasping for air, panting hard as your orgasm built up even further. Tenya leaned down and kissed you, deep and passionate, tongue twisting with yours. That’s all it took to have you cumming, and he swallowed your sobbed moans as your pussy clamped down around him. He kept pounding into you, dragging out that high just a little before he was pumping hot ropes of cum into you, thrusting a few more times before he stilled completely.

Still inside you, he untied your limbs and blindfold, and pulled you into his chest as he rolled onto his side, peppering kisses onto your face. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at Tenya, tired and satisfied, and he kissed you sweetly as you relaxed into him further. “How are you feeling?” You nod softly, “Good. Thank you Tenya.” He pulled you in and hugged you tight. “Of course baby. You did so good for me. Such a good girl.” The praise had you feeling all warm and fuzzy, and you nuzzled into him.

“Let’s go get cleaned up and go to bed okay?” You nodded as he carried you into the bathroom. You washed up and cuddled in bed until you fell asleep, at home in his arms.

[youngerdrgrey]

I know you (even if you don't want me to) // a Batwoman fic, chapter 4

about: After finding out Batwoman’s identity, Sophie tries to trap Ryan with her newfound knowledge. If she’s going to be on the outside, she might as well have some fun – and maybe fall in love along the way. #Wildmoore

CHAPTER FOUR SUMMARY: Ryan’s on a mission to stop Sophie’s crush on Batwoman, but she is very unprepared for what a rejected Sophie is about to do. + read on ao3

previously: read chapter one, chapter two + chapter three

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Unknown to SM (21:37) Hostage situation at the Krell Warehouse. Could use an assist. No Crows.

SM to Unknown (21:42) ETA 20m

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Sophie crouches low at the rendezvous point. A few rusted shipping containers form a makeshift wall on the edge of the warehouse property. Ryan’s fully suited up with her favorite batons ready for the action. She turns them in her hands to try and get rid of her nervous energy.

Sophie nods her way. “Surprised you called for help.”

“Yeah, well….” Technically, Ryan hasn’t called for help. She needs to put space between Sophie and Batwoman, and doing this over text would be even more uncomfortable than doing it in person.

“What do we got?”

“Six people inside — mostly teens who thought cruising an old Wonderland haunt would be a fun way to spend their Friday night.” Ryan points to the second level of the building where a row of boarded up windows give them their best entry point. “One got out a distress call, but False Face is all over the lower level and all the reasonable exits.”

Sophie mulls that over. “Do they know they’ve got company?”

“They found one kid who split off solo. The others are hiding, waiting for us to get them out.” Ryan stands back up.

“How’d you hear about this before us?” Sophie asks.

In a word, Parker. The inherited back-up / hacker teen is a senior now, and she’d reached out to Mary for an assist. Mary caught Ryan up to speed, but there’s not really a quick way to clue Sophie in.

“A little doggy told me.”

Sophie side-eyes Ryan. “I didn’t know riddles were your thing.”

Ryan gets her baton ready. “Saving people’s my thing. Now, I’m going to break through the boards. Draw their attention to me. After that, you find the kids and get them out of here.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” Sophie salutes her.

Ryan hesitates. She could bring Sophie up with her. Get them both into the building the same way. “You want to take the shortcut with me?”

A slow smile curls onto Sophie’s lips. “Yeah?”

Ryan pulls Sophie to her with her left hand. “Hold onto me. Tight.”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She wraps her arms around Ryan from the left side. Ryan secures her arm around Sophie’s waist, then clicks the button on the baton, launching the zip wire and effectively sending them into the air.

Sophie clings to her tighter. She gives a little gasp that Ryan’s sure will live in her mind rent free. Ryan shifts her weight to push boots first into the wood boards. She kicks through, and the splintering will definitely be enough to get the False Face members’ attention.

She lands firm, and Sophie takes a moment to readjust. Ryan knows she shouldn’t, but she glances up at Sophie. There’s a breathless awe in her that Ryan can’t look away from. Sophie genuinely laughs.

“That was awesome!”

Ryan smiles back despite herself. “Go find the kids. Thank me later.”

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Ryan takes out three different False Face goons. The two remaining ones chase her through the building and out the front doors. It’s not the most effective strategy, but she catches sight of Sophie leading the kids out from the corner of her eye. Parker has the audacity to wave at Ryan, like they’re friends. The girl might’ve been Kate’s chosen teenager, but Ryan is not taking in any strays.

She focuses back on her two shadows. “Aren’t you guys sick of getting your asses kicked at this point?” She assumes her fighting stance while they split masked looks and probably choose who is charging at her first. “I knocked out three of your buddies back there. I broke into your boss's hideout. Gotham is mine.”

A car starts in the distance. The guy in the Seal Mask cheats a glance towards the shipping containers. Ryan takes the opportunity to launch a Batarang at his shoulder. It slices through his jacket like butter. The Monkey Mask runs at her.

She blocks three punches and a kick before getting a roundhouse one of her own straight to his side. Monkey Mask crumbles with the kick. Seal Mask storms right at her, but thankfully, Sophie shocks him with a taser from behind. As he writhes his way to the ground, Ryan chops Monkey Mask in the side of the head to knock him out too.

Sophie pockets her taser. She wipes her hands after. “Kids are gone. They say thank you.”

“Did you tell them this was a one time thing?” Ryan asks.

Sophie nods. “I promised I’d haul them in myself next time.”

Of course she did. Because that’s who Sophie is. How many times has she said those same words to Ryan? Her solution will always be to lock people up and maintain the status Crow. Ryan cannot be a part of that.

She bites the bullet and announces, “There won’t be a next time. Not for us.”

Sophie’s smile drops. “I’m sorry, what? If it’s the Crow thing again, it was a joke—”

“No,” it wasn’t a joke, but it’s now or never to put an end to this. “It’s the Kate thing.”

The mention of Kate works exactly the way Ryan thought it would. A wall builds around Sophie in an instant. Her voice drops to a warning.

“Watch yourself, Batwoman.”

She has to watch out for Gotham. Keep them safe by keeping Sophie out of the Batcave and back with her Crows where she belongs.

“You said it yourself: she was the love of your life. Isn't it a little weird that you’re asking me out for drinks?”

Sophie’s nostrils flare. She grinds out, “It’s a drink. Not a marriage proposal.”

“You’ve already done that part, right?”

Okay, Ryan may have gone too far with that one. But the point is to drive Sophie away. If Sophie thinks Batwoman is a bitch, then Ryan’s in the clear. No more crush, no more problems.

But Sophie spins Ryan around with a vice-like grip on her wrist. She glares down at Ryan, and Ryan’s thankful once again for how the cowl and the wig cast her eyes in shadow.

“And what have you done, besides try to push away the one person who’s repeatedly saved your life? I’m not your enemy, and I’m not going to stand here while you try to use my dead ex against me.”

Sophie’s whole body shakes. Her rage is clear and channeled straight at Ryan. She practically growls, “You want to work alone so badly? Be my guest.” Then storms off into the night.

After a beat, the crackle in the Comms gives way to Luke.

He sighs heavily into his microphone. “Not cool, Ryan.”

Ryan clears her throat. Tries to sound a bit less affected. “Hey, mission accomplished.”

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Screw Ryan. Sophie would normally go for more eloquence, but she’s a little sidetracked. She squares up her shot in the minimalist Crows shooting range. The small scale facility has a row of five shooting stations opposite the targets. On a Friday night, the other Crows are either working or relaxing, so the space is all hers. And Mary’s, who presses a pair of earmuffs tighter onto her ears and squeaks as Sophie takes another shot.

Mary practically screams, “Are you sure that this is how you want to spend Girls’ Night?”

Girls’ Night meaning yet another last minute outing to distract Sophie from how shitty Ryan is acting. At least the last time, Sophie could have a bit of fun. This time, her blood’s boiling, and she grinds her teeth so hard that she might upset a filling.

“Any better ideas?”

Mary gives an incredulous look to Sophie. “There are so many clubs in Gotham. You can take shots instead of shooting them. And… didn’t you used to go shooting with Kate?”

Sophie sets her gun down. “It’s great stress relief.”

“Yeah, so’s dancing. And it’s a lot more fun.” Mary pushes her ear muffs down onto her neck. “I don’t need to know what’s got you so…” She waves a hand at Sophie’s generally tense demeanor. “But you can find plenty of ladies who would love to help you forget about it.”

And forget about Ryan slut-shaming her for even looking like she was moving on. “Look, I can live my life however I want. It’s not disrespecting anyone to do that.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Mary turns knowing eyes up at Sophie. “I also feel like there’s someone else that you want to be saying that to, and it’s not me. So, you work on your speech, and I will cement our spot on the guest list, okay?”

Mary squeezes Sophie’s arm and then excuses herself from the room. She stays right outside, where the pop of Sophie’s next shot is on the other side of the glass. Her phone’s ringing before she really thinks about it.

Ryan groans into the phone upon answering. Then she must hear the muffled shots in the background. “Are you getting shot at?”

“Thankfully, no. Sophie’s got me at the Crows shooting range because someone pissed her off tonight.” Mary rolls her head in a circle and wills some of the tension out of her body. “An hour ago, you two were fine, so want to clue me in how you royally screwed things up?”

Ryan scoffs, and her voice pitches higher in indignation. “She’ll be fine. This is Crowphie we’re talking about.”

Mary watches as Sophie fires off three rounds before her arms drop. Sophie lays the gun down and plants her hands on the wood of the stall in front of her. Her shoulders shake with what may actually be a sob.

“She’s not invincible, Ryan. And you can’t hurt her just to push her away. It’s not fair.”

“When has any of this been fair, Mary?” There’s a thud on the other end, like Ryan’s slamming their fridge. Is she home right now? “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well, do better. I’m taking her out to hopefully dance through some of this intensity. Maybe tomorrow you can try to fix this. Okay?”

A bottle cap pops on Ryan’s side. She’s definitely got a beer from the fridge. This won’t end well for any of them, will it? Ryan takes a swig that’s loud enough for Mary to hear through the phone.

“Which club?”

Mary sighs.

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Leave it to Mary to pick the one club playing decent music tonight. Ryan half expected Mary to have picked Curse, but Sophie’s not really an EDM kind of girl. Before tonight, Ryan would’ve assumed Sophie’s never been to a club at all. She’s the tight lipped, straight backed type. The type to think of a few drinks at a bar as a wild night.

Tonight, though, Sophie’s hotter than ever. In a tight dress that stops above the knee and heels that make her tower over half the patrons, Sophie’s got the attention of at least half the club. Ryan watches from beside Mary at their table. Sophie had taken one look at Ryan, downed her drink, and gone onto the dance floor.

“She’s not even a good dancer,” Ryan mumbles. Sophie’s a bit too stiff to really be good out there. She does have a natural rhythm though. Everyone around her bends to match it. One particular person with a mullet slips up behind Sophie. Their hand finds Sophie’s hip, and Sophie only misses a beat before dancing again.

Mary twirls the ice around in her drink. “She’s fine.”

She’s vengeful. Sophie gets told one time that she’s moving on too fast, and now she’s grinding with a stranger at a club. If anything, she’s proving Ryan’s point.

Mullet takes Sophie’s hand in their free one and spins Sophie around to face them. The move gets a laugh out of Sophie. The laugh gets a kiss from Mullet. Ryan groans.

She leans across the table to Mary. “I thought this was Girls’ Night.”

Mary shrugs. “Mullet's a girl. Maybe. I'm trying not to assume anyone's gender based on expression. Look, you rejected her, so she’s going to rebound.”

Ryan pulls a disgusted face. It’s not about Mullet in particular. Just, if Sophie’s going to rebound off of Batwoman, couldn’t she do it with somebody interesting? Somebody who will do more than kiss along her neck in a sweaty club surrounded by strangers. Now both of Mullet’s hands are on Sophie’s hips, and Sophie’s head is tilted back like she’s actually enjoying this. Like Mullet has found just the right spot and —

Ryan turns to put her back to the dance floor. “I’m not watching this.”

“You don’t have to. You also… didn’t have to come?” Mary’s voice lilts up at the end. Her face is that mix of carefully constructed curiosity that usually means Mary’s leading Ryan into a trap. “I get that you wanted to see how bad she’s taking it, but I could have just texted you. Imani would’ve loved an impromptu date night.”

Things with Imani aren’t as great as they were before. Imani’s still amazing, but she gets quieter and stares at Ryan like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last time Ryan bailed for Bat business, Imani looked absolutely betrayed.

Ryan could keep it to herself, but she blurts out, “Imani doesn’t trust me. I have to bail on half of our dates because of work and after meeting Sophie—”

“Why would she be jealous of Sophie?”

Ryan scratches at the back of her neck. “We may have gotten caught up in an argument in front of Imani.”

Mary hums. “And the two of you forgot anyone else even existed.” She says it like this is something that they do.

“I didn’t forget.” Sophie infuriates Ryan. She’s so sure that she’s right about every little thing, and if Ryan doesn’t correct her, then who will?

“But you didn’t care. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t the woman that you’re sleeping with have your full attention? Not your ‘coworker.’”

Ryan gives her a tight smile. “You’re forgiven.”

Mary turns her eyes back to the crowd. Ryan glances back, and of course, Sophie’s still with Mullet. But as Mullet kisses Sophie’s neck again, Sophie stares across the dance floor straight at Ryan.

Mary claps her hands together. “Alright. You two might want to talk about whatever this is. Preferably before I become an unwilling third and Imani ends up heartbroken.”

Ryan’s halfway out of her chair before she remembers to deny it. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Mary’s sarcastic mhm follows Ryan as she cuts her way through the crowd towards Sophie.

The heat of the bodies engulfs her. Somebody familiar tugs at Ryan, but she shirks out of the touch without so much as a look. Her eyes catch Sophie’s again, and she holds the stare as she slips around the last few people between them.

Mullet’s behind Sophie again. They possessively wrap an arm around Sophie’s stomach. “We’re good,” Mullet says.

Ryan ignores them to talk to Sophie. “Mary’s worried about you.”

Sophie’s dismissive. “Then Mary can come talk to me herself.” She turns her nose up at Ryan, and honestly, it’s enough to make Ryan see red.

Ryan’s here because Mary said Sophie was hurting. Ryan could be anywhere else. She could be at home, drinking a beer, in her bed. She could be patrolling the city. She could be with Imani, but she’s here because Mary had the misguided idea that Sophie was actually sad about being rejected. Mary was wrong.

Ryan huffs. “Whatever.” She starts walking back through the crowd.

Sophie calls out, “Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

Ryan glances over her shoulder to see Sophie push Mullet away. Sophie storms after Ryan, cutting through couples and dancers to get to her. Ryan speeds up. She makes a sharp turn in the crowd. No need to head back towards Mary and her leading comments.

The bathrooms are packed, as always, but there’s an exit door a bit further down the hall that’s normally unlocked. Ryan wiggles along the hall to get there and slips out into the night air.

A wave of humidity lingers outside the door. The stoop can barely fit Ryan. She pauses, which is just enough time for Sophie to push her way outside too. Ryan has to step down off the stoop. So she takes the remaining two steps to be firmly on the ground.

“Ryan, stop!” Sophie stomps down the steps. Ryan can’t move quick enough, so she ends up with Sophie standing over her. Sophie’s breathing hard. Her cheeks and neck are flushed from the club. Her lipstick’s in tact, but there’s a well kissed swell to them too.

Ryan can’t explain the fire in her veins. She shouldn’t have the power to get to Sophie like this. And maybe Ryan doesn’t. Maybe only Batwoman means something to Sophie.

“I have never seen you like that.” Ryan throws a hand towards the club. “Who was that in there?”

“You’re the one who said we didn’t know each other,” Sophie snaps.

“Maybe with good reason!”

Sophie quickly shakes her head. She stabs a finger into Ryan’s shoulder. “You do not get to judge me, Ryan. I am not interested in hearing some speech about how I should be acting. I decide what I want to do. I spent twenty-nine years denying myself that. And I am tired of letting other people tell me what team to be on.”

“You picked a clear one in there,” Ryan retorts. She should have worn her heels. Sophie’s a fucking Amazon woman right now, and it makes Ryan flare up. Makes her puff her chest out more than she needs to.

Sophie says, “I didn’t have a choice!” She catches herself. Her eyes cut to the wall before coming back to Ryan. “Did you know that I worked with the last Batwoman?”

Of course Ryan knows that. Everybody knows Sophie and Kate worked together. It’s why Sophie got suspended last year. Even low level non-criminals like Ryan heard about that. The Crows number two getting the deuces.

Sophie knows too. She keeps going, “For months, we worked together, and she never told me who she was. She never even gave me the chance to keep her secret. And you could say that she was protecting me, but really — ” Sophie’s anger fractures. Her lip trembles, and she sniffles before setting her jaw again. ”She was protecting herself.”

Luke always talks about Kate like she was perfect. Kate stood up for the people of Gotham. Kate had a code. Kate loved Sophie and established a legacy that Ryan’s supposed to carry on. Is hurting Sophie a part of that?

Sophie pushes her hair back out of her face. “I’m sick of playing games, Ryan.”

Ryan’s blood runs cold. “Meaning…?” Does Sophie know?

“Meaning I am going where I’m wanted.”

Ryan sighs in relief. A stressed laugh slips from her lips. It’s not about her. It’s still about the rejection.

Ryan lightens her tone. “You didn’t have to come to the club for that. There’s a line out the door at The Hold Up.” Sophie shakes her head, and the tension’s still tight between her eyebrows. Ryan needs this out. She takes Sophie’s hand in hers to swing it playfully between them. “I’m serious! Much hotter than Mullet. You should see the number of women checking you out every time you’re there. They are waiting for you to give them a chance.”

Sophie’s shoulders drop, like the fight’s slipping out of her. “You’re being nice.”

Ryan runs her thumb along Sophie’s knuckles to undercut her words.

“When have I ever been nice to you, Sophie?”

Sophie gazes down at Ryan in such a tender way that Ryan forgets how to breathe for a second. Forgets that they shouldn’t be toe to toe in an alleyway underneath the moonlight.

Sophie’s natural rasp pokes through. “You tell me.”

The quick hits: saving Sophie from Black Mask, cracking jokes with her and Jordan, the free margaritas. Sophie’s the nicer of the two of them. She stayed with Ryan on the island. She didn’t even look under the mask when she could’ve. She got Ryan back to Mary’s clinic with no questions asked.

She always plays along when Ryan wants a fight. She comes running for every text, every call, and she flips the Bat-signal to see Ryan. Not for some ghost of who used to be.

Sometimes Sophie smiles at Ryan like they’re the only two people in the world. Like now. Ryan gets lost in the warmth of it. The hopeful glow in Sophie’s eyes. Maybe Ryan should’ve been in heels. Sophie wouldn’t have to lean so far down to kiss her. Would it be so bad if Sophie did have a crush? If Ryan maybe —

“OW! What the —” The back door snags on the sleeve of Mary’s dress. She stumbles on the stoop, and her eyes jump up in time to spot them. Ryan and Sophie freeze, hands still together, faces angled towards each other but no closer to bridging the distance between them.

Ryan’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. Like she’s been caught in front of the whole of Gotham with her mask off.

Mary stares down at their hands. Ryan finally remembers to drop it. Sophie just licks her lips and steps back to turn to Mary.

The medical student points back into the club. “I… I could go back inside.”

Sophie walks back up the steps. “I’m calling it a night. Thanks, Mary. This was….” She glances over her shoulder at Ryan, who can’t bring herself to move yet. “Yeah.” Sophie slips into the club.

Mary lightly closes the door behind Sophie. She takes a deep breath in. “WHAT WAS THAT!?” She shrieks. Her eyebrows have practically left her face when she turns to Ryan. “You were supposed to be apologizing, not making out in the alley!”

Ryan snaps back to the moment. She readjusts her top, which she doesn’t have to do since it’s not like Sophie touched her. It’s not like they actually did anything. They just… stared? Looked? Saw each other, maybe.

“We weren’t making out.”

“Oh really?” Mary doesn’t believe her.

“We didn’t even kiss,” Ryan snaps.

Mary snorts. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” Ryan crosses her arms defensively. Mary’s eyes quadruple in size. “Oh my God, are you disappointed!?”

Ryan stomps up the steps to the door. Mary figuratively dissects Ryan with her eyes. Maybe Ryan could sprint through the club. If she starts running, the other Black people at least should run. It’s code. A little stampede, and she can ditch her roommate and this awful line of questioning.

Mary keeps up with Ryan as she speeds up though. Mary fast-walks beside her down the narrow hallway.

She says, “You can’t ignore me. You know that, right? We’re going home together. We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

Mary jogs to get around Ryan and stand in front of her. Ryan nearly crashes into her. Mary grabs both of Ryan’s shoulders so Ryan has no choice but to look at her. It’s almost not fair that Mary and Ryan are nearly the same height. It gives Mary an advantage when it comes to reading Ryan directly. Plus, Ryan can’t escape the soft concern in Mary’s eyes.

She asks it softly but like she already knows the answer. “Do you like Sophie?”

Ryan scoffs and laughs and shakes her head and does everything she can to look like that’s not true. Because it can’t be true. It shouldn’t be true. “No, I do not like Sophie.” So why does that sound like a lie?

.

.

Sophie shouldn’t be up here. She should be back home, like she said, not waiting under the Bat-signal. But she can’t exactly go to Ryan’s loft and ask Ryan what the fuck that was back at the club. At first, it just seemed like judgement. Ryan’s never been subtle about her discontent. She tells Sophie everything she dislikes from the way Sophie’s done her hair to the fact that Sophie’s committed her life to a police state that may never be capable of getting better.

Judgement doesn’t pinch Ryan’s lips though. Judgement is a self-assured raise of the brow. Judgement is that all-knowing smirk and a dimmer switch on Ryan’s normally bright eyes.

At the club, that was something else. That was heat. That was anger. That was jealousy. Ryan might’ve spun it into jokes about The Hold Up, but it started from there. They were so close in that alley. So close as themselves, and that should be the goal of all this, right? Sophie started messing with Ryan to get Ryan to be honest with her. Sophie could take the first step. Drop the charade and tell Ryan that she knows. Ask her to let Sophie in.

Ryan lands on the roof with a whoosh and a soft thud. The wind runs through the wig. What would it feel like through Ryan’s hair? What would Sophie’s fingers feel like?

Ryan shifts her weight from one side to the other. She gives a little “Hi” that sounds nervous even under the voice regulator.

If Sophie speaks, then those nerves will go away. This charade makes it easier. It gives them an excuse and an out. Because if Sophie and Ryan kiss, then Sophie has to change her life. Sophie has to quit her job, and Ryan has to bend her beliefs, and neither of them can ever go back to who they were before. But if it’s Batwoman….

Sophie summons all her strength. “You owe me an apology.”

Ryan glances down at the roof. “Kate was a low blow.”

“And Tyler,” Sophie reminds her. It’s probably a good thing Ryan doesn’t know enough about Julia to bring her up too.

“I’m sorry. I….” She licks her lips and steps closer to Sophie. “I panicked. You’re out here telling people that you have my phone number. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Sophie fakes a thought as she steps towards Ryan. “You could try talking about it, like an actual adult. You are an adult, right?”

Ryan takes another step. They’re only an arms length apart. “Yeah, I’m an adult.”

Sophie’s turn. “Good. And you want me?”

“I….”

Sophie stops. They’re almost toe to toe again. “Yes or no. Do you want me?”

A few agonizing seconds creep in. Ryan doesn’t move, or speak. Dread sinks in. She read this wrong. Ryan really was being nice in the alley, and now Sophie’s pushed too far. She’s gone back on her word, and it’s only going to give Ryan more ammunition against her. She’s going to kill Mary for bringing her out tonight.

“Yes,” Ryan whispers. Sophie jumps forward at the word. “I think…. Yes.”

Sophie drapes her arms around Ryan’s neck. The wig tickles against her bare skin. Ryan’s breath catches in her throat. Tentatively, her hands come up to Sophie’s waist. The gloves bunch her dress. Sophie’s eyes drop from Ryan’s down to Ryan’s lips, then back again. Sophie leans in, so close that their lips almost brush.

“Do you trust me?”

Ryan tenses around her. She says, “I want to. I just… can’t.”

Sophie nods and swallows around the immediate lump in her throat. “Then I can’t do this.”

Sophie detangles herself from Ryan and heads for the doors. She only gets a few steps away before Ryan grabs her hand. Ryan runs her thumb over Sophie’s knuckles the same way she did in the alley.

“We can work on it. It’s not just me, you know,” Ryan says. “I don’t have to work alone.”

Right, there’s Luke and Mary, who lie to Sophie every single time she sees them. There was Julia. Even Alice gets to be in on the action sometimes.

Sophie asks her, “So what’s wrong with me?” Why keep pushing her away? She’s done everything she can think of to prove she’s trustworthy. The last few weeks of jokes and games aren’t the problem. Ryan doesn’t care about kids thinking Sophie’s friends with Batwoman. She doesn’t care about drinks. There's something else at play here. Something Ryan won't admit.

“Soph….” Ryan starts, but no explanation follows. Sophie can’t set herself up like this. Not again.

Sophie pulls her hand back. “Figure that out, and get back to me. Until you do, I’m done.”

.

.

a/n: So many fun things in this chapter! Let me know what's working for you and how you felt about our near kisses (one of which was almost a full one -- can you guess which one?)

END OF CHAPTER UPDATED, MONDAY JUNE 21ST AT 10AM.

it's going to be a busy week for me. give me some fun comments and reblogs to keep my energy up?

[hongsside]

Finally Us :: ⅕

pairing :: kim hongjoong ✘ male reader  ✘ yunho ( eventual poly relationship )

wc :: 3.9k

genre :: smut • romance • 

tags :: doctor au , smut , doctor hongjoong, mlm, aftercare, implied forbidden relationship, implied long-distance relationship, implied cheating, sub! reader, hongjoong switch/vers you’ll see later :>

chapter tags :: implied cheating, token of love, office sex, doctor hongjoong, nurse siyeon, cock ring.

chapter title :: Promise

sws :: blow jobs , semi-public sex, riding, cum sharing, restraints, hickies, toys, orgasm denial, choking

tw :: addiction/drug overuse in a simile form?? no characters were doing drugs its just a simile?? 

tba :: next chapter →

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(o´ω`o)ﾉ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･ ❝ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ~ᵎ ❞

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“dr. kim! d-dr. kim!”, panted a miniature figure, sputtering on her words as the dark-haired individual called beforehand spun on his heel to face the short-winded woman. the lady handed him a thin bundle of papers to the man as the staggering scent of her perfume lingered in the air, only cringing abhorrently in response. with a hand resting on her knee for essential support she continued to ramble about things ranging from dinner to the documents to a reoccurring patient whose name caught the doctor's attention.

“oh, did you say y/n? i presume these are his, correct?”, visibly nodding, dr. kim, as said previously, muttered a quiet 'perfect' under his breath and dismissed the large faction of uniformed-women, striding to his office at the end of the hall.

meet the doctor: dr. kim hongjoong; dr. kim was the youngest in his field, graduating from high school at barely 16 and completing college at 23. he was a young man in his early twenties, which caught the attention of many women from all ages, what intrigued them most, was the fact he was strangely single. you could easily tell why he was favored by the women, but to their disadvantage he was not interested in middle-aged wives. although, fortunately for him, he had his eye settled on someone else already.

“dr. kim! you have a patient waiting.”, called out a steady voice from the mob of nurses. he turned his head and nodded, waving off the woman with a smile as he proceeded to open the door. the sound of keys jangling at his hips filling the now silent atmosphere; there was faint tension evident as soon as he stepped inside. he looked down at the figure before him in mere awe, adoring the way his doe eyes wandered around the room, the way his bangs fell just above his eyes, the way he sat there anxious for his presence and the fact only they knew why.

hongjoong specifically loved one more thing, and that was nothing less than the way he looked so ruined when they played their blissful little games.

in fact, he was gonna play a game today-- his game, of course.

“mister y/n, i'm more than glad to have you back.”, the doctor mused humming in approval at the man, a shameless grin forming softly as he spoke to the man. the other man nodded in return scarcely meeting dr. kim's gaze. he swallowed thickly as dr. kim's cat-like aspect glared at him almost in a challenging manner.

the uniformed-man cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he glanced at the fragile frame, before looking down at his papers and chuckling.

“i-is something everything okay doctor?”, he stuttered, tugging at the collar of his sweater as he sweat profusely under hongjoong’s fiery stare. making sure the door was locked, the doctor smiled.

“of course.”

“you’re here for a regular check-up, am i correct?”, he continued nonchalantly, trying his best to appear professional despite internally, he was clouded by the lewd thoughts about his patient that pestered his mind.

“right--”, the slender man nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

“alright then, let’s begin.”, the men stood up in unison, dr. kim leading the other man to the exam table but all he could see was the small figure under him, moaning for him, just like the other night and that was close enough to make him lose it right then and there.

“doctor kim?”, y/n repeated, holding back a stutter as he flailed his hand in front of dr. kim’s bewitched expression in attempt to snap him out of his seemingly never-ending trance.

clearing his throat, hongjoong smiled; a roguish smile. knowing exactly what routine game y/n was playing, and he knew exactly how to debunk the man.

“please sit still.”, hongjoong instructed, placing a hand on the other man’s back, palming soft circles that would gift anyone a sense of comfort— that’s not what y/n wanted. slowly dragging his painted nails against his back, the doctor chuckled once more, “knock it off my love, you aren’t fooling anyone”. he whispered as the other struggled to calm his unsteady breathing while the other man had reached the waist band of his awfully short shorts. frowning, the brunette man continued.

 “come one sweetheart work with me here. strip”.

originally his plan was that he would play cold and professional unlike his usual approach of just fucking him senselessly on his office table. however, there was something different in store for the two men.

“i'm quite disappointed y/n..”, hongjoong whispered under his breath just loud enough for the smaller figure to hear. his hot breath fanned the back of his neck causing his patient's already blushed cheeks to turn 50 different shades of red.

“is that so..?”, the doll like man mused attempting to hold back the stutters and mumbles yet failing to his dismay as he slid his shirt off with the assistance of hongjoong. the doctor only chuckled in response, twirling his shorts like a flag with too much pride.

without another word hong's lips were latched onto his patient's, his tongue much too gracefully dancing with his. whimpers were revealed and soft whines let out and god knows what other filthy noises were created. tongues glided together, sucking and biting the other's lips as he ran out of breath. as much as they knew this was wrong, professionally, but his heart..and cock said differently.

he pulled away allowing them both to catch their breaths, leaving them panting in unison and the fun had just barely begun. by now the smaller man was undressed-- apart from his briefs that the slightly older man seemed to love teasing him with. his [y/n] ears had turned the same shade of red his cheeks had at this point, and hong could not help but notice. a low seductive giggle left his lips, “are you hungry yet?”. baffled even answer dr. kim continued. “i'm so damn hungry..”. his eyes overcome with lust, you realized what hunger he meant, and he surely seemed starved.

those briefs that were previously hugging the curves of the smaller man's lower body were now in his hands, he shuddered at the sudden exposure to the cold and couldn't help feel his cock twitch as it was hit by the air. he hurried to close his legs which were so beautifully displayed on hong's exam table but hongjoong was quick to stop him. the doctor had sunk down on his knees, head between y/n’s thighs which were bruised and bitten from last time. hongjoong examined his marks on his body with pride at his own creation. before he knew it his tongue was gliding across the purple works of art on the man's skin, he worked his way up higher and higher until he had reached the throbbing red tip of his cock.

god, he loved the way his flushed tip oozed out precum from just the slightest touch.

in awe, he began to lap at the underside of his cock, massaging his balls in the process causing choked up moans and grunts to leave y/n’s swollen lips-- the way his name combined with his needy moans rolled off histongue was plainly sinful but it was hong's not so guilty pleasure. his eyes never leaving y/n's, he stroked the base spreading his cum as he shifted from above in hope for more friction only to be halted by hongjoong's firm hand gripping at his hips. “m-more..”, he breathed in desire of something he wasn't quite sure of yet, luckily he knew just what.

taking him in whole, he wrapped his soft lips around his cock. the velvety walls of his mouth surrounding him-- tempting him to move as the heat of hongjoong’s tongue grazed the soft vein on the underside of his cock. truly, he wanted to mouth fuck the doctor but something told him he would pay for it later.

he hummed around him, sending vibrations of pleasure through his body still without moving.

this felt like hours, hongjoong’s lips hugging the curves of your cock: his eyes which were once commanding and powerful were now transformed into teasing eyes of playfulness and lust. waiting was unbearable and as time passed, y/n felt his cock twitch as dr. kim started to push him farther down his throat not gagging once, maintaining eye contact that could surely kill a man.

being fed up with his teasing, the man described as frail and shy had his hand now entangled in the roots of his hidden lover’s hair.  loving the way the man on his knees looked up at him and started to bob his head, taking him in fully and groaning around him not caring about who saw their .

“y-your mouth feels so goo-- oh my god~ hongjoong!”, he breathed as he reached so closed to his climax that was until pulled away from his cock with a pop, his lips parted so beautifully in an a soft ‘o’. with drool dripping from his faint pout, he swirled his tongue around the tip as he left kitten licks along the way knowing the other man was so close to losing it.

“hongjoong- p-please just ..fuck me.”, said the man on the table spreading his legs wider before turning around leaving the blank canvas of his ass on display. hongjoong truly did enjoy this, it was like his own free art show and y/n was the main piece. as he scanned and palmed the soft globes of the mans ass cheeks, he raised him hand to leave a crimson mark on them. the stinging pain soon turned into pleasure and a groan left the lips of the men.

once again the younger man felt the sudden heat and firmness in his body this time somewhere different, it was hongjoong’s forsaken little tongue. the places it would go and no one would even know was sinful, but that made it better. y/n bit his lip at the feeling of the warm wetness pushing into his trembling hole--oh how he loved that shit.

y/n gripped at the sides of the table seemingly unable to contain the noises of pleasure from hongjoong just eating him out; the power the short man had was frankly formidable and he himself knew it so well. as dr. kim continued to speed up his pace, lapping at the man’s dripping hole; the doctor slipped on a cock ring from in between his legs spread so temptingly.

jerking back in surprise, the smaller man whined, “no..hongjoong please--”,

without warning hongjoong kissed his lips, shutting him up almost like on queue. he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy his kiss despite still being bitter over losing his orgasm for the second time that evening. y/n’s eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and hong let out out a sound of amusement, pulling away panting softly.

somehow the room’s temperature grew hotter and the desire for each other grew with it-- moving away from the desk, hongjoong scooped up y/n, carrying his figure gently towards the couch located in the corner of the room.

“ride me.”, purred the older man as he fumbled with the hassle of his belt and the hem of his jeans. he laid down and y/n shuffled over, placing his knees at either side of the brunette’s torso. y/n gladly obliged with the command, quickly spreading his cheeks which were soaked with spit a littered with dark-red hickies revealing his hole once again and greedily taking hongjoong’s impatient cock.

with little time on their hands, they quickly got to work. the sound of skin clapping and the show of y/n's ass bouncing on dr. kim's cock was downright pornographic-- it truly didn't help that the glass panes on hongjoong's office walls were laminated with a special paper that allowed to see themselves in this state. beads of sweat rolled down his face as he clawed at the sides of the leather couch and thrusted upwards as y/n came back down on his cock.

“god- fuck, y/n you're so tight-.”, hongjoong whispered and y/n's eyes fluttered open as one of hong's thrusts curved slightly to the left reaching a place he had never imagined. tears started forming at the curves of y/n's eyes, loving the way his cock filled the smaller man's empty velvety walls..he made him [y/n] feel full-- and literally he was. but physically, sexually and romantically he was even fuller cause of hongjoong and that was something he would never get enough of.

dr. kim loved to see it-- the way his cock disappeared and reappeared from the other man's trembling little pucker; which took him in like a fucking champion., the way his ass jiggled every time he bounced, the way his thrusts met y/n's midway. He loved it so much, it was like a drug prescribed to him that he could never let go; in a way it was like an addiction.

as y/n's bounces grew sloppier and the dark-haired man grasped onto his lover's hips, it was evident that they were both near to their orgasms; although y/n quickly became aware of the situation, hissing at the realization that he would be missing his climax for the third time, and that's when hongjoong came. y/n's abused hole oozed out cum as hong's tip continued to shoot out strings of cum inside of the patient's ass. hongjoong pulled out stroking himself to completion as y/n turned around, bitter-sweet expression painting the curves of his flushed face. He took the initiative to clean up all the cum off hong's cock, displaying it to his lover as the liquid dripped down from his tongue.

hongjoong kissed him, tongues exchanging the lingering taste of the doctor's cum. groans came from both of them, hongjoong rewarding the younger man by stroking his neglected cock, pulsing between his shaking legs.

“your turn”, the man sighed still catching his breath from reaching his previous high. he was certainly euphoric and his head was in the clouds, the feelings of bliss and pleasure they brought each other was remarkable and that was undeniable to the both of them. but with the clock ticking and the appointment coming closer and closer to an end, they didn't have much time left to dawdle on the limited time they had to spend. without another word hongjoong got rid of his tie, wrapping it around wrists of his patient and pinning them above his head. y/n's bangs were stuck together by sweat, dripping from his temple to his exposed chest, suddenly hongjoong made his way to his desk not forgetting to teasingly drag his fingers across the other man's skin sending shivers down his spine.

once reaching his desk, he opened the top left drawer and retrieved a royal purple vibrator. just the sight of that toy gave him flashbacks, it was like a golden ticket for his climax-- the only thing in the way..was the cock ring. hongjoong stepped closer, kneeling just before him, admiring the way he sent back the gaze of overbearing lust and desire and the way hints of red adorned his naked body.

as the doctor slowly thrusted the vibrator, y/n bit back moans and rolled his hips in hopes of something more. hong turned up the intensity level while also picking up the pace making his lover grow louder by the minute. before he knew it a knot was forming in his stomach and a hiss left his lips as hongjoong feathered his fingers above his tense abdomen. the sight itself could've made him cum. while rolling his hips downwards, gradually fucking himself on the toy, y/n felt something else enter his pucker once more-- hongjoong's cock. now this was something that made him grow in desperation for his climax, knowing that once he did it would be memorable.

hongjoong gave his hips an experimental roll, testing the waters anew for a reaction; receiving just one when y/n's eyes rolled back and a broken moan left his swollen lips. he knew how much he loved his and he was more than willing to give it to him. his free hand much too useless on the sidelines, as he reached down for his throat grasping at the sides leaving y/n basking in the overwhelming pleasure he was obtaining.

“right there, please ah- god!”, he gasped, arching his back so hongjoong's thrusts met his prostate so nicely, releasing sounds he'd never made before. sweat dripping off him, cheeks blushed as hong took a grasp at his hips, creating a rhythm at a brutal pace that even his body was baffled by; feeling his cock pulsing inside the man indicating that he was so much closer than anticipated.

slipping the cock ring off with a subtle smile, and a loud trembling mewl from y/n; hongjoong gave him a few hard thrusts and turned up the vibrator's intesity to its highest level, leaving them both shaking in their final stage of completion, a hiss leaving hong's lips.

as he released his grip from the throat of his lover, hongjoong gave him a pleased giggle and as if on cue-- they came. their lips parted in soft 'o's and pearls of cum slipping out from y/n's slit and onto his stomach as well as his thighs while the rest was swallowed by his greedy hole which spilled some out occasionally. his thighs quivered from the stimulation and hongjoong rested his head on his lover's sweaty shoulder.

“you know i love you, right?”

a simple tired nod was the only response he got, he chuckled warmly in reply.. and no he wasn't a single bit upset by his response-- he always knew y/n never has such prevalent stamina. and with a quick glance at the clock hong sighed, carrying his sleepyhead to the private restroom. originally he would've just snuck him out the back door and bid their goodbyes until next visit (or at least until hongjoong got off work) like they've always done.

and i know that does make him seem like an asshole, but its not for the reasons one might think of. flicking his lover's head gently in an attempt to bring him back down from euphoria hongjoong smiled fondly, pecking his forehead affectionately. he showered him--although he only had 20 minutes left; once he finished, he clothed him in his extra pair of clothes consisting of one shirt much to big for the smaller figure and a pair of sweatpants that just barely hung onto his hips.

he glanced at the clock once again-- 12 minutes left. the uniformed brunette let out a sigh, he truly dreaded waking up his lover but for the sake of both of them he had to. as he muttered sweet nothings to his sleeping beauty the eyes of the smaller man fluttered open, their doe-like quality returning as if a button was pressed. the man sat up, looking at the clock suddenly an indescribable expression of sadness washed upon their faces and that's when they realized it was time to say goodbye.

10 minutes

9 minutes

8 minutes

7 minutes

6 minutes

and then suddenly it was 5..

would they really have to say goodbye now and not see each other for almost another four months? the clock's hands spun seemingly faster leaving the two men empty and numb to their surroundings. why was being together so hard? they asked, their faces communicating for them amongst the cold hard silence of the room, not needing to say a word.

“will i see you again..soon at least?..” the recently awaken man mumbled

no response

the men sighed, knowing it would have to end once again. a knock at the office door was heard causing y/n to jump, startled by the sudden intrusion-- their eyes met as hongjoong called out a firm ‘in a minute’ and they were in silence again. the duo quickly shuffled over to the back door, collecting their belongings and putting them in their corresponding places as they bid their goodbyes, exchanging soft pecks.

“you know.. your family doesn’t have to know..” the uniformed man murmured, spacing out in denial of the repetition of events. the other man simply nodded, opening his mouth to breath out another answer.

“they’ll still want me to be with him though, and besides its not like i don’t live on the other side of the stat--.”

“it doesn’t matter, don’t give up on us please, y/n--”, he sighed, the muffled sound of heels tapping filling the atmosphere, the faint smell of sex hinting at their noses.

“dr. kim, is everything alright  in there?”, the steady voice spoke again.

“yes! just tidying up a bit--”, the brunette replied turning his head towards the door, but when he turned to the direction of the other man, he was already out the door, only leaving his ring on the small mahogany desk next to the door.

the uniformed man examined the ring, inside it read ‘promise’. hongjoong could’ve cried right there, placing the ring in the pocket of his coat with hesitance.

he scanned the room in hopes to still find him, despite knowing he wouldn't. the man had cleaned up earlier not being able to find a single trace of his lover in the empty square room. sighing in defeat, he patted his down his coat hoping to summon some professionalism by straightening the wrinkles near the pockets, opening the door plastering fake ass smile across his face in the process.

“kim fucking hongjoong, what the fuck took you so long, huh?”, she said in almost a whisper-- it was siyeon; hongjoong’s older sister, quite a prick on a rose isn’t she, huh?

“noona, i was cleaning up--.”

“whatever, not what i was here for-- did you do the basic checkup on mister y/n?”, he chuckled; his sister truly was a bit of a pain, he’d never admit it but it was true.

“i thought the nurses did that in room A, you guys did, right?”, the doctor questioned, it was honorable to mention that his lovely sister worked at the hospital as well; head nurse of course.

“no, i thought you were supposed to-- aish, you’re so reckless.”, he shook his head, waiting for her to finish as he continued formulating a response in his clouded head.

“--wait, where even is he? i was hoping we could do it quickly at the end of his visit.”, she tapped her foot, her heel making an obnoxious clicking noise once again. she peaked her head, attempting to see the room behind her brother’s figure in front of the door frame. the long-haired woman clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“i guess we’ll just have to arrange a follow up appointment with mister y/n”

“really? if you want, i’ll take it out of your hands and call him myself--”

“lookie here dr. kim, i don’t know what you’re up to, and frankly i don’t care; as long as its not double the work for me, do as you please”, he smiled bowing slightly as she strutted back to her office, sighing as she slowly disappeared out of his sight.

“guess we’ll be meeting again..”, he grinned as he clutched the ring in his pocket, talking to himself in the midst of his empty room. as if a child was given candy, he skipped over to the phone getting ready to dial his lover’s number as he slipped the ring on his finger.

“i promise.”

end of chapter

all work by hongsside

[filamero]

A Mother’s Love

[ Fluff in the beginning, angst at the end!! ]

Word count: 2540

Summary:

— It is often said that a mother’s love is the purest love of them all, and that to lose a mother's love means to become unlovable all the same.

( In which Puffy thinks about her son, from both the past and present. )

[ ao3 link!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902006 ]

(fic under the cut!)

It is often said that a mother’s love is the purest love of them all. Whether by blood or by choice, it is said to be strong. Stronger than that of friends who have been there for each other through thick and thin, stronger than that of the heart when it finally finds its other half—It is said to be the only real bond in the world, the only true love that a person could find in their lifetime. Unwavering, unshaken, unconditional for as long as it lasts.

To lose a mother’s love means to become unlovable all the same.

Puffy remembers the first time she encountered Dream.

Just a few months after she had retired from her ships and her crew to settle down in a little village, helping the ever-so-charming Niki start up her bakery. Not too far from the coast, so she could visit what she embraced for many years in her life. She had been out in the market with a satchel full of emeralds, trading for wheat, sugar, flour—all the likes of which Niki would need to bake her delicious goods. In the midst of a particularly good trade, she heard a faint ‘hey!’ and frantic footsteps, followed by her getting shoved into the wooden cart of the vendor. Whipping around to lash back, she was just in time to see a child stumble onto his rear, holding a loaf of bread to his chest as if his life depended on it. Before her confusion could even fully settle in, another vendor came running, eyes zoned in on the child.

And he did not look happy.

Puffy wasn’t quite sure what washed over her, quickly getting onto her knees to be at level with the poor boy before the vendor reached them. “There you are!” she cried out in fake relief, resting one hand on his shoulder and putting on a worried face. “I thought I lost you!” Her act seemed to confuse the vendor (just as much as it confused the boy). She turned to look up at the (thankfully) less angry adult, forcing a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, sir. I had asked this...this little troublemaker here to grab me some other supplies on the other end of the market. Growing boys need to start doing things on their own, don’t you think?” she explained, shifting to be in between both of them for extra measure. “I must’ve forgotten to give him some emeralds to pay with, silly me,” she continued, rising to her feet and rummaging through her bag. “How much is the bread?”

There was an almost painful silence as she stared the vendor down, her cheeks starting to hurt from how long she was holding the smile. Much to her relief, he seemed to believe her lie, holding his hand out and mumbling, “Two emeralds.” She handed the payment over with no qualms (even though she knew that the bread around these parts was normally one emerald), helping the boy up onto his feet and gripping his hand before he could sprint off. She needed to keep the act up, or else she might get roped into bigger trouble.

“I’m sorry again for the trouble,” Puffy chuckled, quickly tossing six emeralds to the vendor she was talking to before and snagging two bags full of apples from his stand. “I’ll make sure that this doesn’t happen again, I assure you.” She went off without another word, dragging the child with her until they were a safe enough distance away from the market.

He attempted to wriggle his wrist out of her hand, just about to sprint off again—but she kept a firm hold as she turned to face him. “Give me a minute, will ya?” she sighed, setting both bags of apples down and peeking into them. He stood still, and Puffy managed to get a better look at him now that she didn’t have to worry about his safety from an angry villager. Clad in a sweater that seemed much too large and pants that nearly covered his bare feet, she couldn’t help but frown. Carefully letting go of his wrist, she tied up one of the bags and held it out to him. He stared at her, big green eyes swimming with confusion. She nudged his arm, and he eventually took the bag from her. “Take these with the bread too,” she said gently. “They’re apples, so they might spoil quickly, but they should last you long enough to get more food.” Slowly, he nodded his head before giving her a small smile and scampering off.

Puffy never failed to see him every time that she visited the market. It was almost like clockwork; she would arrive with her satchel of things to trade, and within five minutes of walking around, the gentle patter of smaller footsteps trailing after her own could be heard. A glance over her shoulder and sure enough, the little boy would be following her around. He would always stand close to her, even clutching onto her red overcoat whenever the street got crowded and a small child like him would be easily trampled over. With each passing encounter, Puffy found herself more and more endeared with him, dubbing him her ‘Little Duckling’ in her head.

One day, she asked for his name.

“Dream,” he told her, and she didn’t realize that it was the first time that she was hearing his voice. “My name is Dream.”

Puffy wondered if the boy’s parents named him that way because they had high hopes for him, and if they ever predicted that they would be gone—it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was orphaned and homeless, comical as it sounded—before he even had the chance to do anything.

On that very same day, a storm had settled over the village. It wasn’t anywhere near what Puffy’s witnessed out on the ocean, but it was clear that it was more than what Dream has ever seen. A particularly loud bit of thunder seemed to scare the poor boy half to death, clinging to her side and looking fearfully up at the sky. There was no hesitation in Puffy’s head, leaning down, hoisting Dream into her arms, and balancing him and their newly traded supplies on either of her hips. “Let’s get home,” she hummed softly, starting up a soft jog back to her and Niki’s shared cottage that was connected to the bakery, “before this storm picks up even more, yeah?”

Dream nodded his head, wrapping his arms around her neck and resting his head on her shoulder as she rushed back.

Niki welcomed Dream in with open arms, a motherly smile, and a nice bowl of soup to warm him up after getting slightly soaked in the rain.

And when Dream curled up into her side as he drifted off to sleep, Puffy felt her heart swell in a way that only a mother could feel.

That night, Puffy accepted that she was a mother, and Dream was her son.

Some days, he would accompany Puffy back to the market as he did before, following behind her and staying out of trouble. He paid extra attention whenever she would do negotiations, and he tugged on the end of her coat sleeve whenever she finally came to an agreement. It would always make her chuckle and hand him the right amount of payment, hooking her hands underneath his arms to lift him up. He would hand it over himself, grinning brightly as he handed the newly gained supplies back to Puffy. She even let him try and strike a few deals on his own, and she was a little surprised to see that many of the villagers would consider some of his offers that they wouldn’t bat an eye at if she had been the one to recommend it. (Though, frankly, she figured it was his age.)

Other days, he would stay home with Niki, helping her bake goods for their flourishing business. Those days often consisted of Puffy coming home from her local travels or trading to the two of them in the kitchen, her little duckling giggling and covered in flour or batter. Niki would pretend to be upset and scold him gently, but all Dream did in return was giggle and respond with an honestly half-assed, “Sorry, Niki!” The mostly ingenuine apology was never too important, for Niki would easily forgive him and play into his antics, teaching him how to be cleaner on his own in a nicer manner. It would take both of them a minute or two to notice that she came in, and when they did, Dream would hop off of his little stool and come crashing into her arms for a hug.

It was almost scary how quickly Dream fell into the groove of things, turning their family of two into a family of three. They bought and sewed him new clothes, he brought them a new kind of adventure every day—unpredictable and welcome all the same.

A loud crack of thunder echoes through Puffy’s ears, and she’s snapped back into reality. The familiar coast and quaint cottage in her memory fade away into the sight in front of her; a large crater, where a beautiful country used to stand. Her ears are still ringing slightly from the onslaught of explosives that rained down from the sky just moments before. An eerily perfectly set up grid of obsidian hovered above where she stood, casting shadows over what used to be so bright and beloved. She notices a hand reaching up beneath her, quickly scrambling down and hoisting who she realized was Tubbo from a thin ledge on the side of the crater. The teen scrambles over to Tommy the moment he’s on stable ground, flinching hard at the second boom of thunder that Puffy registers.

The wind blows against her figure, and her soaked overcoat does nothing to shield her from the cold. The armor she wears isn’t much help either, weighing her down just as much as her damp clothing is. A shiver wracks her body as she holds her arms close, looking out at the wreckage. Hardly anything remained of New L’manburg—even the debris of what used to be got blown to bits by the endless TNT and withers. Her eyes wander the pitiful scenery, snagging on a figure across from her on the other end of the crater.

Clad in a green sweater—one that was no longer oversized on his figure the way it had been years ago—standing tall and proud—having outgrown both Puffy and Niki in his teenage years—was Dream.

Her Dream.

Her little duckling.

The lightning seems to strike the ground right behind him, and he didn’t even bat an eye at it. Puffy feels a lump rise in her throat, tears starting to trickle down her face and mixing with the rain pounding down from the darkened skies. She refused to believe the Dream she was seeing now was the same one that she met at the market, even if the two shared messy, dirty blond hair and striking jade eyes. But even in her heart’s denial, her head knows better, and she is left to wonder where her sweet boy had taken a turn for the worse. She stares at the stark white porcelain covering his face, the somewhat-poorly scribbled on smile setting her nerves off—and all she can think of is his toothy smile from way back when.

Puffy isn’t sure who is crying harder: herself or the skies. Both mourning the loss of something so precious, so beloved, that even if it were to be replaced, it wouldn’t be the same.

For weeks on end had she witnessed just how much he had changed since she last saw him. Seeing him act so cold when her memories of him were so warm. He still acted playful around her, but there was something so taut about his posture, so malicious about his smile, so ingenuine with his words that she couldn’t bring herself to fully believe that it wasn’t an act. She had seen how he had everyone’s strings wrapped on his fingers, pulling and pushing them as he pleased, as if they were the toys that she used to buy him from the marketplace. She had looked him in the eyes one day when he didn’t have his mask on, and she couldn’t recognize him. No longer was there a fiercely bright twinkle in his eye, ready to take on what the world would throw at him. No longer were his features defined yet welcoming, the kind that brought you in and made you feel safe. No longer did his smile turn up the whole way, making her heart swell with a certain pride and love that only a mother could feel.

This night, Puffy admits to herself, is the night that she accepts that she is no longer a mother, and Dream is no longer her son.

It hurts; her heart weeps for the loss of someone who was still alive yet painfully unrecognizable. She wants to say that it’s not true, that somewhere, her duckling is still there, the one that waited to trail after her as she traded in the market. The one that stood atop the little wooden stool in the kitchen, begging Niki to let him crack the eggs for the batter open. The one that never really blew on his spoonful of soup before taking a bite, making her and Niki dissolve into a fit of giggles as he whined about how hot the food was. She wants to turn the other way, act like she didn’t witness the things that she did, bring Dream close and hug him tight.

But she knows she can’t.

She knows that as unwavering as her love is—no, was—for her son, the man in the green sweater and netherite armor isn’t him. It’s painful to admit, but she knows her little duckling, her sweet boy, her Dream was long gone. And as much as she wants to reach out, travel to the highest mountains, reunite her crew and get out on the sea, walk the length of the entire world to get him back, she knows he’s nowhere to be found. Lost where no one, not even herself or his closest friends could reach him.

Puffy straightens her posture, not bothering to rid her face of the tears because of the thunderous rain. Her eyes land on Dream—the cruel, unforgivable, unrecognizable Dream—one last time before she turns around. Her instincts scream at her to throw a glance over her shoulder, her ears expect to hear the gentle patter of smaller footsteps following her, her eyes long to see the little boy she had taken in all those years ago. But she faces forward, swallowing thickly and heading to everyone to provide aid where needed.

The rain seems to pour down even harder, mourning the loss of a poor boy and his mother’s love for him.

For to lose a mother’s love means to become unlovable all the same.

[exosmutfactory]

Royal Pains

stunning gif by tipannies

❥ This might be the most daring one shot of mine to date, so! Here we go

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut, 

— Word Count: 2.8k

— Rating: 18(more like 21 >.<)+ (M)

— [ Contains: Plot ofc (can’t be helped). Some restraints ;) deepthroating, airplay/choking, slight degradation, voyeurism (eep), etc! ]

❥ This was a lot for me to even proof read okay, let me post this here and run

ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥

Byun Baekhyun was never an easy man to please.

He’s belligerent, impatient and way too stiff for a man in his late-twenties. Though you suppose that is what comes with the responsibility of leading a kingdom. Nothing short of aggression and authority is expected of him with his title of power. And women across the land enjoy eating bare minimum affection out the palm of his stern hand - except for you.

If he’s a cold-blooded king, you are his ice queen to match.

You were that inwardly hotheaded, steel fratetrain of a princess that didn’t take shit from anyone, let alone the soon-to-be king whose name you never could remember yet face you never forget. He was always trying to boss you around your own house and intimidating all other men that tried to pursue you. And yet the annoying crown prince left quite the impression on you during those awkward royal-arranged dates and accidental yet totally coincidental meetings at night under the shining stars. 

You still ask yourself how you went from a love-hate courting arrangement to being the one to receive his late-night undivided attention and witnessing his eyes taking on the softest of expressions. Maybe you were a saint in your previous life.

But of course, there’s only a certain amount of time before you push each other’s buttons again. Keeping the peace balanced on a very sensitive scale will tilt out of order and end up sailing across the room eventually. Only so many small bickerings before your stubbornness straight-up rivals his assertiveness. Some occurrences of these types of arguments are better than others…

Much better than the one right now.

Someone calls your name. A deep voice that can be soft and melodic or choppy like an all-consuming storm deep at sea depending on the situation. In this instance, you can clearly hear the thunder in their tone that matches the hard look in their brown eyes when you raise your head from the blanket in your hands. “Baekhyun?” You murmur, head tilting in mild curiosity. Trying your best to ignore how good he looks in a white dress shirt, black slacks and a matching blazer that is complemented by his slightly pushed back hair.

He says your name again through gritted teeth, gesturing to the patio doors that lead out to the garden with a ring covered hand, “Did you dismiss the gardener?”

“His wife went into labor,” You justify, continuing to work on the red wool with soft clinks of the knitting needles.  

“The head chef?”

“A family emergency.”

You hear his teeth click together before he utters, “And the maid?”

Your needles are set down on your lap at that, “Nope. I fired her.” You chirp, irritation swelling in your chest at the mention of the wrench as you pick them back up. Counting back from 20 to will away your bubbling anger. 19, 18, 17-

Baekhyun inches closer in all his angry glory, black dress-shoes tapping on the marble floor. “And what reason do you have for that?”

“She was going around spewing bullshit about her being your fucking mistress.” You spat, clutching the needles so hard they bite into your skin.

He takes a deep deep breath, chuckling humorlessly. “So,” His hands are clasped behind his back, leaning forward to meet you eye-to-eye from your spot on a custom made leather couch with the tiniest of revengeful smiles. “Because of jealousy you decided to fire our 5th maid of the month.”

You know you should back off; try to contain your anger and let him have his little moment with soft words of compromise - but oh, the memory of catching that woman spraying the collar of his shirts with her nauseating perfume this morning… You’re murmuring under your breath before you can fully comprehend the reaction you’ll get. “Not my fault she was a pest and definitely not my fault for all the others you fired.” The others being gentlemen that respected your space and accompanied you on the loneliest of days by complementing your improving knitting skills and bonding over tear-jerking novels.

It’s silent for a few moments, and then Baekhyun chuckles, running a hand through his hair, “Always going out your way to give me a fucking headache.”

“If I’m a headache, you’re an eyesore,” You mutter under your breath, looking away. You can’t even bear to face him after that.

“An eyesore?” Baekhyun muses. You choose not to respond, dead-set on glaring a hole into the farthest wall as you will away the urge to cry.

Baekhyun grabs your chin and before you can snap at him, he’s kissing you with fever. The rough way his teeth tug at your bottom lip making you gasp into his mouth, the perfect opportunity for him to explore your wet caven. Blanket forgotten at your feet as he pulls you up and backs you up to the nearest wall; pelvis flush to yours. “Let’s see how much of an eyesore I am after this.”

He hoists you up into the air before you can say anything; carrying you bridal-style to your bedroom as butterflies nervously flutter around in your stomach. You know where this is heading. Not even blinding rage can keep the fire from growing between your legs.

Baekhyun lowers you to the bed gently as if you are having your first night together all over again. Slender hands pulling at your blue ballroom dress and the blossoms of daisies out of the carefully woven braid in your hair. Scattering them on the sheets of your California King sized bed as he presses his lips back to yours.

You gladly recuperate his endless kisses, relaxing further under the familiar weight of his body and the soft caress of his wandering hands…

Until the tell-tale sound of a lock clicking into place reaches your ears.

Your eyes snap open but you’re a second too late; both of your hands, cuffed, to a bar in the headboard. And it’s not with the usually fluffy baby pink ones. No. You’re chained to the bed like that of a prisoner under the unforgiving guard of your husband; gazing down at you with the darkest of eyes. “B-Baek-” A firm hand wraps around your throat, silencing you.

“I think..” He hums, eyes lazily running over your helpless form; a smirk playing on his lips, “That you’ve done enough talking for today.”

Another look from him keeps you from protesting through your parted lips; his thumb rubbing unhurriedly along your neck leaving you to gulp as he steps off the bed. You lift your head to see what he’s doing, only catching a glimpse of him pulling off his tie before the handcuffs rattle against the headboard.

Baekhyun looks at you from over his shoulder with a tsk, completely loosening the silk material from around his neck before approaching the bed again.

You bear your neck, expecting him to tie it there only for the soft material to be pressed against your eyes.

“Since I’m such an eyesore,” He mocks, tying the blue material firmly around your head, “Guess you won’t be needing to see, will you?”

Your noise of protest only earns you a sharp smack to your sensitive core, making your thighs snap shut with a yelp.

“Keep those legs open,” He warns in a low tone, rummaging around the room while you quickly obey; spreading wide and straining your ears to hear him. Your cheeks darkening at the tell-tale signs of arousal covering the inside of your thighs.

“Look at you,” Baekhyun muses by your side; the lightest brush of his fingers across your folds making you gasp, bucking your hips. The slender digits tease over your thigh before rubbing the wetness into your skin. “Already dripping onto the sheets.”

“Baek.” You bite back a whine, holding your breath at the light rustle of clothes and obscene slick sounds that meet your ears. Baekhyun’s weight is fully dipping next to you in the bed; lewd wet sounds coming from lazy strokes of his cock. You whimper, wishing you could see how he looks right now, all flushed cheeks with those brown eyes so blown with lust that they appear black. His soft pants and quiet groans put you in a state of arousal that you’re rudely awoken from by a sharp pain on your thigh. Your whole body jolting up with a shout. “Baekhyun, what the fuck-” You pause, breath catching at the leathery texture gliding across your sensitive skin. 

“It’s been a while, hmm?” Baekhyun muses with a chuckle. A faint whoosh the only warning you get before it’s coming down on you again. You gasp, biting your lip as the brief pain ebbs away; the implications of him using the riding crop sinking in. This definitely isn’t going to be one of those nights he goes easy on you. No, you’re fucked and can only get more fucked from here.

The sinful sounds of skin against skin and your quiet whimpers fill the air as he continues to spank your thighs with the pleasantly painful material. One hit being so close to your wet cunt you arch your back with a broken whimper of his name, nearly cumming at the lingering burn it leaves alone.

“Tsk always so greedy,” Baekhyun murmurs; pace increasing on his cock while dropping the leather crop next to you. The volume of his groans indicating his orgasm making you tug at your restraints; helplessly squirming in the sheets. “B-Baek, please.”

“What do you want, sweetheart.” He sighs, hand resting so high on your thigh you tremble in anticipation.

“Y-Your-” You bite hard on your lip, throwing your head back when he brushes his thumb over your throbbing clit. “Your cock!” You gasp, trying your best not to melt under his touch; thighs trembling in want. “I-I want to suck your cock, p-please..”

“Hmm.” Baekhyun bites your earlobe, drawing a gasp from your throat before you sense his clothed thighs straddling your chest. The wet tip of his pressing against your bottom lip.

You lick your suddenly dry lips, tasting his precum as he slowly slides into your awaiting mouth. The weight of him on your tongue making you keen under him, choking a little when he hits the back of your throat. His quiet moan shooting heat right down to your core.

“Such a good girl.” He sighs, firmly gripping your hair; your eyes welling up with tears every time he sinks into your throat. “So tight and warm for me.”

You moan, curling your tongue around his tip when he pulls out to let you catch your breath. The way his hold tightens in your hair has you gulping down his precum, preparing for what comes next.

Baekhyun quickly slides his cock down your throat with ease, groaning as your nose hits his pelvis. The way he takes your breath away with every quickened thrust has you moaning along with him, swallowing around his thick girth as his grunts meet your ears, loving the sound of his cock stuffing you full.

You could keep going like this for hours. Letting him fuck your throat raw and leave your jaw aching for days. His high pitched moans and merciless thrusts leaving the biggest inferno between your trembling legs.

“Ah.” He suddenly grunts, slipping out of your mouth and pulling away before you feel the hot spurts of cum dripping on your chest and down to the messy sheets below.

“Fuck.” Baekhyun sighs, not paying your whine of disappointment any mind as he shuffles farther down your body. The soft material of his pants brushing over the back of your thighs barely a warning before he’s slipping into your weeping core. You gasp, tugging hard at your restraints. The delicious burn of his thick length making you clench hard on his cock.

“Mmm.” He moans, pushing in to the hilt. “Always so wet for me.”

You bite your lip in vain to keep quiet as he wraps his hand around your throat; his loud groans and your quiet whimpers fill the room along with the slamming of the headboard and the wet smacks of his cock ramming into your walls.

“So so greedy.” Baekhyun chuckles darkly, picking up the pace with a tight grip on your hips. You moan, but a certain, small noise reaches your ears. A distant whimper. Misplaced for the privacy of your bedroom.

“I can feel you clenching down on me.” Baekhyun pants, pulling you out of your thoughts as he angles his hips; the brute force of his thrusts slamming into your cervix in that painfully pleasant way he knows makes your back arch and toes curl. Your cunt gripping him like a vice. “Greedy girl. Fuck, your pussy was made for my cock.”

You can do nothing but arch your back, breathlessly moaning his name until you feel the tie being pulled from your face. Your blurry eyes opening as it slips down to rest around your sweaty neck, the shocking view in front of you enough to make your building orgasm stop dead in its tracks. Because there. Just beyond Baekhyun’s gloriously clothed form, is three familiar figures kneeling near the foot of the bed.

“Finally caught on, sweetheart?” Baekhyun chuckles, slowing down to grind against your clit as you choke on your words; jaw dropping at his audacity. At the display of the maids you’ve fired watching on with wide, envious eyes, or the way he is milking your g-spot, you do not know. But damn if it doesn’t make you tighten more around him..

Your eyes can’t seem to look away from the people kneeling with their hands tied behind their backs. Three sets of hungry eyes focused on the pair of you as the palace guards keep their gazes away out of respect. Your attention isn’t brought back to Baekhyun until he hisses, releasing your neck to push your thighs to your chest and tangle his hand in your hair. “Keep your eyes.” He growls, yanking your head back to stare directly into your eyes. “On me.”

You gasp loudly, clamping down on him with a nod. Doing your very best to keep up the new position despite the burn in your hamstring, the throbbing at the roots of your hair under his unforgiving grip and his punishing thrusts. The tip of his cock nailing your g-spot without fail as your thighs shake; pressing your feet to his chest for stability. The slight shift in position making you cry out in bliss.

“Hmmm is my greedy whore going to cum?” Baekhyun asks in that slight condescending tone that drives you wild. You can’t look away from his fiery filled eyes, so many emotions of love and lust swirling in the orbs that you find yourself drowning deeper in the tighter the coil builds up in your core. Gushing around him as the others in the room are brought back to your attention by the restless shuffling coming from the floor.

Baekhyun chuckles at the red coloring your cheeks. “Dirty girl.” He murmurs, brushing his lips over your ankle before holding your hips down to the bed. “You enjoy being watched. Your pussy is weeping for it.” He gives your clit a swift smack that has you arching your back with a cry of his name; shaking at the seams. A burning stare catches your eye just as he’s sliding his hand down your stomach and between your quivering thighs.

Baekhyun’s fingers rub mercilessly on your throbbing clit while you’re locked eyes with one of the men who was your previous maid; feeling a sense of courageous sexual power surge through your veins as you are finally brought over the edge. Until Baekhyun slips out the moment you clench down on him.

You're left gasping under him as your walls spasm in defeat; a broken sob ripped from your throat as he strokes himself to completion. His cum landing on top of your mound and dripping down your quivering entrance at the tail end of your ruined orgasm.

Baekhyun hums, lazily rubbing his tip over your sensitive core as he takes in the tears streaming down your cheeks; softly cupping your cheek as he waves the others away without a glance. He waits until they are gone before moving to release you, planting a kiss to both your red wrists before meeting your eyes with his now soft brown ones that you’ve come to love so much. “Next time talk to me first before dismissing anyone from work, okay?”

You look at him for a moment with a sniffle before nodding, letting him pull you into his warm arms. Your eyes narrow behind his back as he whispers sweet words in your ear..

Yeah, Baekhyun doesn’t expect to be put on probation from sex for the next two weeks..

Or the confirmed pregnancy test two weeks after that.

[ficsnroses]

Irreplaceable  - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary : You find yourself in bed with your ex, Keanu, which resurfaces old feelings.

Prompt : “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anon.

Warnings : nsfw, smut. unprotected sex. angst. fluff.

Word Count : 2k. 🤡 im not even calling them drabbles anymore lmao, feedback and comments are so so so appreciated! This is prompt fic #24. Enjoy:)

also we’re going to ignore the fact that as I was editing this I realized this is basically a softer and sweeter version of my last fic and we’re not gonna @ me because I was half way through editing and didn’t wanna edit a different fic :))) im just a tired uni student tryna write sometimes pls be kind ily

His fingers rub feverish circles to your sensitive clit, exasperated groans and breathy moans fallen suit off your pleasure drunk lips. Keanu hovers over your bare body, throbbed cock swollen to a rosy hued tip, gliding effortlessly in and out your soaking wet folds. Proving imperative, his thrusts hit deep, profound, pounding severely through stifled breaths and skin sticking together through thin layer of damp. Whimpers and soft moans flee through tender breaths, encapsulated by his full lips on yours; breasts bouncing relentlessly to his demanding pace as he hovers above; your fingers clawing mauve marks bedecked into his toned biceps.

Keanu knows how to work you; how to treat you so well. Tonight, he’d invited you to his home in desperate need of relief, long composed history between you both had established ground for meetings such as today. “I need you tonight.” He rasped over the broken telephone line. “Please.”

Each time he calls, each time you return, his words crawl up the deep howls of your mind, your throat swallowing dryly as your heart yearns for another meeting. His hair ruffles in espresso hued fluffs tonight, falling ragged in his clenched eyes, complimented beautifully by the rasp of his tender sighs when he moans to the feel of you,

so warm. So snug for him. You wonder if he’d been running his hands through it as he awaited your arrival, if he’d bit his lip with the curve of his sharp jaw clenched; if he absentmindedly fiddled with the base of his sturdy ring finger as he did in deep thought. You remember more of him than you’d care to admit; than you’d want to admit.

Long ago, Keanu and you almost made it. Almost pledged to the bond that held you together; almost made it to the brink of promise. But it wasn’t meant to be. No matter how hard you and Keanu tried, you weren’t meant to be. The agonizing dissolve of your love was hard. The sky never worked in your favour, the fairy-tale ending never chanced.

The weight of his body holds you down, held close in his arms as he pumps into your inviting sanctuary fiercely, holding so dearly. His hot breath kisses the skin of your neck and you feel a wave of warm, moaning, leisurely whining, whimpering, and whimpering-

“Don’t stop, please,”

“I’m close, Y/N.” He chokes through a tensed jaw and gritted teeth. His erection is stiff, splitting your tight cunt inch by inch as his veiny bulk pounds, friction excruciatingly blissful with your sex starved bodies moulding together so naturally; fluently.

On evenings like this, Keanu and you would be reminded of what could have been. Find comfort within each other, release the months of built up crave that would reside deep, condensed within your dreary longed hearts that yearned for each other, still.

Keanu and you died a long time ago; but the love didn’t. You still loved him, and he still loved you. Unspoken, yet holding of pure truth. White lies, deep-rooted in a smokescreen only sufficed so long. Pledges of being “just friends” were far from the truth. Despite how long, how far and how often you’d both recited the prayer off your lovesick tongues; Keanu and you were not just friends. You couldn’t be.

You could never be.

“Cum for me sweetheart, together.” Keanu moans through broken exhales, chasing his high, yet desperate to bring you to the strongest of releases. He dwelled, thrived off making you feel good. He’d called you here tonight because he needed you, needed your body to feel something. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t fully intend of making you see the heavens on earth.

He was always an amazing lover.

Amazing at far too much to not fall so deep for him.

Searing tears threaten in the corners of your dismissive orbs, wailing, yelping as his cock relishes, grinding inside your tight, pulsating pussy, creamy releases coated slick to your thighs as he thrusts. The thuds of his skin slapping yours enfold the room, his sizable length rams into your cunt, balls smacking relentlessly as if mould just for you to delight. With his lips placing a soft kiss to yours, he whispers shakily, your orgasm bubbling boils inside the pit of your mid.

“I’m so close, Ke. Please don’t stop.” You sob, fingers clenched into his rosily flushed shoulder blades. “Please don’t…fuck!” You gasp when he rocks, rotating his hips to hit that sensitive plush of nerves inside your velvety walls, encouraging praises and whispers into your ears.

“Come on sweetheart, let go for me.” Within seconds, Keanu spills his succulent load deep, deep inside you as you release, riding cloud nine of your high into oblivion as he works you through your orgasm. Through heavy palms holding your hips close and his tongue lapping, gently sucking your sensitive nipples, Keanu kisses you sweetly, hands gently kneading the soft of your breasts in a soothing marvel, leaving peppered kisses to your neck, your collarbone, your cheeks.

The love was still there. Plain to see. The love had never left; only now, years later, it suffocated you. Killed you when he’d make love to you like this. Destroyed you when he’d hold you so close, reminding you of how you couldn’t be.

Is it easier for him? You wonder.

You ponder.

Cock still sheathed deep inside, Keanu’s chest rumbles a deep baritone, palm of his stocky hand shifting to cup your cheek. “Feel good?” He asks, a final kiss to your forehead as he slips out, landing firm on the bed, your frail, weakened body pulled securely into his chest. In a delicate wrap of arms, he holds you close, your head rested to his broad as you stare, and stare, and stare daggers to the crème ceiling above.

It must be easier for him. You ponder.

You guess.

But it wasn’t easy for you. None of this was easy.

None of this would suffice much longer.

Keanu’s hand stations on your skin, chest heaving up and down softly as you live out your highs, returning to reality. During these meetings, these encounters where you’d steal a few hours away together, the world seemed to melt into oblivion. As if you’d held his hand as he took you to another dimension, soared the stars, drifted away for a sweet while together. These moments with him held a safe harbour away from reality. Away from the cold, harsh reality.

This embrace, this hold, this affection. It held the same sincerity from all those years past, the light pad of his fingers soothing over your skin delves goosebumps peppering over your silky skin.

Bare, naked in his arms, you’d never felt this vulnerable before. And you never thought you would; especially with the man that surprisingly made you feel safest.

Warm, wet.

The familiar, distinct saltiness of silent tears threatens to loom your lips, head still pressed to his flushed chest. Daring, barely above a confident whisper; you finally spill. Quiet. Harsh. Desperate to defend.

“We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”

Unmoved, your bodies still lay entwined. Connected. Fiercely connected, as your souls.

Your lost, overdue, lonesome souls.

“Friends don’t…call each other when they need a fuck. Friends don’t kiss each other. Friends don’t visit each other late into the night when they’re feeling alone.” You fight. Your voice raises. The hurt surfaces. “We’re not just friends. We’ll never be just friends. We’re fucking stuck. We’ll always be stuck and I don’t know if…” Words ceasing, the tears threaten to spill. The ache becomes intolerable.

Deadbeat silence. Stillness, cold. All around, the only feel. He stays silent, holding you, eyes still focused to the ceiling above. He’s hurting,

He’s been hurting too.

Quietly, through a hoarse of gruffed tone, Keanu speaks. He wonders if you know the sincerity of his declaration, the weight his pledge holds. “I still love you. I still love you so much, it hurts. Every single day.”

There’s never been pity in those deep cocoa depths, never confusion, resentment, aggravation. Only old understanding, old love, attachment that never died; even when the roots withered. When the skies caved.

You listen, you process, you absorb. You absorb his words, so wholly.

Sitting up slight, Keanu draws your body up as well, never letting your frail frame leave his toned arms. Biceps engulfing, you practically drown into his bare chest; your exposed skins melting together adding tremendously to the connection. “Y/N, I’ll always be in love with you.” He whispers into your hair, soft kisses stippled with strokes to your glossy locks, drawing the silk sheets higher, closer to tuck them around you. To protect you,

-from the cold. Or perhaps something else. Something so unforgiving, a harsh reality you’d both been compulsory to endure.

“But,” He breaks, yet stays composed, calm and confident, for you. “We’re no good together, sweetheart. We can’t be.” He whispers, hold tightening to soothe your plight. “It’s above us. No matter how hard we try, we can’t.” He reasons, voice saddened, yet explanatory. “You know that right, princess?”

The piercing, cold truth. Your lives are far too different, far too many complications come into play. For you and Keanu, a life together would always, forever, remain a distant dream. “We’re not just friends.” Taking hold of your hand, he presses a small kiss to your palm, eyes looking down into your softer, fragile ones. “You’re…you’re the best thing I have. Even if I don’t really have you.” He shakes his head, unable to face the realism. Because the cold, sour truth would always remain.

Keanu and you would rather be this way, than not at all. You’d rather meet this way, feel each other this way through scarce, secretive meetings, than not have each other at all.

Time held too much history. And history isn’t easily forgotten.

You and Keanu, couldn���t be forgotten. You were bound. Bound by something so special, so real. Something that would always stay, never fraying with the passage of a lifetime. Quelling his own emotions, Keanu kisses your lips again, tasting the salt of your dewy tears.

He’d always remained the stronger one. The one that would provide assurance. The one that would remind, even if it was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. But he’d do it. He’d do it, every single time, for you. He’d do anything for you.

Through the softness of your skin, Keanu relishes, loses himself in how familiar, how right it feels to be so close to you. How badly he wanted nothing more, than to always be close to you. To have you, through sickness and health. To hold you this way forever, steadily, safely within him.

Yet, it would never be. The harsh, cold, truthful reality. Each time you’d depart, a little piece, a part of each other would let go. Stay with the other until you’d meet again. It all hurt, the same way it usually did. Through a soft sniffle, you tighten your hold around him as well, sinking into the deep, radiating warmth of his skin. Sinking away into your escape, your piece of oblivion that was all too well to be real.

All too good, to ever be.

If soulmates existed, if happy endings were real, he was yours, and you were his.

You knew it all too well, all too true. And through a heartbroken mummer, you declare. Declare to him, as you both always did when you’d meet this way.

“I still love you too.” You return to his earlier statement, whispering. 

        “And I always, always will.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[butgilinsky]

angels & demons // rc

warning; angst, language, drugs, alcohol, alludes to violence but not graphic, basically everything that comes with rafe cameron, a toxic relationship

summary; y/n knows that rafe has demons, but for some reason she can’t pull herself away from him

word count; 1.8k+

i’m in no way trying to romanticize things that rafe does in the show, and i sure as hell don’t condone any of it. i’m not trying to romanticize toxic relationships or anything that comes w them, i just LOVE this song and it gives me rafe vibes soo.. idk i recommend listening to this song, it’s v good and this fic kind of reminds me of my dark writing style. if you’ve read my unfinished series rivals, it gives me those vibes a little.

based on angels & demons by jxdn

Two face, two face, yeah Black white, left right, yeah Up down, all night, yeah

the second they entered the house, rafe was ripped away from y/n. she rolled her eyes at the empty feeling in her hand, knowing that it would’ve happened sooner or later, despite the string of promises she received on the way to the house. 

“baby, i’ll be by your side, i promise.” 

the promise was empty, but most of the promises that rafe offered were. she’d fallen accustomed to the lies and the broken promises, barely batting an eye anymore. 

so she linked her arm around her friend’s neck and smiled at the happy expression she received. the girl locked her arms around y/n and swayed from side to side, rambling about how she didn’t think she’d see y/n at all tonight. 

the next time she saw rafe he was high, though that didn’t surprise her either. his arm wrapped around her abdomen, a soft kiss pressed to the back of her head before she leaned back and offered her lips to him. 

“you smell like beer.” she commented softly, hearing him hum before disregarding the statement all together. 

“i’ve had a lot.” he shrugged softly, the alcohol barely a factor in his behavior due to his tolerance. with the help of his height and his build, rafe had built a tolerance over the years. excessive drinking in high school had helped with that. 

she turned back to her conversation, smiling drunkenly at the girl that had been talking to her for the past half hour before rafe tugged on her waist subtly. the girl that was talking wasn’t picking up on rafe’s sudden urge to leave, but y/n was painfully aware of it all. 

“let’s go.” his lips pressed to the back of her ear, gripping her hip tighter when she didn’t respond right away. 

she smiled at the girl again and told her she had to go since it was getting late, before turning and looking up at rafe who wore a dazed smile. she nudged him softly, hand falling in his before he pulled her through the crowd and out of the house. 

Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train

rafe’s head fell backwards, his eyes screwed shut as he sighed out into the air above him. the breeze was cold against his searing skin, and his nose began to itch. it had only been a few lines, but it was enough to drown out the voice in his head, numbing the thoughts but not the ache in his chest. 

his eyes locked on his girlfriend, just a few yards away from him talking to a boy he’d forgotten the name of due to the lack of interest in it. her eyes found rafe’s quickly, and it only took a clenched jaw from rafe to dismiss herself from the conversation. 

she sent the boy a polite smile before stalking over to rafe, his hand reaching out for her when she was close enough. he pulled her into his lap easily, ignoring the fact that she definitely did not want to sit at the coke covered table. 

her head fell on top of his, her cheek smushing to the side slightly while she let her mind drift off elsewhere. rafe was talking to somebody across the table but she wasn’t paying attention, absentmindedly bringing her cup to her lips to drown out the sounds. 

“you alright?” she asked rafe after he’d gone quiet after a while, and he nodded shortly. “you look kind of out of it.” 

“need another line.” he said simply, tapping the side of her thigh quickly. 

she sighed but shuffled out of rafe’s lap at the silent command. she stayed close by, knowing she’d be sought out for if she wandered off, and it would ultimately cause more problems than not. 

And all these angels and demons Keep shouting and screaming I'm falling from Eden

she knocked on the door quickly, bouncing on her feet impatiently while waiting for the door to swing open. when it finally did, topper threw his thumb over his shoulder and she slid through the doorway. 

she jogged upstairs and around every corner, hearing the shouting all the way from the front door. the sight of her boyfriend pacing around the room filled her vision. he was tugging at his hair and mumbling incoherent thoughts while kelce stared at him in defeat. 

“rafe.” both pair of eyes snapped up to meet hers, finally allowing her to see the tears running down rafe’s cheeks as he crashed. 

he sighed softly, sending her an exhausted look before she walked over to him. she wrapped her arms around the boy, smiling at kelce when he excused himself out of the room to give the couple space. 

y/n pulled rafe to sit on the bed, letting him lean into her fully and cry into her chest. she knew how it was when he came down from a high, especially when his high was meant to cover up a shitty day. 

“i can’t stop thinking.” she sighed, trying to calm the boy, despite the constant ringing in his ears. 

“i’m right here, baby. you’re okay.”

So fuck me like a rockstar Dancing on a cop car Nothing in the world can stop me now

“rafe, get down, right now!” rafe scoffed loudly at his girlfriend five feet below him, waving her off when topper reached up to hand him a freshly filled cup. 

“dance with me, baby.” he bent his knees, nearing her height but still hovering over her. he held out his hand but she pushed it away quickly, glaring at him in the process. 

“rafe you’re going to get arrested. you can’t sit in a jail cell while you’re high, baby, get down.” he rolled his eyes and stood back up, wearing a drunken smirk while he ignored his girlfriend’s pleas. 

she watched for a moment longer before turning on her heels and storming off. she wasn’t going to sit around and watch rafe dig a hole from himself, though she seemed to be doing that for years at this point. 

Fucked up like a rockstar Ridin' in a cop car No one in the world can help me now

she grabbed her card back from the woman across the desk, not even bothering to smile while she signed multiple papers. her head snapped at the sound of a husky voice she’d recognize anywhere, though this time it made her growl in anger. 

“baby, i’m so sorry. thank you for coming-” 

“i don’t want to hear it, rafe.” she handed the papers back to the woman and waited for the man to unlock rafe’s cuffs before she walked out of the station, rafe hot on her heels. 

“y/n, please, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to fuck up again baby, i swear.” she stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face the boy as her anger practically seeped out of her. 

“that’s the thing, rafe. you keep fucking your life up no matter how much i try to stop you. i can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, rafe.” he looked down at his feet, the words he’d heard her say multiple times ringing between both of his ears. “just get in the car. you’re lucky they didn’t call your dad, rafe.” 

Everybody said that I'm falling Took another line I'm calling I'm so sick of the nonsense I'mma dive into the mosh pit

“can you stop lecturing me for one fucking second?” his voice was loud and harsh, and would’ve knocked anyone else down a notch. fortunately for the girl in front of him, she’d grown to figure out how to stand her ground for the time being. 

“i’m not lecturing you. i’m trying to help you, rafe-”

“well you’re not fucking helping! i’m sick of the bullshit, y/n. i’m sick of trying to make everyone happy, so just let me deal with my own shit.” she stood firm in her place on the sand, watching rafe stomp off. 

she ignored the burning gazes on her, turning around and walking off of the beach. if rafe didn’t want her to bother him, then she would stop bothering him. so she left the boneyard, slipped into her car and drove away. 

I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gun shot could solve 'em

her back leaned against the door, her eyes trained on the carpet below her though she was painfully aware of the sobs that filled the room. she hadn’t spoken in almost an hour, listening to his string of apologies and excuses. one minute he didn’t think anything was wrong with him, and the next he claimed his world was crashing around him. 

he fell to his knees in front of her, digging his face into her stomach and gripping her hips. she sighed softly, ignoring the single tear rolling down her cheek and dropped her hand on top of his head. she scratched at his scalp gently, hearing his sobs turn to sniffles. 

“i’m so sorry.” he spoke softly, almost too soft for her to hear. 

“i’ve hear that too many times, rafe.” he shook his head quickly, looking up at y/n with wide eyes that glistened from the sheen of tears that covered them. the moon that seeped through his window casted a beautiful light across his face, one that reminded her how she’d ended up in this messy love story. 

“i mean it, y/n. i know i went too far this time and i’m sorry.” 

she wanted to laugh. too far was an understatement. he’d committed, arguably, the worst crime known to man, and he called it ‘too far’. every day of her life before this one, she would’ve sworn that anything like that would’ve driven her away from a person, no matter her ties to them. 

but somehow, the boy on his knees in front of her looked up at her with a look in his eyes that she couldn’t imagine never seeing again. she couldn’t imagine never waking up next to him, or never feeling his lips pressed against hers. she couldn’t imagine a life without rafe cameron, and part of her hated that. 

unfortunately, she saw how rafe tried to rationalize his actions. she saw how deeply rooted his demons were, and she saw how his mind ticked in such a way that she’d never seen a person tick before. she knew his intentions were less than pure, but they were far from malicious. 

“run away with me.” he looked up at her with such desperation, the thought of a life where the two of them could forget about everything around them bringing him a joy he hadn’t felt in years. “baby, let’s run away.” 

she hated that that sounded like heaven to her. 

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2075

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

As Promised, here’s Chapter 6. I really enjoyed writing this one, heck I even laughed at one bit XD Also I’d like to thank you all for supporting my work so far, It really means the world to me that people are enjoying my work. As always Enjoy! :)

-Third Person POV

The minutes turned to hours, the hours turned into days, concern over the young girl was increasing day by day. Every single day Bucky and Steve were there, telling her how their days went and what was happening in the world all while holding y/ns hand, each day the boys watched her progress, the memory of her skin slowly regaining its colour giving them a new sense of hope.

Day by day the boys stayed as long as they could, only leaving when Mr and Mrs Barnes appeared at the door to bring them home, each time Mrs Barnes placed a small kiss on the young girl’s head before leaving. All of them taking the opportunity to show small sings of affection towards the girl, hoping that it gave her the strength to recover.

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and resting, a sharp ring disturbed the silence surrounding the house, half asleep Mr Barnes answered the phone, a wide smile appeared on his face as the news the family had been waiting for all week arrived.  Quickly the parents rushed to the boys, the pair sharing a smile as they frantically ran around the room to get ready, a few tears of happiness sliding down their faces. A huge sense of relief flowed through Bucky’s veins, all the guilt he felt throughout the week lessened, at least now he knew that he didn’t cause y/n’s death.

-Back at the Hospital

Readers POV

My eyes felt like they’d been welded shut and my head was poundin’ like nobody’s business, what the hell happened to me? Finally, I managed to open my eyes and I was immediately blinded by the bright lights shining in my goddamn face, can I not catch a break for once in my life?! A loud groan accidently slid past my lips, why is it every time I wake up some part of my body is aching? You’d think I was a pro wrestler or somethin’!

I gazed around the room, distant voices could be heard from the corridor, hang on where the hell am I? the room was decorated plain white, with a few pictures hanging on the wall and a small sofa was tucked into the back corner. Another door, presumably for the bathroom, was to the right of the window, the curtains were drawn but the steady tapping on the other side told me it was raining. What a way to come back into reality, absolutely chucking it down with rain, my dumbass soon realised that the nurses might not know I was awake, which is kind of important information.

Slowly I raised myself up, the ache on my midriff increasing much to my displeasure, as I slowly moved my legs off the edge of the bed, both were shaking with the effort of holding my body up and I hoped to god that I didn’t land on my ass anytime soon. Hang on, that might be becoming a very bad habit of mine, I’m gonna need to work on that later… finally my legs stopped shaking, taking VERY cautious steps I started making my way to the door. You’d think walking 5 feet would be easy, wouldn’t you? apparently not.

After about 3 minutes of moving like a bloody snail, I could finally reach the door handle, now for the hard part… turning the door handle, a high-pitched squeak met my ears as the door slowly flung open, the voices outside my room stopped and foot steps came towards my room. Two nurses came around the corner and stopped when the spotted me, a few seconds passed before I started to feel awkward, so I decided to wave at them to try and break the tension. Which in hindsight was one of the dumbest things I could have done in that moment, but it did seem to break them outta their trance, they both came towards me and started fussing over me, “Miss you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed! Why didn’t you just press the call button on the bed side table? how long have you been awake?” There was a bloody call button?! For the love of god!

“I woke up about 5 minutes ago, I’m sorry but could you tell me what happened to me? All I remember is fainting near the bank” The nurses shared a look, both of them ignored my question for the moment and focused on getting me into the bed and calling for the doctor, they gave me strict instructions not to move till the doctor arrived. Well, at least I know I’m in a hospital but what the hell did I do to land in here in the first place? All I remember is getting ready for the war and setting up in the dinner before it all went wrong. Shooting happened, I was taken hostage, shooting happened again, Alexi punched me and broke my nose, I was held at ransom before till I got bored and ran outta the line of fire, Bucky and Steve were pinned behind a wall, I fought with a մոխրագույն օրխիդ and got shot…wait a second…

I’M GONNA KILL THOSE IDIOTS!

I got bloody shot! How the hell did I forget that?! It’s not like I stubbed my toe, an actual bullet went inside me! Oh god are Bucky and Steve okay?! Where are they? Did they get hurt? My mind was going crazy with worry, I hoped to god that this bloody doctor got here soon, or I’d be out of here looking for those pair of numpties! A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts as a team of doctors and nurses filled the room, a few carried important looking equipment with them, a man with a clipboard approached me with a reassuring smile.

“Good Evening Miss y/n, my names Doctor Miller, you’ve been unconscious for a week or so, due to a gunshot wound to your midriff, the bullet shattered on impact and we had to operate to stop any internal bleeding. Now don’t worry too much about that, it’s in the past and there’s no lasting damage done, but we’re going to have to keep you in the hospital for one more night to monitor your vitals but after that you’ll be free to go. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask me.”

Okay, all I heard was “unconscious for a week” and “no lasting damage”, I really hope that I don’t smell too bad, my pride’s been damaged enough for one week.

“Dr. Miller, do you know what happened to the two boys that were with me at the bank? Did they get hurt at all?” I could hear the fear in my voice, I dreaded the answer and prayed to god that nothing happened to them. He took a moment to reply, my worry increasing by the second, “No, none of the boys got hurt, but I can’t say the same for some of the members of the Црни лабуд, some were killed during the fight and a few passed away in their sleep. I believe that someone called Damien is still alive though, he gave a statement that completely cleared your name in court today”

What? I can’t believe it, why would he do that? One by one everyone started to leave the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I don’t understand it at all, why would Damien go out of his way to protect me? All that’d of done was increase his jail time for human trafficking. It doesn’t make sense…

-Time Skip

At some point I fell asleep, the sound of faint whispering disturbed me from my sleep as I slowly opened my eyes, sat next to me was Bucky’s mother, his father stood behind her as they both offered me a gentle smile. A few tears slid down Mrs Barnes cheeks when she realised I was fully awake, her arms immediately enveloped me into a warm hug, “Oh my Goodness sweetheart, please don’t ever scare me like that again, I was so worried about you” I didn’t reply to her, instead I chose to hug her tighter as confusion began to cloud my mind. Why would she be worried about me? Me? Other people would have been over joyed at the news of me being shot.

Slowly she pulled away from me, choosing to look me in the eyes as carefully stroked my cheek, inspecting the few bruises littered on my face, a small sniffle grabbed my attention as I turned away from her, my eyes glanced over in the direction of the sound. There stood in the corner of the room were the boys, both of their eyes red and puffy as they cautiously made their way towards me, none of us said anything when they reached my side. My eyes scanned over Steve checking for any injuries and damage before I pulled him into a hug, his body tensed up in shock before he relaxed and returned the embrace.  “I’m so sorry y/n I never wanted you to get hurt, neither of us did we just wanted to help you” even with his voice muffled, I could tell that the poor lad was crying and I couldn’t blame him, bloody Niagara falls was streaming down my cheeks, I pulled away from him and turned to Bucky, he was looking at the floor and completely avoiding my gaze.

Oh, hell no, no sad boys allowed here! Carefully I leaned forward and grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers together as I pulled him closer, something inside me hurt when his eyes met mine, they held so much guilt, so much pain and sadness and I hated seeing him like this. No words were exchanged as he wrapped his arms around me, a sigh of relief escaped him, my arms automatically tightened around him when a single tear fell onto my neck. His silent sobs cut me down to my core, behind him Steve stood to the side, his eye meeting mine as I grabbed his hand in reassurance, once Bucky calmed down we both drew back, and I pulled both boys in front of me.  

“I want both of you boys to listen to me, none of this was your fault, this is all on me. I pushed you both away to protect you and I’m sorry for that, I should have been more honest with you, me getting shot has nothing to do with anything either of you did.” My voice was firm and assertive, but of course that didn’t stop either of them trying to argue with me. Not much of a surprise there.

“But we went in the middle of it, we tried to play the hero’s and we ended up being the villains, you should be mad, not forgivin’ our stupid asses” this is probably not the best time to notice this, but Steve just swore for the first time in his life, I couldn’t be prouder! Wait, where was I?

Goddamn it y/n, concentrate for once in your bloody life! “Okay, stop that crap right now Rodgers, none of this had anything to do with you, although I would like to ask the both of what THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING DIVIN’ INTO THE MIDDLE OF A BLOODY GANG WAR?!” it was safe to say that they weren’t excepting that.

It was actually quite funny, Bucky went completely pale and started stuttering while Steve actually jumped up in surprise and fell down, admittedly I felt a bit bad about that bit. Neither of the boys could form a coherent sentence, both completely panicking as they tried to explain the reason behind their complete stupidity. Slowly my eyebrows started to raise as a small smirk made its way onto my face, the pair of them making no sense as Bucky pointed to Steve and said something about justice. I know I shouldn’t be finding this funny, but I couldn’t help it, they were babbling like a bunch of school girls!

Eventually, they both shut up once they noticed me failing to stifle a giggle, their expression turning from ones of panic to amusement, and eventually I couldn’t contain it, “I’m sorry but your faces were bloody brilliant! Oh my god I’m dying” both of the boys rolled their eyes at me, shaking their heads as Bucky’s parents started laughing with me.

Another Chapter down, as always feel free to leave some tips on how I can improve my writing for you all, Requests and tags are open :) Thanks for Reading!

Rose xx

[banshee1013]

Fic - Sticky Sweet

Yesterday was the #DeanCasWedding, which of course means today must be - the #DeanCasHoneymoon! Written for the SPN Family Discord Valentine’s Exchange, this was not necessarily written as a honeymoon fic, but it works! Enjoy! 

Title: Sticky Sweet Rating: Teen Tags: Castiel/Dean, Camping, Tooth-rotting Fluff (literally) Word Count: 1768 Summary:  Dean has been introducing a newly-human Cas to human things - the latest: camping under the stars, complete with tent, campfire, and s'mores -- but Castiel has a surprise for Dean as well. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422437

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Dean holds on to the thin thread of his patience as he threads the tent pole through the seemingly unending number of loops running over the top side of the tent, grumbling to himself as he has to back the pole out due to missing a loop. Finally, the tent poles are in place and he uses the ties at the pinnacle of the tent to anchor where the tent poles meet and then stands, dusting off his knees. Starting at one corner, he pops the pole end into the tent foot, making his way around to all four corners until the tent is finally upright. He stands back and crosses his arms to admire his work, then looks around for Cas and smiles fondly when he sees him.

While he was pitching the tent (the thought makes him grin, of course), he had sent Cas out to find some firewood and to build the fire pit, handing him a small evac tool (basically a mini-shovel) to clear the ground where the pit would go and instructing him to find some nice round river rock from the small creek nearby to line it with. Cas had done spectacularly, a substantial stack of various sizes of tree branches and a three-ish foot circle of ground cleared nearby. Currently, the former angel was crouched on the ground next to a small pile of oval-shaped stones and was placing them in a ring around the cleared space with the precision one usually associates with engineering a spacecraft.

“Hey, Cas, that looks great! Can you come help me with the tent cover please?”

Cas looks up from his ring of stones, smiles and rises to his feet; but his brows pinch together as he looks past Dean and at the tent. “That does not look very secure, Dean. Are you sure it will remain stationary?”

Dean laughs and pulls Cas in for a hug as he approaches, then turns him around to face the tent, keeping an arm over his shoulder. “When we put the top cover on — that keeps moisture from rain and morning dew from getting inside — we’ll anchor it with those tent spikes,” he motions toward the four silver rods lying at each corner of the tent. “But I need help getting the cover on evenly.” Cas nods and heads toward the tent, Dean following and he can’t help but admire the view.

Dean has finally managed to rid him of the ubiquitous trench coat, suit, and tie, replacing it with a royal blue hoodie the color of his eyes and dark grey Henley, the sleeves pulled up to expose muscular forearms; and dark blue jeans that hug his surprisingly slender form — and does wonders for Dean’s libido. The fact that the trench coat and ill-fitting suit hid his drool-worthy body all this time is a travesty that Dean continually laments — but is glad to have rectified, especially as the jeans draw tight around those remarkably muscular thighs when Cas crouches down to inspect the tent spikes.

The sun is just starting to dip behind the trees and just then a shaft of light streaks through the branches, backlighting Cas in yellow-orange light and setting his dark brown head glowing like a halo, and Dean gasps at the sight. He’s absolutely gorgeous, how have I been so blind? Cas glances over his shoulder, head tilted and a puzzled look in his eye, the same shaft of light striking and turning them into blue fire.

Dean suddenly realizes he’s the luckiest sonuvabitch alive.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Blinking, Dean shakes his head and smiles, moving toward the tent. “Yeah… I’m great, Cas.” Kneeling down next to him, he takes Cas’ face in both hands and kisses him, soft and chaste… but the next thing Dean knows, he’s on his back with Cas over him, groaning against his lips as he deepens the kiss.

Cas finally breaks the kiss to gasp for air, and even though it’s literally the last thing he wants to do, Dean gently pushes him back. “We’re losing the light, sweetheart, and we gotta finish putting this tent together,” he gasps. Cas sighs and rises to his feet, offering a hand down to pull Dean up. They quickly get to work and in no time, the tent cover is pulled over the top and the tent staked down securely.

“Cas, can you finish with the campfire? I’m gonna get the rest of our camping stuff.” Dean rushes to the car to grab their sleeping bags, cooler, and Coleman grill — no way was he going to attempt to cook an actual meal over a campfire — while Cas finishes placing the stones around the cleared area and setting some of the firewood he’d gathered inside; smaller sticks on the bottom and tenting some of the larger pieces over the top. By the time Dean has returned and placed their sleeping bags inside the tent, Cas already has a nice fire going. Dean smiles as he sees Cas perched on the smooth log he’d managed to find, placed in front of the fire for them to sit on, and digs into the bag next to the cooler for the surprise he brought.

He joins Cas at the fire with his treasures in hand — two long metal sticks with handles, a bag of jumbo marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and several fun-sized Hersey chocolates. “Ever had s’mores, Cas?” he asks, setting the items down by the log before taking a seat next to him.

Cas leans over and glances at the items by Dean’s feet with that adorable head-tilt Dean loves. “I don’t believe I have.”

Dean smiles and leans over to kiss him quickly. “Well, then, you’re in for a treat.” He tears open the bag of marshmallows and plucks one out, spearing it on the stick and holding it over the fire. “The trick is to get it close enough to the fire for it to melt and char a little. Don’t let it stay still or it’ll burn and that’s no good.” He demonstrates, twirling the marshmallow over the fire until it’s golden brown.

“Now, grab one of the graham crackers, snap it in half, and unwrap the chocolate.” Cas follows his instructions as Dean pulls the marshmallow from the fire. “Okay, place the chocolate on one half of the graham cracker…” Cas does and Dean maneuvers the marshmallow over the chocolate and cracker, “... now pinch it with the other half of the graham cracker.” With his free hand, Dean reaches over to cover Cas’ hand with his own to show him how to squish the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate and pulls the stick free.

Cas looks at the s’more in his hand, turning it this way and that as chocolate melted by the hot marshmallow begins to drip. “Quick! Eat it!” Dean nudges his hand toward his mouth and Cas takes a big bite, the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate squirting out from the other side and onto his hand.

Cas finishes the bite, but then frowns. “It’s very good,” he comments, the frown intensifying as the chocolate and marshmallow start to slide down his arm, “but it’s also very messy.”

Dean is not about to miss this opportunity, grabbing Cas’ arm and running his tongue up it, lapping up the melted marshmallow and chocolate, his eyes never leaving Cas’ face and feeling the flush crawl up his neck at the heat reflected there — and not just from the proximity of the fire. Taking the remaining portion of the s’more into his mouth, he sucks the remaining marshmallow and chocolate from Cas’ fingers, running his tongue in and around them and taking immense pleasure in the way Cas’ breath hitches.

No sooner has he finished swallowing the bite than Cas has him on his back in front of the log, mouth on his and licking the sweetness from it; his body warm and firm against his, and Dean can’t stifle the moan that follows.

Cas finally pulls back, his cheeks flushed and breath harsh. “I would like another, please.”

Awhile later, sated on s’mores and kisses, Dean leans against the log between Cas’ knees, head resting on a thick thigh as Cas runs a (thankfully clean due to the wet wipes Dean had the foresight to pack) hand through his hair. His eyes are getting heavy and the last thing he wants to do right now is move.

Cas has other ideas.

“Dean, I need to get up.” Dean groans and grips his thigh in protest, but Cas is insistent. “I won’t be long, I promise.” With an exaggerated sigh, Dean releases his grip on Cas’ thigh and lifts his head, and Cas rises from the log and disappears into the darkness behind them. He hears the trunk of the Impala open, a rustling of fabric, and the trunk shutting again; then Cas is back. Dean watches as he lays a blanket on the ground on the other side of the fire opposite the log. Sitting on the blanket with his legs spread, he pats the area in between.

Dean gets the message. He crawls around the fire to where Cas sits and nestles himself in the proffered area on the blanket, his back to Cas’ broad chest, and leans back, closing his eyes. From behind them, he feels Cas’ arms reach behind on either side, pulling something up over his shoulders.

“The thing I miss the most since losing my Grace,” he says quietly, haltingly, “is holding you with my wings.” He sighs, and Dean hears more rustling, this time sounding like… feathers? The rustling pulls around them, followed by encompassing warmth; and Dean opens his eyes gasping at the sight of black feathers wrapped around him, brilliant blues and greens and scattered flecks of gold shining in the firelight.

“Even though they were not corporeal, and not technically consisting of cormorant feathers, I knew you could still feel them — and this was the best representation I could find,” he said as he spreads the blanket of feathers fully around them, pulling Dean close and laying his cheek against the crown of his head.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he’s suffused in the warmth of the feathers and Cas’ body. His hands grasp Cas’ wrists and pulls him tighter.

“This is amazing,” he says, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “I love you so much, Cas.”

He feels Cas’ smile against the top of his head, then lips pressed against his temple. “And I, you, Dean.”

[golchaworld]

Sisterhood | C. CH

➳ pairing: cho chanhyuk x Woonggi’s older sister!reader

➳ genre: fluff, brother’s best friend!au, secret relationship!au

➳ word count: 1.2k

➳ warnings: mentions of underage drinking, like 1 make out scene, one (1) cure word literally

➳ summary: being Cha Woonggi’s sister is nothing short of interesting...

A/N: I’m really interested in expanding on my writing outside of golcha so here it is! I also want to try out new aus so if you have any, please send them my way. Hope y’all enjoy this short piece!

There were so many aspects of being Cha Woonggi’s sister that you loved. There were the late night dance-offs and way too much karaoke. There was the way he could make you laugh like no one else could. There was the way his expressive eyes would light up when he saw you. 

And then there were nights like tonight. 

There were nights when you hated being Woonggi’s sister because you hated being responsible for him. And tonight, like many other Friday nights, Woonggi decided to go out with his gang of older friends and drink the night away at one of their houses. 

Woonggi has never been known for being able to hold his liquor. So when your little brother yells that he’s heading over to Chihoon’s house, you know it’s just a matter of hours before you get the phone call. It’s always the same, and always expected. But the surprising thing is how much you look forward to each call. 

Chanhyuk’s voice has a staticky-tinge to it, but it’s still deep and smooth. The way he whispers the words into the receiver has goosebumps poking up on your arms, even though his words couldn’t be farther from sexy. 

“He’s throwing up, again, Y/N.”

You sigh. “It’s your fault for getting him drunk.”

“Nope,” Chan tuts. “It’s Jeyou’s fault. I told him to stop after the 4th shot.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re all horrible.” Even though your voice is peppered with annoyance, you can’t find it within yourself to be all that annoyed. “Should I come pick him up?”

The boy on the other end of the line sighs in relief. “Yes, please.”

15 minutes later you find yourself starting your engine, finally ready to make the trek to rescue your brother. And if those 15 minutes were spent freshening up, fixing your hair, and spraying yourself with a quick spritz of perfume, then no one has to know. 

When you pull up to Chihoon’s house, you pop a quick mint into your mouth for...undisclosable reasons. You fluff your hair a few times, checking your makeup in your rear view mirror. Once you’re satisfied, you plaster on another layer of lip gloss, take a deep breath and exit the car. 

You have to ring the doorbell twice before you get an answer, but the tall, lean figure that greets you when the door finally does open is more than enough to make up for it. 

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hi Chan.”

The smile that the boy wears is dazzling, albeit a little tired. His black hair frames his face beautifully, hanging in strands in front of face, causing the boy to take his fingers through it repeatedly. The smile on his face is forgotten in favor of Chan biting his bottom lip, giving you a once over. Heat rises in the pit of your stomach. 

“How’s he doing?” You accompany your question with a cocked eyebrow, which seems to be enough to knock Chanhyuk out of his flirtatious stupor. 

The boy gestures you inside. “He’s okay. I think he’s done throwing up for now. He tried to take another shot, but Jaeyun stopped him...I think.”

The house is warm and inviting when you step in, the sounds of all of your brother’s friends threatening to burst your eardrums. You can distinctly hear Jisu, who is yelling at someone, most likely Kyungho. The rest of the voices blend together in a cacophony. The sound just makes you smile. Woonggi did always have the best friends. 

“Y/N’s here!” Chanhyuk calls over the noise. 

There’s a moment of silence before an entirely different noise erupts. Eight pairs of drunken feet bound towards you, trying to be the first to greet you. It’s Donggeon who makes it first, pulling you into a hug so tight that your feet leave the ground. The rest of the boys greet you similarly, pulling you into hugs and gushing about how much they missed you. Jisu, the greasy fucker that he is, even places a wet kiss on your cheek. 

You miss the way that Chanhyuk glares at the boy when you’re occupied with the rest. 

Once the commotion dies down, Minsu motions you over to the direction of your younger brother, who is face down on the kitchen counter. How he got up there is beyond you, but you’re better off not knowing. 

You poke your sibling on the shoulder, pleased when he lets out a deep groan in response. At least he’s alive. When you realize the extent of the state that he’s in, you sigh. There’s no way you’ll be able to get him to the car by yourself. 

Smirking, you turn back to the gaggle of boys, making sure to cock your hip enticingly. You let your voice fall into it’s synthetically sultry drawl, fully equipped with a pout, as you glance over each one of the boys. 

“I’m worried about getting him to the car, guys.” The boys hand on to every word. “Can I have some help? Please?”

Kyungho and Jeyou practically jump at the opportunity, working together to lift Woonggi’s frame off of the kitchen counter. The drunken boy mumbles and groans, but otherwise doesn’t protest being jostled. You smile when you realize that Kyungho and Jeyou will be fine in depositing your brother in the car, all without you having to lift a finger. 

You say a quick goodbye to the rest of the boys, preparing to head out once Kyungho and Jeyou return. The two do in record time, and you make sure to compliment them both on their strength on the way out. They both flush instantly. 

When Chanhyuk insists on walking you to your car, you smirk. You know exactly what he wants, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

The two of you reach your car, seeing that Woonggi has been deposited safely in the back seat, dozing off. Chanhyuk smirks at the sight and takes the opportunity to pin you against the driver’s side of the car, hands securely placed on your hips. 

He claims your lips fiercely, almost instantly licking into your mouth passionately. You giggle into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer and closer. Chan is even better than you remember, warm and firm against your body, kissing you with everything he’s got. When the two of you finally part, Chanhyuk places a lingering kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I missed you,” he breathes into the small space between your faces. “I can’t go this long without seeing you.”

“I’m sorry. Woonggi has been spending more time at home lately. You know I don’t want him to become suspicious.”

“I know, I know. Just, god, I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe.” You peck him on the lips firmly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Chanhyuk looks reluctant to part, but eventually does after stealing another kiss. He watches silently as you get into your car and start the engine. You blow him a kiss through the window, which he cheekily catches and places over his heart. The action causes you to laugh as you finally pull away and drive off, reverting back to your life of secrecy as you leave Chanhyuk standing in the street, the brisk fall air whipping past his face.