#WAS A DAY AFTER THE DETERMINED DAY BUT HERE WE ARE! HAVE FUN ^^

[shintaru]

Apple bobbing

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Tagging ~ @ravenwritten @dzvelinaskebiyars @sylith @sanzuslutttt @zyart-jpg @wthphe1n

History lesson before we begin bobbing for apples has roots dating back to at least the 14th century in Britain. The game originated in Europe centuries ago as a courting ritual to help young lovers determine if they were soulmates. In European traditions, apple bobbing was once a popular courting ritual. Each floating apple represented a potential husband. With one successful try, a young woman was destined to marry her desired mate. Two attempts meant that her love interest would court her, but the relationship would be ill-fated. If it took three or more tries to snag an apple, the marriage was not meant to be. Middle English was the language spoken and written during this time in England, Scotland, and Ireland from roughly 1100–1500 AD. It evolved from Old English and influenced the development of Modern English.

Now for my idea the European tradition from my understanding was mainly for women to partake in looking for insight into their marriages/ relationships it kinda reminds me a bit of fortune telling in a way. I want to use the courting ritual and parts of its history to inspire and bring my fanfic to life, however I’m going to change some things for this fanfic. Since Hajun is not from Europe in my fic I’ll say that the tradition had made its way over to South Korea and I also want to have Hajun be the one bobbing for apples to win the reader’s affection instead of the other way around. I find that a lot more romantic. I'm going to try to use Middle English for this fic. I've always wanted to write a piece using Middle English but I was too scared but I want to try to have fun with it since a few of my friends here love history. I’m not too big on lots of history myself because too much information makes my brain want to shut down. However, I do enjoy lots of things from history.

Royals: Kings, Queens, and their families formed the highest tier of society. They held the top position in the feudal structure and interacted primarily with their court, which consisted of lower-ranked nobles.

Commoners: This broad category included peasants, serfs, clergy and other individuals who were not part of the nobility or royalty. They were typically at the bottom of the social hierarchy, often under the authority of a noble lord. Some commoners worked in the royal household in lower-level positions.

Once upon a time

Your whole childhood lacked everything a normal child would receive. You were raised to be nothing other than a wife and mother. From as far as you can remember you never got to play you were taught the rules of motherhood and how to be a fit wife. You were also taught about becoming queen the day of your marriage.Your family didn’t know love, they knew money and roles. Everyone in your family had a role to play and nothing less was expected. You were no exception being the first born daughter of your country.

You had just turned of age to be married and your father wanted to waste no time in getting you hitched. You wish you could be as joyous as him but how can you find joy in marrying someone that you don’t know and worst of all don’t love. You’re currently being fitted for your blue cotehardie (symbolizes purity), a long luxurious dress that your mother had worn for her marriage with your father at your age. The seamstress just needed to make some adjustments to accommodate for your differences in sizing.

After your measurements were taken down you were requested to head to the grounds where the courting ritual would partake. Upon arriving at the great hall you saw tables lined with individual buckets full of water and apples. Apple bobbing has been a huge tradition in South Korean originating in Britain and it made its way all over the world. Every man who is of age is allowed to partake in the ritual, even commoners.

A timer is set and players must have their hands bound behind their backs to begin. If a player cannot get an apple the first try it’s the next player's turn if a player gets one apple and cannot pick up the next they’ve lost their turn. A player must get every apple out of the tub without dropping an apple to win the ritual and your hand in marriage. Your father and mother arrive hand in hand to announce the start of the ritual.

Hours had passed and hundreds of men had lost, some almost drowned, some choked, some had no skills. You were beginning to grow anxious. What if you are to marry a cruel man you can hardly stomach that thought. You decide to finally pay attention to the game instead of your racing thoughts that didn’t help your aching heart. An oddly large man takes up the challenge.

You couldn’t see his face, his back was turned to you as his hands were being tied behind him. Many gasped at the sight of him. You were positive it was because of his unbelievable height. You’d never seen someone so tall, especially in South Korea. “I want a proper challenge for one minute” you hear him request causing an uproar from the crowds. “Art thou a driveller?” Your father turns to ask your mother.

“He’s gone mad” someone from the crowd shouts. The timer starts and the large man with fair blue hair wastes no time gathering apples. He has you on the edge of your throne. One by one he’s getting them so swiftly and neatly into the basket. Your fathers jaw has dropped as far as it can drop. He truly has no competition; he even beat your fathers record when he had won your mothers hand in marriage during her courting ritual.

His win caused an uproar “A commoner is going to marry a royal” “a commoner marrying a princess?” Back to back voices gasping and shouting questioning the situation. A commoner has never won the ritual before. You follow as you were raised walking down the stairs just beneath the thrones that seat your family and close friends. You go to meet your soon to be husband. Upon a closer encounter you see he has a large scar across the bottom side of his face.

He’s also full of tattoos, you burst into a fit of laughter. Your father is going to have a heart attack when he takes a closer look at your husband. Your father marches down the stairs upon hearing your laughter he doesn’t spare a look at the blue haired man yet. He’s too busy scolding you. “By much laughter you may distinguish a fool.” He shouts. You try to hold it in but once your father looks at the man to apologize his eyes widen in shock upon the sight before him.

“A plague upon thee! Your only desire is to form the beast with two backs with my only daughter!” Your father shouts an accusation stirring up the crowd even further. “Father!” You gasp. “By my troth, I desire not to marry your daughter for my own lustful pleasures but to save my younger brothers and I from poverty” the man replies. Your father faints and has to receive medical attention and your mother rushes to his aid.

You take thy man’s hand and run past the guards sneaking off somewhere in thy castle to get away from thy crowd. You take him to a room you always hid in when you needed space “thou shall not find us here” you reassure him. “My apologies” he says to you bowing down. “You need not to apologize, my father has a bit of a temper” you reply.

You fetch a towel from the bathroom and you sit him down on thy bed. You begin drying his face and hair gently. “May I beg your byname?” You ask whilst still drying his hair. “Joker but you may call me Hajun,” he says. You softly smile at him “you may call me Y/N” you reply to him. Being a royal everyone knows who you and your family are but it’s common courtesy to still introduce yourself.

Your mother wanted you two to marry right away so you had to leave your hiding spot with your soon to be husband aka Hajun. You headed to drop him off to be fitted for his embroidery suit. “A bloody commoner to marry a royal” the guards whisper to themselves at the seamstresses door but you heard it. You take his hand rubbing your thumb alongside the top of his hand giving him reassurance.

“That’s no way to talk about my husband” you say, warning the guards they immediately apologize to Hajun. You bid your shirt farewell to him to get dressed for the ceremony. You’re fully dressed and ready for the ceremony and your father is expected to walk you down the aisle. You enter the room where the ceremony is to be held with your arm locked around your fathers. You notice your blue cotehardie matches Hajun’s hair. Your father leads you to stand in front of Hajun allowing the ceremony to begin.

“Hajun, do you take my daughters hand in marriage in sickness and in health until death do you part?” Your father asked grudgingly. “I do!” he says, looking into your eyes. “Y/N do you take Hajun hand in marriage in sickness and in health until death do you part?” Your father says looking at you shaking his head as if he wants you to say no. “I do!” you say. Your father faints yet again “oh dear heavens the king has fainted again” a noble shouts.

His lips meet yours and his hands meet your lower back pulling you in as close as possible to him. Your two bloodlines are joined together in eternity by a single shared kiss. His hair brushes against your skin softly as he deepens the kiss. You don’t pull away just yet wanting to enjoy your first kiss. He pulls away “I didn’t just marry you for money, I’ve liked you since I was younger” he confesses. The sudden confession makes your worries about marriage fade away you’re glad you got married to him instead of some pervert looking to become a royal.

The end.

[visionsofmagic]

day 13: clark kent [aftercare]

࿓ synopsis • after having a rough session with clark, you let him take care of your exhausted body.

―❦ nsfw, kissing, soft!clark, after a rough sex, f!reader, pet names, confessing, cleaning, washing, watching, fluff, i's all! • 0.6k • couldn't publish sooner, but, here we are at least. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

"agh -" you say, moaning lowly, in pain that comes from your sensitive clit as clark's fingers travel on it, cleaning you under the warm water.

“oh, baby,” he says, fingers stop for a moment, eyes scanning your face; furrowed brows, lips are getting a bite, hands hold him from the neck and chest as a source of cure and stability at the same time. “you okay? I can go slower if you want.”

he proposes as you sit on his lap, hugging him, and negatively shaking your head while one of his strong arms holds you from back so that you stay still, warm water waving from time to time as you move in sync.

sitting on the clean bathtub, you let clark take care of you after one of your roughest sex – you can see all the redness on your body which he left intentionally yet acting so innocent when he sees them, fingers caressing your soft skin gently as if he wasn’t the one who fucked you in different positions, earning a pathetic state out of you, nearly making you use the safe word because of how good he was fucking you and how much you wanted it to end even though your actions told otherwise.

fear of fainting, you stopped when he got your fourth orgasm, then, cumming all over you as he cries in pleasure, confessing how you make him so weak that he loses mind whenever he has you beside him, under him, above him – in every way he can, he loves it, he loves you.

so it’s not a surprising thing when he picked you up from the messy bed after preparing the bathtub for you to wash and get clean, got into it, taking you into his arms, making you feel smaller yet quite peaceful, letting him do whatever he wants to do to get you cleaned up, ready to rest on the bed you are sharing with him beside you.

he said sorry over and over again until you said it was okay – that you enjoyed every bit of it because you missed him as much as he missed you.

fingers gripping your chin, he makes you look at his shining blue eyes – your own reflection on them. he smiles widely, fingers moving to your hair, caressing it gently, still having that precious expression on his face, looking like a greek god yet feeling so human – one of his kind, always.

“you have no idea how much I missed you,” he says, now taking warm water on his palm, then, cleaning your naked body within it – he seems to have guilt because of what he has done to you; biting marks as he claimed you shine brightly, red marks on your waist is visible due to holding you tightly as he shoved his cock into you, the neck has pink colors because how he held it, pushing your face onto the pillow so that you could moan as much as you wanted while he had you from behind.

all because of him.

he would never hurt you, he didn’t either, yet, he seems a bit sorry. however, you know he also has prideful feelings, so, you smile softly, resting your head on his wide shoulders, saying, “they all will heal, don’t feel sorry – it was so good that I can’t wait to get better and do all those things again.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead, and then, your whole face, “then get better soon because there are lots of things that I want to do to you, my prettiest girl.” with that, he kisses you one more time. he cleans you, drying you with the softest towel, changes the sheets, and puts you on the fresh bed, taking his side beside you – hugging you, he watches how peaceful your face looks, smiling down at you, and sleeping as he has you close enough to himself – he knows he should leave soon enough yet being with you seems as the right thing to do. he missed you so much after all – the world can wait a bit longer.

[suksatoru]

smile for the camera! — ft. k. bakugo x fem!reader

katsuki bakugo is tricked into smiling during an interview when they bring up your name!

you didn't notice it at first, but katsuki bakugo developed smile lines after meeting you.

he didn't smile much as a kid. most of his baby pictures consisted of him either crying, screaming, or making some sort of vulgar gesture at the camera. it only got worse as he entered his teen years. his temper calmed down a bit, sure. but the chances of catching katsuki bakugo smiling were as rare as catching lightening in a bottle.

the paparazzi were well aware of the famous dynamight barely having any pictures of him smiling out on the internet—there were three singular photos out there that consisted of him with a somewhat pleased expression on his face, and the only reason he looked that way was because you were in frame right beside him.

it seemed to be a well known fact that getting bakugo to smile was nearly impossible—but the current interviewer sitting in front of bakugo was determined.

"great explosion murder god dynamight—or, well, just dynamight sir—what would you say is your favorite part about being a hero?"

katsuki stops himself from rolling his eyes, already anticipating the rest of the interview's questions as he answers flatly

"the glory. the strength. and kicking ass—make that the first thing, actually."

"okay! now, i'd like to ask you a few more things..." the young woman chirps up, and katsuki sighs and tells her to continue. the next dozens of questions were just as he'd predicted—stuff like asking who his biggest inspiration was, what kind of merch his team would be putting out in the upcoming months, and what he thought his weaknesses were.

"—and i don't have weakness. i'm fucking perfect, ask anybody. now, are we done here?" he snaps, rolling his shoulders as he moves to stand up, eyes flitting towards the exit with nothing but disinterest

he'd spent an entire hour answering these stupid questions when he could've been out fighting villains, finishing up his paperwork, literally anything else would be more time fulfilling than answering baseless questions like these ones.

the interviewer's eyes widen when katsuki stands up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head with a grunt before she quickly interrupts him

"what about your wife!"

"....eh?"

"your wife!" she says, quickly collecting herself

"could you tell us about her? it seems like many of your fans are interested in learning more regarding you two! you have a very private relationship, so it's only natural for people to be curious!"

katsuki blinks, absorbing her words. slowly, his feet—once pointed towards the exit—shift ever so slightly towards the woman

"well...what do you want to know?"

and that's how katsuki found himself sitting in the same seat another hour later. except this time, he had the dorkiest grin ever plastered on his face.

"oh i knew i wanted to marry her the first time she yelled at me—she was pretty feisty back in our ua days. still is, but now all the insults she throws my way usually have the word babe or honey added at the end. she has a clever mouth, i'm warnin' ya—you don't wanna get into an argument with her."

the interviewer laughs, and katsuki decides he might come back to this station another time if they asked. he's... well, simply put, having fun.

he leaves after another forty minutes, only because his manager literally dragged him out of the room—he had a meeting to attend and then his patrol—but he left waving at the camera crew and in a far more better mood than he'd arrived in.

katsuki spends the rest of the day getting through all of his hero duties, the interview slowly being pushed to the back of his mind as he focuses on finishing all his work and coming home to you.

it's nearly nine pm when he opens the door to your shared apartment—groaning about how tired he was and how you better not be asleep—when he hears your padded feet running towards the main entryway to greet him

"you're home!"

he offers you a slanted grin, opening his arms for a hug

"missed ya today," he mutters, pressing a kiss onto your scalp as you peer up at him with a grin—looking a little too happy.

"what're ya cheesing so hard about?"

you hum, tapping the back of his thigh with a knowing grin

"your ma called. guess what she told me?"

katsuki groans, shrugging off his gauntlets and boots before tugging you towards the couch in the living room, flopping onto it while mumbling under his breath and pulling you towards his chest

"you two devils were probably gosspin' about me, that old hag better not have sent you any pictures or i swear—"

"she told me to turn on the tv and head to channel seven."

katsuki pauses, staring at you with furrowed brows. well, it couldn't have been him on channel seven, right? he didn't have any crazy villains to deal with for once, so it wouldn't make sense for him to be on one of the main channels today.

"what..."

he smacks his forehead with an embarrassed groan when you pull out your phone and show him your recording of his interview. you're practically bouncing on the couch beside him with glee as you shove the screen in his face

"you're smiling! they made it the cover of their video, too—gosh you look so cute when you smile! and you're talking about me!"

katsuki huffs, but watches you play back the video with a cheesy grin on your face. your round eyes are illuminated by the screen, and you re-watch the video with your lips parted in awe

"you got the real thing right in front of you but you'd rather watch that...i see how it is." he grumbles, something similar to a pout forming on his face when you still don't acknowledge him—too busy watching his video as you bring the phone closer to your face

"i'm going to screenshot your smiling face in this video and make it my profile picture on insta—"

he snatches the phone out of your hand, powering it off before tossing it aside and wrapping his strong arms around your waist in an iron grip

"i'll make that one of you snoring and drooling all over my chest my profile picture if you even think about it."

"i'm pretty sure half the comments on that video literally have your smiling face as their profile picture."

"...well that's a lot of people i'm gonna have to sue."

[rafesangelita]

♡ after receiving sex dice as a gag gift from your girlfriends, courtesy of your early galentine’s day party, you decide to bring them into the bedroom and rafe is surprisingly on board..

warnings: sex dice lol, established relationship, flirty banter, laughing during sex, oral sex (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex, so many descriptions of positions please bare with me, slight degradation, praise, rafe’s d game is a1 (!!!), marathon sex (?), overstimulation, crying, squirting, multiple orgasms, cream pie

a/n: now presenting… ‘ROLL THE DICE!’ 🤍 i felt like i was at war while trying to explain these positions in clear detail lol, just know i tried my best!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 2.4k

rafe had been eyeing the pink gift bag you brought back from your best friend’s house, his curiosity only growing when you refused to let him see what was inside. “just let me see! what is it? girl stuff?” you laughed, taking the bag in your hands. “you could say that..” your teasing tone was torturing him, the anticipation making rafe groan. “come on!” he finally reached for the bag, snatching it at the same time you pulled, making everything in the flimsy gift bag fall onto your bed. “well, that’s great..” you whispered, watching as your boyfriend inspected the contents.

“pink condoms.. we don’t use those. chocolates, a face mask, a sephora gift card, some earrings, and.. hey, what’s in this red pouch?” your cheeks heated as he pulled on the drawstring, two pink dice falling into his hand. “oh.. babe, this is sex dice!” he laughed, glancing up at you incredulously as you hid your face in your hands. “it’s just a silly little gag gift, nothing more.” you waved it off, taking a seat next to him on your shared bed. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it’d be fun to try out, but knowing rafe, you knew he wasn’t really one for games.

he studied them, flipping the many facets of the dice. “..i don’t know, they have some pretty good positions on here,” he shrugged, “what do you think?” your eyes shot up to meet his, a pang of excitement lighting up in your tummy. “r-really?!” you smiled, your boyfriend pulling you on top of his lap before he nodded. “yeah, look in that pouch for what the number dice means.” you obliged, taking the small folded up piece of paper that was the instructions. “oh, wow.. the number dice determines how many rounds we go.” rafe looked down at the small thing and laughed.

“it goes up to twelve,” your eyes widened as he handed you the acrylic piece, “go ahead and roll it.” you rolled onto your side, tossing the dice for both of you. “three.” rafe was starting to get excited now, his lips trailing along your neck as he gave you the dice with the positions on it. you two were easily doing more than that amount regularly. you giggled when his breath tickled your skin, your head moving to the side to allow him more access. rafe palmed you through your top, a moan leaving your lips as he ran his tongue along your flesh.

“roll the dice before i decide the positions for us.” he groaned, pressing a kiss to your jaw. sighing, you did as he said, reading the positions out loud for him. “the first one is..” you trailed off, “sixty-nine.” you laughed. rafe hummed approvingly, moving his gaze down to the comforter where you tossed the dice again. “next one is.. butterfly?” rafe mumbled a ‘we’ll look that up in a second.’ before you announced the last one. “which leaves us to do.. full nelson.” rafe might as well have jumped up and cheered by the way he excitedly shook you by your shoulders. “full nelson?! fuck, yeah!”

deciding it would be best to go in order of the dice, you and rafe found yourselves settling into your sheets, both of your clothes long gone as you turned your back to him, swinging a leg over his torso. rafe was shameless in staring at your glistening cunt, the sight of your wet folds making him take his bottom lip between teeth. “you’re so fucking pretty down here..” he marveled, taking the pads of his thumbs on both of your puffy lips before spreading them open, your needy clit revealing itself to him. you moaned, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock as he squeezed the globes of your ass.

you adjusted yourself a little bit so you were more comfortable, scooting up closer to rafe’s face as he groaned at the proximity. he was already hard just by looking at you up close like this. “can we start, baby? i need to taste you already.” you hummed sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to his tip. while you started off slow, rafe dove right in, wrapping his large arms around your thighs to keep you in place. you gasped when his tongue circled your sensitive bud, your hips bucking at the sudden intrusion. “that feels so good, rafe!” you whined, deciding to put your mouth to better use and finally wrap your lips around his aching length.

“fuck!” he cursed, his fingertips digging into your skin as your tongue worked him skillfully. you knew what drove rafe over the edge, you knew what made him lose his breath and what made his chest feel like it was going to cave in. “ah, shit, you’re so good at that.” his eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head when he felt himself hit the back of your throat. rafe landed a harsh smack to your ass, the stinging sensation making you whimper. swallowing around his cock, you waited until you had tears running down your cheeks before pulling off of him with a sharp intake for air.

rafe could just imagine how much of a mess you looked like right now. swollen lips, watery eyes, spit and precum dribbling down your chin.. fuck he was tempted to drag you back up just to admire your pretty face. “you’re driving me crazy.” he huffed out, sucking your clit into his mouth where his teeth very slightly grazed the sensitive bundle of nerves. “please don’t stop!” rafe had no intentions of doing so, your boyfriend’s bruising grip on your thighs making you unable to move away from him. rafe knew you were close to cumming whenever you tried to run away from it.

swirling your tongue around his throbbing head, rafe felt the familiar tension start to build up in the pit of his stomach. he continued lapping at your sweetness until you started bobbing your head up and down his length, basically fucking your face with his cock. the wet sounds mixed with your moans was about to make rafe paint your face, but he decided against it last minute. “stopstopstopstopstop,” he pinched your side, “wanna’ save my cum for when i fill up this perfect cunt.” despite wanting to make him finish anyways, you did as he said, mumbling a ‘okay, ray..’

in almost no time, your thighs were trembling around his head, your nails raking down his skin as waves of pure euphoria washed over you, your orgasm hitting you deep in your tummy. with the side of your face resting on his thigh, you whined helplessly as your hips moved on their own accord, your hand still languidly stroking his length. you were begging him at this point for him to slow down the work on your poor overstimulated clit, your pleas going through one ear and straight out the other. “please, no more— i can’t do it!” you shrieked. rafe’s chest filled with pride knowing you were most likely ‘fucked out’ already without actually getting fucked yet.

you were struggling to move as rafe didn’t slow down his movements on your clit, another rubber band in your tummy snapping as he made you cum again, back to back. you laid there, completely at his mercy as you convulsed in his arms, your mouth open in a silent moan while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. you felt like you had transcended into another dimension, your body simply floating away somewhere else. it wasn’t until you let out a choked sob that rafe gave you a final lick, his face shining with your succulence as he massaged your skin to bring you down from your high.

how, how were you supposed to go two more rounds after that? while you were laying there, your limbs feeling like jelly, rafe was googling the butterfly position and smirking to himself as he pulled up the visual. you had something else coming if you thought you were done for right now. rafe on the other hand was just getting started. gently rolling you over, rafe stood at the edge of your bed before yanking your ankles and securing your legs to his shoulders. you moaned when you felt his heavy cock sitting between your folds, your eyes meeting his as he pressed kisses to your ankles.

“you good?” he rested his hands in the crease where your thighs and your hips met, rubbing soothing circles there until you giggled softly. “not really..” rafe smiled, threading his fingers through yours. “tell me when you want to stop, baby, it’s all you.” you nodded, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt him teasing your clit with his tip. you loved how attentive rafe was. not only towards your wellbeing, but to the little things that made you whimper and squirm. “son of a bitch..” he cursed, slowly sliding into you with ease. your back arched off of the soft sheets, your eyebrows knitting together as he filled you to the hilt.

“fuck!” no matter how many times you and rafe had each other like this, the feeling of him filling you up and your velvety walls welcoming him in was unlike any other. rafe pulled out before thrusting back in with full force, his head rolling to the side as you cried out. you kept your eyes trained on his face, occasionally stealing glances at his toned stomach and biceps. he was truly a sight to see. your tits bounced with every thrust, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as his lower abdomen smacked the back of your thighs. “you’re doing so good for me,” he praised, “always so fuckin’ perfect.”

rafe picked up his pace, the force of his thrusts pushing you further up the bed until he had to pull you down to the edge again. you moaned as his cock continuously nudged that sweet spot inside of you, your legs now shaking around his head while he managed to get his fingers on your clit again. you were still so sensitive from your last orgasm, you couldn’t help but jolt at the hard circles being rubbed on your sensitive bud once again. rafe was so close, but he wanted to hold off from cumming for as long as possible, preferring to make you finish around him first instead.

“i can’t!” you gasped, “it hurts, rafe.” as soon as you said those words, he stopped. “yeah? it’s too much for you?” you nodded, your thighs shutting around his hand in response. he leaned down, keeping your legs on his shoulders as he kissed you sloppily. “would it make you feel better if we stopped?” you laughed, stroking the underside of his jaw with your finger. “do you hear me tapping out?” you shot back, “let’s try full nelson.” rafe has been waiting for this moment for a reallyyyy long time. the only reason why you two never got to it and made it a point to try it was unknown to him, but thank goodness for sex dice, right?

you didn’t have to tell him twice. he was already pulling you on top of him as soon as he got the okay. “i can’t believe this is happening.” you smiled as you lifted your legs, rafe wasting no time in bringing his arms up and over until his hands rested on the back of your neck, securing your thighs to your shoulders. your eyes widened slightly as you realized just how exposed and compromising this position was. your cunt was on full display, your folds threatening to open on their own as your head was forced to be faced down. “you alright?” rafe grunted, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“uh huh..” you sounded uneasy, a laugh falling from rafe’s lips as he adjusted himself to prod at your entrance. ���don’t worry, i got you.” was the last thing he said before you watched him enter you agonizingly slow. your lips parted at the sight. rafe kept going until he bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. you swear you’ve never felt him this deep before, it was almost like he was in your tummy. “oh my god..” you whimpered, your eyes watering at how full you were. rafe was fighting every urge not to spill into you, his eyes screwing shut as he began a steady pace.

“shit, you’re wrapped around me so fuckin’ tight, m’not gonna last.” he said through gritted teeth. you were hiccuping and panting as he thrusted into you from below, the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin bouncing off of your bedroom walls. rafe angled his hips in a way that made you shriek, a knowing smile making its way to his lips as you now had tears streaming down your face. “i bet you look like a fucking mess right now.” he cursed, using one of his hands to snake down your side before giving your clit a small pinch. your head shot back while you looked up at the ceiling helplessly.

“r-rafe..” you were barely able to get his name out, your hands flying to hold onto his arm. you felt an unfamiliar pressure building up in the pit of your stomach as he continued rubbing your poor bud into your second orgasm of the night. “let it go go for me, ‘pretty, let me feel it.” you couldn’t even shut your thighs because of his strength forcing them open, a shaky breath emitting from your throat as your high ripped right through you, rendering you speechless almost immediately. rafe made sure to watch you intently, the sight of you unraveling making him follow suit.

it wasn’t until you felt a stream of wetness flow between your thighs that your eyes shot open in surprise. “did i just—” rafe let go of the grip he had on your neck and instead forced you to look up at him while he finally painted your walls with his seed. he was so turned on right now he couldn’t even think straight. rafe kissed you as his movements came to a stop, your thighs still trembling in his arms while he pulled out. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, both of you feeling absolutely spent. “i think i made a mess.” rafe laughed softly, nodding his head. “yeah? that makes two of us then.”

[helaintoloki]

Hello and good evening,

I saw you opened requests so I'm dropping by!

What about an infinity stone mishap that has multiple Bucky variants be at the compound at the same time. (Let's just have Winter Soldier be not entirely murderous for the sake of Tony's heart) and literally no one can seem to keep some apart except Steve and reader, who goes off on a rant about all the teeny tiny, to her very obvious details that differ between the Bucky's and accidentally in doing so admits she has a huge crush on him/them??

I hope that made sense omg

And as always, only if it speaks to you and you're up for it! ♡♡

a/n: hi hon, ty for sending this in! i’ll admit this was a bit challenging to tackle but still fun! hope you don’t mind that i changed a few details in the process <3

warnings: light angst, lots of pining, fluff

summary: a multiversal mishap leaves the compound teeming with Bucky variants, and Steve entrusts you with helping him figure out which one is the real deal

“I think I had a nightmare like this once,” Sam shudders as the two of you survey the plethora of Bucky’s taking up space in the compound. A multiversal mishap had led to an overflow of variants into the compound, and now your team found themselves working vigorously to determine which Bucky was your own and which ones needed to be sent back to their proper dimension.

Getting rid of the Winter Soldiers had been the easiest, the red stars on their arms giving away their identities and also giving Tony a heart attack in the process. You could tell apart the Bucky’s with hair that was too long or too short, the one’s that had brown or green eyes instead of blue, and the ones that went by Jane instead of James. The real work, however, came when there was only a handful of variants left that looked identical to your own Bucky.

“We can’t take any chances,” Steve says after having approached you and Sam. “All of these men are going to insist they’re our version of Bucky, and we can’t risk sending back the wrong one. I’m really going to need your help on this, y/n.”

“Why me?” You retort with furrowed brows, nervously peeking your head out of the office to observe the variants that sit restless in the common room.

“Out of everyone here, you and I know Bucky best,” the blond states truthfully. “I think if we work together we have a better shot at cleaning up this whole mess. The sooner the better.”

“You got that right,” Sam scoffs, prompting you to roll your eyes in response.

You couldn’t exactly deny the truth in Steve’s words. Other than Captain America himself, Bucky considered you to be one of his closest friends. Your kindhearted nature made it easy for him to gravitate towards you when first joining the team, and after saving each other’s asses on multiple occasions, he knew you were someone he could entrust with his life. You tore down his walls with ease, you brought out the best in him, and he’d forever be indebted to you for your friendship.

You decide with Steve that the best course of action is to spend one-on-one time with each Bucky you cross paths with to detect any abnormalities in their behavior. The Captain makes it abundantly clear that you cannot let them cloud your judgement with pleasantries, and it’s pertinent you trust your gut with each decision you make. The pressure is on, and you feel the nerves settling in your gut as you approach the Bucky that has made himself at home in the communal kitchen.

“Hey, stranger,” you call gently, a pleasant smile on your face as you seat yourself at the island counter. You note with interest how the man visibly relaxes at your presence and sets aside the pot of tea he’d just finished brewing. His eyes are bright like your Bucky’s, full of adoration and relief when he sets them upon your face.

“Y/n,” he breathes out gently before coming to meet you at the counter, “you have no idea how glad I am to see you, doll.”

“Rough day?” You prompt understandingly.

“Where do I even begin? Being around so many versions of myself is more unsettling than I ever could have imagined.”

“Well, Steve and I are doing our best to fix that,” you assure him. You watch as the man turns back to his pot of tea and begins to pour you both a cup. There’s nothing unusual about this considering your Bucky also enjoys drinking tea; it helps him keep calm and relaxed before retiring for the night.

“How many are left?” He asks before handing you your mug.

“Around ten. Steve and I are making our rounds to figure out which Bucky is ours.”

“Am I your Bucky?” The man prompts with a raised brow while taking a careful drink from his cup.

“You tell me,” you reply with a faint smile, ignoring the way your heart begins to flutter when he refers to himself as ‘your Bucky.’

“I know you have a scar on your stomach from being stabbed by another Widow in the Red Room, and the reason I know that is because I accidentally walked in on you changing in the shower room once,” Bucky admits with a sheepish laugh, prompting your face to heat with embarrassment.

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan while hiding your face in your hands. It’s not exactly comforting to know that Bucky has accidentally seen you naked in at least two different universes, but it also doesn’t make it easier to determine if this man is an imposter.

“I know you like your tea with a tablespoon of honey,” he continues before gesturing to your cup. You hum thoughtfully and set the mug down before meeting his gaze.

“I do, and I know you only like chamomile tea,” you reply, prompting Bucky to stiffen in front of you as you look down at the mug in front of you. “But this is green tea.”

Sighing, the doppelgänger sets his cup down with a defeated frown before meeting your gaze with pleading eyes. “Don’t make me go back.”

“I’m sorry, but it has to be done. We can’t risk the effects that come with having two Bucky’s in one place.”

“Then can I ask you a favor?” The man says solemnly.

“Of course.”

“Before you send me back, can I… is it okay if I hug you?” He asks, catching you by surprise. Noting the confusion on your face, Bucky gives you a dejected smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before explaining, “We don’t talk anymore in my universe. I was an idiot, and you rightfully cut me out of your life. This is the first time in years you’ve looked at me with love and not utter disgust, and I just want to enjoy it a little longer before I have to leave.”

Your heart aches for this poor Bucky who very clearly misses you, or at least his version of you, so you can’t find it in yourself to deny his request. You wordlessly rise from your seat and allow him to wrap his arms around your frame. His hold is tight, his nose brushing against your neck as he savors the feel of your touch, and you feel terrible for the fact that there isn’t anything you can do to help him.

“I’m not sure what happened between the two of you,” you utter quietly while rubbing comforting circles into his back, “but if she’s anything like me, I know she probably misses you but is too stubborn to admit it. Don’t give up on her.”

You release him with a smile and find his eyes shining with tears as he lets your words settle. You bid him a final goodbye before escorting him to Tony and Bruce so that he can be properly transferred back to his own time. That’s only one Bucky down with several more to go, and you know now that you really have your work cut out for you. This is going to be much more difficult than you anticipated.

You stumble upon the next Bucky quietly ruminating in your room, and it takes him a moment to detect your presence as you lean against the doorway and simply observe his mannerisms. You can already tell this isn’t your Bucky by the way he anxiously taps his fingers against his knees; your Bucky’s tell is the anxious bouncing of his leg. This Bucky also wears his hair pulled back into a ponytail, whereas your Bucky prefers to tie his hair back into in a half-up style.

His eyes widen in shock when he finally notices you standing there, and you’re taken aback by the way he nearly flings himself at you. His strong arms wrap around your midsection and lift you off the ground, holding you impossibly tight against him as if you’ll disappear otherwise.

“жена,” he whispers in a trembling voice while combing a hand through your hair.

“I don’t speak Russian…” you voice with an uncomfortable laugh, struggling to take a breath due to how tightly you’re pressed against him. “Buck, you’re kind of suffocating me here.”

The man finally releases you after your admission, but his hands immediately find their way to your cheeks as he cups your face and rests his forehead against your own. You’re startled by the closeness, but there’s no denying the rapid beating of your heart when you stare into his troubled eyes. You’ve had daydreams like this before, but it’s jarring to experience it in person.

“When I arrived here and came across your room I thought it was too good to be true,” he utters shakily, “but you’re here. You’re alive.”

“Bucky, I-“

“You’ve come back to me, жена.”

“жена?” You repeat unsurely. His panicked features melt into a fond smile at the sound of your botched Russian, and he carefully pushes back your hair before gifting you a nod of confirmation.

“Wife.”

Your eyes widen at his proclamation, your heart dropping to your chest while you process the weight of his words and struggle with the turmoil inside of you. You thought dealing with the Bucky from the kitchen was difficult, but this is way out of your playing field.

“Oh god,” you breathe out before carefully removing his hands from your face. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know this is all really confusing, but I’m not…” you start to say, grappling with your guilt at having to crush the man’s hopes of being reunited with his version of you, “I’m not your wife.”

The man’s features become sullen at your confession, brows furrowing in disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean? You aren’t y/n?”

“I am, but I’m just not the same y/n you know. This is a different dimension, and you were sent here by accident.”

“So you’re not… she’s not really alive, then,” he murmurs dejectedly, eyes casting towards the floor in despair.

“No, and I’m so sorry I’m not the one you’re looking for,” you console, resting a comforting hand on his bicep. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut at the feel of your touch, something he’d been lacking since your death. You aren’t his wife, but in spite of that, he is grateful to be able to speak to you and see your face once more. “Can I ask what happened to her?”

“Hydra wanted revenge for my desertion and for aiding Captain America in their destruction,” Bucky utters lowly, eyes hardening at the memory. “An eye for an eye. She paid the price for my mistakes, and I’ve spent every waking moment avenging her death.”

A chill runs through your spine as you hear the recounting of your counterpart’s death, but you do your best to remain composed while in the presence of this alternate version Bucky. Your heart aches for the man, and you once again find yourself completely useless at trying to help him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you express solemnly. Despite this, Bucky looks to you with a tender smile before carefully taking your hand in his own.

“Don’t be. I know you’re not her, but seeing you again, hearing your voice- It’s the most precious gift I could ask for. Thank you for giving me some semblance of peace.”

You’re a wreck when this Bucky is returned to his own timeline, and after multiple instances of running into Bucky’s who believe you’re their y/n Steve assures you that he’ll take over moving forward. It seems that each Bucky you speak to cares so fondly for you, they adore you even, and yet in this universe you’ve been designated as a close friend and nothing more. It’s killing you to see all the ‘what if’s,’ because deep inside you know that you’ll never be with your Bucky the way you want to.

You’re not sure when your crush on the super soldier had first developed, but you know that you’ve harbored these romantic feelings for him for quite a while now. You’ve never told anyone, though you can guess Steve was smart enough to figure it out on his own, and you have no urge to act on such feelings in fear of how complicated things will become if he doesn’t reciprocate your emotions.

Your rumination leaves you in deep thought as you sit out on the balcony and enjoy some quiet after all the chaos you’ve endured. You hear the sliding door open and shut behind you, but you make no attempt to see who it is until they seat themselves beside you. You peek at Bucky from the corner of your eyes before returning your gaze to the New York skyline, simply enjoying his presence without making an effort to speak.

“You doing okay?” He asks, effectively breaking the silence between you.

“I didn’t think being around multiple versions of you would be so exhausting,” you confess with a humorless laugh, but it prompts his lips to quirk up slightly into a smile.

“You’re starting to sound like Sam,” he teases with a careful nudge to your side. While you’d normally laugh at his jokes, Bucky doesn’t even get a smile out of you. You feel him shift closer to you and hope he can’t detect the way your heart picks up a beat in response. He nudges you again softer this time and asks, “Talk to me. What’s eating you?”

“Every Bucky variant I met today looked at me like I moved heaven and earth together, like I was their reason for getting up in the morning, and I guess it just reminded me of the fact that my own Bucky doesn’t really look at me that way.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and let your chin fall on top of them with a melancholic sigh. A part of you feels embarrassed to be voicing your disappointment aloud, but you figure there’s no harm in telling a variant since you’ll never have to see them again after today.

“Do you want him to look at you that way?”

“Of course I do,” you avow incredulously like the answer isn’t already obvious. “I love him so much that Steve trusted my judgement enough to have me help him sniff out the doppelgängers. I know how he likes his tea, how he does his hair, what his favorite movie is- the list could go on forever. But of course, I live in the one universe where Bucky and I don’t end up together.”

You feel his hand come to rest on the small of your back and shudder at the feel of his cool metal hand seeping through your sweater. You can’t help but to lean against him so that your head is rested on his shoulder, and you’re able to find some comfort in his presence. You hear him let out a thoughtful hum beside you.

“You want to know something?” Bucky pronounces. He feels your head nod against him and smiles. “I know the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

The confession has you lifting your head to peer up at him questioningly. “You do?”

“Of course I do. We were on a mission, and you picked up Steve’s shield to stop a bullet from hitting me straight on before using it to knock out three bad guys in a row. You looked so strong, so beautiful. My heart was yours from then on.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” you confess quietly, stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” he asserts with a fond smile. “Any Bucky would be lucky to have you, and I’m sorry yours has been too chicken to make a move.”

“I guess it’s not totally his fault,” you relent with a meager shrug. “I’m chicken, too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Bucky suggests, tone light and inviting. “I know I’m not the most obvious about it, but I love you too.”

You open your mouth to answer only to be interrupted by the sound of the sliding door again. You turn to see Steve standing there, surprise on his features when he sees you two sitting on the balcony together.

“Y/n, I’ve been looking for you,” he says suddenly. “I wanted to talk to you about the variants-“

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt him with a passive wave of your hand before gesturing towards Bucky with your head. “I found another one for you. This Bucky just told me he loves me which means he’s definitely not ours.”

“Actually,” Steve says with an amused grin, “I was just coming to tell you we sent the last of them back to their own dimensions.”

“What?” You gape in shock, heart immediately dropping to your stomach as you slowly shift your gaze towards the Bucky sitting next to you. He flashes you a bashful smile and a small wave that fills you with embarrassment.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the blond says with a knowing smile before making his exit, leaving you alone once more with the man you’d just poured your entire heart out to.

“I thought you knew,” Bucky offers apologetically. You take a nervous swallow before forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

“So you’re saying that you do love me?” You ask hesitantly, almost afraid that this is all some sort of joke.

“I may not be as romantic or straightforward as the other Bucky’s you met, but I love you just as much as they do if not more,” he professes earnestly, gently resting a hand on your cheek to pull you closer. “I think we make a great team, but we’d make an even better couple.”

“I think so too,” you utter with a giddy smile, waiting with bated breath as Bucky slowly begins to lean in. The anticipation is killing you, but you’re finally rewarded for your patience when his lips meet your own in a tender kiss. Your lashes flutter shut as you melt into his touch, reveling in the moment you’ve dreamed of since discovering your feelings for Bucky.

No matter the timeline and no matter the universe, Bucky is destined to fall in love with his y/n. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i too i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[kekewrites]

tw. Dark content, noncon, dubcon, creampie, size kink, magic onahole/toy/fleshlight, coercion, mind-break, corruption, obsession, gaslighting(?), objectification(?)

part 2 of the onahole troupe

***

"Sweetie~ Are you already out? Come on, you can still keep going."

Hot... It's so hot.

Whining, your body continue to bounce on him, hole swallowing his fat cock. Sweat and cum staining your thighs, sticky and wet as it mixes with your juices.

Such a hot sight. His hands gripping your hips, helping you bounce on him and sometimes meeting your hips with his own, making you whine and sob.

You were so sensitive, having no idea how much time have passed. How many orgasm he pulled out of you.

"I'm helping you, remember?" He sat up, wrapping his arms around as he pulls you close. "Ha... You're so cute. That bastard won't touch you anymore, ok? I'm here."

Barely hanging on, you nodded as your ears started to ring. If there was still a rational part of you awake, you would've find his words suspicious, but you were just too dumb for that. Blindly trusting your friend, believing him with your being.

He promised to help you.

So why does it feel like you made the wrong choice?

That tiny rational thought of yours was pushed as you felt his lips on your own.

***

It was odd how the phantom disappeared after his help.

Your complexion improved, the shadows under your eyes fading as if the weight of their presence had been slowly draining you all along. Sleep came easier now, uninterrupted by restless nights and unwanted pleasure, able to focus studying without it whisking your attention away.

Sitting in class, you were finally able to listen without dreading for the touches.t was freeing.

You were glad you told him.

Smiling a bit, you open your cellphone as you think of hanging out with them. You really missed them, thinking about how you three rarely hang out nowadays. It used to be so easy to hang out with your closest friends, without having to plan anything elaborate. Just a quick text, and before you knew it, you were all together. But lately, it was about you two without your more or less busy friend. You know how much he took his studies seriously, often holding back to invite him whenever you discover a film you'd both like to watch.

Determined, you found yourself texting him, sending him a little message of, "Are you busy? Let's meet at the library when it's lunch time!"

You nervously shifted on your sit as you await his reply, a minute after you feel your phone vibrate.

"Sure."

You couldn't wait for the class to be over.

***

"Hey, what's up?" You heard his voice as he sat down beside you. Your usual hangout spot, comfort place, and your solace before those events happened.

Beaming, you turned to him, grateful for the simple presence of someone you're comfortable with.

"Are you done with your studies? I was hoping we could hangout soon, all three of us..." You speak, your confidence dipping down as you let out the last part.

Resting his chin on his hand, "Hmm... We have a quiz for next week in my major," He observes as your smile fades, "But I suppose, I'll make time for you," He swears it's like watching a dog wag its tail as he see you regain your smile.

It couldn't hurt to relax a little, it's been a while since you two hangout. He did notice how you were with that stupid guy in the past few days

You softly clap your hands, "That's great! Oh, we should do a movie marathon!" As you babble your plans, he couldn't help but notice how more... alive you look compared to before. He was still wondering why you were so troubled back then, but he's glad you got it solved out.

Humming, you started typing on the notes in your phone, making plans and listing movies to watch, throwing in snacks to buy as well. It was safe to say that you're really excited to be able to be with your best friends.

It would be just a fun night with the guys, right?

***

"Come on, don't be upset. Something probably important came out that he won't be able to come."

It seems that the three of you wouldn't be able to hangout, as the two of you sit on the couch.

Grumbling, you hug the couch pillow close to your chest as you glance at the text message left by your friend. It was upsetting but you couldn't be that upset since he rarely wasn't able to come in your hangout session, and since he's the one who helped you after all.

"Yeah, you're right. It can't be helped, I guess…" you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment as you sink further into his couch. The soft fabric and cozy atmosphere of his apartment help ease your mood a bit.

"I'm sure the three of us will meet up soon. Plus, the two of us haven't hangout for a while."

Come on, it's not so bad to be alone with him, you know?

"Yeah, that's true," you say, trying to shake off the disappointment. You steal a glance at him as he queues up a movie. It's been a while since the two of you just hung out alone like this, and despite the change in plans, it feels nice.

As the movie starts, you realize he accidentally picked a horror film—complete with dark shadows, creepy music, and plenty of jump scares. You’re both laughing it off at first, but the sudden shocks get you clutching the couch pillow a bit tighter, scooting unconsciously closer to him.

The atmosphere shifts when an unexpected scene appears—a moment that’s more... explicit than either of you anticipated. You feel your face heat up as you quickly avert your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and tension settle between you. You catch him glancing away too, clearing his throat nervously.

What is he, five? Getting flustered with such scene, not like he hasn't done any worse than it.

"I... think I need to use the bathroom," he mumbles, standing up hastily and heading out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.

You’re left there, pulse racing slightly as you try to shake off the awkwardness.

This is bad, you suddenly remember all of your other friend's help. Clutching your legs close, you try to avert your attention somewhere while waiting for your friend to come back.

Though, you felt your stomach drop as that familiar and unwelcome touch came up.

***

What the hell is he even thinking?

He tries to find his reason as he stares at the onahole on his hand, that idiot's gift to him. It's been a week since he had last use this thing, yeah it felt good and feels like the real deal but after one use he never touched it again.

So why the hell is he using it while thinking of you? The same girl who's sitting on his couch right now, in his apartment?

His eyes glance at the lube on the counter, putting the wet lotion on his free hand. It's your fault he got hard, you were too squirmy and... cute. That shitty horror movie wasn't even that good with the corny soft porn scenes but you... were just having an effect on him. So damn shy and innocent reactions, he needed to get out before he'd lost his composure and pounce on you.

But he's not a brute, no he isn't like those rabid animals.

Imagining does not count, no, no, he's only letting his frustration out.

So with the touch of his fingers, rubbing the entrance of the onahole he let himself go.

***

Jumping from the couch, you looked around frantically as you felt that horrifying touch on your nether region. 

That's impossible! You though he already fixed it!

Silently crying on your hands, you tried to keep your noises.

You've experienced that ghostly touch countless times however this time, it felt a bit calculative yet desperate, as if another entity was touching you. It felt weird but you can feel how different this one was touching you.

Is there another ghost who's harassing you?

Will it ever go away?

You cried as you felt something big goes inside you.

***

Shit, he forgot how realistic this onahole was. When was the last time he used it? Weeks ago? He doesn't remember but he might use it again now. Since his darling is always inviting him to hangout, this little gift might save him from pouncing on you when you're just a little too cute for his liking. Not only that but because of the hectic projects and assignments coming in, he hasn't had the time to relieve himself.

His thrust is fast and uncaring, yet a bit desperate for release. He felt himself feeling more sensitive as he imagine if this was your cunt instead, squeezing and twitching around his cock. He loves how automated this thing was, his mind just running wild as he imagines you sitting alone in his couch unsuspected of his vulgar and filthy thought of you. It's wrong but it damn this onahole just feels so right.

Slamming himself on the tight hole, he pinch the little clit and felt the walls squeeze tight making him come undone. Hissing and twitching as his cock shoots down his massive load inside the toy. What a waste, it would've been better if he could shoot it down your womb. Exhaling, he slowly pulled out of the toy, savoring the way the wall clung on his shaft before his head pops off.

Fuck. He's really a goner now. 

He's no better than a scumbag for letting his mind wander to thoughts about his best friend, his childhood friend… his first crush, his first and only love. He remembers how he was when you two first met—a boy who struggled to connect with anyone. He didn’t see the point in making friends, preferring to stay on the sidelines, reserved and detached.

Though, him, was the exception as both of their parents were business partners and have good relationship with each other. It's only natural for them to build a connection, solely for maintaining good connections with their business partners. Over time, he realized how strangely alike the two of them were, as if they shared the same quirks and preferences.

Well, he shouldn't think of that while thrusting his dick on a toy but he can't help but reflect on the way they are alike. He certainly knows, that guy shares the same affection he has on you, and he hated how he can't feel jealous because... he's fine with sharing you if it's him. But he's a little pissed at how you two were hanging out lately, he only have himself to blame by taking his studies seriously unlike that guy.

That's not important now, he has you in his room alone with no one else to ruin your moment with him. Shit, he felt the toy tighten around him.

His mind goes blank as he felt himself getting closer.

***

"Hey, sorry I took a while, but I'm... back?" he said, sitting down on the couch. His voice trailed off, quieter and confused, as he noticed you hugging yourself with your head hung low.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, placing a hand on your back as he tried to see your face. His eyes narrowed as he waited for your response, only to widen when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"I-It... touched me again..."

"What do you mean?"

And you broke down, crying as you told him about the phantom.

Any sane person would be skeptical, hell they would probably put you in the asylum for the things you swore happened to you. He'd get you help if it weren't for that one specific detail, an oddly timed and complete coincidence. Where that phantom touched you the same time he had gotten the toy... and the way it touch you just minutes later he went to the bathroom.

No way...

Surely, it was just a coincidence...

He supposed testing that theory wouldn't hurt.

With a lousy excuse of getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, he went straight to the bathroom to take that toy, sure it was big enough to be seen by you, but the way you were staring down on the floor as you quietly sob made it easy to sneakily place the onahole behind the couch pillow. Close for his hand to touch but unnoticeable from your teary eyes.

His hand goes behind the pillow right where the toy is.

"Ah!"

It can't be... Such an impossible story.

"J-Just now... it touched me!"

His finger went in.

"No! It went inside...!"

This is crazy.

He knows it's wrong but watching you panic and look around with frantic and terrified eyes made his cock throb. Not knowing that the source of your trouble being right in front of you made it immoral, so bad, and it made his cock harden.

"Hey, I'll... chase out that bastard for you." His wandering finger pulls out of the toy, his other hand cupping your tear stained cheek, "You don't have to worry anymore. You said that guy made that phantom disappear, right?" He sweetly cooed, a rare tone in his voice, "Just trust me on this one like he'd done with you, yeah?"

Your back gently hits the couch as he straddles you, "Be a good girl and relax, I'm just going to help you."

Doubt and wariness swirls in that doe eyes of yours. He can see the uncertainty in that stupid head of yours, but he knew you'd agree with him. You always do.

"O-Ok... Please help me."

And he's right about that.

You're just too trusting, aren't you? Stupid girl.

It's your fault he's like this to you.

All your fault.

There’s a faint metallic click as his belt buckle comes undone, and the soft rasp of fabric follows as he frees himself from his pants. His cock springs free, the swollen head brushing against your inner thigh. He can't believe he's finally doing this. The girl he ever wanted right beneath him, all bare and for him to ruin.

It's fucked up how he doesn't feel guilty for doing this, doesn't feel guilty as he rubs his tip on your wet entrance. Everything about you is soft, the only thing he's afraid to do is to bruise your pretty skin. He can feel your breathe quicken, you heart thumping in anxiety and he smiles at that.

"I'll be... gentle." For now.

The blunt head nudges against your entrance, the slick heat of your hole enveloping him inch by inch as he presses into you slowly. Fuck. It's completely different from a toy. He wished he'd done it sooner, the walls of your inside and the wall of the toy was like night and day. His cock pulses within them, the heat and tightness driving him to the edge of his patience. Hissing in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

"So cute..."

With that, he leaned down, his lips pressing against you. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, just as his cock claimed your body. He knows he should let you adjust and wait for you to be ready but hell he'd wait for more than a second. Setting a fast pace, fucking into you with abandon, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises-- the one he was dreaded on doing. He panted, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

If it were that easy, he should've done this sooner. Manipulated that stupid head of yours, your naivety being the one who'd get you in trouble when you were younger.

It was different back then when he was alone. Socializing was unnecessary and draining, didn't have any purpose or value to him. He supposed having one friend is enough, he didn’t have patience for others, especially kids his age who, to him, seemed immature and exhausting.

Then you came along with your bright smile, bold laugh, and endearing quirks. You weren’t stunning or wealthy, and your background was humble—a stark contrast to his world. And yet, every time you called him by that silly nickname you made up, something in his chest stirred, an ache he couldn’t ignore. A foolish girl, treating him as if he were just another friend, another kid to play with.

So why can’t he push you away? You're just like any other kid who wants his attention. So why is it so hard to say no to you?

You're the one driving him crazy. So you only have yourself to blame, this is only happening because you're letting him. You're the one doing this to your self.

He could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in his balls as he neared his release.

"Be my onahole, ok?" He demanded, his voice rough with lust. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know that you understood.

Your mind was swirling, head foggy as the pleasure was starting to mix with the confusion. As your cries grew louder, body writhing beneath him, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could feel the heat building, the tingling in his toes as his balls drew up tight.

O-Onahole? What's that? What is he talking about?

"Everyday, you'll be my onahole." he panted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy. "I'll save you from that phantom, ok?"

I don't know anything....

"Ok?!" he warns, hips losing their rhythm as his climax approaches, "Shit...!"

"Ah! I-I will! I'll become your onahole!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your womb. He holds you tight against his chest, grinding into you to prolong the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," He praises breathlessly, peppering your sweat-dampened neck with kisses. "Taking my cock so well, milking me dry. That phantom is gone now that I'm with you."

All you could feel was the light kisses trailing on your neck to your cheek and finally on your lips.

"One more time? I mean you are my onahole now."

***

"Wow, you didn't hold one bit eh?"

His eyes narrowed as he saw him standing on the door with a smug grin.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be able to make it?" His tone accessory as he cleans up the aftermath, gently tucking in your passed out figure on the bed.

"So defensive for what?" He chuckles, sauntering as he glance at your peaceful fresh-fucked face. Such a lovely sight. He  licks his lips at that but for now you'd need to get your beauty rest after a rough day. "So, did 'ya like your present?"

"..."

"I'd take your silence as a yes then." Giggling, he places his hand on his shoulder, "I knew you'd like it I mean, we are similar in taste after all."

His jaw tightens before sighing in defeat, "Where did you even get that toy?"

"Oh, some shady website~! I was planning to buy another one but the website mysteriously disappeared!" He exaggerate his movements which earned a grimace from him.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up."

"No, she won't. You made her pass out, how ungentlemanly of you."

"Says you."

"Whatever, I came to ask you a question," His hand drop to his side, his smug smile still on but something sinister behind it, "So, we're going to share, right?"

The answer should've been obvious but it was hard to let the word out of his mouth. Was it pride or possession?

"Yeah..."

"I knew you'd say that."

"But I want her on Mondays."

"Oh brother, why pick the worst day?" He grunts in disappointment.

"Because it's the worst day, I need her on that day."

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hello my girl! Because Easter is coming up I wanted to request something. Maybe Carlos daughter who doesn't believe in the Easter Bunny because she is scared of him. And her father telling her that it is not the Easter bunny but some other animal. Thank youuu!

Easter Otter🦦

It was early April, and in the Sainz household, that meant one very important thing: Easter was coming.

And Easter, in this house, meant a carefully planned scavenger hunt, homemade chocolate nests, bunny-shaped pancakes, and lots and lots of glitter. It also meant one very adorable little girl bouncing off the walls with excitement.

Four-year-old Yn had been talking about Easter for weeks. Every morning she asked her parents, "Is it today?" and every morning, Carlos would scoop her up and say with a chuckle, "Not yet, princesa, but it’s coming."

Rebecca had already filled a giant pastel pink storage box with everything they needed: decorations, little egg-shaped boxes, colored markers, and tiny baskets for the egg hunt. She even had a stash of small presents wrapped in shiny paper.

But amidst all the excitement, there lingered a familiar problem.

"I don't want the bunny to come," Yn said one afternoon, her big brown eyes wide and worried as she sat on the floor surrounded by stickers and colored paper.

Carlos looked up from where he was untangling some fairy lights. "What bunny, mi vida?"

"The big bunny," she whispered, leaning closer to her dad. "The one from the mall."

Rebecca gave Carlos a knowing look. Here we go again.

Carlos set down the lights and scooped his daughter into his lap. "Ah, I see. The one that surprised you that time, remember?"

Yn nodded solemnly. "He was huge, Papa. Like a giant. And he just stood there. Looking at me."

"It was a costume, baby," Rebecca said gently, kneeling beside them. "Just a person dressed up for fun."

"But it wasn't fun!" Yn insisted, her bottom lip quivering.

Carlos exchanged a glance with Rebecca. They'd tried to explain this a dozen times, but the memory was just too strong for Yn. She'd screamed at the top of her lungs in the middle of the mall when she'd turned around and saw the six-foot Easter Bunny looming behind her. Ever since, she'd been wary of anything rabbit-related.

And with Easter just days away, the stress was beginning to rise.

That evening, after Yn had gone to bed cuddled up with her favorite plush fox and a picture book, Carlos turned to Rebecca with a determined expression.

"We need a new plan."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "You mean no bunny?"

"No bunny," he confirmed. "We're retiring the Easter Bunny. He had a good run, but his services are no longer required."

Rebecca smiled. "Alright then. What do you have in mind?"

Carlos grinned. "Something better. Something cuter. Something less... terrifying."

The next day, he began working on his idea. While Rebecca took Yn to the park, he stayed home, digging through craft supplies, printing out illustrations, and even making a quick run to the toy store.

When Yn came home, she was immediately curious. "Papa, what are you doing?"

Carlos turned around, holding something behind his back. "I have a surprise. But you have to promise not to scream."

Yn's eyes widened. "Is it a lizard?"

"Nope. Better. Close your eyes."

She squeezed her eyes shut, giggling.

"Okay... open!"

Carlos revealed a plush otter, about the size of a loaf of bread, with big shiny eyes, tiny paws, and a pastel blue bowtie around its neck. On its belly, it carried a little Easter basket.

"This," Carlos said proudly, "is the Easter Otter."

Yn blinked at it. Then she reached out slowly and took it from his hands. "Otter?"

"Yes," Carlos said. "From now on, the Easter Otter is in charge of Easter. He hides the eggs. He brings the presents. He leaves you little notes."

"But... what happened to the bunny?" she asked hesitantly.

"He went on vacation."

Rebecca leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and smiling. "Yeah, the bunny needed a break after so many years of hopping around. So the otter offered to take over. He swims instead of hops. Much more relaxing."

Yn hugged the plush otter close. "He’s so cute."

"You like him?"

"I love him," she said, beaming. "Can he sleep in my bed tonight?"

Carlos grinned and pulled his daughter into a hug. "Of course."

The Easter Otter became an overnight sensation in the Sainz household.

By the next morning, the living room had been transformed. There were pastel sea-themed decorations, paper otters hanging from the ceiling, and a trail of blue sparkly paw prints leading from the kitchen to Yn’s room.

She followed them excitedly, finding tiny chocolate eggs tucked under pillows and behind books.

There was even a note written in curly, playful handwriting:

Dear Yn, thank you for letting me visit this year. I hope you like the gifts I hid. Have fun hunting! Love, The Easter Otter.

Yn clutched the note to her chest. "He wrote to me!"

Rebecca watched with tears in her eyes as Yn scurried off to hunt for eggs, the plush otter bouncing in her arms.

"This was a genius idea," she whispered to Carlos.

"I’d do anything for her," he replied, slipping an arm around his wife.

Later that afternoon, Yn grandparents came over, along with a couple of Yn’s aunts. They were expecting a typical Easter setup, but instead, they found the house covered in otters and ocean waves.

"Where is the bunny?" Reyes asked, looking around in confusion.

"He's on holiday," Rebecca said casually.

"Meet the Easter Otter," Carlos added, holding up the plush toy proudly.

"Otter?" Ana, Yn aunt, repeated. "Like the animal that swims?"

"Exactly!" Yn said, running into the room and holding the otter high. "He’s my favorite. He brings eggs and he swims!"

There was a beat of silence. Then Reyes gave a small shrug. "Well... as long as she’s happy."

"She’s more than happy," Rebecca said. "She’s enchanted."

After the egg hunt, the family sat down for a meal. Yn was busy explaining to everyone the otter’s backstory.

"He lives in a lagoon," she said seriously, spooning mashed potatoes into her mouth. "With ducks. And turtles. And he makes jellybean soup."

"That sounds... interesting," Carlos Sr replied with a chuckle.

"He also has a best friend who’s a crab," she added. "But the crab is shy, so he doesn’t come out much."

Carlos leaned over to whisper in Rebecca’s ear. "I think we just created an entire Easter universe."

"You did this to yourself," she whispered back, laughing.

That evening, as the sun began to set and the family lingered in the backyard, Yn climbed onto Carlos's lap, clutching the otter.

"Thank you for making Easter not scary," she said sleepily.

Carlos kissed her head. "You're welcome, mi corazón. The Easter Otter will always be here for you."

"Even when I'm a grown-up?"

"Especially then. He'll just need a bigger basket."

Rebecca looked over at them from her chair, smiling.

"You're a good dad," she said softly.

Carlos looked down at the little girl in his arms, already half-asleep, her curls tangled and face sticky from chocolate.

"She's the best thing we've ever done."

"Agreed."

And as the stars came out and the fairy lights twinkled around them, the Easter Otter lay safely tucked in Yn's arms, guarding her dreams and reminding everyone that sometimes, a little creativity and a lot of love could turn even the scariest things into something magical.

Even a giant bunny.

Especially a swimming otter.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

Happy Easter, everyone!

-🤍🦢

[solxamber]

Prologue: A Day Like No Other

This is the prologue for the 1k Event! It'll split into routes from here!

1k Masterlist

When you woke up that morning, you expected an ordinary day—classes, Grim stealing food from your tray, and maybe an explosion or two courtesy of Ace and Deuce. What you didn’t expect was for nearly every boy in the entire school to suddenly decide, out of nowhere, that they wanted to ask you out.

Riddle Rosehearts

He corners you right after class, red as a lobster, clutching a rulebook in one hand like it’s his lifeline. "I… I thought you might like to attend a formal tea ceremony with me this weekend. You have excellent posture, and I believe we would engage in delightful conversation."

He clears his throat and adjusts his collar. "Of course, I’ll have a list of acceptable topics for us to discuss."

You stare at him. He's shaking slightly.

"...Is this a date?"

His ears turn crimson. "It is not—" He exhales deeply. "Yes, it is. Please say yes."

Trey Clover

Trey smiles warmly as he approaches you after club activities. "Hey, I made a batch of tarts, and I thought we could eat them together. Just us. I mean... It’d be nice to spend time with you. Alone."

He rubs the back of his neck, trying not to look embarrassed. "And if you’d like, I could teach you how to bake something... Maybe, uh, something sweet?"

Cater Diamond

Cater pops out of nowhere, phone already in hand and pointed at you. "Yooo! Wanna go on a date with me? We could take tons of selfies, make Vil jealous, and trend under #CoupleGoals."

You blink at him.

"And hey," he adds with a wink, "if we get along, maybe I’ll tag you in my socials. Exclusive content, you know?"

Ace Trappola

"Okay, look," Ace says, leaning casually against the wall. "I’m not saying you should pick me over, like, Leona or Malleus or whoever—but I’m way more fun than those guys. C’mon, let’s go out. I’ll buy you ice cream. Two scoops."

He wiggles his eyebrows. "You know you want to."

Deuce Spade

Deuce looks nervous but determined, like he’s psyching himself up for a boxing match. "I—I know I’m not the smoothest guy around, but I really like spending time with you! And if you’ll go out with me, I promise I’ll… I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Or at least, uh, I’ll try to be."

Leona Kingscholar

Leona, as usual, doesn’t even try to sugarcoat it. "Come nap with me."

"Is that your idea of a date?"

He shrugs. "You don’t seem like the type to want fancy dinners. This is less effort. Plus, I sleep better when you’re there."

Ruggie Bucchi

"Heyyyy," Ruggie grins, tugging on your sleeve. "How ‘bout you and me hit the town? I know a place that gives out free meals if you pretend to be engaged. C’mon, it’ll be fun!"

Jack Howl

Jack frowns, clearly struggling with the words. "I’m not great at this stuff, but... If you want, we could run together sometime? Or, uh, go on a walk?"

He glances away, ears twitching. "It’d be nice. With you."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul adjusts his glasses, smiling like he’s just sealed the most important business deal of his life. "It would be an honor to escort you to a dinner at Mostro Lounge. Of course, all expenses will be covered. Consider it... an exclusive arrangement."

Jade Leech

Jade leans in just a little too close, that unsettling smile plastered on his face. "I believe we would have an interesting time exploring the woods together. Perhaps we’ll discover some mushrooms... or each other’s secrets?"

Floyd Leech

Floyd swings an arm over your shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "Oi, let’s go somewhere fun! If anyone bothers us, I’ll squish ‘em."

"Floyd, is this a date?"

"Obviously! Hehe, you're stuck with me now, Shrimpy."

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s eyes sparkle with excitement. "Wanna come to a party? It’ll be huge! And afterward, we can ride my magic carpet under the stars!"

You barely have time to respond before he’s already planning an itinerary.

Jamil Viper

Jamil sighs, looking like he’s regretting this already. "If Kalim hasn’t dragged you off yet… would you like to grab lunch? Somewhere quiet, where I won’t have to babysit anyone."

Vil Schoenheit

Vil regards you with a calculating smile. "We could attend an opera together. Or a fashion show, if you prefer. You have potential, you know. I wouldn’t mind refining it."

Rook Hunt

"Ah, mon trésor!" Rook exclaims, dramatic as ever. "It would be a delight to hunt for beauty with you! A picnic in the forest, perhaps? Under the moonlight, where all things enchanting dwell."

Epel Felmier

Epel grins mischievously. "Wanna go smash stuff?"

"...That’s your idea of a date?"

"Yup." He winks. "You in or what?"

Idia Shroud

Idia looks like he’s on the verge of fainting. "So, uh... I-I heard there’s this new game releasing. M-maybe we could play it together? Or not. Forget I asked."

Before you can respond, Ortho pops up cheerfully. "Say yes! My brother’s been practicing this for weeks!"

Malleus Draconia

Malleus looms over you, an almost shy smile on his face. "I would be honored if you would accompany me on a stroll through the gardens. There are many things I wish to show you... and, perhaps, learn from you as well."

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia grins, his fangs glinting in the light. "How about a little mischief together? We could visit an amusement park or play pranks on the first years. Either way, I guarantee it’ll be memorable!"

Silver

Silver, looking half-asleep, gives you a soft smile. "If you’d like, we could... I don’t know. Sit under a tree and talk. Or just... exist, I guess. As long as it’s with you."

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek stands stiffly, as if on the verge of saluting. "I would like to take you to dinner! Not that it matters to me, of course! But it would be... logical for us to spend time together. As comrades!"

Rollo Flamme

Rollo catches you alone, adjusting his pristine cuffs with his usual air of seriousness. “I dislike crowds, so I will be brief,” he says, voice as even as his posture. “Would you like to accompany me to a quiet tea house? I find your company... less intolerable than most.”

You blink at him.

He clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Consider it a date.” Then, after a pause, he quickly adds, “If you wish, of course.”

His ears are red, but he refuses to meet your gaze, determined to keep his dignity intact.

And just like that, you find yourself drowning in invitations. Your phone buzzes with reminders from Ortho ("Don't forget to reply to my brother!") and Epel’s laughter rings in your ears. Ace and Deuce whisper ominously about Riddle’s wrath.

Leona, meanwhile, lazily waves from the other end of the hall. "Pick whoever you want. If it's not me, just don’t wake me up."

So...

Who will it be?

1k Event Masterlist (Go here for routes)

Main Masterlist

[deansbeer]

so uh

camping with dean/beau/jensen (i can't choose), and it's like really raining out and cold. the tent and sleeping bags are practically doing nothing to keep you warm, so the two have to snuggle up together for warmth… which eventually leads to smut may or may not be based on an experience i had (partially)

hi baby!! i meant to post this sooner but i got distracted with work <3

♡ ⋮ minors do not interact.

synopsis 𓏵 stuck in a freezing damp tent during a raging thunderstorm, you and dean find creative ways to stay warm together.

warnings 𓏵 smut | forced proximity (they share a tent) | semi-public sex | unprotected sex (use the rubber) | dirty talk | sharing body heat | cunnilingus | fingering | mild temperature play.

the rain hasn’t stopped for three hours now, and you’re pretty sure your teeth are going to chatter right out of your skull. this whole camping trip was dean’s idea — something about “getting back to basics” after the last hunt went sideways. you’d agreed because, well, when dean winchester flashes that crooked grin and says “come on, it’ll be fun,” you apparently lose all common sense.

except now you’re in the middle of nowhere, oregon, in what feels like a hurricane, and the tent is about as waterproof as a screen door. water’s seeping in from the corners, your sleeping bag feels like you crawled inside a wet paper towel, and you can’t feel your toes. dean’s on the other side of the tent, and you can hear him muttering curses under his breath as he tries to stop another leak with duct tape. because of course he brought duct tape camping.

“this was a terrible idea,” you announce through chattering teeth, pulling your damp sleeping bag up to your chin. it doesn’t help. if anything, the wet fabric just makes you colder. “we could’ve been in a motel right now. with heat. and walls that actually keep water out.”

“yeah, well,” dean grunts, giving up on the duct tape and tossing it aside. “the forecast said partly cloudy. how was i supposed to know partly cloudy meant biblical flood?” he’s soaked too, his flannel clinging to his shoulders in a way that would be distracting if you weren’t actively dying of hypothermia.

“maybe check more than one weather app next time?” you suggest, but there’s no real heat in it. you’re too cold to be properly angry. “dean, seriously, i can’t feel my feet. or my hands. or... anything really.”

he turns to look at you then, and even in the dim light of the camping lantern, you can see the concern flash across his face. dean winchester might play tough, but he’s got a protective streak a mile wide. “shit, sweetheart, you’re shaking like a leaf.” he moves closer, reaching out to touch your face. his fingers are cold too, but still warmer than your cheek. “fuck, you’re like ice.”

“we gotta warm you up,” he says, already moving into problem-solving mode. “body heat’s the fastest way when you’re this cold.” he starts unzipping his sleeping bag with determined movements. “come on, we’re combining these things.”

“what?” you blink at him, brain moving sluggishly from the cold. “dean, that’s...” but he’s already spreading his sleeping bag on the tent floor and motioning for you to bring yours over. the practical part of your brain knows he’s right — shared body heat is survival 101. the other part of your brain, the one that’s been harboring a crush on dean since the day you met him, is screaming.

“unless you wanna lose some toes to frostbite, get over here,” he orders, and that snaps you into motion. you crawl over with your sleeping bag, helping him zip them together into one large cocoon. the whole time, you’re hyperaware of how close he is, how his t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his chest.

“lose the wet clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, already pulling his flannel off. “they’re just making it worse.” when you hesitate, he rolls his eyes. “come on, we’re both adults here. nothing i haven’t seen before.” which is a lie — he’s definitely never seen you in your underwear — but you’re too cold to argue.

you strip down to your underwear with numb fingers, trying not to think about the fact that dean is doing the same thing two feet away. when you finally slide into the combined sleeping bag, wearing nothing but your bra and panties, dean’s already there in just his boxers. the touch of his skin against yours is like fire and ice at the same time.

“jesus,” he hisses, when you press against him. “you’re like a frozen ice cube.” but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “c’mere, gonna warm you up.” his body heat feels incredible, and you can’t help but burrow closer, dignity be damned.

“better?” he asks after a few minutes, and honestly? yeah. the shivers are starting to subside, replaced by a different kind of tension. because now that you’re not actively dying of cold, you’re extremely aware that you’re pressed against dean’s very naked, very warm chest. his hands are rubbing slow circles on your back, and it’s supposed to be warming, but it’s also doing other things.

“yeah,” you manage, voice coming out breathier than intended. “so much better.” your face is tucked into his neck, and he smells like rain and leather and that uniquely dean scent that’s been driving you crazy for months. his hands are large and warm on your back, and every sweep of his fingers sends little sparks through you.

“good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and his voice is different now. deeper. “can’t have you freezing on my watch.” one of his hands slides lower, resting just above the waistband of your panties, and your breath hitches. “you know,” he continues, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “there are other ways to generate body heat.”

you pull back enough to look at him, and his eyes are dark in the lantern light. “dean,” you breathe, but you’re not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement. probably both. “we shouldn’t...” but even as you say it, your body is pressing closer to his, seeking more contact.

“and why not?” he challenges, hand sliding up to cup your face. “been wanting to do this for months, sweetheart. and if we’re gonna be stuck in this tent all night...” he trails off, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “might as well make the most of it.”

“months?” you repeat in slight disbelief, brain short-circuiting a little. “you’ve wanted...” but he cuts you off with a kiss, and holy shit, dean winchester is kissing you! his lips are soft but demanding, and when he nips at your bottom lip, you open for him immediately. the kiss is hot and desperate, months of tension pouring out all at once.

“fuck,” he groans when you break apart for air. “knew you’d taste sweet.” his hands are everywhere now, sliding over your sides, your hips, the curve of your ass. “been driving me crazy, you know that? walking around in those tight lil’ jeans of yours, bending over in front of me...” he punctuates each word with a kiss to your neck, and you’re practically melting.

“oh, dean,” you gasp, hands clutching at his shoulders. “please...” you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that you need more. he seems to understand, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you. the sleeping bag is tight quarters, but he manages it, settling between your thighs like he belongs there.

“gonna warm ya up,” he promises, voice rough with want. “gonna make you feel so good you’ll be begging me to cool you down.” his mouth trails down your neck, across your collarbone, and when he reaches the edge of your bra, he looks up at you. “this okay?”

“god, yes,” you breathe, and he grins, that cocky grin that makes your stomach flip. he unhooks your bra with practiced ease, tossing it somewhere in the tent. his mouth is on your breasts immediately, and the contrast of his hot mouth against your still-cool skin makes you arch beneath him.

“perfect, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin. “so fucking perfect.” he lavishes attention on each breast, using his tongue and teeth until you’re squirming beneath him. when he finally starts kissing his way down your stomach, you know where he’s heading, and your whole body tenses in anticipation.

“dean, you don’t have to...” but he’s already hooking his fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs. “oh god,” you gasp when his mouth finds you, hot and perfect and exactly what you need. he eats you out like he does everything else — with single-minded determination and skill that should be illegal.

within minutes, you’re writhing beneath him, one hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. the rain might be loud, but you’re pretty sure the whole forest doesn’t need to hear what dean winchester’s tongue is doing to you.

when you come, it’s with his name on your lips, like a prayer and your fingers tangled in his hair. he works you through it, only pulling away when you’re shaking for a completely different reason than cold. “told you i’d warm you up,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he crawls back up your body. you can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you, and it’s filthy and perfect and you need him inside you right now.

“wait,” you breathe against his mouth, reaching between you to palm him through his boxers. he’s hard and hot and when you squeeze, he groans into your mouth. “i need you. de, please.”

“yeah, baby?” he asks, but he’s already shoving his boxers down. “you sure about this? because once i have you...” he trails off, but the intensity in his eyes finishes the sentence.

“i’m sure,”,you tell him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “been sure for months.” that seems to break his control. he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, and the stretch is perfect, exactly what you needed. when he’s fully seated, you both need a moment, panting heavily into each other’s mouths.

“holy fuck,” he breathes. “you feel incredible, baby girl. so fuckin’ tight.” he starts moving, slow at first but quickly building to a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the sleeping bag restricts movement somewhat, but it also keeps you pressed close together, every inch of skin touching. “not gonna last,” he warns, and you can feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

“don’t,” you gasp, meeting him thrust for thrust as much as the confined space allows. “wanna feel you. want you to come inside me.” the words make him groan, hips stuttering. a few more thrusts and he feels like he’s on cloud nine, face buried in your neck as he empties himself inside you.

you lie there catching your breath, still tangled together in the sleeping bag. the rain is still pounding on the tent, but you’re warm now, flushed and satisfied. “so,” dean says eventually, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “still think camping was a terrible idea?”

“the worst idea,” you agree, but you’re cheesing hard. “we should probably do it again sometime. you know, just to make sure we’ve got the whole body heat thing down.”

he laughs, pulling you closer. “deal. but next time, i’m checking five weather apps.” you’re about to respond when he shifts inside you, still half-hard, and your words dissolve into a gasp. “actually,” he grunts, voice dropping back to that dangerous register, “storm’s not supposed to pass until morning. might need to keep generating heat all night. you know, for safety.”

“yeah, yeah. for safety,” you agree breathlessly, already rolling your hips against his. after all, you wouldn’t want to get cold again. and if dean winchester wants to spend all night keeping you warm? well, who are you to argue with survival tactics?

[koqabear]

Caught in Your Spell

♬ : Cherish (My Love), ILLIT, Romeo, Pinkpantheress, For: You, Kali Uchis

"Being a simple human in a magic-dominated city was not for the weak. You can deal with the endless teasing, the inaccessible architecture, and the belittling from others around you, always taking pride in your tough skin— but when it comes to your hopeless pining after Mage Kang Taehyun, maybe your heart isn’t as strong against the insecurities that nag at your brain as you thought."

mage!taehyun x human!fem!reader 

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 22.2K

warnings: barely proof read… we die like men i’m sorry. bit of a miscommunication trope ?  mc is having an identity crisis pls bear with her, brief violence/blood (nothing graphic) taehyun is a little mean for a moment… but he means well ! 

smut warnings: soft dom!taehyun, sub!mc, dry humping kinda, oral(f. rec.) fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, pet names (good girl, baby, angel, love) use of restraints (bondage?), overstimulation, begging?, creampies, scratching, cockwarming, lmk if i missed anything!

notes: guys… i’ve never been so locked in for a fic before. this was sooo fun, pls let me know your thoughts ! ive also scattered a few references here hehe, some more obvious than others. let me know if you spot any! 

You knew what you were getting into the moment Yunah proposed the idea; starting an apothecary in the capital was not an easy feat, but her determination and alluring promises made you see only success for your futures— sometimes, you like to tease that she used an enchantment spell on you, which she always dismisses with a laugh.

”You know how unethical I find that,” she reminds you each time, fluttering her eyes at you playfully, “and that’s actually my natural charm you’re referring to, by the way.”

Being one of the few humans that resides in such a magic dominated city had plenty of downsides; you were made well aware how other wizards saw you, always belittled and babied despite your wit and knowledge— the caution that came with your presence, afraid that even the slightest breath in your direction would cause you to shatter. Not to mention the surprisingly inaccessible architecture that littered the city: not everyone has the ability to levitate!

It was a stressful, fast paced life you lived, one you wouldn’t change if it meant leaving Yunah’s side— she was your rock, despite your differences, who never put meaning into what you could or couldn’t do; in her eyes, you were her sun: a bright, healing, energizing light. You brought life wherever you went, possessing a magnetic energy that she deemed magical in itself. She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

“Just this for now.” Taehyun huffs, placing down an impressive armful of tiger lilies before you, “Though, I think I may have to return again tonight.” 

“So many flowers,” you whistle, picking up the handfuls of lilies to tie them together and package them nicely, “who could possibly be worthy of such grand bouquets?”

“Oh no, these aren’t to be gifted,” Taehyun is quick to correct; when you peer up at him through your lashes in curiosity, he looks away, staring out the window and clearing his throat before he can continue. “They’re for the queen. They make for a beautiful delicacy, and it’s all she’s been craving recently.”

“The baby will be roaring at birth at this point. You can’t possibly be serious when you say you’ll return, right?” 

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden surge of confidence, shrinking back shyly as you attempt to sputter out a comeback— Yunah decides she’d much rather do it for you as she chirps off in her little corner. 

“Of course not; you’re the highlight of her day,” she grins, sending Taehyun a wink, “and my entertainment.”

Taehyun’s canines sparkle from the wide smile he sports, looking back at you with joy glowing in his eyes. “Is that so? I’m flattered.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for Yunah’s lies so easily,” you scoff, though the sourness in your face is quick to sweeten as familiar company jumps onto the counter, drawn to the crinkling paper you use to wrap the bright flowers— your voice is pure sugar as you stare at the creature fondly. “the only highlight here is getting to see Dago. Isn’t that right? I’ve missed you!” 

Taehyun can only stand back in shock as you turn your full attention (and undying adoration) to his familiar. Dagonyang is quite eager for the onslaught of attention, round eyes sparkling and dilating at your loving coos, fluffy tail swishing curiously as you gently run your fingers through his fur and scratch beneath his chin— it draws a low purr from the cat, which in turn makes you squeal and plant a soft kiss to his forehead; Taehyun’s brows all but fly off his head. 

“Oh you’re so cute, I wish you could stay with me instead— how bout it?” The flowers are an abandoned afterthought, your body bumbling with cuteness aggression as Dagonyang rubs himself against you, knocking his head against your hands in search of more pets— his eyes are closed in bliss. “You’d be better off here— I can’t imagine how boring the royal life must be, you should just stay here and sunbathe in front of the window instead. You’d attract many new clientele too, I’m sure.”

Before you can process it, Dagonyang becomes nothing but cat-hair glued to your sweater; Taehyun has scooped him up in his arms, thick biceps bulging to hold back his familiar that tries to jump back onto the counter— a stern look at the starry-eyed cat is enough to calm him down, and Taehyun loosens his grip to let him jump to the floor instead. Peering over the counter, you watch him loop around between Taehyun’s legs; he clears his throat, a last resort to get you to look back up at him. 

“I doubt he’d be a good fit for this place. His kitty claws are much stronger than you think.” There’s something unusual about his voice, despite the lighthearted jokes he’s making— something that shaves off that soft, mellow rumble and leaves a rocky undertone that puts you on edge. Afraid that you might catch on, he gives you a playful look that shrugs off your suspicion. “And he has quite the appetite. Half your store’s product would be gone the next morning.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sigh dejectedly. Leaning down, you rest your chin in your palm and observe the familiar that has begun to take in the store around him; he’s eyeing a display of novelty sweets you helped Yunah make (laced with playful, short-term spells, a bestseller amongst the students that run past after school), his eyes sparkling with interest— Taehyun is swift to place his foot in front of Dagonyang’s path, allowing himself to be dragged back to his owner’s side with a huff. You laugh at the sight, endlessly endeared. “Sometimes I forget he’s not just a cute kitty.”

Taehyun huffs. “He’s got abs, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly forget?”

You shrug. “He pulls them off well.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two,” Yunah starts, charging forward with a subtlety of a bulldozer that contradicts her statement, “but those flowers should probably get delivered soon. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a late delivery again, Taehyun. They might get fed up and start sending someone else instead.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll take an interest to you too, ___,” Yunah teases; while you flush with embarrassment and tell her off, Taehyun stiffens at the image, rummaging through his bag for your payment and scooping up the bouquets into his arms— you’re brought back to the subject at hand as coins clatter on the counter, Taehyun’s eyes barely peeking over the flurry of tiger lilies that surrounds him.

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

Yunah snorts.

“I’ll see you later— but if I don’t, complain that I was better. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“If it meant getting to see Dagonyang again, I’d start a riot, Mage Kang.”

It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and you can tell. He shrugs.

”Good enough.”

Bidding Yunah goodbye, he spins on his heel and rushes out of your shop— he doesn’t need to look back to tell Dagonyang to actually follow.

The lingering echoes of the doorbell is the last reminder of their presence, the apothecary now silent save for the bubbling of Yunah’s cauldron; Sunday’s were always the most tranquil, and now that your only customer was gone, you were left to sigh and melt against the counter in boredom. Turning around, you decide to watch Yunah perfect her newest concoction. 

“How’s the order going?” you ask, watching her dig through the shelves of jars above her— when she spots her key ingredient at the top shelf, she sighs; with a swirl of her finger, the jar glows a lavender color and is slowly brought down into her awaiting hands. 

“Hasn’t exploded yet,” considering her recent streak of going on autopilot while potion making and adding the wrong ingredients, this was an impressive feat. “But your whole thing with Taehyun was distracting me. I almost added dragon’s breath into this.”

She looks up at you, brows raising as she gives you an intense look, “This whole place would’ve burned down if I did.”

“Wh— and how is that my fault?” you cross your arms, pouting at her accusations, “and what thing? It’s called banter.”

“More like flirting. You two have got it bad for each other,” she laughs to herself at the memory. “I’ve never seen a man get jealous over a cat.”

“C’mon, now you’re just making stuff up.”

Yunah sighs, long and hard. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Does it get tiring, deluding yourself like this?”

You roll your eyes— your denial only exasperates Yunah.

“I’ve never seen anyone be so into you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Like every other mage that comes here to mess with me, I’m sure,” Yunah immediately frowns, already knowing where you’re taking this. “They just think it’s fun to mess with humans to see our reactions and how far they can push us. There’s nothing more to it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

The ringing of your store’s bell is unexpected to both of you, whirling around to find a new customer. Yeonjun’s smile is bright and full of mischief as he nods to you two, his rowdy familiar bouncing behind him; they make their way towards you, though one seems much more preoccupied with making a mess out of the store— Hwangchoon’s clumsiness has your blood turning cold, watching with horror as he knocks off everything in sight. Stumbling forward, you try to dive for the falling jars he just swept off with his tail, lips parting in a silent scream— only for Yeonjun to beat you to it, his familiar, golden glow emitting from the jars as they all halt their fall and peacefully rise back onto the shelf— he even makes sure to adjust them so all the labels are showing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Yeonjun smiles, placing a hand on the small of your back to straighten you up, “he gets excited easily. More so when he visits his favorite places.”

Behind him, you watch Hwangchoon jump up to reach a bowl of crystals, tiny hands nudging it off the table instead of catching it— Yeonjun is swift to save its descent without having to look behind him. His smile widens at the pure disbelief on your face.

“Hwangchoon,” he calls out, guiding the two of you back to the counter— the said fox perks up, running back to his owner’s side in an instant. Yeonjun glances down at him, petting his head fondly. “Stay here. You’re gonna give this poor human a heart attack.”

Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care how his comment bristles you, looking past your frustrated face and scanning the wide display of herbs behind you instead. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and you let him decide for a moment in silence. Looking behind you, you manage to make eye contact with Yunah, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the man— it’s enough to crack a smile out of you.

“Quite the selection you’ve got this month,” Yeonjun muses, “Your garden must be coming along nicely. You’ve ought to show me one of these days.”

His eyes flicker down to yours, narrowing slyly, “I’d love to see what human tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“And put myself out of business? You wish,” you scoff, choosing to ignore that last comment. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, and you think you hear Yunah scoff in disbelief behind you. “I’ll take my usual, please.”

Nodding, you turn around to collect the necessary jars— echinacea, turmeric, garlic, ginseng, and lavender. It’s a tedious process, filling your arms to the point that you’re slowly walking back to the counter, afraid that one might slip from your grip and shatter. Yeonjun stands back, amused as he watches you set everything down with a sigh of relief. He waits for you to begin to total everything to speak up again. 

“Oh, now that I think about it, I actually need three more things— I’ve been getting an influx of patients, you see. Supply is running out fast,” he laughs, even if you don’t seem to be as amused as him, and lists out the ingredients: rat tail, bone dust, and salamander eggs— all things on the highest shelf of the establishment, akin with the high ceiling and left out of easy access due to its value. You try to hold back a groan at his request. 

“Yunah, could you—” turning around, you find that Yunah has disappeared from her spot at the cauldon; your eyes dart around in search of her, only to realize that she’s headed to the back in search of something. With her gone, dread begins to buzz in your bones— your only ladder was splintered to dust in the crossfire of Yunah’s messed up potions, and the girl has promised through apologies that she’d get you a new one asap. But looking around now, you come to two horrible conclusions: no ladder, no help. 

“Something wrong?” Yeonjun asks behind you, startling you out of your daze and making the weight on your shoulder crash down harder. Looking over your shoulder, you send him an innocent smile. 

“No, nothing,” you say, trying to prove it as you approach the shelf and crane your neck back, the gears turning in your head as you try and think of a solution. 

Minutes pass and you’ve yet to do anything— Yunah has yet to come back too, much to your dismay. The silence is deafening, and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears with shame as Yeonjun undoubtedly pieces everything together behind you. The snicker he lets out is enough to prove your suspicions.

“Need any help?” Without warning, two hands take a firm hold of your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your apron— your scream lodges itself in your throat as you’re hauled up and flying into the air, your legs kicking beneath you in protest; you go to slap off the hands that hold you, only to find nothing there. A reluctant look down shows that Yeonjun has levitated you with his magic. 

“What are you doing?!” is all you can bring yourself to yell, horrified as your dress begins to flow around you from your flailing legs— you’re quick to cross your legs and pull the skirt tightly against you, afraid of revealing anything to the man that’s now twenty-five feet beneath you. “Put me down!”

“We’ll be here all day if we stand around waiting for Yunah to come back,” Yeonjun sighs, “and you clearly can’t reach it yourself, so why not take the help?”

“I didn’t need your help!” That's a lie and you both know it, but your pride is taking too much of a hit for you to not defend yourself.

“Sure,” is all he says, watching as you continue to panic in this new position you’ve found yourself in— after another protest from you, he decides enough is enough. 

“Just hold onto these for me, will you?” the jars in front of you have begun to glow golden, and you blanch— rat tail. Bone dust. Salamander eggs. They all fly off the shelves and towards you, the magic ebbing off the moment they’re within arms reach; you dive at them in a panic, weaving through the air and hugging them close to your chest, whirling around to send Yeonjun a deadly glare once they’re all safe in your hold. You only get a joyful laugh in response. 

“Wow, you’re a natural— so graceful,” he grins, slowly bringing you back onto the ground, “One could almost mistake you for a royal aeronaut.”

You just about slam the jars against the counter, fed up with his teasing as you begin to package them and calculate the new price. “You’re not funny, Yeonjun.”

He laughs, reaching forward to boop your nose. “And you’re a wizard, ___.”

You hold back the urge to curse at him as you tell him the new total, counting the coins he places in your hand and getting confused when he hands you more than necessary; you go to give him the extra, but he shakes his head and nods down to his feet— leaning over the counter, you find Hwangchoon has gotten ahold of your novelty sweets, scarfing down the candy like he’s been starved all day. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be as horrified as you are at the sight. 

“He’ll be okay,” Yeonjun winks, gathering the carefully wrapped parcel in his arms and bidding you goodbye— Hwangchoon begins to levitate beside him, coming into view with flailing limbs and panicked squeaks; Yeonjun pays him no mind, turning around and making his way out the shop. Your worries are put at ease as a golden aura engulfs Hwangchoon, the fox dragged behind the man like a balloon. You merely watch incredulously. 

It’s only after the two are out of sight that Yunah returns with an armful of supplies, even more trailing behind in the air; she’s meticulous as she sets the ingredients on her workbench, ordering them by sequence and spell— satisfied with her work, she smiles up at you proudly, only for it to fall as she notices the exhaustion on your face. 

“Tough customer,” is all you say, putting your head in your hands at the memory, “I just got levitated.”

You don’t expect for Yunah to act so quickly, storming over to the entrance muttering curses under her breath— you’re chasing after her hastily, pulling at her sleeve with a panic as she unsheaths the wand hidden in her boot. 

“It’s okay, really! Please don’t kill him!” you plead, though it doesn’t seem to reach her ears, “he’s long gone anyway— he was just trying to help!” 

“I don’t care what his intentions were! That fool needs to learn boundaries!” Yunah sneers, though she seizes her attempts to chase after him after you try to get on your knees to plead with her— she picks you up before you can, huffing in annoyance. “He thinks he can just treat you however he wants! We need to blacklist him.”

Her eyes light up like a lightbulb, and she’s returning back to her cauldron, flipping through her spell books with a sly smile. “Now that I think about it, we could probably place a border at the entrance to keep him out. He’d have to travel to a different kingdom to find another apothecary— though, none are as good as ours. The quality of his supplies would downgrade— wouldn’t be such a revered doctor anymore, huh?”

“Yunah, please,” you say exasperatedly, reaching over to shut her books— she lets out a whine, acting like a child scolded as you shake your head sternly. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to it. Don’t get put on probation over something so silly.”

Yunah is visibly biting back her tongue— she wants to refute, tell you that it’s not something silly, that no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you know how much such belittling actions bother you. But it’s a talk you’ve had more times than you can bother to keep track of, knowing that even if she sees you as a gift to the capital, no one else thinks the same; her rose tinted view of you can only span so far. 

Mulling over her words carefully, all that’s left for Yunah is to sulk at her desk, looking up at you with heartbroken puppy eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You smile, patting her head fondly. “I know.”

Yunah watches you retreat to the back, mumbling on how you should go take care of your garden and finishing packaging your herbs— she recognizes that strong front you’ve put up, still humiliated by today’s events; she considers creating a creature to go torment Yeonjun, but she knows you’d be against it. Yunah is left wishing you weren’t so forgiving. 

When Taehyun returns just before closing shop, it’s clear he’s eager to see you, Dagonyang just as much. The two are dejected carbon copies of each other, with Dagonyang sniffing for your scent and Taehyun stalling by looking around the shop despite only coming for one thing— both quietly hope that if they linger long enough, you’ll return. 

“I don’t think she’s coming back up front. We close in less than an hour,” Yunah calls from her workbench, wiping down her freshly cleaned cauldron, “she’s a bit upset right now. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Upset? Why?” Taehyun suddenly seems to have remembered what he’s here for, because he’s grabbing handfuls of tiger lilies and making his way to the counter in the blink of an eye. Dagonyang is quick to jump onto it, as though curious to hear why as well. 

“Well…” Yunah hesitates, unsure if she should be sharing this with them— but with the way they’re both leaning in eagerly, eyes wide and worried, she’d feel bad if she didn’t. “You see… there’s a lot of customers here that love to tease ___ for being human. She’s always said she doesn’t mind but… I don’t think that was ever the case. I guess today was just her breaking point.”

“How immature,” Taehyun’s face turns stern with anger, brows knitting together and his jaw clenching. “Who was it?”

“Doctor Choi Yeonjun; the one in the center of the capital, across from the library,” Yunah has no issues ratting out the man, just as annoyed as Taehyun about the whole situation. “I was going to send a trickster after him, maybe hand it a spell bomb to give him a nasty cold. But ___ is just too passive, she was ready to kneel and beg for me to leave him alone.”

“This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to deal with such treatments,” Taehyun grumbles, “and this happens often?”

“Everyday, basically. Some are more lighthearted than others,” Yunah sighs, beginning to wrap the bouquet, “She even thinks you’re in on it.”

“Me?” Taehyun sputters, offended by the thought, “Why would she think that?”

“I guess she can’t fathom someone possibly liking a human like her,”  Yunah quotes, watching Taehyun’s frown deepen, “especially someone in the royal court.”

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

“Don’t worry yourself sick now, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Yunah reassures, handing the man the bouquets, “and whatever you do, don’t bring this up to her. She’d be mortified.”

Taehyun reluctantly agrees— when he bids Yunah a goodnight, he has to nudge Dagonyang off the counter in order for him to move; even then, the cat trudges reluctantly behind his owner, glancing back hopefully one last time before they leave— Yunah resists the urge to coo at the way the cat deflates with defeat, disappearing into the night behind his owner. 

 ○○○  

“Are you sure about this?” The question has slipped your mouth for the millionth time, bleeding from the morning to the early evening, lingering like a puppy at Yunah’s bedside as you hopelessly watch her pack. “Like totally, wholeheartedly, super sure? You don’t think this is a bad idea? ‘Cause I think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yunah affirms, smoothing down her shirts before she folds them up into a tight, tiny square, “I’ve sent a notice to all our customers. Plus, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you breathe out, anxiety prickling at you as you watch Yunah place her final clothing item into her suitcase, flicking her hand to make it shut and zip up— she places her hands on her hips, giving you a look as though to say seriously? It does nothing to deter your oncoming nervous breakdown. “Why can’t I just go with you? Or close up shop?”

“We’ve been through this, ___. It’s invite only, and we can’t afford to close up shop for two weeks. People move on fast here.”

“But,” you bite your lip, brows knitting together as you try to grasp at straws. When you come up empty, all you can do is sigh out the truth. “I can’t do this without you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can,” Yunah puts a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. “You practically run it all on your own already. All I do is sit in the corner all day and make potions.”

”But that’s the driving force of this place,” you whine, and you continue before Yunah can tell you that’s absolutely not true, “people seek us out because of your skill.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m leaving,,” Yunah’s eyes dart to the grandfather clock in the corner of her room, hauling her suitcase off her bed and grabbing her coat— when she finds the luggage too heavy for her, she resorts to carrying it with her magic instead. “If this new spell gets approved, it’ll be a game changer for our business.”

Yunah explained this new spell of hers and the impact it would have on the community, but you’re not sure you understood— fireside talks of her ranting excitedly about the ingredients, how mentally taxing it was, and her brainstorming process were easy enough to follow; it was the purpose of the potion itself that you’d never be able to wrap your head around. 

“The fatigue that comes with using magic in such intense intervals can be extremely damaging to one’s health,” she practiced her speech on you, pacing around and using her businesswoman voice, powerful and fearless. “But with this spell, it could all change— endurance can be increased, as well as the mental capacity that allows the magic-user to intensify their spells and potions; this could revolutionize our powers, put endless possibilities on our achievements.”

Throughout your time knowing Yunah, you’ve been told on what it’s like to use magic, to have such abilities— the exhilaration, the strain on your psyche, the pride— you’ve been told how it feels, how addicting it is, left awake at night with dreams on what it’d be like to be like her; to be anything more than a simple, powerless human. 

But you’d never be like her. And as you bid her farewell at the train stop, holding her close and whispering for her to be safe, to write to you, the reality of it all crashes onto you harder than it ever has before— after all, how ridiculous is it for a human to single-handedly run a magical apothecary? 

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, squeezing her tightly against you— Yunah does the same, patting the back of your head before she pulls away; her smile is fond as she stares at you, her train arriving and beginning to pile up with people.

“I’ll miss you more.”

You stay to watch her get on the train; stay to see her pull back the curtains in her cart, scanning the crowd and lighting up when she spots you, waving eagerly. You stay until the last boarding call has been announced, until the doors close and the train whistles and stirs awake. When it takes off, you do your best to follow her and wave, the joyful laugh she lets out not reciprocated by you as you’re forced to stay behind on the platform and watch her disappear into the horizon, off to carve a new path for herself, one you’ll never be able to follow.

Your journey home has never been more difficult; all the tricky places Yunah would usually help you with— floating platforms that required much more balance than you trusted yourself having, steep slopes that are meant to be sled down gracefully or climbed up with minimal effort— are now obstacles you find yourself pushing through, ignoring the amused stares and light laughter that follows you with every clumsy attempt, as though you were a spectacle on display. By your third encounter with floating platforms that lead to your way home, you’re just about ready to give up, standing before the obstacle course with disbelief; the sun has set long ago, and the streets have become desolate, yet you’re still here. 

“___, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Taehyun’s voice is unprecedented and makes you jump, a hot flush swirling to your cheeks as you turn to face him— the thought of him catching you at such a vulnerable moment is truly petrifying, but you try to play it off with a smile that he returns swiftly. “Are you coming back from dropping Yunah off?”

“Yeah— I am, actually. She told you?” 

He nods, approaching the platforms thoughtlessly— you follow him, just as thoughtless, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I was notified that certain spells and potions would be unavailable for the next two weeks— and that you would run the place on your own while she was gone.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter sheepishly, already forgetting about the announcement she sent. The two of you stand before the platforms, and while Taehyun is ready to jump onto them without a second thought, you begin to shift nervously. 

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Beneath the lanterns that hover in the sky and the lit path before you, you’re able to get a good look at Taehyun’s face for the first time— no shy, fleeted gazes or stolen glances, but a long, good look. His eyes, always so round and sparkling, are creased into crescents from his smile, plump lips pulled taut and causing your eyes to flicker over to a new discovery— his dimple that indents his cheek has you resisting the urge to reach out and poke it, always unaware of its existence until now. You’re entranced, placing your trust in him as you take a hold of his gloved hand; his fingers fall into place between yours, tightening and pulling you into him without a second thought.

He maneuvers you around without effort; your right hand in his, back to his chest as the two of you stand before the first platform, just a few feet away— his other hand falls onto your waist, a feather-like touch that has you straightening up nervously. You feel him hover just beside your head, letting out an airy chuckle that makes shivers run down your spine.

”Hold onto me,” he murmurs, feeling your hold on his hand tighten as the two of you walk forward— his hand on your hip begins to feel warm, a tingling sensation bleeding through your garments and straight to your skin, a soft aura beginning to emit from where he holds you; you try and catch the color that begins to bleed through the light, but it’s all wiped from your head the moment you step forward and begin to float. 

“Ah!” you squeak, slapping your left hand on top of Taehyun’s in a panic; his fingers spread open to let yours in, biting back a smile as you hold onto him desperately, trying your best to follow his movements across the platform, though struggling a bit due to your lingering fear. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Taehyun’s words are soothing, the feeling of his breath against your skin enough to ground you, “just follow your instincts.”

Nodding, you try your best to follow his advice; your jumps defy gravity, lasting long enough that you’re walking on air and skipping platforms— it’s nothing like Yunah’s magic, simple and to the point, or Yeonjun’s, mischievous and exhilarating, but something different all together; it’s graceful, electrifying, making your body buzz with an unknown energy that excites you, letting out a soft laugh as your feet tap briefly on the stones, only to be sent back up again. The wind feels gentle against your skin, playing with your hair and the thick skirts of your dress, unfurling like a bird spreading its wings. When Taehyun peeks over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, he’s overjoyed to find a wide smile lighting up your face.

“Fun, isn’t it?” you’re halfway across at this point, and as you’re sent up into the air, Taehyun takes the chance to halt your descent, your brief hovering giving the man the leverage to use your right hand to spin you around to face him— the squeal you let out is nothing short of endearing to him, letting go of you to watch you fall back for just a second, only to catch you with an arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand now holding your right. “It’s always much better when you’re traveling with someone.”

Spinning you around once more, his arms are crossed around your waist as the two of you float onto the next stone, taking a few steps before Taehyun is lifting you up again, twirling you yet again to make you face him— a laugh bubbles out of you uncontrollably, a dizzying giddiness allowing you to become putty in his hold, letting him guide you to walk backwards, not an ounce of fear in your system as you place your complete trust in him. 

“I’ve never crossed Opal Bridge like this,” you joke, stomach flipping as you’re falling back to the next platform, Taehyun’s smile widening at your reaction, “it’s like we’re dancing!” 

“Maybe we are,” Taehyun’s hand leaves your waist to grab your hand instead, and the two of you switch places on the stone so that it becomes your turn to lead him backwards— with a running start, Taehyun is the first to jump back into the air, pulling you up to follow and tugging you into him so that you’re closer; you almost collide with his chest at his unexpected strength, letting out a nervous giggle that he absolutely soaks up. 

“Quite the interesting dance then,” your confidence boost is quick to dissolve as Taehyun’s magic ebbs away at the highest point of your levitation, the two of you free falling down to the next stone— a scream lodges itself in your throat, watching with horror as Taehyun remains unfazed even as the wind whips against his hair and uniform; without thinking, you embrace him, as though your sheer willpower could save the two of you from crashing down— through squinted eyes, you watch the scenery around you slow once more, a familiar warmth pulsing against the small of your back and between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back from Taehyun the moment your feet touch the ground, surprised to find an undeniable mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“That wasn’t funny!” you smack his shoulder, though the excess adrenaline that pulses through you leaves you vulnerable to his contagious smile, unable to help the laugh that slips past you. “You’re cruel, Mage Kang.”

His smile stiffens, and he’s lifting you up once more, only two stones left to go. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Taehyun is fine.”

“Ah, sorry…” you hesitate, and everything pauses— you’re lingering in the air for a moment too long, and it isn’t until you’re meeting Taehyun’s sparkling eyes that you realize he’s expecting something. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name coming from your mouth is enough to make him want to pull you close, hug you tight against him and soar into to the sky; you’re so sweet, shy as your eyes dart away from his, a shaky smile gracing your face as Taehyun unabashedly grins— you’re barely able to catch on to the playful glint in his eye before the two of you are falling back again, the uncontrollable scream you let out and the flipping of your stomach the closest thing Taehyun can do to make you understand how he’s feeling. 

“How dare you!” you shriek into the air, though it’s followed by a loud laugh as Taehyun saves the two of you yet again, floating the two of you back up delicately in a pseudo-apology; when you catch that stupid, triumphant smirk on his lips, you punch his chest petulantly. “You’re enjoying this too much!” 

“I am,” Taehyun immediately nods, shamelessly pulling you against him, sturdy hands pressing against your back to melt your bodies together— he buries his head into your neck and allows the two of you to remain where you are for a second; just you two, with no one to interrupt or entertain themselves at the spectacle. No facades to maintain, no words to be spoken, only the warmth of Taehyun’s magic against your fragile body, engulfing you entirely until you’re completely his. If you press yourself against him hard enough, you might catch the way his heart is just about to pound out of his chest.

In this tranquil sanctuary you’ve found yourselves in, you find yourself dreading the moment your feet will touch the ground again and force you two to part. A single thought graces your minds, a gentle plea to the stars that watch over you.

If only there were a spell to make this last forever.

 ○○○

The first few days of Yunah’s absence pass by without a hitch— at least, that’s what your positive mind is trying to convince you. It’s an arduous journey on her part, taking advantage of her four days on the train to write to you constantly; it feels like a new letter manifests on her workbench every few hours, filled with complaints on the stiff seats and haphazard sketches of the scenery— she tells you what she ate for breakfast, about the interesting people she’s befriended on the cart across from her, and screams about the man that snores obnoxiously at night. Remind me to create a spell that can mute your ears when I get back, please, she writes to you, and you shake your head in amusement before folding up the letter, determined to respond later as your shop bell twinkles gently.

Making your way back to the front of the shop, you can’t help the way your heart beats in anticipation— Taehyun always visited at this time, always choosing to finish his daily walk with a visit to your shop; sometimes to pick up something, other times to just check how you were doing. 

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. You knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became unignorable, but for now, you were satisfied with indulging in these visits he paid you, pretending as though he’d be just as eager to risk your friendship as you were.

Peering nervously over the doorway, you’re stopped in your tracks as you find someone else wandering around your shop; a slightly taller, lean figure, with a broad back and slim waist that’s adorned with a sword and dagger. His shaggy black hair that sweeps over his face elegantly hides his identity from you; his hands are covered with black leather gloves, and you watch him reach out to grab your freshly restocked tiger lilies, quietly observing the flower.

“Isn’t this the part where I’m welcomed to the store, miss?” the sudden address has you jumping, stuttering out a nervous laugh as you step out and make your way towards the counter— the man has yet to face you, but as you begin to take in his uniform better, your face begins to twist into a confused frown.

“Wait,” you start, eyes sweeping from his heavy duty boots to the dark navy of his uniform, recognizing the familiar crest on his shoulder— the man finally looks over his shoulder to meet your scrutinizing gaze, sending you a sly grin that has you scoffing in disbelief. “Beomgyu?”

“Geez, I was scared you’d already forgotten me,” Beomgyu sighs in faux relief, placing back the lily before making his way to where you stand, “your customer service skills are getting rusty.”

When Beomgyu first became part of the royal guard, he was a frequent visitor to your apothecary— a hardworking soldier in search of healing balms and potions to close up wounds instantly, always stopping late at night and making conversation with you and Yunah, detailing about his difficult trainings and listening to the two of you rant about your days; sometimes, he’d bring gifts from his trips to other kingdoms as a token of appreciation, jewelry and trinkets that you still have laying around your home in decoration. His dedication and skill was enough to have him climb up the ladder in no time, making it rare to see the head of the royal guard in your shop these days.

“When did you dye your hair? I could’ve sworn you were just blonde,” you ignore his jab, squinting at his hair that seems to absorb all the light around him, “it’s so dark.”

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how it falls perfectly into place. “my soldiers were saying the blonde made me an easy target.”

“They’re not wrong,” you hum, amused at how immediately pouts at you, “what brings you here, anyway? It’s been a minute since you last came around.”

“If you must know, I’m here to pick up the parcel of potions Yunah left,” Beomgyu says, nodding towards the workbench in the corner where sure enough, a thick parcel awaits.

”Oh, those were for you?”

“For the queen, yes,” Beomgyu is quick to correct you, earning a roll of your eyes in return, “her due date is approaching, and she’s been having constant dizzy spells. Hopefully this can calm her down in the meantime.”

You pause for a second, your grip tightening on the heavy package in your hands; you’ve heard this story before, during one of Taehyun’s visits— about the potions the queen requested from Yunah, forced to wait for the concoction to ferment before being able to take them— and you frown, sure that he would be the one to come for the delivery. The question bites at your curiosity far too much, and you can’t hold yourself back from saying what’s on your mind as you go back to place the package on the counter.

“Did Taehyun get replaced?”

Beomgyu sends you a confused look. “Replaced from what?”

Embarrassment starts to lick at your face, avoiding his gaze as you pray for the heat to go away, trying your best to seem indifferent as you shrug. “He’s usually the one that picks up parcels for the queen.”

Beomgyu pauses for a second, observing your face to see if you’re serious. 

“No… Taehyun’s in a meeting with the advisory court today. He’s not a delivery boy— you are aware of that, right?”

“I obviously am!” you say indignantly, your sudden outburst bringing a knowing smile to Beomgyu’s face, “it’s easy to get used to routine, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Curious,” Beomgyu ponders, “or disappointed?”

 “Oh, hush.”

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you groan, pushing the parcel forward and closer to him, silently signaling him to go away— when he begins to dig into the bag attached to his belt for your coins, you look around the shop, just now realizing that he’s come in alone. “Where’s your other half?”

Beomgyu smiles fondly at your question. “Right at your feet.”

You’re bending down to inspect beneath the counter immediately, and sure enough, Bamgeut is curled up by your feet, fast asleep. The little bear-pup (it’s what you’ve resorted to calling them after questions about Bamgeut’s species were left unanswered) has never looked more comfortable on your hardwood floors, letting out soft snores that make you bite back the urge to pet them and stir them from their slumber. You remained crouched by Bamgeut’s side instead, watching with adoring eyes as the pup shifts onto its back, long lashes lazily fluttering open until their eyes lock with yours. 

“Hi Bam. Sleep well?” you coo, tucking your lips in to suppress a squeal as Bamgeut slowly rises to make their way to you, soft paws reaching out in a silent request to be carried— you oblige immediately, rising back into Beomgyu’s view cradling his familiar happily; his eyes widen at the sight.

“Wow,” Beomgyu huffs, watching Bamgeut rub the sleep from their eyes, tucking their head into your chest for warmth— your eyes squeeze shut at the cuteness. “I think Bam just found a new owner.”

“I‘ll happily accept,” you grin, running your fingers through Bamgeut’s fluffy hair, “a cute little thing like this has no business being the royal guard’s familiar; this baby was made to laze around, isn’t that right Bammie?”

Bamgeut has already fallen back asleep in your arms; you’re swooning at the sight, giving Beomgyu a pleading look that screams please let me keep them. 

“Absolutely not,” Beomgyu laughs, watching you deflate sadly, “I think you forget that these guys aren’t just here for decoration.”

“I know, I know,” You groan, giving up the cute creature in your hands as Beomgyu holds his arms out; He’s cradling Bamgeut like a baby, the bear-pup instantly recognizing his owner’s hold as they nuzzle into his neck with a content sigh.

”They’re not what they seem, they’re too much to handle, blah blah blah. Just say you hate me and go away,” you accept his payment dejectedly, pouting as he laughs at your misery.

”If it makes you feel better, you’re Bamgeut’s favorite human. That says a lot.”

“I don’t think that says anything at all actually,” you raise a brow, unimpressed. “Not a lot of options to pick from here.”

“Well I couldn’t say you’re their favorite person, because that would be me,” Beomgyu shrugs; looking down at the parcel, he lifts his palm up, a pink aura encasing the package and lifting it in the air— he gives you a wink as he takes his leave. “I had to make do with what I had.”

“Whatever,” crossing your arms, the wave goodbye Beomgyu gives you is left unreciprocated, only cracking a smile as Bamgeut peeks over his owner’s shoulder, mimicking his wave with its tiny paw. The sight has you melting immediately. “Bye-bye Bamgeut! I’ll miss you!”

Beomgyu’s sulky pout that he sends you through the window is swiftly ignored as you spin around and head back to respond to Yunah’s letter. 

 ○○○  

The next time you see Taehyun, he’s trying to hide his terrible mood from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you’ve never been one to worm your way into other’s business, but Taehyun just brings it out of you, “I feel like there’s something bothering you.”

When he entered the shop with brisk steps and a cold look on his face, the warmth in your cheeks disappeared— you’ve never seen him act so cold, trying to mask the bubbling lava of anger that rushes through his veins; his voice was stern and careful as he spoke to you only from necessity, bypassing your usual attempts to joke and banter. As you ask him the question that nagged at your mind, you can’t help but worry that you’ve done something to anger him.

“Just problems at the palace,” he grits out, the mere mention enough to anger him all over again; he refuses to meet your concerned gaze. “Nothing you should worry about.”

”Ah, alright,” he’s far too intimidating like this, and as your exchange is cut short after a pixie appears to request his immediate presence at the palace, you can’t help but wonder if this is the side everyone else sees when he’s working.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” the tiny voice alerts, its buzzing wings leaving a trail of dust as it circles around Taehyun— at the mention of the kingdom, you perk up; one of the few standing kingdoms ruled by humans. The world you should be in. But while your eyes widen with interest, Taehyun’s jaw clenches, sneering a low curse beneath his breath. 

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” it chirps again, a broken record that zips carelessly around Taehyun— he seems like he might just explode in annoyance. 

“I have to go.” Taehyun turns to you, entirely exasperated. Grabbing the fresh bouquet of tiger lilies and exchanging it for your payment, he rushes out and doesn’t bother acknowledging your meek goodbye; maybe because the pixie continued to chirp away in his ear all the way out. 

Though it seemed like an urgent request, you can’t help but pout at your brief exchange— more so at his coldness. It was an entire switch from the man that’s been lingering cutely at your store night after night, so you can’t help but worry about him, wondering what it could possibly be that’s got him on edge like this. 

Hours later, Beomgyu pays you another unexpected visit, Bamgeut hopping along happily; you smile at the little royal uniform they don, a clear attempt to match the owner that smiles at you brightly. 

“Bamgeut was begging for us to stop by today,” he says, the little bear-pup hopping up to wave at you; you laugh, leaning down against the counter to say return the greeting. Bamguet runs up to you with outstretched arms, and you cave in instantly as you pick them up and set them on the counter, petting its head while their legs dangle from the counter happily.

“Are you sure it was Bamgeut that wanted to stop by? You don’t need to lie, you know. You can admit that you missed me.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unamused at your teasing. “Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me start showing up without Bamgeut. I’ll actually do it.” 

Having known Beomgyu for long enough, you’re able to confirm that he absolutely would go through with that threat. You gulp. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Today, he’s stopped by for a healing balm— he’s run out of his bulk supply, and due to Yunah’s absence, you haven’t been able to restock at much; you’re only able to sell him three, and he tells you about the recent wound he received while training his soldiers. 

“They learn fast. Too fast,” he says, tugging off his glove and folding up his tunic to show you the bandages along his forearm, gasping at the streak of red that bleeds through, “it’s how I got this.”

“Beomgyu, you really need to be more careful!” you scold, covering your mouth with disbelief the longer you look at it, “isn’t there a safer way to train? Something that won’t end with you hacking your arm off?!”

“I’m training them for battle, ___. In the most extreme cases, war,” his face darkens at the thought. “War isn’t safe.” 

“Don’t make me think about stuff, I might pass out.”

The concern in your trembling voice and your worried face is endearing to Beomgyu. In an attempt to distract you he asks, “well, then what do you wanna think about? I’m an open book.”

“Hmm…” you trail off, wondering how you could take advantage of this opportunity. “Oh! Why is the Kingdom of Flora here?”

Beomgyu’s brows furrow, and he seems to be genuinely taken aback by your question. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh. Uhm,” you become sheepish, wondering if you’re asking about a sensitive topic. “Taehyun stopped by earlier, and a pixie appeared alerting him that the kingdom was requesting his presence. I figured you might know something about it.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you ask Taehyun about it?”

You grow quiet. “He uh… he seemed pissed.”

At your meek confession, Beomgyu bursts into laughter, as though imagining it for himself— you can’t help but frown at the entertainment he finds from it, wondering what he might know.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“God, I bet he’s fuming,” Beomgyu giggles, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “he hates dealing with stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?” you echo, “What are you talking about?”

Lost in his own amusement, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pay any thought to the things he says. “Them, the representatives from Flora. He has no patience with them. Anything that drags him down is enough to make him lose his shit— he’s been assigned to escort them, so imagine the immense pain he’s in right now.”

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

“But as for their business here, no one’s exactly sure. No one except for the King and Queen, that is,” Beomgyu continues, though you’re not following along anymore, “It’s probably some personal affairs, maybe even discussions of a possible alliance; though, I’m not sure what we’d get from that.”

It feels like your head has been plunged underwater, the image of Taehyun flooding your vision; him, forced to escort the humans from Flora— him, forced to help the humans through tricky architecture just as he helped you; dragged down, impatient. In immense pain. 

“Beomgyu,” you interrupt his endless ramblings, staring down at the counter as you continue to pet Bamgeut absentmindedly; the creature has already curled up on the surface and fallen asleep. He hums in response, and you have to find the courage to continue; you avoid looking at his face in fear of seeing his reaction. “Would you ever fall in love with a human?”

Silence falls, just as you feared. You continue to pet Bamgeut as a distraction, the bear-pup leaning closer to the warmth of your touch.

”…Probably not.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide the hurt from your voice. “How come?”

“Well first of all, it’d be difficult to find one here in the capital. I have no idea how I found you,” he jokes, and you crack a small smile at that. “But… I don’t know. Humans… are so fragile; our differences may not be much on the outside, but our genetic make-up is entirely different—health, strength, capabilities— things get complicated like that.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

His answer is sweet, though you find that an uncertainty still nags at you; you’re startled out of your spiral as you feel him pat your head, winking at you when you look up to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t be sad though, I still think you’re cute.” 

Shaking your head to get his hand off, you let out a low curse at his stupidity. 

“God, you’re insufferable. This isn’t about you!”

His smile widens, satisfied. “I know.”

Your goodbyes are much more gentle this time, placing a kiss on Bamgeut’s forehead to stir them from their slumber— Beomgyu chuckles at the action, joking that “you’re trying to bribe them to like you more than me.”

The small familiar that’s curled up in Beomgyu’s arms remains unaware of your rivalry. “Is it working?”

“In your dreams.”

You laugh at his resolve, knowing that Beomgyu would rather die than lose his precious familiar, even in a battle of affection— he was sentimental like that. And as you watch him leave, carding his fingers through his familiar’s fur, you find yourself wondering if Taehyun is sentimental like that, too. 

 ○○○

Six days into Yunah’s absence, something peculiar occurs. 

It stormed all day— heavy showers that threatened to flood the streets, harsh lightening that cracked in the sky and startled you throughout your garden tending; at some point, you almost snipped off the head of a perfectly healthy bloom, cursing under your breath and opting to put down your shears in fear of creating an accident. 

Your clientele is always few and far between when the weather gets like this. No one finds themselves that desperate to visit the apothecary, unless it’s for an urgent need; Yeonjun stopped early in the morning, when the sprinkling rain had yet to turn into a harsh downpour, only two others stopping by for the rest of your day. The sky was now pitch-black outside, and there was only forty minutes left before you closed up shop. A nagging thought in the back of your head told you it’d be better to just close down early, but you dismissed it. Maybe you should’ve listened.

The woman that enters your establishment is not one you recognize. She’s small in stature, a lithe figure that’s concealed by a cloak that’s been drenched through the storm and drips onto your floors. Your voice is soft and unsure as you greet her, observing the way she ignores your words and silently takes in the displays around her, the weighted hood covering the top half of her face; her ruby lips and pale skin are the only things that peek through, curling to a delicate smile as she faces you. 

“Hello darling,” her voice is that of a siren’s, lowering your defenses with its elegance. “Where’s your counterpart?”

“Counterpart?” you echo pausing for a moment to decipher what she might mean, “Yunah?”

She nods.

”She’s off to a conference to register a spell,” you watch her nod in understanding, “so I’m afraid that our usual spell and potion services are currently unavailable.”

Silence. The air around you seems colder than it did moments prior, though you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, unnerved by the way you can feel her observing you carefully.

“But you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m— I can’t,” you say sheepishly; she tilts her head in confusion, silently asking you why. You flush, your voice barely above a whisper as you explain that, “I’m a human.”

The silence that lingers in the air is deafening, not even the sound of the rain crashing against the stone outside enough to soothe your nerves. You watch her ruby lips stretch widely, pearly teeth showcasing a blinding smile. Slender hands reach up to tug the hood off her head, and you watch carefully as the fabric pools at her shoulders and her identity is revealed. 

Despite the damaged her cloak took from the storm, she remains untouched; her hair is a brilliant midnight that shines blue beneath the light and cascades smoothly down her back, slim, angular face revealing striking features that render you speechless— her doe eyes are full of a sparkling purity, long, dark lashes brushing delicately against her silky skin with every curious blink. Her gaze is inviting as it locks with yours, and despite you thinking it impossible, her smile widens.

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

Her claim stuns you— so much so that you’re sputtering in confusion, unsure of what those words entail; you try to cement the fact that you’re just a human, with no magical inclinations, no abilities to cast spells, and no idea on how to brew potions. 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

“Well, then— you must pardon me, but,” you hesitate, finding her gaze much too intense, filled with such innocent hope you worry to disappoint her, “why seek out my help then?” 

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains still; amused at your keen observations, she reaches out to take your hands in hers— they’re warm and soft, so gentle as she pulls your encased toward her chest, clasping them as she gives you a pleading look. 

“I’ve heard stories about this apothecary— the ingredients here are a magic of its own, leagues better than any other establishment’s,” she lets out a weak chuckle, “certainly better than what’s left in my cottage back home. I’ve travelled a long way to find this place, I beg you to help me. I cannot leave empty handed; there is life at stake.” 

Your lips press together in a fine line, brows knitting together as you become unsure of what to do; her eyes are glossy as they stare into your own, drawing you in and daring you to look away— you find that you can’t bring yourself to do so. There’s a desperation that swims in her dark irises, a silent plea that sings to you, your hands buzzing with warmth the longer they remain encased. Your lips loosen, and your voice acts on its own accord. 

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers before she blinks and lets go of your hands, letting out a soft thank you and bowing her head in gratitude— you merely stand there awkwardly, unsure of why you decided to agree to this; a voice in the back of your mind nags that you should’ve told her to wait for Yunah’s return.

“I’ll treasure this for eternity,” she breathes out, peering up at you through her thick lashes with a small smile, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, really,” you frantically say; worried that she may expect too much of you, you’re frantic to add: “I’m not too experienced with potion making, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Undeterred, she shakes her head. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh,” you softly say, “okay.”

Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulls out a worn out scroll, unrolling it on the counter; the two of you gather as she reads out the ingredients to you, along with the instructions— you’re surprised to find it composed of entirely mundane ingredients and no magic involved, just as she’d promised. When you ask her what the potion is for, she sends you a small smile, as though you were privy to a top secret. 

“For rejuvenation,” she simply says, not elaborating despite you hopelessly wishing she did.

The potion is made in Yunah’s cauldron in just a few minutes, nothing compared to the hours the witch spends slaving over her own creations. The woman is patient, watching and directing you on what to do and how to do it; when the concoction glows a soft pink, you gasp, and the woman smiles triumphantly. 

“Let’s see,” she hums softly, reaching out and stirring the potion with her index finger, ignoring your surprised gasp and meek warning that it wasn’t the best idea— she ignores you, stirring until a the liquid becomes a whirlwind, only retreating when the potion can continue to swirl on its own for a few seconds more. The liquid that drips from the tip of her finger is popped into her mouth, and you gape— she doesn’t seem to mind your reaction, brows knitting together in thought, taking a moment before addressing you. “Try it.”

“What?” you gawk, “I don’t… why? Is it safe?”

”Of course it is,” she says, “I need to know what you taste. Try it, there’s no harm.”

You hesitate, looking at the pink liquid that has now stilled, then up at the woman who smiles patiently at you. Nothing happened to her— she barely seemed to react at all. Your eyes lock with hers, and a silent reassurance is exchanged. Against your better judgement, you reach a shaky finger into the concoction and try it for yourself. 

The liquid is warm and smooth on your tongue— you try to search for a flavor, taking a moment to think it through, but come up short. 

“It tastes like nothing.”

“Then it must be left to ferment overnight,” crossing her arms, she sighs, staring at the concoction with a frown. “it won’t be ready until some flavor pulls through.”

“I’ll stay at a nearby inn and return tomorrow. You’ll receive your payment then,” she’s not giving you much room to agree or deny, her hands already pulling her hood back on, ready to disappear into the night once more— she gives you one last smile before she goes, unmistakable joy laced in her words as she tells you, “thank you.”

Her cloak whirls in the air as she turns to leave, her swift steps bringing you to a panic as you reach for your nearest piece of parchment and pen.

“Wait!” you call out, just as she’s opened the door, ready to slip through, “I never got your name. I’d like to write it down, so I remember who it’s reserved for.”

A pause. You wonder if this was a stupid thing to ask of her.

“Irene.” 

She doesn’t repeat it, much less spell it out to make sure you’ve written it correctly. The revelation is brief, and she disappears before you can say anything more— hastily, you scrawl it down before you can forget it, your messy handwriting an eyesore next to the delicate pink potion that ferments in Yunah’s cauldron. 

The urge to send Yunah a letter confessing your sins of making a potion without her here weighs down your heart, but you know she wouldn’t even receive it— her two day conference has begun, and her lack of contact has never felt more painful. You’re left to ascend to your home on the second story of your apothecary alone, tossing restlessly in your bed as you think back to the strange event. The image of the beautiful woman lingers on your mind, sure to reappear in your dreams as her name is left like a gentle whisper in your ear.

Irene. 

 ○○○  

There is a creaking sound coming from the apothecary. 

You dismiss it, at first, rolling over in your bed and pulling the covers closer to your body, trying your best to fall back asleep— but you hear it again, and the more you pay attention to it, the less you’re able to rule it off as the building settling. 

Another creak; the sound seems to travel around the area. In a daze, you sit up from your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you strain your ears for the sound— when a soft tapping resounds, you kick your legs off your bed and stand, wondering if a stray has broken in to your store for shelter again; they always find a way. 

The more you approach the stairway that leads down the apothecary, the more you’re able to make out the sound of footsteps; they’re a light pitter patter, urging you to walk quietly in fear of startling it— when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you hear a soft meow. Your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Kitty,” you call out, spotting the feline standing in the middle of the store— at the sound of your voice, it walks away, attempting to hide beneath your counter. You approach it slowly, glancing out the window to find that it’s still storming. “Poor thing, you must be so cold.” 

The black cat is curled up in the corner beneath your counter, its head tucked away from your sight; carefully, you reach out to pet it, running your fingers down its back— the cat perks up at the sensation, turning its head to look at you, and you freeze. Staring back at you are two, brilliant pink orbs.

You’re startled by the sight, unable to react as an alarm begins to blare behind you— looking over your shoulder, you frown as a red light blinks back at you, situated just by Yunah’s cauldron. It takes a moment before you recognize what it’s there for.

The alarm for unauthorized potions. 

The soft fur beneath your skin begins to shift— the kitten before you begins to amalgamate, growing with violent cracks and snaps that have you falling back in shock, crawling backwards as your mouth falls open in horror. Its midnight fur has become a shapeless void, stubby paws shifting to pin-like legs— two, four, six; one after the other, they appear, hovering over you like a spider— its cute snout has disappeared, replaced instead with a maw that opens hungrily. It salivates, sharp rows of teeth grinning down at you; Your eyes dart up to meet its gaze, and it snarls at you. 

Instinct takes over as you roll to the side to avoid its jaw that shoots down to snap at you— scrambling to your feet, your legs tremble as its head cracks sharply to find you, determined to hunt you down; adrenaline prickles through your skin like needles, and it’s enough to make you turn on your heel and run for the exit. 

It’s too fast— as you weave through shelves and display tables, you hear a crawling sound, much too close to comfort; your hopes that the furniture scattered across the floor will serve as obstacles to hinder it are shattered as you look up, to where the sound is coming from: it’s crawling on the ceiling, and its eyes are fixed on you. 

You’re skidding to a halt as it leaps in front of you, blocking the entrance as it growls at you once more— when its jaws widen to try and take a bite from you, you reach out for any nearest object you can, using all your strength to throw jars and other heavy items you can find— one shatters on where you assume the head to be, and it flinches, only to shake off the glass shards, a spindly limb coming down to crush the table beside you; with a yelp, you turn around to find another way to escape. 

All the windows are locked, and the glass is protected with a spell that won’t allow it to shatter; there’s no exit on the second story, leaving the back exit that leads to your garden— with a heaving chest and tears in your eyes, you sprint to the back, the monster hot on your heels as it crushes the furniture you move in its way and the jars of ingredients you try to hit it with. 

Slipping through the employee entrance, you unlock the exit with clammy hands, trembling uncontrollably as you swing the door open— behind you, the creature rams through the wall, splinters flying at you as you run out and into the storm, through your carefully cultivated garden that it treads through with an intent to destroy. 

You’re barefoot, and it’s proving to be tricky to run out in such a muddy field—you can only hope that you’ll be able to reach the fence of the enclosure and try to find help; your heels dig into the mud and slow you down, but you don’t dare look back, gritting your teeth as you near the end of your garden.

Something wraps around your ankle— the thing has caught up to you, and you scream as it wraps its limb around your leg, pulling you back with a force that’s dragging you through the mud and back towards it; you try to flail around, digging your fingers into the soft soil, but it’s all useless. The creature has you trapped, flipping you onto your back as it hovers over you with a hunger swirling within its pink, beady eyes. Through the void of its body, the jaw widens, impossibly wide, encasing your upper body and salivating onto you through the sharp, stalagmite-like fangs. You’re left helpless, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for it to sink its teeth into your flesh— but it never comes. 

Instead, you hear a soft humming sound; through tearful eyes, you peek— within the endless void of its mouth, something begins to glow. You think you may be seeing things, at first, squinting your eyes in confusion, only to be blinded by a light that encases you entirely; the creature remains there, hovering over you, trapping you within this light, and you wonder what kind of twisted fate has been left to you— then, you feel it.

A tugging sensation. Gentle, at first, so subtle you might think your mind is just playing tricks on you. Then it’s felt again, again and again until it’s undeniable and you feel yourself being pulled, gravitated to the light that showers you— but your physical body remains still. 

It’s trying to steal your soul, you realize, the tension in your muscles fading away, your heartbeat slowing until you feel your eyelids begin to weigh you down, your vision becoming a muddled haze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

It’s a discomfort that goes on for far too long— you think part of you is trying to resist, but your consciousness is left at such a small sliver that you’re not entirely sure. Your body has gone limp, eyes stuck wide open as you stare into this blinding light, a burning sensation bringing more tears to your already crying eyes. 

The feeling comes to an abrupt halt— it all fades to black. 

Is this it? you find yourself thinking, is it over?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes— but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. You think you can still feel your body— though, it might be wishful thinking playing tricks on you. You can still hear things, though it’s faint; the splashing of rain that falls on the ground beside your ears, the thunder that crackles in the sky— a faint screeching, sounds of destruction, a panicked voice calling your name— and suddenly, you feel as though your body has been plunged into ice. 

A loud gasp rips through you, body jolting up as your lungs burn for oxygen— you begin to cough, and without realizing, your hands have begun to claw at your chest, nails digging into your skin and leaving scratches that pave way for blood to trickle out, running down your skin with the droplets of rain. 

It’s cold. So, so cold, your brain screams at you, head hung disorientedly as you begin to rock back and forth, skin tightening and prickling from the rain that has seeped through your clothes, leaving you a trembling, weeping mess. Are you still alive?

“___!” you think you recognize the prestigious uniform that falls into your weary line of sight, the hands that grab at your wrists to pry away your hands from your chest familiar. Yet even so, you can’t help the way you scream and thrash, wondering if this is the creature’s newest sick attempt to lower your guard, “___, please! It’s gone now, you’re okay!”

A strong hand gathers your wrists together and pins them to your lap, the other reaching out to cup your face, forcing your head back up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shake this hold off; they won’t budge. 

“___,” they plead, their voice breaking, “It’s Taehyun; please, look at me— please.”

His other hand reaches up, cradling your face in his hands as he quietly begs you to open your eyes; his thumbs caress along your cheekbones, and despite your racing mind telling you otherwise, you peek cautiously through your lashes. 

Everything is a big blur, and the night time doesn’t help at all. Your heaving chest begins to slow, leaving shaky breaths that continue to tremble your body— slowly, everything comes into view, and your eyes lock with a familiar pair of eyes. Dark, brown irises; normal, familiar, terrified. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes out, and his body physically reacts when you finally meet his gaze— without thinking, he’s pulling you close, against his firm frame that hides you away from the rest of the world. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

It seems as though the reassurances are for him just as much as they are for you; he holds you as though he never wants to let you go again, and his heartbeat pounds harshly against your ear; though you desperately want to, you can’t bring yourself to cry.

A moment passes where you’re both still, neither of you sure of what to say— then, you’re being pulled away, held by your shoulders as Taehyun stares you down with a stern gaze. 

“What happened?” he asks, scanning your face as though he could find the answer there, “why did the alarm to Yunah’s cauldron go off?”

“I— I don’t know,” your voice is hoarse, and you wonder why he didn’t ask you about the creature first, choosing to ask about the alarm instead. “The potion was just fine earlier, I don’t know what—”

“What potion?” Taehyun interrupts, his fingers beginning to dig into your skin— you wince, shaking your head as you try to remember, “Yunah didn’t leave anything in her cauldron.”

”She— she didn’t make it. I did,” his eyes widen with disbelief at your confession, jaw beginning to tick. “The woman, she begged me— I just wanted to help her.”

“Help?!” Taehyun repeats, as though saying it himself will help him understand, “you almost died!

“Whatever that thing was, it didn’t work!” you shake your head and try to explain yourself, but your fervent denial only angers Taehyun.

”You don’t understand,” you weakly let out, “it was working; she said I was capable of making it myself—”

“And you believed her?” Taehyun lets out a bewildered laugh, though it’s clear he finds no humor in the situation, “why in the world would it occur to you to do that? You’re a human!” 

You flinch at his hammered words, the aching of your body now a mere afterthought as you listen to his frustrations. 

“There’s not a single drop of magic in your blood. You need to accept that.” as much as you want to look away from Taehyun’s intense gaze, to push him away and go back inside, you can’t; you’re too weak to move even a single muscle. All you can do is sit there and get scolded like a child.

“This fantasy of yours almost cost you your soul— don’t you see how dangerous it is to try and force yourself somewhere you don’t belong?” he stresses, brows knitting together as he observes you carefully, wondering if anything he’s saying is getting through to you. You merely stare at him with shining eyes, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“Don’t ever try to involve yourself in magic like this again.” He says firmly, “you’re lucky we were able to stop that thing when we did.”

At the word ‘we’, you finally find the strength to look away and just over his shoulder— sure enough, Dagonyang sits patiently behind Taehyun, staring up at you with wide eyes that are glaze with concern— your eyes widen as you take notice of his ear, split at the top and matting his fur with blood. You feel a lump in your throat, trying to hold back sobbed apologies— it’s probably the last thing Taehyun wants to hear right now.

“Don’t worry about him,” Taehyun swiftly says, having taken notice of your wandering gaze, “he’ll heal in no time.

“Can you stand?” you shift at his question, trying to get up— but you hiss the moment any pressure is put on your feet, and the two of you look down to find your ankle is swollen, an inky, ringed bruise forming right above the bone. 

”God, you’re all injured,” Taehyun grimaces, only now getting a good look at your appearance; worry tugs his features together as he takes in your soiled garments. “And dirty.”

“Come. You need to be tended to,” you can’t let out much of a protest when he’s sweeping you off your feet and picking you up, briskly walking back to your home. “and you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”

Sure enough, you’re able to see just what he means as he passes through your once beloved home; it’s a wreck, with glass and herbs all over the floor, shattered furniture and the destroyed wall enough to make your stomach drop. All your hard work, your dreams, your passions— gone. 

You want to cry; you want to scream, to curl away in shame and hide yourself from the world forever, to kneel and beg for forgiveness until your throat is sore. You want the universe to swallow you whole, to go on without you, as though none of this ever happened, as though your existence never occurred.

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

 ○○○ 

“Raise your leg a bit more.” Taehyun’s hands are quick and nimble as they wrap gauze around your ankle, kneeling at your bedside as the two of you remain quiet— it’s the first thing he’s said to you all day. 

There’s an inappropriate sense of intimacy to this scene that you can’t help but be angered by. He has left his duties at the castle to take care of you, despite your persistent reluctance and refusal— but with your apothecary destroyed and your ankle still healing, you were given no other choice but to stay at Taehyun’s home until Yunah returned. It’s a small, quiet home, on the outskirts of the capital and away from the constant buzz and energy; it’s a change you’ve yet to get used to, but secretly welcome. You lean back on your hands as you avoid watching him, fingers digging into his comforter as you choose to stare out the window instead, at the chirping birds and wildlife that scampers around. 

The idea of staying in Taehyun’s home like this, donning his clothes and sleeping in his bed, was something that you only dreamed of during those secret, self-indulgent fantasies of yours— the kind where you lived a tranquil, domestic life, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you were together. The you of the past would positively keel over at seeing herself in such a position— yet, as Taehyun smooths down the bandages that compress your healing injury, a tension in the air so thick it forms a wall between you, you can’t help but wish you were anywhere but here. 

“Is it too tight?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and he doesn’t look up as he asks you the question, as though he were merely going through the motions and not asking about your comfort. You go to shake your head no before realizing he won’t see it. 

“No. It’s fine.” his thumbs run along your ankle, a gentle pressure that tries to linger— you pull your foot away and tuck yourself back into bed without another word, unwilling to do anything more than nestle yourself into the covers and hide away. Taehyun remains at your bedside for a minute, silence overtaking the room once again as he finally decides to take his leave.

“I’ve made lunch,” he offers, lingering at the doorway and watching you carefully; you don’t seem to acknowledge him, but he refuses to leave until he gets a response from you. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, “but I’m not hungry.”

You hear him leave with a frustrated sigh. 

Your time together continues on like this; you’re counting down the days until the apothecary is finished getting reconstructed and Yunah returns— her letters to you are endless now that she’s on the train back to the capital, having been notified by Taehyun of everything that happened the morning after; you were witness to her every emotion as she wrote to you— the fear, the guilt, and the relief that came with receiving her first response from you. When she asked to hear more details about that night, hoping to find an answer on why it all unfolded, you wrote as much as you could on the back of her letter, watching it recall back to its owner, curious on what the response from her would be; you told her of Irene and her reassurances that you could help, the ingredients, the mundane potion that brewed from it— but you’ve yet to get a response back. 

Instead of letting yourself get lost in her letters, Yunah’s abandoned you to this mess— days have passed, and you’ve yet to find the courage to talk to Taehyun again. Besides the quick, necessary communications shared, you try your best to avoid him all together. A strange anxiety fills your heart whenever you’re near him for too long, and you’ve resorted to hoping that you can run away from all this once Yunah returns. Maybe you can force her to handle his deliveries from now on. 

If only you could blame this strange dissonance of feelings on your tattered soul, still trying its best to heal from the trauma of that night. You’d like to think that, if you wait long enough, everything will smooth over, and you can go back to being that shy, hopeless romantic that became a puddle underneath Taehyun’s gaze.

It’s much better than this distance you’ve created now, anyway; you’ve grown fond of sitting out in the field behind Taehyun’s home as a way to avoid the tension that closes those four walls in on you, quietly taking in the grand landscape that stretches beyond— oftentimes, Dagonyang finds himself curled up in your lap, purring at your gentle hands that run through his fur. It’s become a ritual for you two, and if you look hard enough, you can even see the glowing lanterns of the capital. 

You can hear Taehyun call your name, already imagining the way he leans across the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. You try your best to ignore him, his voice already making your heart rate spike— but he’s not having it, and when he calls your name once more, it’s stern; commanding. You jump at the sound, unable to help the way your mind is instantly flooded with memories of that night, where his nails bit at your skin and his eyes were filled with nothing but the deepest disappointment. You’ve stopped petting Dagonyang, and the cat has already jumped off your lap and started pattering off inside, leaving you alone on the field. A moment passes, and you slowly get up to avoid hearing Taehyun harshly call your name yet again.  

“It’s cold out, you should come in,” his voice has softened considerately, yet you still can’t find it in you to look at him— the sun has set and the night air nips at your skin, but you had no plans of going in anytime soon. He moves aside so you can step in. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Thank you.” you don’t catch it, but Taehyun frowns at your apathetic tone. He follows you inside, watching the way you trudge to the dinner table. 

His eyes are boring holes into your skin. You’re stuck looking at your plate, trying to keep up the act that you don’t feel his intense gaze burning into you, watching your every move. It’s quiet, as it has been for the past three days, and how it will be for the next three. 

A part of you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now— what he thinks of you. You wonder if his viewpoint on you has changed entirely since that night, having put him through such a terrible battle, which was only followed by sleepless nights of investigations on what happened; he’s yet to update you on what he’s found, leading you to believe that every direction he’s taken has been met with dead ends. Even now, Beomgyu’s words float around your mind like a persistent parasite; you’ve caused him enough trouble to stress him out for a lifetime— he’s stuck cleaning up your messes, stuck with you while he oversees your recovery. A simple human interrupting his busy life, dragging him down. You fear that if you look at him, you’ll find nothing but resentment in his eyes— you don’t think you could handle that discovery. 

It’s quiet as you both separate, going off to his bedroom while he goes off to his study where he’s been staying, much to your reluctance. While you nestle into the covers, attempting to fall asleep, you can hear the familiar sound of Taehyun humming in the room beside yours, undoubtedly spending yet another sleepless night on your case. It’s become something you secretly listen for, soothing your brain into a restless sleep, free of the nightmares that invaded your mind the first night you stayed in his room. With a heavy sigh, you allow yourself to rest, Taehyun’s song a lullaby that protects your fragile mind.

 ○○○   

Tomorrow marks the final day of your stay with Taehyun; you’ve finally recieved a letter from Yunah.

I’m sorry I took so long to respond, she writes to you, her writing messy and rushed; the parchment is a bit wrinkled in your hands, and your heart sinks as you continue to read. But I took everything you told me about and sent it to Taehyun— I had a hunch of what might’ve transpired from that night, and I had to make sure it was true before I sent you this. ___, please know that I’d only ask this of you if I were completely serious. 

Your heart stops as you read the next line, eyes glued to the parchment as though to make sure it weren’t misreading it— no matter how much you stare at it, the request stays the same. I think you need to move to the kingdom of Flora.

It’s much safer for you there— I know how much you must hate reading this, but please, think about it. That woman, Irene— a necromancer— shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on you like that; she took advantage of you, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in such a vulnerable state— Taehyun is still trying to figure out how she was able to breach the kingdom after being banished for so long. 

I can’t risk her finding you again— you’d be able to live a quiet life there, tend to your garden, and I’d visit every day. You’re much better off there, you’d belong there perfectly; you wouldn’t have to deal with stupid architecture anymore, either. I’ve told Taehyun about the plan, and he’s found a place for you to stay in. Just say the word and he’ll take you. 

The paper is beginning to crumble in your hands, your grip tightening as you continue to read. You can’t believe this. 

I’m so sorry ___. You must hate me right now. But I can’t risk this happening to you again— I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself. Please, accept this offer; I’ll visit you the moment I’m off this stupid train. 

I love you,

Yunah

You know she expects to hear back from you soon; her handwriting is so small, and she’s left the entirety of the back for you to write on. Instead, you simply stare at the letter, reading and reading and reading it again until you have the whole thing memorized, until you’ve confirmed that you didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. The paper flutters in your hands from the wind— what you thought would be a peaceful reading outside has quickly turned into a torment, Dagonyang’s peacefully sleeping figure beside you nothing more than a mockery. 

Certain sentences stick out in your brain, your eyes instinctively flickering to them, etching them into your aching heart; one in particular seems to blare at you: you’d belong there perfectly.  

Belong there, you scoff, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you read it again— you feel your fingertips buzz from where you hold the letter, a sharp electricity shooting through your nervous system as you read it yet again, irked by her words. It builds and buzzes inside you until you’re a trembling mess, unsure of what to do with this anger that bubbles up like lava; your eyes are inevitably drawn to a different sentence, your new breaking point: I’ve told Taehyun about the plan. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

God, you’re trembling with anger— he’s just going to send you away? Just like that? Do you really have a say in this, when everyone wants you gone so desperately? Your nails dig into the parchment, pushing and pushing until they break through— the hot, bubbling anger that simmered under your skin erupts, and before you can give it a second thought, you’re ripping the parchment to shreds, tearing it until it’s nothing more than fragments that are carried off by the wind. You watch them flutter off, curling up in defeat as you will yourself not to cry.

All these years spent with Yunah, proving yourself and succeeding together, were they just a lie? Was any of it real when Yunah, the woman who swore up and down that she’d never put much importance on your differences, was convinced you belonged somewhere other than the place you built your entire life in?

The sun has set, and Dagonyang has left your side after the chill of night emerged— but you remain the same, attempting to wrap your head around the news you’ve read, of the things that are expected of you.

Taehyun has come out in search of you again. The sound of his voice is nothing but salt in your wound, a reminder that tomorrow, you’re expected to leave the city and never turn back. He calls out your name multiple times, but you’ve yet to budge— by the fourth time, he sighs and makes his way over to you. 

“___ please, won’t you stop sulking and come inside—?” Taehyun’s voice is caught in his throat as you finally look up, and at him. Pupils locking firmly with his, your eyes wide and glassy, an intense stare that dares him to look away.

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

“What?” he breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“Yunah told me everything!” you shout, feeling emotions catching in your throat, stinging your eyes, “Irene, the plan— you expect me to pack up my life and hide myself away just so you can feel better?”

Taehyun seems to have caught on to what you mean. “___, you need to understand where we’re coming from—”

“Why? I’m a person too!”  it’s all become too much for you, and you’ve begun to choke up on your words— it’s too much, confronting Taehyun like this, even more so when it feels like he’s not listening. “I can’t just give everything up because you guys don’t want to deal with me!”

He flinches at your words, and you find confusion starting to overtake his face, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “What? 

You scoff at his confusion. “Please, don’t try to act innocent— I get it, I really do— I put you in this crazy mess; I’ve dragged you down enough, and I know you want nothing more than for me to go away, but honest to god, I’m not asking you to look after me like this!” 

Tears have begun to well up in your eyes— you feel humiliated, leaving yourself vulnerable like this, but you can’t seem to stop talking; every little thought that’s nagged you in the back of your mind is now coming out like word vomit, and you can’t seem to stop it. 

“If this weak, foolish human wants to stay in this big, scary, magical kingdom, then just let me!” you cry out, ignoring the way he shakes his head at your words, “let me get messed with, let me make mistakes, let me get tricked— and if it doesn’t end well, then so be it!

“But I will not sit around and let you make decisions for me— I am not going to Flora because it’s where you think I belong,” you’re practically shaking with anger at the thought, gritting your teeth at Taehyun, “I refuse to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Taehyun starts, shaking his head at your naivety, “we can’t risk Irene coming back just because you want to stay here—”

“Were you even listening to me?!” you’re exasperated, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “you want to get rid of me that bad? What, are you gonna tell me this was all your idea next—?”

“You think I want to abandon you?!” It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at you like this since that night, and you can’t help the way you flinch at the sound— he hesitates to continue at the sight. “You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

Your face falls at his words.

”Yunah was mortified when I told her what happened. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for it,” Taehyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She was set on the fact that you needed to be relocated— that Irene would come back for you if you stayed.”

His eyes flicker away from yours, but even so, you still catch the way they shine under the moonlight; his voice wavers as he speaks. 

“That night… it haunts me.” he looks back at you, brows knitting together at the thought, “I almost lost you. To this day, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how I was able to destroy that— that thing.”

“I’d rather die than get rid of you,” his voice has dropped significantly, and there’s an edge that makes it tremble slightly— an emotion that fights to break free, nearing you as he speaks, “you’re not a burden. I don’t care that you’re human— I’d look after you no matter what you were. I’d pick up all of your messes, I’d get involved in every disaster you caused. I’d happily let you drag me down, if it meant being with you.”

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

It’s quiet. The breeze continues to whistle between the branches of the trees around you, The wildlife that’s hidden within the forest now sound asleep. The stars are out tonight, as is the moon— it casts a soft glow onto the man before you, his sparkling eyes looking at you with something so intense, it makes your knees week. He’s so close, you think that if you leaned in a little, you could…

”Taehyun,” you breathe out; his eyes flash with desperation at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gulps.

”Then don’t.” 

Time seems to still the moment the words come out his mouth, the two of you stuck where you are— hesitant, afraid to go on with what you both desperately want. His eyes flicker down to your lips; his hands twitch at his sides. He watches as you slowly reach out, cupping a gentle hand around his face, fingertips caressing the strong jawline, the soft curve of his cheekbones, the dimple that indents his cheek as he presses his lips together and swallows. He lets you bring him closer to you, leaning until your other hand is able to land on his nape, tangling with his dark hair— he lets you come closer, feeling your breath mix with his, seeing your eyes flutter shut, your lips slightly trembling as they part; his heart is on the verge of combusting as he feels your lips press gently against his. 

It’s a quick, soft peck— you’re pulling away immediately, wide eyes looking at Taehyun as though you’ve done something wrong; he’s quick to show you you’ve done anything but, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, showing you just how much he reciprocates this. 

Taehyun kisses you with a primal hunger that makes your legs weak, sighing softly against his lips, sharp canines playfully biting at your flesh to hear the way you gasp, pulling lightly at his hair in response. His hand smooths up your back, going back down and pulling you even closer, until your bodies are flush together and you’re grabbing onto him for support— his other hand has found itself on the back of your head, keeping you close, unable to run from his starved kiss. 

You try desperately to ignore the burning of your lungs, but you’re getting lightheaded— gently, you go to move away from Taehyun, the man immediately pulling away to gauge your reaction; when he finds nothing but dazed, lovestruck eyes looking back at him, your hand that rests on his shoulder gripping onto him a little tighter, he lets out an airy laugh. 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

You can hear the restraint in his voice, a warning of what may come— but even then, you shake your head; his eyes darken at the sight. Your voice is a breathy whisper that makes him shiver. “I don’t want you to stop. Don’t hold back.”

He curses under his breath before he’s diving back in, returning with a fervor that makes your mind spin. He’s rougher, needier, eating you up and indulging in every little thing you give him— your gasps, your whines, your fingers that dig into his skin and pull at his hair— it all fuels him even more, finally able to release the frustration that’s been pent up for a long time. 

“I need you,” he murmurs against your mouth, reaching down to grab your ass, pressing you firmly against him— you gasp, feeling him already hardening, and he takes that opportunity to explore every inch of you; he groans softly, rolling his hips forward. “I need you so bad.”

“You have me,” you say, breathless— he lets out a small moan at your words, pressing himself harshly against you, whining at a particularly firm thrust that allows you to take in the outline of his cock, “take me.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, and before you can understand what’s happening, he’s picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, strong arms holding you up as he leans back in to kiss you— he brings the two of you inside, letting out a soft groan at the way you tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s kicking his bedroom door shut and laying you down on the bed— it’s only then that he’s able to part from you, holding himself up as he takes you in properly, watching as you whine and try to tug him back down; he chuckles, caving in instantly before he’s guiding you up on the bed, letting your head fall back on his pillows and making sure you’re comfortable. 

”God, you’re so beautiful,” he finds himself sighing out, sitting back on his knees as he takes a good look at you— you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, his hands running up and down your sides absentmindedly, feeling your warm skin heat up against his. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself at this point, lost in your trance as you begin to guide him to take your undress you, his eyes never straying from your body as he looks at you in pure awe— you shiver at the groan he lets out when your bra is finally thrown to the side, his lips immediately coming down to press a kiss right on your chest, giving you another before he’s wandering down and latching his lips around your nipple; your back arches at the warmth of his mouth, a quiet mewl escaping you.

His hands have begun to venture down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants and tugging it so he can slip a hand inside. Your fingers card through his hair absentmindedly, pulling at it desperately the moment his fingers begin to press at your cunt over your soaked panties, fingertips running up and down your slit to feel the way you begin to moan breathlessly, hips bucking against his hand in search of more— but he’s a tease, going up to gently circle your clit, a ghost touch that shoots sparks straight to your core and empties your mind. 

“Please— don’t tease,” you breathe out, head falling back as he presses two fingers against your clenching hole through your panties, chuckling at the way you try to suck him in, desperate to feel yourself stretched out— the feeling is disappearing just as quick as it came, and his hand is leaving your cunt to grab your hips, holding you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

”Can’t help myself,” he murmurs against your lips forcing your hips to angle up so he can grind down against you; he’s savoring the feeling, smiling against your mouth as he presses his cock firmly against your entrance, your hands anchoring on his shoulders as you whimper weakly, “you just make the prettiest noises.”

“Wanna hear you like this all night,” he’s picked up a rhythm as he grinds against you, rough hands holding you from bucking your hips back— all you can do is lie there and take it, pleasure tumbling from your mouth as his lips begin to wander to your jawline, trailing gentle kisses that travel to your neck; nipping at it playfully, he holds back a laugh at the way you jolt against him. “Think you can take it?”

“I can. I can take it,” you rush to say, arching back making your chest press against his, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt as you silently beg him to take it off, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, finally breaking away to give in to your demands— you lie back in awe as he finally pulls his shirt over his head, eyes glued to the muscles he’s been hiding away from you, desperate to commit it all to your memory; reaching out, you run your hands down his body, down his shoulders to his firm chest, down the abs on his stomach that flinch at your nails that scratch at his skin, until you’ve reached the waistband of his pants, tugging at it in hopes that he’ll give in to your desperation and just give you what you need— instead, he takes your hands in his, tutting softly at you before he’s putting them above your head. 

“Taehyun, c’mon,” you whine, trying to tug your hands out of his grip; it tightens in response, your voice wavering as he looks up at you, raising a brow in warning; even then, you refuse to give up on your complaints.

”You’re taking too long,” you tease, bucking your hips up desperately, “are you gonna do anything?”

Without warning, you begin to feel a warm sensation on your wrists, a slight tingling that makes you look up at your bound hands— you find a silver glow where Taehyun’s hands hold onto yours, eyes widening as you watch him let go of your hands now bound by his magic. Your head snaps down to send Taehyun a petulant glare. 

“Oh, you’re mean.” 

“You started it,” he chirps, using his newfound mobility to run his hands down your sides, until he’s gripping your hips and stripping you down to nothing more than your soaked panties; your face heats up at the vulnerability of the situation, trying to hide your face in your arms as you watch him settle down on his stomach between your legs— you try to squeeze your thighs together shyly, and Taehyun tsks; a pathetic yelp leaves you as he spanks your thigh.

“Taehyun,” you whine, starting to feel that familiar warmth circling around your thighs, an invisible force that makes you part your legs, left completely vulnerable to the man who’s now situating your legs over his shoulders, held still by his magic, “this is so unfair!” 

“You got yourself into this mess, baby,” he scolds you, kissing your inner knee, going up until he’s at the apex of your thigh, smiling at the way they shake, “y’gotta learn how to be patient.”

His words are enough to make you nervous, squirming in his grip as he slowly slides down your panties, indulging in the wet slick that sticks to the fabric, eagerly shifting closer to your center. 

He places a kiss on your mound first; you want to squeeze your eyes shut and complain, aware of this game he wants to play. But you bite your tongue, looking down curiously to catch the way he looks up at you through his lashes, smiling when you make eye contact before moving down just a bit more and placing a gentle kiss on your clit— you feel the breathiness of his laugh when you jolt at the sensation, plush lips warm against your swollen, needy clit. He takes his sweet time before doing anything more— warm hands running up and down your thighs lovingly, watching you get more desperate as the seconds go by, chest heaving and slick dripping from your entrance pathetically.

He presses another kiss to your clit; then another, and another, until he finally parts his lips to suck the pearl into his mouth, running his tongue along it and closing his eyes in bliss, listening keenly for the broken moans of his name you let out. His tongue lolls out to firmly lick at your clit, circling around it before trailing down, running along your folds and licking up the arousal that had been dribbling down to the bedsheets eagerly, feeling the way you try to squirm and break free from the binds that keep you spread open for him.

“Tyunnie, please— stop being mean,” you cry at some point, feeling as though you’re going insane with the way his tongue is buried deep inside you, face pressed against your cunt and eyes closed in pure bliss, nose brushing against your clit as he continues to eat you out; you try to struggle against the binds on your wrists, but they won’t budge. “please, I wanna touch you.”

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to send you a mean grin. “You gotta be patient,” he reminds you, leaning down to lick a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way you shudder against him, “let me have my fun first, okay?”

You go to curse at him under your breath, but it all falls short the moment you feel his fingertips begin to circle your entrance, collecting the arousal that leaks through your hole before slowly pushing in his ring and middle finger in. Your eyes flutter shut, the knot in your stomach only tightening at the stretch, lithe fingers slowly pushing in until it hits the knuckle, dedicated mouth not stopping its ministrations on your clit all the while. When he can no longer push in, he curls his fingers curiously, picking up gentle pace and pressing against your warm walls until he hears your breath stutter, your thighs jolting when he hits a particular spot; you feel a breathy laugh against your clit, and he proceeds to hit that sensitive spot until you’re a shaking, pleading mess.

”Taehyun,” you whine, nails digging into the palm of your hands as the pleasure begins to dizzy you, “T— Taehyun, tyun, I can’t— feels so good, please don’t stop, please.”

Your muscles are beginning to tense, chest heaving as you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter, mouth falling open as he continues to suck on your clit, thrusting his fingers into you a little faster. until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and bucking your hips against his mouth, crying out his name with broken pleas to cum.

It comes crashes down so suddenly— a shiver wracks through you and you can only choke out a soft call of Taehyun’s name as your orgasm rips through you, cunt fluttering around his fingers that continue to curl and thrust into you, his tongue wandering from your throbbing clit to your entrance as he licks up all the arousal that spills around his fingers, groaning softly at the tight squeeze and the taste of your cum on his mouth; he’s addicted, helping you ride it out until your body becomes sensitive, bleary eyes peeking down to see that he has yet to stop, and doesn’t plan to any time soon. 

“Tyun,” you breathe out; the man merely glances up at you before returning back to your cunt, feeling your cunt clench as he curls his fingers against you once more, smiling at the yelp that follows, “Tyun, it’s too much, I’m sensitive—!” 

“Want you to give me another one,” he murmurs against you, his fingers stiling inside you as he says it; he finally looks up at you, and you find a primal need in his eyes, his hand that’s holding your thigh gripping you a little harder, as though afraid you would run away, “can you do that for me?”

You take a second to catch your breath, his eyes following the rise and fall of your chest as though in a trance; he leans down to place kisses along your skin yet again, against your navel and around your pelvic bone as he lets you take a moment to answer; he nips softly at your hip bone, and you feel your resolve crumble in an instant. 

“Yes,” the word is barely slipping from your tongue before Taehyun is diving back in, moving with such desperation that all you can do is lay back and watch in awe. He’s taken note of what drives you crazy, eager to use it against you; your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming as he hits your sweet spot continuously, sucking your clit and running his tongue along it until he’s building you up even faster than he did before, an undeniably triumphant smile tugging at his lips the moment you start sobbing that you’re going to cum again. 

You’re desperate to thrash around under him, to clamp your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but all you can do is lay there and buck your hips against his mouth, teary eyes unable to look away from the sight before you, pleasure crashing down on you and leaving your body a trembling, buzzing mess. 

“There you go pretty girl, y’listen so well,” he coos against you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm with a gentle pace of his fingers, kissing your clit lovingly between his praises. “Sound so good, just. For. Me.” 

The rings that bound your wrists and thighs are buzzing for a moment before it all fades away; you only let your muscles relax for a second before you’re immediately reaching down to run your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, lacing through the dark locks before tugging and guiding him back up— he lets you, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he crawls over you, situating himself between your legs that still twitch with aftershocks, his arms by your head that hold him up caging you in. He takes a moment to observe you, eyes warm with an undeniable fondness as he takes in your shiny eyes and swollen lips, glancing down at your chest that heaves as you try to catch your breath. Reaching to cup your face, he runs his thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he confesses quietly, and you don’t bother holding back the smile that breaks out against his mouth.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

You hum softly at his words, running your fingers through his hair and pulling gently at the roots, tangling comfortably around his nape.

”Thought about making you mine,” he whispers softly, and for the first time, you spot a bit of hesitance in his voice— a vulnerability that doesn’t slip past you, picking it up between his kisses that begin to linger along your face, from your cupid's bow to your jawline; his breath stutters, and you gasp— his cockhead is thick and sticky with precum as it presses against your entrance, his hand that wraps around the length taking its time to rub up and down your slit, lingering and pressing down at your clit teasingly. The mixture of your arousals is loud, and if the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your awaiting cunt wasn’t driving you crazy, you would’ve hid your face in your hands from embarrassment. 

“I’ve imagined so many times how you’d feel… how you’d sound so pretty,” he moans softly, the reminder making his hips buck unexpectedly against you, the two of you gasping as his tip prods at your hole for just a second, “Thought of keeping you here with me. Of being all yours.”

He hears the way you whimper quietly at that last part, feels your thighs press against his hips, antsy hands pulling at his hair as a quiet plea for more— he’s driving you crazy, and his sweet words against your skin are definitely not helping.

“I want that— I want to stay with you,” you’re guiding Taehyun to look up at you again, watching his dazed eyes lock onto yours, drowning with a primal need that burns hotter the longer he looks at you. Your hand wanders from his hair and down the expanse of his broad back, until you’re pressing at the small of his back and urging his hips forward; you don’t dare look away from him for a second, determined to make him see your resolve. “Taehyun, please.”

Your voice is a siren’s song to him; his cock twitches at the blatant need on your face, and without further warning, his guiding his cock inside you. The stretch makes your mouth fall open and your head loll back onto the pillows; he’s so thick, and you can feel it pulse the more it makes its way inside your cunt, holding your breath at the burn that ebbs away into pleasure— by the time his hips are flush against yours, you’re leaking onto the sheets beneath you, feeling as though he’s so deep you can’t breathe.

“You feel so good,” Taehyun weakly groans, glancing down to where your bodies meet before moaning again, “so fucking good, fuck. You’re perfect.”

You can only bring yourself to whimper weakly against his lips that peck at yours; you don’t think you could begin to put the way he feels into words, so full of him that it’s making you dizzy. He remains still for a second, the two of you basking in the feeling of each other, his cock twitching inside your fluttering walls, a mess of slick dripping from your entrance the longer you’re left to wait in anticipation. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks softly, having noticed your dazed expression. You’re eager to nod, clumsy hips rolling forward and making him press harder against you— you shiver at the feeling, barely able to register Taehyun’s amused chuckle as he slowly begins to pull out. 

It’s a slow, quiet moment, your nails digging into his skin as the two of you savor the feeling of each other, stuttered breaths and soft whimpers the only thing filling the air. He pulls out until only his tip is left inside you, pushing back in and filling you up with one swift motion. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, mind spinning at the way his cock curves and presses against your walls, teasing your sweet spot. Taehyun does this again, his head that was once hanging to allow him to watch the way he disappeared inside you now hovering above yours, watching carefully as your eyes widen and brows knit together with pleasure at every thrust; a sly smile sneaks onto his face as you quietly moan out his name.

“Feels good?” he asks, punctuating his question with a sudden, rough thrust that has you jolting; your nails dig into his skin just a little more, and he’s shifting, sitting up to take a good look at you. 

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, “barely even started and you’re already a mess. You sure you can take it?”

“I can,” you whine petulantly, feeling him slow down his pace, barely moving inside you, “Tyun, I need more…”

“Hmm? I don’t know, baby,”  he’s slowly rutting his hips into you, enjoying the way you pout at him, “can you ask nicely?”

Your face heats up at his words; it’s such a bold request, one that has you trying to shy away from his gaze, intense and hungry as it watches you every move. Clearing your throat, you try to ignore how pathetic you sound. 

“Please… Taehyun,” he’s shifting, moving so that he’s hovering over you, a strong hand rubbing up and down your thigh as he props himself up with his elbow, a coy smile stuck to his face. “I want you to fuck me, please— I need it, want you to give it to me.”

“Such a sweet angel,” he coos, pecking your lips before he’s beginning to thrust back into you, burying himself as deep as he can before he’s picking up the pace, more and more until his cock is abusing your leaking cunt and your body is jolting with every thrust, your eyes squeezing with bliss, “You’re so perfect, how could I ever say no to you?”

His hand on your thigh is grabbing on tight, hiking up your leg to wrap around his waist, hips angling so that he can reach deeper into you. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, thick cock stretching you out and rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his soft moans and sighs of your name making you clench around him each time. 

He feels so good against you, strong, firm muscle against your body, honey skin smooth beneath your hands that scratch at his back, leaving a particularly harsh trail after he thrusts against your sweet spot, the grunt of pain he lets out in your ear only making you clench around him harder— he’s filling your senses, cooing out soft praises and placing gentle kisses along your jawline, groaning out your name when he feels the way you begin to tighten around him, hips growing restless against his. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, wanting him to be flush against you, “fuck— please don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I’m close too, angel,” he murmurs, hand letting go of your thigh to reach up for your own, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hand against the mattress, “want you to cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna listen to those pretty little sounds of yours.”

“Cum inside me,” the request slips from your mouth before you can think too much of it; judging by the way Taehyun’s hips stutter and he lets out a weak moan against your skin, you’re sure your words have affected him. When he asks if you mean it, you nod. “Please— wanna be filled up, please cum inside.”

Taehyun moves from his place in your neck to watch you closely, feeling his own orgasm building up intensely; his eyes scan your face, memorizing every detail of your expression, listening to the way your moans pick up in desperation. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t look at him, he calls out your name; it’s soft, broken, a moan that has your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “You gonna cum baby?” 

You nod, eyes rolling back when he reaches down to rub your clit, dizzy at the pleasure. 

”Look at me,” he says, feeling his pace become sloppy as his own orgasm approaches, desperate to watch you fall apart, “wanna watch you when you cum.”

He grinds his hips against you firmly, his tip rutting against your sweet spot making you unravel in an instant, your hand that squeezes against his instantly being squeezed back in silent reassurance. The pleasure crashes on you so intensely, your mind going blank save for Taehyun’s name that you repeat like a prayer. Your eyes never leave his, watching as he follows you seconds after, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching before he lets out a weak moan of your name, cock continuing to thrust slowly into you as he cums. 

It’s so warm, a constant pulsing of is cock that fills you up until it no longer can, sticky cum leaking from your entrance and smearing against your skin as he keeps fucking the two of you through it, until your body slumps against the bed and he melts down onto you, burying his head in your neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, drifting in and out of  consciousness; his cock nestled into you, his hand that holds yours tight, the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the bed, keeping you safe. He’s warm, and you can feel your chests rising and falling slowly, feel his heartbeat that attempts to return back to normal, his breath a gentle sensation against your skin. 

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

A moment passes, and you allow yourself to think. You feel his hold on you tighten the longer this silence continues, as though afraid this might be the last time he’ll have you like this.

“Taehyun,” you say softly, feeling him tense against you, “I want to stay too.”

It’s instant, the way he melts against you in relief. He sighs, placing a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“Thank god,” he murmurs, beginning to litter kisses all along your skin, not stopping until you’re a giggly mess beneath him, “thank god. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you grin, cupping his face and guiding him to kiss you, gentle, sweet, “not if I can help it.”

“Good,” bringing up your hands that are still interlaced, he kisses the back of your hand before giving you a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

○○○

It’s late at night when you hear the bell ring— you don’t pay it any mind, continuing to organize the shelf behind the counter as Yunah greets the new guest, leaving to the back to search for ingredients for her potion.

It’s quiet, and you hear the way they wander along the floor, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up jars before setting them back down with a soft clink; you can’t help but hope that they’ll leave soon, left with only five minutes before you’re able to shut the apothecary— you itch to leave, to go back home and see Taehyun. 

You’re too concentrated on labelling the jars to realize that the customer has been waiting at the counter impatiently, watching as you continue to show your back to them.

“Beomgyu’s right,” you feel a warm sensation along your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re being dragged away from the shelf with a gasp— you’re hovering just above the floor, unable to do anything more than get dragged around the counter and into a certain someone’s awaiting arms; Taehyun is quick to hug you close the moment his magic brings you to him, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before laughing at your expression. “you do need to work on your customer service.”

You frown. “What? What has he been telling you?”

“Oh nothing. That you’re never greeting him properly, always off in your own little world,” he spins you around with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in close. “daydreaming about me.”

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes, already imagining the stupidities Beomgyu has been feeding Taehyun, “how childish. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

”It was your idea to introduce us properly, love,” he reminds you, a smug smile on his face, “you’ve gotta deal with the consequences now.”

You can only bring yourself to grumble a soft whatever, scanning the apothecary curiously before sending Taehyun a pout. “Where’s Dago?”

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

It’s instinct to lace your fingers with Taehyun’s waiting hand, turning around to catch Yunah reappearing from the back, a trail of jars behind you. 

“Heading out for the night?” she asks, smiling at the way you nod happily, “See you tomorrow then. Get home safe you two.” 

“We will. Love ya!” you chirp, watching Taehyun bid her goodbye before following you out the store. 

“Long day, Tyunnie?” you ask, the two of you beginning your trip home, “you’re dragging your feet.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, and when you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Don’t feel like boring you with the meeting we had today.”

”All I could think about was how much I missed you,” he trails off a bit, eyes darkening as he begins to observe you carefully, amused at the way you still fluster at his gaze, “could barely pay attention to what was being said.”

You scoff, refusing to give into his antics so easily. “Surprised they haven’t fired you.”

“C’mon baby, don’t be mean,” he teases you, tugging your hand to pull you into his side, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, “is it so hard to believe that I’m so in love with you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” you bite back a teasing smile, “you’ll have to prove it.”

He chuckles, a dark, mischievous sound that already has you shivering with anticipation. 

“Guess we’ll have to hurry home then.”

You can’t bring yourself to resist as he sweeps you off your feet, a warm silver glow encasing you as he takes you home the fastest way he can— if anything, you merely tease him about his eagerness, which he swiftly makes you take back after a long, long night of proving himself. 

taglist: @xylatox, @fancypeacepersona, @taebatu, @prettypeachprincesz, @archoive, @bingsoob, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @notanotherbigfangirl, @soobundle1009, @barbielibra

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Guilty as sin ✦ 」

[Theodore Nott × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:(Request) Theo x f!reader where she is a huuuuuge flirt. Flirts with the whole slytherin gang, the golden trio, literally everyone EXCEPT Theo and it doesn’t bother him until his friends start teasing him about it and then it drives him CRAZY. So he tracks her down and she’s all blushy like “idk how to flirt with someone I actually like??” And then smut ensues

Warning: smut

Words:3.5k

Laughter echoed through the empty corridor – a welcome reprieve from the usual bustle of Hogwarts life. We were on a glorious post-lunch break, a rare moment where none of us had classes.

Draco, ever the stoic one, smirked from the corner, a hint of amusement flickering in his grey eyes. Blaise, reclining against the wall along with mattheo and Enzo .

“So, what’s got you all so chipper today?” I asked, leaning against the wall opposite them, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, just the usual,” Mattheo replied with a grin, his eyes scanning me up and down. “Though your presence certainly brightens things up.”

I laughed, a playful glint in my eye. “Is that so, Mattheo? I’m flattered.”

“Flattered, are you?” Enzo chimed in, his smile broadening. “Just wait till you hear what Draco’s been saying about you.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile playing at his lips. “Don’t drag me into this, Enzo.”

I arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what exactly has Draco been saying?”

Draco finally looked directly at me, his smirk deepening. “Nothing that wouldn’t make you blush, I’m sure.”

Suddenly, the air shimmered and Theo materialized beside me, a frown etched on his handsome face. My laughter died in my throat, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach.

Don't get me wrong, Theo was so attractive. Tall, dark, and mysterious, he exuded an aura that drew you in like a moth to a flame. That’s why I always act that awkward whenever he show up.

"Hey, Y/L/N," Theo greeted me, his voice a low rumble. "Having fun?"

But before I could respond, a mischievous glint sparked in Blaise's eyes. "Having fun? She's practically rolling on the floor here! Just look at her," he nudged me with his elbow, "completely smitten with my hilarious story."

My cheeks burned. "Oh, shut up, Zabini," I swatted him playfully. "It was Enzo's joke that was funny, not yours."

Enzo chuckled. "Thanks, Y/N."

We all fell into a comfortable banter again, the conversation flowing like a well-worn path. But with every witty remark aimed at me, every playful touch from Blaise or Enzo, I found myself subtly shifting away from Theo. It wasn't intentional, not really. Maybe a subconscious defense mechanism, a way to keep myself safe from the intensity I sensed in him.

Finally, unable to handle the mounting tension any longer, I blurted, "Oh, well, this has been lovely, but I actually have to…" My voice trailed off, searching for a believable excuse.

"Potions homework?" Blaise offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah, yes," I stammered, "Look at the time! I completely forgot, I have to—"

"Go?" Mattheo finished my sentence with a playful grin, his eyes flickering between me and Theo. "That seems to be your usual line whenever Nott graces us with his presence."

A collective laugh went up from the others, but a blush crept up my cheeks. Was it that obvious?

"See, Theo? That's just how Y/N is. Always gotta disappear when you show up."

Behind me, I could hear the eruption of laughter. Draco's voice rang out, “See ? Always leaving when you appear Nott, gets the charm offensive."

I winced, a mixture of guilt washing over me, I grabbed my bag and walked away.

As I walked to the class the next day my stomach lurched, I scanned the room. Every single seat was taken except for one – the one directly next to Theo. A wave of annoyance washed over me. Why did I have to be the one stuck beside him after yesterday's awkward retreat?

With a resigned sigh, I marched towards the empty chair, determined to keep our interaction to a minimum. Just as I sat down, the classroom door slammed open, and Professor Snape strode in with his usual scowl.

"Settle down!" his baritone voice boomed. "Since we're already behind, we'll be starting immediately. Take out your textbooks and quills, we're brewing Veritaserum today."

My shoulders slumped. Of course, today would be the day Snape insisted on absolute honesty. Great.

I grabbed my textbook with a muttered curse, desperately trying to ignore the heat radiating from beside me. Theo. He was practically close enough to see the worried frown etched on my forehead.

"Rough day, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine despite myself.

I kept my eyes glued to my textbook, pretending to be engrossed in the complicated brewing instructions. "Just fine," I mumbled, my voice a touch too high-pitched.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

My cheeks burned. Did he have to be so perceptive? "No," I lied unconvincingly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Then why the avoidance act?" he pressed.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I couldn't take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, I finally looked at him, ready to fire back with a witty retort.

But as our eyes met, something unexpected happened. All the bravado I had practiced in my head evaporated. His gaze held a depth I hadn't noticed before, a hint of something… more.

The stern voice of Professor Snape cut through the sudden tension. "Miss Y/N, Mr. Nott! Pay attention or face detention."

Flustered, I tore my gaze away from Theo.

The moment Professor Snape dismissed the class, I bolted. My cheeks still burned from Theo's teasing, his words replaying in my head like a broken record. "Do I make you nervous?" Ugh, the audacity!

Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I weaved through the throng of students, desperate to escape the classroom and the lingering scent of Theo's cologne.

As I rounded a corner, I slammed right into someone, the impact knocking the breath out of me. I stumbled back, muttering an apology.

"Easy there, love. Running from someone?"

My cheeks burned like someone had set them on fire with a dragon's breath. "No, no, of course not," I stammered, my voice tripping over itself. "Just... eager to get to my next class."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his grey eyes. "Really? Because you look like you just escaped a dragon attack in those robes."

"I-I really have to go," I mumbled again, yanking my arm free from Matteo's grasp.

Before he could say another word, I bolted. I sprinted down the hallway, robes billowing behind me, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me, Theo.

The thoughts I harbored about Theo, well, they were borderline scandalous – even for the often-unconventional wizarding world. Wet dreams were a daily torment, a vivid tapestry woven with stolen glances and the memory of his low chuckle. Even the most mundane tasks became infused with Theo. Daydreams, unwelcome and potent, hijacked my mind, filling it with images of his strong arms wrapped around me, the feel of his warm skin against mine, and those lips... oh Merlin, his lips. The very thought of them sent a jolt through me, leaving me breathless and yearning.

It was a full-blown obsession. Every interaction, every stolen glance, was a spark that ignited a wildfire within me. I envisioned stolen touches, whispered secrets, a clandestine world where it was just us. These "visions," as I'd begun calling them, were both exhilarating and terrifying. Had I lost my mind?

Looking at him was like staring into the sun – an act both beautiful and blinding. I craved his attention, yet recoiled from it in equal measure, afraid of what it might reveal – both about him and the depth of my own desires.

The moment I reached the solitude of my dorm room, I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the soft pillow. It was just me and the storm raging within. Seeking a semblance of control, I reached for my most trusted companion – my sketchbook. Flipping to a blank page, I did what had become a nightly ritual: I drew Theo.

His face materialized on the page with practiced ease – the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his eyebrows quirked slightly when he was amused, the intensity of his gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. Each stroke was infused with a longing so deep it ached. As I added the final details, a desperate thought crossed my mind – what if, somehow, magically, drawing him like this would bring him closer? A ridiculous notion, even for a witch like me. But a girl can dream, right?

The drawing complete, I flipped back through the pages, revisiting the countless iterations of Theo that filled my sketchbook. Each one a silent testament to my growing obsession. A pang of guilt stabbed at me as I traced the outline of his lips in one particular sketch. Here I was, feeling like I'd committed a sin, when in reality, our interactions hadn't even reached the stage of a stolen touch.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips. This was madness. Yet, as I drifted off to sleep that night, the sketchbook remained tucked under my pillow, a silent guardian of my unrequited affection.

The next day, the weight of my secret world pressed down on me like a lead blanket.

My usual bubbly demeanor was replaced by a forced smile and a dull ache in my chest. The boys exchanged worried glances, their questions a constant reminder of the truth I couldn't share.

Mumbling an unconvincing excuse about feeling unwell, I escaped the classroom the moment the bell rang, desperate for some fresh air and a moment of solitude.

Once I was finally away from everyone I grabbed my bag, then it happened, panic clawed at my throat as I realized my sketchbook was missing.

I scoured my bag again, desperately searching every compartment, but it was nowhere to be found. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I carried that sketchbook everywhere, afraid of someone stumbling upon my secret world.

Fear morphed into a cold dread as I retraced my steps, hoping it had simply fallen out of my bag somewhere.

The thought of someone, anyone, seeing my drawings, especially Theo… the very notion sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through me.

I retraced my steps, combing through the classroom once more, a desperate hope clinging to the edges of my despair. But it was futile. The sketchbook was nowhere to be found. My mind raced, picturing prying eyes and whispered secrets. This was a disaster.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the rising tide of panic. "Searching for something, Y/L/N?"

I spun around so fast I nearly toppled over, my eyes widening as they landed on Theo. A self-assured smirk played on his lips, and in his hand, he dangled my precious sketchbook.

"Theo!" I gasped, the sound strangled and desperate. My cheeks burned with a mixture of mortification and a strange, exhilarating thrill.

Instead of listening to my frantic plea, he held the sketchbook just out of reach, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Such beautiful secrets you keep hidden, Love."

The blood drained from my face. "Give it back to me, Theodore," I demanded, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

He chuckled, a low, beautiful sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Not so fast, love. Perhaps there's something in here that warrants a little… negotiation."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. I lunged for the sketchbook, my fingers brushing against his hand. But he easily outmatched me, holding it high above my head. The height difference was agonizing.

"Give it back!" I hissed, my voice laced with desperation.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't decipher. Then, before I could react, his other hand shot out, landing firmly on my waist.

A gasp escaped my lips as a jolt of electricity shot through me at his touch. He used the momentum to pull me closer, turning us around so that my back slammed against the cool surface of the empty classroom door my eyes widened when he locked it. My breath hitched in my throat as his warm body pressed against mine.

His face was inches from mine, his breath tickling my ear. "Now," he murmured, his voice a husky rumble that sent a delicious shiver down my spine, "Care to explain what is it about?”

"No "I say "Just give it back!"

Instead of replying, he pulled away, placing the sketchbook on a nearby table with a soft thud. I made a move to grab it, but he was faster. With a single, smooth motion, he used one hand to capture both of mine, pinning them above my head against the cold, unforgiving surface of the door.

His touch sent a jolt through me, a current that both terrified and excited me. His gaze was intense, boring into mine, and suddenly his earlier amusement was replaced by something else entirely.

"So," he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

"you just decided to ignore my entire existence? The social butterfly with all her friends, suddenly giving me the cold shoulder or vanishing into thin air whenever I'm around. Then I find out you've been drawing me… like a hundred times? Which by the way I'm not complaining about but— ," he added, "but seriously, Y/N, what have I done that you can't bear to stay in the same room with me for a minute?"

His words hit me like a physical blow. Shame burned through me, hot and fierce. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely a choked sob, my eyes desperately seeking the floor.

"Look at me, love," he commanded, a gentle firmness in his voice.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. His face was unreadable, a mixture of concern and something else – something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," he murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Now, say it. What have I done to make you hate me that much?"

"It's the opposite," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, fueled by a desperate need for him to understand. "I like you, Theo. A lot. Those feelings… they're so intense, so confusing, and I just don't know how to act around you. I see you and I freak out. I can't breathe, my heart races and then those unholy thoes…" My voice cracked, and tears welled up in my eyes.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing a stray tear from my cheek. "Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice gentle, his touch sending sparks dancing across my skin. "Breathe."

I did, taking a shaky breath, closing my eyes as his face came closer. His touch was everywhere – on my cheek, my neck, his warm breath against my lips. "Are you mad?" I whispered, barely audible.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Quite the opposite," he murmured, his lips brushing mine with a feather-light touch. Then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both electrifying and grounding.

His hands gripped my hips, lifting me off the floor effortlessly. I gasped as I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw desire burning within them. "You smell so good," he murmured, his lips finding my neck. His stubble tickled my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"You know those thoughts you talked about," he continued, placing soft kisses along my jawline. "I have similar thoughts too."

I moaned as he sucked on my earlobe, my head falling back to give him more access. His lips moved down to my neck, his tongue tracing a path along my collarbone.

His hands tightened on my hips, and I could feel his erection pressing against me. I couldn't help but grind against him, feeling his length rub against my clit through our clothes.

"I want to leave marks on your skin, so everyone knows you're mine," Theo growled, his lips moving down to my neck. His tongue traced a path along my collarbone, and I shivered with delight.

"Yours?" I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, baby. Mine. And those fuckers need to know this," he said, I couldn't help but smile. I knew they had been teasing him for how I had been ignoring him.

His lips traced a path along my collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I shivered with delight as his hand gripped my hair, pulling me to him he looked at my eyes for a second then kissed me. His lips were soft and eager, and I couldn't help but respond.

He turned me around his head on my shoulder "Tell me your deepest fantasy. I'll make it a reality for you,"

His hands went inside my skirt, and I felt his fingers on my thighs. "Can I touch you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, my breath hitching in my throat.

“ oh Merlin “ I say my whole body shaking his finger rubbing circles on my clit fast then slow making me losing my mind

“ not Merlin baby me say my name, do i make you feel good ? “ he say in my ear

“ yes Theo oh yes you do “ I say my body still shaking .

"Do you want me to be rough with you, or gentle?" He asked, his finger sliding inside me. I gasped, holding onto his arms for support.

"No one has touched you like this before, baby?" He asked. I shook my head, unable to trust myself to respond without screaming.

"Good, and no one else will," He said, his fingers moving inside me. I felt myself getting closer to the edge, my whole body tensing up.

"I love how you arch your back when I do this. You're so responsive," He said, his fingers moving faster inside me. I screamed, my whole body shaking with pleasure.

He put his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries "Shhh” He said, his voice soothing.

I felt it happening. My whole body shook, and if not for his strong arm around me, I would have fallen. I screamed with his hand still on my mouth. I came for the first time in my life, and oh lord, it felt like heaven.

"You did so good for me, baby. So good."

Put his fingers in his mouth, savoring my taste. "I love the way you taste, the way you smell. You're like a drug to me,".

He picked me up, setting me on the desk. pushed the books and papers aside, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he pulled me to the edge of the desk, his hands on my thighs.

"Is this like your fantasies?".

"No," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "It’s much better."

His lips were on my inner thighs in an instant, his tongue tracing a path up to my panties. He pulled them down, his fingers grazing my skin. My breath came in short gasps.

"Do you want me to use my fingers or my tongue? Or maybe both?"

His tongue found my clit, and I moaned as he licked and sucked, his fingers exploring my wet folds. I grabbed onto the edge of the desk, my legs shaking.

Theo pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. He reached for a pen on the desk, pulling it towards him. wrote "mine" on my inner thigh, his eyes locked on mine.

His fingers slid back inside me. I moaned again, my hips bucking against his hand.

His tongue found my clit once again , and I moaned louder this time. He sucked and licked, his fingers moving inside me in a steady rhythm. I could feel my orgasm building for the second time.

"Oh, Theo," I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand.

He moved his fingers faster, his tongue lashing against my clit. I cried out as my orgasm crashed over me again.

He pulled away, making his way up to kiss me. I was shaking in his arms, but he wrapped them around me, making me feel safe and comfortable.

As I trembled in his arms, He held me close, his embrace warm and comforting. He gently brushed my hair away from my face, kissing my forehead tenderly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of admiration and love.

I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The intensity of the moment began to fade, replaced by a soft, soothing calm. Theo's hands traced gentle circles on my back, his touch reassuring and tender.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern evident in his eyes.

I nodded, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "I'm more than okay. Thank you."

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Theo, I need to tell you something,” I said, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He looked at me with those deep, caring eyes, waiting patiently.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I don’t mean to scare you with it now, but I’ve been holding it to myself for too long and I wanted you to know.”

A smile spread across his face, and he leaned in to kiss me softly, his lips curing my words. “You don’t have to anymore,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to my fears. He looked into my eyes, his expression sincere. “I love you, and I will prove it to you every single day.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, not of sadness, but of overwhelming relief and happiness. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” I asked, my voice small and vulnerable.

“Never, baby,” he said, pulling me closer. “I promise. I will never hurt you. I’ll always be here for you.”

I buried my face in his chest, letting his warmth and words envelop me, my gaze wandered to the ink on my thigh. The word "mine" stood out boldly, a possessive claim that made me giggle despite the seriousness of everything that had just happened.

Theo noticed and raised an eyebrow. "What’s so funny?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

I pointed to the makeshift tattoo. “This. ‘Mine.’ You really went all out, didn’t you?”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You bet I did. I had to make sure those fuckers know you’re off limits from now on.”

I laughed, “Oh, I’m sure they’ll get the message loud and clear.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[svtiddiess]

Kiss Quota

Synopsis: You wanted to try the "can’t stop kissing my boyfriend" challenge—but why not add your own little twist?

Pairing: Dino x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

Rating: sfw

Word count: 864

Warnings: none!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy anonie!

Thank you @mylovesstuffs and @joonsytip for betaing!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You giggle to yourself as you scroll through yet another TikTok. Lately, your FYP has been overflowing with adorable couple challenges, and you can't help but want to try one out. After browsing for a while, you decide on the "can't stop kissing my boyfriend" challenge—but with your own little twist. Instead of showering him with kisses right away, you plan to tease him by starting with just one kiss a day, gradually building up until he's drowning in them.

Just then, Chan walks into the room. Perfect timing, you think. You quickly hop off the couch and run straight into his arms. He chuckles softly, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"I missed you," you pout, looking up at him.

"I was just in the other room," he grins, amused.

"But I still missed you," you huff, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

He smiles into the kiss, leaning in for more when you pull away with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"You've hit your kiss quota for the day," you announce with a cheeky grin.

"My kiss quota?" He tilts his head, clearly confused.

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Yup! You're only allowed one kiss for today. No more until tomorrow."

He blinks, processing your words, before letting out a dramatic whine.

"Baby, you can't be serious," he pleads, pouting like a kicked puppy.

"I am," you reply, grinning. "You'll just have to wait for tomorrow."

He stares at you, lips still in a pout, but you only laugh and gently untangle yourself from his arms. Plopping back onto the couch, you resume scrolling through TikTok, purposefully ignoring your sulking boyfriend as he tries (and fails) to win you over.

The next day rolls around, and you almost forget about the challenge—almost. Chan has already kissed you twice: once in the morning as a wake-up kiss and again before he left for work. That means he's already hit his kiss quota for the day.

Later, you hear the front door open, signalling Chan's return. It doesn't take long for him to make his way to the bedroom, where he immediately flops down on top of you.

"Chan!" you squeal, caught off guard.

"I missed you," he grins, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly.

"I missed you too, but stop suffocating me!" you laugh, squirming beneath him.

"No~," he teases, leaning in to steal another kiss.

You squeal again and quickly turn your head, dodging his lips.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he pouts.

"Because you've already reached your kiss quota for the day," you say, flashing him a playful grin.

"Are we still doing that?" he whines, his pout deepening.

"Yup! Two kisses today—quota met," you chirp.

"Baby~," he drags out, trying to soften you up with his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Not gonna work," you giggle. "Your puppy eyes can't save you this time."

He lets out a dramatic huff and buries his face in your neck, grumbling in defeat as you laugh at his frustration. You're having way too much fun teasing him.

A few days have passed, and you decide it's finally time to end the teasing—you're going to give Chan all the kisses he’s been craving. But, of course, you're not going to tell him that; you'll surprise him instead.

In the morning, you playfully dodge his kiss, which earns you a symphony of whines and pouts. You giggle as he cups your face and forces a kiss on you, determined not to miss a single one.

Now, he's lying in bed, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of the ambush you're planning. You quietly slide next to him, and without even thinking, his arm wraps around you.

You place a single kiss on his cheek.

No reaction.

You pout, then give him two more kisses.

Still nothing.

Frustrated, you start peppering his face with kisses, making sure to kiss his lips multiple times. But he stays glued to his screen, completely unfazed.

Annoyed, you pull away—only to be yanked right back, your back pressing against his chest.

"I don't remember telling you to stop," he purrs into your ear. "Keep kissing me."

"Well, you seemed more interested in your phone than me," you huff, turning to glare at him.

He grins. "I had to get you back for that kiss quota somehow."

You pout, stubbornly refusing to give him more kisses. But Chan has other plans. He begins to pepper your face with kisses instead, making you giggle as his lips press against your skin. You squirm, attempting to escape, but his grip is unrelenting.

"Oh no, you're not getting away," he mutters, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him. You squeal as your back hits the mattress, your heart racing wildly.

"You've got a lot of kisses to make up for," he huffs, staring down at you. "Days' worth."

"Better get started, then," you tease, flashing him a grin.

His eyes darken with playful intent, and he smirks before capturing your lips in a kiss that makes your eyes flutter shut. And just like that, it's the first of many kisses to come.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380

[pretentious-blonde]

confidence

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a few cocktails and an evening with Robin reveal a new side to your boyfriend, one you really didn't see coming

warnings: 18+ this contains smut, scars, alcohol consumption (reader does not partake), graphic descriptions of sex, oral f receiving, p in v, cocky steve, condescending steve (ikr!! just trust me), all around filth here, steve has one too many cocktails and runs with it

a/n: this was so fun and is my treat for putting you through all the angst (and there will be more trust me) but hey, consider this part a catharsis. we also needed to get robin involved for what comes next so this is what you get. tipsy steve is WILD you have all been warned.

series masterlist

You scramble around your flat, tossing items from one surface to the next, desperate to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything crucial. Keys, check. Purse, check. Chapstick, check. 

Whatever you have on your vanity table feels like it’s winking at you, reminding you that, no, you’re still not quite ready. But you can’t let yourself fuss any longer because outside, through your window, you catch the glare of headlights and hear the impatient beep of a horn. 

Steve’s here—and he’s been here, and you should have been ready ten minutes ago, at least.

You’re still excited, even though you’re late, because tonight is special. Tonight’s the night you finally get to meet the Robin Buckley, the person who’s been such a staple in your boyfriend’s new stories. 

He was determined to pick the “nice bar” in the next town over, the one that apparently “played the good music.” 

You had to bite your tongue. His idea of “good music” usually lines right up with the biggest chart hits, but you figure hey, if he’s excited, you’ll go along for the ride. What matters is that this night is one of his design, and you find it completely endearing that he’s gone out of his way to make it special for you and Robin both. 

He can listen to Ace of Base as much as he wants... even if you have to stifle a fond snort whenever he’s not looking. 

He’s told you so many wonderful (and ridiculous) stories about her that you practically badgered him into setting this up. Tales you hadn’t been privy to before—now slowly unravelling as he let slip new, juicy details bit by bit.

Your big chance to meet the girl who’s shared so much of your boyfriend’s humour and history. And if tonight ends up being half as fun as the pictures you’ve conjured in your head, you’re in for a wild ride.

You snatch your bag and do one last mirror check—just a fleeting glance, making sure your dress is sitting just right and your hair hasn’t decided to rebel. This time, you went for something a little more daring: a flirty dress that shows off your figure in a way you know Steve won’t be able to ignore. 

On a good day, he could barely keep his hands to himself—let alone after last weekend. Taking things all the way had only cemented his need to be close to you, and now, whether in public or private, he always had to have some part of him touching you.

And in this dress? You knew his hands wouldn’t just wander—they’d roam.

Maybe, by the end of the night, you’d let them.

Finally, you rush out, keys jingling in your hand, and clatter down the stairs leading to your shop door. You lock up carefully, tugging the handle to ensure it’s secure—no matter how excited you are, you still need to be responsible—and you pivot on your heel and walk out onto the pavement.

Your steps falter as your eyes land on your boyfriend, casually leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking completely at ease—like this wasn’t a big deal at all, just another night to unwind. But even in that brief glance, you could tell he’d put in just as much effort as you had. 

He’d told you to dress up a little and clearly, he’d taken his own advice. The oversized jumpers and worn jeans were nowhere to be seen. 

This Steve was something else entirely. 

And Jesus, he knew how to clean up well.

He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt, the kind that clings just enough to hint at every plane and angle of his torso. Over it, a sleek black suit jacket, open in front, sleeves rolled just enough to conceal the marks, but also revealing his toned forearms.

It’s like some casual afterthought, but you know him better than that. Every detail is deliberate. The jacket’s tailoring is perfect, nipping in at the waist and broad across his shoulders. It gives him a certain sharpness, a polished edge that you’re not used to seeing in his typical laidback outfits. 

And by God, does it work—too damn well, if the heat creeping up your neck is anything to go by.

His sunglasses perch on the bridge of his nose, not because of one of his migraines—you’d recognise that look a mile away—but purely to complete the aesthetic. They’re modern, minimalist, and do nothing to hide the playful smirk curling at the corner of his lips

The glint of something metal at his wrist (a simple watch) catches your eye, and then your focus is back on his face, following the neat slope of his hair. It’s perfectly styled, golden-brown waves shaped in that signature swoop, but smoother, sleeker—like he spent real time in front of the mirror, carefully combing each strand into place until it sat just right. 

By the look on his face, he knows you’re staring—knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

He watches you approach, eyes dragging over you slowly, drinking in the sight of you just as shamelessly as you’re doing with him.

You step toward his car, face warming at the sight of your date. He lowers his sunglasses in one exaggerated motion, revealing the hint of mischief in his eyes. A slow whistle slips from his lips, just as corny as you might have expected—and somehow twice as charming.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, letting his gaze travel over you from head to toe, “you walk up to me looking like that, we might not make it to the bar.”

Heat seeps into your cheeks, and you roll your eyes in a halfhearted attempt at nonchalance. It’s near impossible to pretend you aren’t melting under the weight of that gaze. 

“I could say the same,” you counter. “What happened to Mr. Harrington, huh? Thought you were all about faded jeans and paint covered nikes.”

He throws back his head with a laugh, then glances at his watch, pretending to read the small face. 

“We might still have time for me to swing home and change if it's—”

You bat his wrist down before he can so much as move. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. Because right now, he looks so sinfully delicious you can hardly keep your focus.

“Really—it’s no problem,” he jokes, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays him. His hand slides behind your neck, warm and sure, and your breath hitches at the teasing sensation of his touch.

“It’s gonna be hard to concentrate on anything coming out of your mouth tonight,” you admit, pulse jumping when his thumb brushes a circle over your skin. Pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head, nudging some stray hair off his forehead. 

“Good,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “I’m alright with being your eye candy.” 

He leans down, kissing you in a way that makes your toes curl and your mind fog over. On instinct, you try to deepen it, hands sliding to his lapels, but he draws back with a soft chuckle.

“Whoa there, angel,” he murmurs, his voice playful. “We’ll get to that soon enough.”

You pout, bottom lip pushing out a fraction. Instantly, he shakes his head, one brow lifting. 

“Hey, don’t go getting all pouty on me.” He brushes your lower lip lightly. “You’re the one who’s been on my ass about this whole thing.”

He had a point there. 

Damn him. 

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent. “But you’ve got to make it up to me when we get home.”

The shift in his expression is downright wicked as he leans in. 

“Honey, with that dress?” He tongues the inside of his cheek in a way that sets fire to your nerves. “I’ll be more than making up for it.”

The bar is chic in that slightly pretentious way—low lights, plush seating, a neon sign glowing over shelves stacked with rainbow-coloured bottles. The bass of some popular track flows through the speakers. 

You can’t help but grin when Steve, ever the gentleman, strides ahead to pull open the heavy door for you. He gives you a playful nod as you step inside, his hand warm against your back. It’s reassuring, filling you with the same confidence he seems to be sporting tonight.

“After you,” he teases, voice low, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you pass him. Even though it’s cheesy, there’s an endearing sincerity beneath his grin.

Once you’re both settled at the bar, he presses a kiss to your temple before glancing at the bartender. 

“What’ll it be?” he asks, tipping his head toward you.

“Just a tonic water,” you say as he frowns.

“You sure?” he drawls, leaning in. There’s an irresistible tilt to his lips, a look that says he’s perfectly fine with either choice as long as you’re happy.

“Yup.” You nod. “You go crazy, though—it’s your night out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your night out too,” he points out, turning his body to face you more fully.

“Ah, yes, but I have to make a good first impression,” you shoot him a knowing smile.  “Remember?”

He slides a hand around your waist, squeezing you into his side. There he goes with the full on physical affection. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he shrugs as his fingers trace your shoulder. “If I’m anything to go by, Rob’s got questionable taste in friends already.”

Your laugh escapes in a soft huff, and you lean your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, savouring his comforting heat. 

“We’ve gotta work on your self-deprecating humour,” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket.

He snorts, pressing another quick kiss to your temple. 

“I told you, angel, I am working on it.”

When he lifts his arm to catch the bartender’s attention, you let your gaze trail over him: the lean lines of his shoulders, the way his hair curls just so. You feel a stir of something low in your stomach at how ridiculously good he looks in the dim, moody lighting. 

Watching him come out of his shell was absolutely delectable—seeing him navigate a crowded room with such ease felt like witnessing a victory in real time, a step forward that was physical proof of progress.

He places the order—your tonic, his own cocktail—and is about to make another witty remark when there’s a gentle tap on his arm.

You glance over to see a brunette woman with an explosive grin, practically vibrating with excitement. She’s dressed up just enough for the night—high-waisted black trousers that elongate her frame, paired with a silky button-up in a deep, jewel-toned shade, the sleeves casually rolled to her elbows.

Her face is alight as she meets Steve’s eyes, and she looks moments away from flinging her arms around him—though she’s clearly checking herself, as if aware of exactly how he handles the unexpected. When he spins, and his entire face brightens in recognition.

“Hey, you made it!” he exclaims, wrapping her in a hug that’s enthusiastic. She squeaks as he squeezes a bit too tight.

“Oof—yeah, I did,” she laughs, patting his shoulder. “Yep—alright—good to see you too, maybe let’s not crush me to death?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says sheepishly, releasing her. Straightening up, he glances back at you, a hint of a blush crawling across his cheeks. 

This is it—the moment he’s been waiting for. He’s known you for a few months, but somehow, it feels like so much more. This is the event he’s imagined over and over, finally introducing you to his closest friend. 

The idea of bringing a romantic partner into this part of his life had once felt so far out of reach, but now that he can? 

That’s exactly what’s fueling his confidence tonight.

“Uh, so… this is—this is who I’ve been telling you about. This is my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

He pauses, savouring the word like it’s something that delights him every time he says it—because it does. 

His eyes flick to Robin, and he can tell there’s something on the tip of her tongue as she takes in his expression. He knows how proud he must look, how transparent his feelings are, but for once, he can’t bring himself to care.

He steps aside for you two to be introduced properly. Her eyes are bright as she takes you in, a wide smile stretching across her face.

“So, you finally asked her?” she asks him, but she’s already beaming at you like an old friend. The excitement in her voice makes your own heart feel more at ease.

Steve’s flush deepens. “Yeah—yeah, I did.”

The girl doesn’t hesitate. She engulfs you in a hug, and the warmth of her personality radiates through every second of contact. 

“Oh my god, I’ve heard so much about you,” she gushes, pulling back just enough to look at you but still keeping her hands on your arms.

You can’t resist flicking your gaze at Steve over her shoulder, your lips curving into a playful smile. 

“Really?”

You didn’t expect any less. 

“Oh absolutely, who do you think he called after every date you guys had?” She steps back to give you a little breathing room. “You should’ve heard him. He was like—”

“Hey, hey—no,” Steve interrupts, pressing one hand to his friend's shoulder. “Can we not share all the embarrassing details of my life right now?”

“Get a few more drinks in him, and you can ask him yourself.” She snorts, rolling her eyes at you. 

Steve laughs, feeling your eyes flick up to him. He doesn’t need the drinks to loosen his tongue—he’s already so hopelessly smitten with you. That much was obvious.

Still, he’s eager to get the night started, to show you off the way he’s been dying to.

“Alright,” he says, finally breaking that little reverie, “I got the drinks, you two go find a seat.” He turns to Robin. “Rum and Coke?”

As always.

“Ugh, yes,” she says, linking her arm with yours. It’s easy, natural—there’s an immediate sense that you’ll get along just fine. As the two of you meander toward a free table, she leans in conspiratorially. 

“So… did he tell you about the ice cream uniform?”

“Oh my god, yes.” A flash of amusement dances across your face. “Please tell me there’s more?”

Her chuckle is mischievous. 

“Oh yeah, there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Time feels fluid as the three of you settle into conversation, the low thrumming pulse of the bar’s music weaving around your table, though not too loud to drown out your voices. 

It’s been a while since you first claimed your seats, and yet you barely notice the hours slipping by. Every story Steve and Robin launch into starts with them tossing playful jabs back and forth, only to pause mid-sentence and glance at you, beckoning you to weigh in. 

You find yourself giggling along, giving opinions on whether a certain scheme was more ridiculous than some ill-fated date night, or whether one of them was actually to blame for a mishap they still remember. They trade banter like it’s second nature, and you feel like you’ve been part of their duo from the very start.

At some point, the discussion circles back to their high school days—a topic they both seem to have endless material for. You’re practically on the edge of your seat, soaking in every detail they’re willing to spill. Robin leans forward, clutching her glass as she narrows her eyes at Steve with playful accusation.

“Well, this guy could have been hanging out with me a lot sooner,” she says, wagging a finger in his direction, “if he’d actually paid attention in class, that is. Did you know I sat behind him in history for a whole year? Yeah—a year.” She stretches out the word for emphasis. “Didn’t even remember it.”

Steve huffs in protest. 

“Hey now, that’s not entirely true—”

“Yes, it is,” she cuts in, her grin bright with triumph. “When we both started working together, he introduced himself to me. Honestly, like I didn’t already know who he was.”

“In my defense,” he insists, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I was trying to focus.”

“You were so not.” Robin snorts. “How many tardies did you get that year?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. 

“I passed, didn’t I?”

“Barely.” She arches an eyebrow, and you laugh at the indignation blossoming on your boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, well,” he shoots back, folding his arms across his chest, “how many times did you have to take your driving test, huh? What was it—three? And who was stuck chauffeuring you to band practice before class even started?”

Robin’s jaw drops in mock outrage. 

“That’s not fair, driving is hard!” She punctuates her point by thumping Steve’s shoulder, though there’s no real force behind it.

“Yeah, sure it is,” he snickers. “Especially when you shut your eyes at a junction because you’re scared to get on the freeway.”

She shoves him more firmly this time, but her eyes sparkle with affection. You can practically feel the fondness thrumming between them. Every playful jab is undercut with closeness, revealing just how much they trust one another. 

Steve is so at ease—practically glowing. There isn’t a hint of the anxiety you sometimes catch in his eyes, no shadow of the stresses he’s hinted at before. He’s all laughter and bright colours here, the multiple cocktails probably loosening him up even more.

Watching them, it dawns on you just how special his friend is. She’s watched him become the man he is, seen him through phases you’ve only heard vague references to. There’s a sweet, sibling-like bond between them that would have made you insecure if not for how purely platonic they obviously are. 

They’re too busy ribbing each other and finishing one another’s sentences to harbour any romantic tension. And the sincerity in their smiles, the way they drift into each other’s personal space—this is the foundation that’s helped him grow. As you observe the two of them, you feel nothing but gratitude towards her.  

Does he feel this way around you too? 

Or is this kind of bond reserved for someone who’s known him since high school, who’s seen him through everything.

You lean in closer, meeting his gaze as his expression softens. As you sip your drink, you catch the way his playfully annoyed look melts into something fonder—a small, boyish smile taking its place. 

He nudges your foot under the table, a quiet little gesture just for you, as Robin continues listing her many reasons for despising driving. When he shoots you a wink, you can’t help but hope that one day, you’ll share that same camaraderie—the kind that comes with knowing someone inside and out.

The conversation drifts into a lull before Robin suddenly pipes up again, leaning toward you with a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. 

“Has he cooked for you yet?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows as if preparing you for some shocking revelation. “He better have with all the work I put in teaching him.”

“Oh, he has!” You nod eagerly, sipping your tonic. “I guess I have you to thank, huh?”

“You sure do.” She leans back with a self-satisfied grin, crossing her arms. “Should’ve seen him the first time I tried to get him into the kitchen—boiling an egg was apparently a herculean task.”

The boy groans in protest, shooting her a halfhearted glare.

“They cracked! That’s not my fault.”

Robin laughs, drink nearly sloshing over the rim. 

“Yeah, because you turned the heat too high.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he defends himself. “They get hot and break.”

Bless him.

“Uh, no, Steve.” You try to stifle your own laugh, but fail completely. “It’s because the water was boiling too hard, they bang around in the pot.”

His brow furrows in puzzlement. 

“That’s what that is?”

Robin's expression matches your own, and both of you fall into giggles again at his earnest confusion. 

God, he’s sweet. 

“Seems like I have more work to do,” she sighs, taking another sip of her drink.

“Clearly,” you agree, throwing Steve a playful side-eye. He raises his hands in protest.

“Wow, okay—” he says, rolling his eyes, “so you’re both ganging up on me now?”

He sees how it is.

Typical. 

Robin props her elbow on the table, her head tilting back with a grin that’s gone a little hazy from too many drinks. 

“Yeah, well,” she begins, voice lilting with mischief, “you have gotten better. Remember when you basically refused to go into the meat aisle? You said it smelled like the tunnels, but I asked Dustin about it and he said that—”

She’s halfway through the sentence when Steve stiffens, his foot giving her a not-so-subtle nudge under the table. At once, the mirth drains a bit from her face, and she glances over at him, clearly realising she’s stepped onto sensitive ground. 

You perk up—another piece of information. But instead of clarifying anything, it only adds to the puzzle. 

A tunnel? 

Steve had never mentioned that before, but your brain immediately tries to slot it into the story you already know. Was there a tunnel at the old mall? 

It's possible.

But that wouldn’t make much sense in the context of meat. He worked at an ice cream shop, not a damn butcher’s.

“Sorry.” Robin whispers, looking apologetic. You know you were not meant to hear that apology and you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“What?” Your eyebrows draw together. “What is it?”

Tell me. 

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” He forces a tight-lipped smile, shrugging a little too casually. “Don’t worry about it.”

You want to be sad, but you can’t. And you certainly can’t press him on it, not here. Not when he was so excited about tonight, so eager to show you off.

You feel his hand resting on your thigh, but now there’s a tension in it that wasn’t there before. That shift, that change from the easy one he had just moments ago, is what makes the decision for you. There will be other times for this, other moments to piece things together. But not now.

You exchange a lingering look between them—Robin mouths out another apology, and he gives her a small, forgiving nod. 

You don’t dwell on the moment. Besides, you still have a new piece of the puzzle. 

That was better than nothing.

By the time you step out of the bar, it’s just past midnight, and the cool air rushes to greet you. Steve is practically attached to your side, his arm draped over your shoulder as though he might topple over without your support. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find it adorable—his usual guarded composure replaced with an open, slightly wonky, grin.

And it's hilarious to witness.

“C’mon, Steve,” you coax, wrapping an arm around his waist for balance. “We gotta get back.”

He’s clearly not ready for the night to end as he opens his mouth to protest. 

“Nooo, we can stay,” he pleads, turning big eyes on Robin, who stands nearby with her own contented smile. “Rob, tell her we can stay. She got all dolled up for this, wouldn't be fair—”

You exchange a conspiratorial smile with her. Leaning in close so Steve can’t quite hear.

“Does he always get like this?” You whisper.

"When he drinks?" Robin stifles a laugh. "Oh yeah, big time—gets super sappy."

Then, turning toward the pouting grown man beside you, she huffs. 

"I told you to take it easy with the mojitos."

Steve was clearly not listening. 

“Pssh, whatever,” he interjects, only half hearing her. “I don’t have to be up tomorrow, and neither do you,” he says, pointing somewhat dramatically at Robin.

She lifts a hand, palm out to stop his rambling. 

“Yeah, well, if I go home to Vickie like that, she’ll have more than a few choice words for me.”

He tips forward in a woozy attempt at reassurance. 

“You can… you can blame it on me?” He offers, voice trailing off into a sweet but slurred laugh, like he can't even take himself seriously.

His friend just shakes her head, clearly endeared. 

“Nice try—but no.” She says before turning to you. “You alright getting him home?”

Glancing up at your boyfriend—his eyes half-lidded, a sleepy smile hinting on his lips—you nod, your own fondness tugging at your heart. 

“I’m sure I can handle him,” you confirm with a tiny smirk. 

You’ve guided him through worse nights than this.

“Alright, Steve, let go of your girlfriend for a sec so I can say goodbye,” Robin says, trying her best to be stern. He frowns but reluctantly loosens his hold on you.

You slip away long enough for her to wrap you in a quick hug. Her voice is brimming with excitement as she pulls back. 

“We have to do this again. I haven’t even told you about working at the video store and his terrible sorting system—”

"Hey!" A spark of protest ignites in Steve's gaze. "I don’t wanna hear it, alright? It was superior to whatever—" he waves his hands in front of him, searching for the right word, "carnage you had going on."

“Alphabetical is far from carnage.”

He huffs, nose wrinkling in mock indignation, but even through his tipsy state, he can’t hide the affection in his eyes. He tugs Robin into a hug goodbye and you can feel the tenderness between them. 

And just like that, you’re left with a very happy, very tipsy Steve Harrington—who has promptly glued himself right back to your side.

You guide him, swaying on his feet, into the passenger side of his car. He flops in with a soft grunt, blinking as though everything around him is subtly moving. You close the door gently, careful all of his limbs are inside, before walking around the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The interior still carries the faint trace of his cologne, a small reminder that—despite how he looks right now—he is, in fact, a put-together adult. 

Well, mostly.

“All right, Mr Harrington,” you say, scanning the dashboard. “Where’re your keys?”

He puts on an exaggerated, perplexed expression, patting his chest and shaking his head. 

“I dunno what you’re talking about…”

Rolling your eyes, you lean over, determined. 

“We are not going back in there,” you tell him, stern enough to make him give you a dramatic pout when he realises you won’t budge.

“Fine,” he mumbles, fishing around in the inner pocket of his blazer before finally producing the car key. He hands them over, and you give him a grateful smile, slipping them into the ignition.

“Seat belt?” you prompt.

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs as though you’re asking the world of him. His voice is playful, edged with that mellow tone people get after a few too many drinks.

“You’re so bossy,” he continues in a tone that cannot be taken seriously. “Are you usually this bossy?”

“Well, sorry for caring about your physical safety,” you fire back, carefully easing out of the parking space.

“Always looking after me, aren’t you?”

He releases a soft laugh, leaning against the passenger door, his eyes remained fixed on you. 

“Someone’s gotta,” you reply, face softening as you glance over at him. “You feeling okay, or are things spinning?”

“What? I’m fine.” His eyes widen in mock indignation. “Do I not look like fine?”

You flick a wry smile his way. 

“You look drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he objects, though his lopsided grin and rosy cheeks tell a different story.

You look at him now—not as perfectly put together as when he picked you up, but somehow, he looks even better. 

His hair is no longer an art form, tousled and a little wild, and his posture has lost all its careful composure, slumped and comfortable. His eyes, softer now, lock onto yours, completely unguarded. 

He looks utterly relaxed—and for him, that’s something big.

It seems like the perfect time to test just how far gone he is, just a little fun—tease him while he’s in this gullible, blissed-out state.

"Good," you start, the drawl in your tone unmistakable, eyes flicking over him knowingly. "Because if you were, I would’ve stayed the night. Helped you through the hangover tomorrow."

“What?” His reaction is immediate. “You’re not staying?” He sits up straighter as if you’ve just admitted to murder.

You shrug with as much nonchalance as you can manage. 

“Not sure. I have a few things I need to get done tomorrow…”

"No—baby," he blurts out, sounding more pitiful than you’ve ever heard. "I’m so drunk, practically wasted here—can’t even see straight."

“Oh yeah? That bad, huh?"

"So bad," he nods vigorously, eyes wide with dramatics. "You gotta stay."

He tilts his head just enough to sell it. 

"C’mon, what if I wake up miserable and there’s, like, no one there to feel sorry for me?"

A laugh bursts out of you. His soulful, puppy-eyed expression tugs on your heart. For a moment, you feel a tiny pang of guilt for teasing him—but it was just so goddamn easy.

“All right, then,” you relent. “I guess I’ll have to stay—” you shoot him a sly smile, “just in case.”

His relief is obvious. A broad, boyish smile breaks across his face, and he exhales a dramatic sigh as he melts back into the passenger seat. 

By the time you park outside his place, he’s steadier on his feet—though still leaning on you for support, but you suspect it’s not from the drinks. His fingers trail along your waist and up your spine, as if he can’t bear to stop touching you for even a second. 

Once inside, you gently push the door shut behind you and help him shrug out of his blazer. He doesn’t flinch or resist—not a single indication of the usual tension that sometimes appears when his arms are exposed. 

Whatever self-consciousness he carries about his scars is nowhere to be found right now. As soon as the it’s off, his hands return to your waist, pulling you flush against him so he can bury his face in your hair.

“Steve,” you murmur, pressing a hand to his chest. “Let me get you some water.”

“In a second,” he groans, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw. “I haven’t given you nearly enough attention tonight.”

“You’ve given me more than enough, trust me.” You laugh softly, sliding a hand up to his cheek to coax him back. “C’mon, water first, then bed.”

He lets you guide him into the kitchen, though he still can’t resist peppering little kisses along your shoulder whenever he can sneak them in.

At the sink, you fill two cups of water—familiar with where everything is kept by now—but the moment you straighten, he is behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder, lips lightly grazing the side of your neck.

“Hey—nuh-uh," you chide, reluctantly. “We can’t right now. You’ve had a drink.”

No matter how much you want to.

“No—can’t do that to me.” He groans dramatically, pressing himself against your back. “Y'knew what you were doing with that dress. Been thinkin' about it all night…”

A flush warms your cheeks at his plea, you turn in his arms and hold out the glass. 

“Drink this, please?”

His frown is exaggerated, but he dutifully tips back the glass. Downing the water in a few large gulps, then setting it aside, blinking down at you with heavy-lidded adoration. You stifle a laugh and take a sip from your own cup while he keeps his gaze locked on you.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity.

“Steve…” Your cheeks heat even more.

It's the drink talking.

“No, I’m serious—” He shakes his head, eyes soft. “Couldn’t believe it when I saw you tonight—was just… so excited to have you on my arm, for everyone to see.”

See how far he'd come.

The statement makes your heart thump, and when he lifts a hand to brush some hair off your forehead, you lean into his touch.

“You think she liked me?” you ask quietly,. A half smile curves on your lips as you probably know the answer, but you need the reassurance that you made him proud.

“Don’t think it’s possible for someone not to like you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and your heart melts a little further.

“You’re real sweet when you’re drunk,” you tease.

“I’m sweet all the time.” His hands trail languidly down your arms, leaving your skin tingling in their wake. You nod, breath catching slightly. 

“Yeah, you are,” you admit, cheeks still flushed. His lips graze your neck again, sending a pleasant shiver through you.

“You gonna let me be real sweet to you?” he whispers, his breath tickling your skin.

You hum, gently pushing him back just enough to meet his eyes. He’s gazing at you so intently, smitten and serious all at once. The haze of alcohol may linger in his system, but the affection shining in his expression is crystal clear.

He looks down at you, catching the hesitation in your eyes. He knows exactly what it means—you won’t do anything unless he’s fully there, fully present in the moment. And that only makes him want you more. 

The fact that you’d wait for him, that you care enough to make sure he’s in the right headspace, has him feeling completely enamored.

But he’s right—he has been patient. And the cocktails? They aren’t clouding his judgment in any way that concerns him. He’s a little fuzzy, sure, but not intoxicated. Well—maybe by you. And if he’s being honest, he’s been itching to get his hands on you all night.

He drops a soft kiss to your lips, then pulls back. 

“I’m not drunk, angel,” he insists quietly. “Just a little tipsy.”

You still look unsure, and he sees it instantly. But Steve knows exactly how to sweet-talk you into trusting him—how to make you see that this isn’t the alcohol talking, that you're gonna be safe with him.

He's choosing this. 

"I want this, angel," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Not because I’ve been drinking—because it’s you. I've got you."

His fingers trace gently along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You're nearly there.

The final blow.

"So if you’ll let me… I’d really, really like to show you just how much."

You cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his warm skin. 

How on earth can you say no to that? 

“Alright, we can—”

You’re cut off by him letting out a triumphant breath and scooping you right up, hands slipping under your thighs to support you as he strides toward the bedroom. You squeal, clinging to him in surprise as you try to talk through the stream of nervous giggles.

“Steve!” you exclaim, your laughter echoing off the walls.

He just laughs in return, the sound rich and throaty, carrying you through the doorway as though you weigh nothing at all.

He practically tosses you onto the bed in his haste, eliciting a squeak of laughter from you as your back hits the soft covers. It’s immediately clear there’s something different in him tonight—he’s excited, charged, and looking at you with eyes that burn like embers. 

Before you can fully process his transformation, his mouth slants over yours in a desperate kiss that has you gasping into him. His palms roam over your body, broad and possessive, like he can’t decide which part of you he wants to touch first.

A startled giggle leaves your lips when he breaks away to mouth along your jaw. You tip your head back, giving him room, unable to stifle a grin at how single-minded he is.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, voice breathless.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, pupils blown wide with desire. His hair’s slightly mussed from your fingers, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. 

“Honey—if you knew half the shit I was thinking about at the bar,” he says in a low rasp, “you wouldn’t be teasing me right now.”

A shiver courses through you—filled with pure want. There’s a spark of mischief in your veins. Something about seeing him like this, so unguarded, emboldens you. 

“Big words,” you reply, cocking a brow, “for someone who still hasn’t touched me properly yet.”

He barks out a laugh—almost incredulous, the corners of his mouth quirking like he’s delighted you’d dare to challenge him. 

“Is that how you wanna play tonight?”

He doesn’t know what’s come over him. He wasn’t lying, he wasn’t drunk, but there’s a desperation bleeding out of every part of him, something hungry and entirely focused on you.

He feels confident—only spurred on by the way you’re pawing at him, the way you were looking at him all night.

Like you belonged to him.

For once, there’s no hesitation, no fear of disappointment when he will rid himself of his clothes. He knows you’ll like what you see, and that sends a realisation through his mind, tipping him straight back into King Steve territory—sure of himself and completely in his element with something he is verifiably good at.  

Judging by the way you arch up into him, the way your fingers grip at his skin like you need him closer.

You can feel it, too.

He gently gathers both your wrists, guiding them above your head, pressing them into the bed which sends a slow, delicious shiver down your spine.

He’s testing now, feeling out this new territory between the two of you. He feels you hold your breath and his grip stays firm—but never forceful. His strength is potent, but he wields it gently, a reassurance that you could break free at any moment if you wanted to.

He glances down at you, breath still heavy, eyes searching. His fingers squeeze yours once.

Are you okay with this? 

He waits, unmoving. 

And when your hands squeeze back, the answer is clear.

You’re allowing him to do this to you.

And fuck, that sends something primal through him.

He leans down, teeth grazing the juncture of your neck and shoulder in a teasing nip that has you keening.

“Careful what you wish for, baby,” he murmurs, moving his kisses along the curve of your throat. “I don’t do halfway.”

A thrill of anticipation flares in your belly at his words. This new side of him—so sure, so hungry—has you spinning. Each nip draws a gasp, your entire body stirring under the onslaught of sensation.

After one last kiss pressed into your collarbone, he releases your wrists and skims his palms down your torso, pausing at your hips. The shift of power jolts your heart when he slides off the bed, kneeling at the edge.

He wears a crooked grin as he grabs your thighs and unceremoniously yanks you closer, your lower half practically dangling off the mattress. Then he hooks a finger under the waistband of your underwear, his gaze dropping like he’s savouring every detail of you.

He runs the pad of his thumb over the thin fabric, right at the wet patch where you’re most sensitive, and your breath seizes.

He’s gonna have some fun with you. 

“You know,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, tantalising circles, “I could be mean… take my time, really make you work for it.”

You swallow.

Hard.

Where the hell did that come from?

Steve has flirted with dirty talk before, tossing out teasing remarks that left you flustered, but he’s never drawn it out like this—never tested your patience with such slow, deliberate cruelty.

It’s so different from the way he usually is, and his look tonight only amplifies it. His all-black outfit is still visible through the planes of your thighs, a monumental contrast to the flustered, second-grade teacher you stumbled upon all those months ago—the one who could barely string together a sentence to ask you out outside his classroom.

Now he’s like this—in control, commanding, completely reveling in the role he’s taken tonight.

It hits you all at once: how much he’s changed.

How much he’s grown.

You can hardly imagine that past version of Steve taking charge the way he is now, and fuck.

It’s beautiful.

It makes you want to give in completely, to relinquish yourself to him, to let him feel what it’s like to lead again—to call the shots, to take what he wants, to be the old him once more.

“You wouldn’t,” you manage to retort, but your bravado falters the moment you see his face.

He arches a brow, amused by your statement.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chides as he runs a hand down your leg, “you know I would." He pulls himself closer to your core, never breaking eye contact. "Not just gonna hand it to you, not tonight—you’re gonna ask for it, real sweet for me, okay?”

You’re about to fire off another witty remark when he slips your underwear down your legs, the fabric disappearing in one swift motion. Goosebumps race over your skin at the cool air against your heated flesh. 

His eyes darken at the sight of how wet you are, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he fights to stay in control. You see his throat bob when he swallows, like he’s genuinely trying not to devour you on the spot.

A surge of embarrassment rises in your chest at how the exposure, but it’s overshadowed by the torrent of desire swirling inside you.

He settles in, nudging your knees apart, and plants soft, teasing bites along your inner thighs. The gentle scrape of his teeth makes you shudder. It’s maddening that he’s so close yet deliberately avoiding the place you need him most.

“Steve… please—”

You stop, voice cracking on the final syllable, unable to fully spit out what he wants. The vulnerability of wanting something so fiercely—of needing him so shamelessly—clutches at your chest. But he only smiles against your skin, smug and satisfied.

He's enjoying this.

“Mmm,” he hums “that’s a start, baby." His large hand presses lightly on your hip, keeping you still. "But you can do better than that, c’mon.”

Christ—he’s really doing it.

Making you earn it tonight.

His words shoot molten heat straight to your core, and your cheeks burn at how easily he’s backed you into this corner. You’re used to him being sweet, doting, bending to please you. Now he’s making you work for it.

A new wave of arousal slides through you, and your pride cracks under the tension. 

“Steve, fuck—” you grit out, “I need… I need your mouth on me.”

Your voice is so pitiful, so wrecked, that it makes him pause. Just for a second. Letting your request hang in the air between you. He tips his head back, eyes shutting as the pretty words sink in, echoing in his mind, wrapping around his ego like silk.

You always ask so nicely—so sweet, like you know he’s the only one who can give you what you need.

When his gaze drifts back down to you, his lips curl into a slow, wolfish grin, full of intent and promise.

You got it, angel.

“See?” he murmurs, voice buzzing with triumph. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His fingers grip the underside of your thighs, the press of his thumbs guiding you to spread open for him. He’s so sure in his movements—like he’s found a new rhythm to the confidence that’s always been under the surface.

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, silently asking for every ounce of trust.

“Now,” he purrs, “be good for me and hold still.”

Your half-formed reply dies on your lips the moment his tongue flicks out in a slow, deliberate stroke, and every one of your senses sparks with raw heat as you gasp.

The slick sound of him feasting on you, the wet slide of his mouth and the soft, desperate little hums in his throat—it’s a rush of sensation you can’t possibly process all at once. Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back, and you grasp at the sheets for any sort of grounding.

He’s relentless, and your responses only spur him in more, bracing his arms under your thighs and pulling you closer as he licks you in languid, thorough passes that have you panting. 

You’ve felt his enthusiasm before, but never quite like this—he’s devouring you, every flick of his tongue precise, and he's barely even started. His nose nudges in precisely the right spot against your clit, sending another wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

You can feel his smile against you as you writhe beneath him, he knows exactly how good he is, and he’s revelling in it. And he doesn’t waste a second—doesn’t tease, doesn’t draw it out—just gives you exactly what you need, slipping a finger inside your walls slowly. 

He’s reading you like a damn book, tracking every little reaction, every shaky breath, every twitch of your body. And when he feels you clench down around his digit, a quiet, broken sound slipping from your lips, he looks up—just to see the glazed-over look in your eyes, the telltale sign that your mind has emptied of anything but him.

Perfect. 

Exactly where he wants you.

A strangled moan bubbles up in your chest, almost slipping free, but your reflex is to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the embarrassing sound. 

Immediately, he notices your movements. He stills, bites down on your thigh—not too hard, but with enough force to jolt you out of your pleasured haze—and you gasp, eyes snapping down to meet his.

“Oh no, baby,” he admonishes, voice reverberating against your skin, “none of that. If I’m makin' you feel good, I wanna hear it.”

Flustered heat floods your cheeks. 

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, sweetheart, you were,” he cuts in with a smile that’s maddeningly confident. “But that’s alright.”

He reaches for your wrist, prying your arm away from your face. The gentle kiss he presses into your palm is so achingly tender it makes your breath stutter. Then, he guides your hand to the top of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair.

“Go on,” he murmurs, sighing when your fingers scrape against his scalp. “Keep me here. Let me finish what I started.”

You don’t need to be asked twice. Your grip tightens in his hair, trying to ground yourself against the swirling sensation of his mouth and hands. He groans in approval at the tug, the vibration sending fresh sparks of pleasure dancing along your spine. 

It’s overwhelming—the sloppy sound of him working, the heady smell of desire in the air, the blazing heat coiling in your stomach that’s already coiled too tight.

The pressure builds fast, almost too much. A litany of moans and half-formed pleas stutter from your lips, and your thighs clamp around his head, unconsciously trying to pull him closer. He doesn’t let up, his mouth so perfectly focused that you feel yourself hurtling toward the brink.

“Steve,” you gasp, voice cracking as you arch your back. “Please—I need you inside—”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your wild, pleading gaze. A cocky smirk paints his face, and you’re distantly aware of how your own arousal slicks the lower half of his jaw. 

He looks downright smug.

“So bossy,” he drawls, drunk on lust and repeating the earlier sentiment. He slips his fingers out, ignoring the needy tremor that wracks your body. “But you knew how this was gonna go—first you come on my tongue. Then you get my cock.”

Jesus.

Did he really just say that?

He dives back in without waiting for your reply. Shock ripples through you at the brazen filth coming out of his mouth, but it’s drowned by the delirious pleasure of his tongue lapping at you again. A strangled moan escapes you, and you tighten your hold in his hair.

The pleasure whips through you in dizzying waves, and you can’t hold on any longer—your voice cracks on a broken cry as you cum, your muscles seizing, back arching off the bed as he drinks in your release. The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure blooming hot beneath your skin. 

He groans, feeling your thighs quake around him, but he only slows when you start to whimper that it’s too sensitive. Gently, he eases the pressure, placing a series of soft, almost apologetic kisses against your shaking inner thigh.

He could get used to this new confidence.

Especially when you reacted like that.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still hooded and dark, chest heaving as he looks at you sprawled on the bed. A deep flush staining his cheeks, seeming almost in awe of you—of what he’s just done.

Of what he was capable of. 

“Fuck—” he breathes, voice ragged. “That was so fucking beautiful.”

And he’s gonna make you do it again. 

He leans back on his heels, gaze tracking over your trembling form. For a moment, all he does is toy with the hem of your dress, the fabric rumpled from all his manhandling.

“Dressed so pretty for me,” he murmurs, dragging his fingertips along the edge of the material. “Should’ve been patient, taken my time peeling it off first.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to punch a hole through your chest. The desire in his eyes is thick—tangible enough that it makes every nerve in your body light up. You lift your shoulder slightly, desperate to be rid of the clingy fabric.

 “T-take it off—”

He huffs a low laugh and shakes his head, catching both of your wrists gently and pressing them back onto the bed. His grip is firm but never harsh, the contrast makes your pulse jump even higher.

“Ah-ah, sweetheart,” he chides. “Lemme enjoy it a little longer.”

You wore it for him, after all. 

Still fully clothed himself—his slacks pressing against your hypersensitive core—he leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that has your head spinning. You can feel the rough fabric nudge between your thighs, stoking the heat that hasn’t subsided one bit since he first put his mouth on you.

His breath warms your neck as he breaks the kiss. 

“Begged so pretty for my mouth—how 'bout you tell me how bad you want my cock?”

His voice is all tease, dripping with amusement as he watches the effect his words have on you. He holds back a chuckle when you tug at his shirt. His impatient girl.

He knows what you want.

He’s not dumb.

He just likes watching how precious you are when you're needy.

“I swear—if you don’t—”

He grins, cutting you off.

“If I don’t what?” The low rasp in his voice vibrates through you as he finally lets go of your wrists to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, taking pity on you at last.

He doesn’t even register the scars covering his torso—you’ve already seen them, already traced them with careful fingers, already accepted them. Right now, that’s not what matters.

The only thing on his mind is you—how far he can take you, how much he can push with this new trust you’ve given him. He’s going to drag this out, drink up every second.

And later, when the night is over, he’ll revisit this moment again and again, replaying it until it’s burned into him,

Until it’s engraved into his eyelids. 

“You want me to take these off?” he drawls, glancing at your still mostly clothed figure, “What d'you think?” He pauses and pretends to contemplate his question. “Should I make you beg for that too?”

God no, you plead looking up at him. 

Your expression must be downright pitiful—eyes big, mouth parted—because after a few agonising seconds of letting you squirm, he exhales a soft chuckle. 

He’s not gonna be that mean. 

At least not tonight.

“Alright,” he says, voice warming, “waited long enough. Let’s get you out of this—before you tear it off yourself.”

Finally.

His hands move with purpose, helping you out of the dress in record time. The bra follows in one swift motion, baring your skin to the chilled air. The hunger in his gaze intensifies, and you instinctively cross your arms over yourself, but he gently pulls them apart with a soft, adoring look.

He might be all sharp tongues and teasing words, but he’s still your Steve—and it slips through the second he sees you like this, sees the softness in your naked body.

Every time, it wrecks him. Leaves him in awe, staring like he’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He has to school himself, to remind himself why he’s here.

Not just to have you.

To make love to you.

Fuck you so good you forget your own name.

He stands to rid himself of his jeans and underwear, fumbling briefly with the button in his haste. The condom he grabs from the top drawer is on in a flash, and you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes your lips.

“Were you planning this?” you quip, arching a brow.

He smirks, bracing a hand on the mattress as he crawls over you. 

“Wouldn’t call it planning,” he admits, “more like wishful thinking.”

He looks down at you, gauging every little reaction as he settles between your thighs, his mind spinning from the way you’ve handed yourself over to him tonight.

Every teasing thought that crosses his mind? 

He says it. 

Every slow, deliberate movement? 

He makes it. 

He’s always had a quick mouth, always had a knack for getting the last word, and it turns out that skill translates pretty well in the bedroom. 

From the way you’re responding—whimpering, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, he understands it's effect.

He drags his cock through your slick, soaking in the way you shudder, still sensitive from your last release. The broken little sound you let out nearly ends him right there. 

He almost slows down, almost stops to check in, almost asks if you need a second—

But then he sees it. 

That look in your eyes.

Like you’re seconds away from combusting. Like if he doesn’t fill you up right now, you might actually fall apart. That puts his mind at ease real quick.

You can take it. You can take him.

You always have, every curveball his fucked up life has thrown at you and now, this is your reward. 

His tough girl—so pretty, so pliant, and all his.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he murmurs, rolling his hips just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. "Fuck—bet I could make you cum again before I’m even all the way in—"

Your body clenches at the idea, but a flicker of alarm crosses your features. He notices and offers a crooked grin, leaning down to press a comforting kiss to your cheek.

You can have him now. 

"Shhh—I'll be nice, promise.” He assures, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. "I know—let me give it to you, yeah? Just how you like."

He pushes inside with deliberate slowness, guiding himself until he’s fully sheathed, and the stretch is a sharp, blissful edge that has your toes curling into the sheets. Heat flares bright as you take him in, your breath catching in your throat at the way he fills you.

"Shit," he breathes, voice wrecked, eyes fluttering shut. "You—fuck, you have any idea what you did tonight?"

His mind flashes to the bar—how pretty you looked, how fucking dangerous you stared at him, all soft-spoken and sweet while chatting with Robin, while his brain was miles deep in the gutter.

"Had me losing my fucking mind, baby—kept looking at me like you wanted me to bend you over the damn table—"

Your cheeks burn, fresh embarrassment creeping up your neck. Sure, you were flirting with him—but not to that extent, right?

The way his eyes darkened whenever you brushed against him, the way his jaw tensed, like he was barely keeping himself in check. And now, hearing him say it out loud, knowing just how much it got to him.

Yeah. 

You don’t regret it one bit.

“I-I didn’t mean to—”

His hips flex, drawing a startled cry from you. 

“No?” he challenges, leaning down so his breath skates across your lips. “Then why're you squeezing me like this, huh? Feels like you wanted it real bad.”

A strangled moan rips from your chest when he adjusts his angle, the friction almost too exquisite to bear. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon imprints on his skin, and he seems to relish it. It only spurs him to thrust deeper, rolling his body in a fluid, deliberate motion that has you arching up into him.

“Can you feel how deep I am?” he rasps, pressing a broad palm over your lower stomach.

You nearly wail at the added pressure, your body tightening involuntarily. Every nerve feels overexposed, and the sweet ache is already coiling again, dangerously close to snapping.

"Yes—yes," you pant, voice breaking, eyes squeezing shut like it’s too much. "Fuck—fuck, I can feel it—"

His own breathing is ragged, that confident smirk never fully leaving his face. 

"Yeah—you do," he groans, voice cracking. "Fuck—stretching around me so fucking perfect—"

He pounds you into the mattress, each thrust driving sparks of ecstasy through your veins. The headboard knocks against the wall, but all you can do is cling to him, trying to keep your mind from fracturing under the overwhelming pleasure.

“Steve—Steve, I—,” you gasp, the tension in your core reaching a fever pitch, “I’m gonna—”

“Shhh, baby,” he croons, sliding a hand under your back to pull you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “It’s okay—I got you. Been so good for me tonight—go on, let go.”

Your body locks up, the orgasm tearing through you with near-blinding intensity, muscles clamping around him in a cascade of pleasure that leaves you sobbing out broken moans. His rhythm stutters, his eyes squeezing shut as he chases his own release.

“That’s it—” he mutters, voice cracking with urgency. “Fuck, I can’t—I—”

One more thrust and he’s lost, groaning low in his chest as he spills into the condom. The two of you ride out the final tremors together, foreheads pressed, breath mingling in the heavy air.

It takes a moment for you both to resurface after his release, his chest still heaving against yours. The pleasure in his eyes slowly gives way to something gentler.

He leans down, pressing a series of lazy, heartfelt kisses to your forehead, your cheekbones, the corners of your mouth—wherever his lips can reach. Each touch is imbued with care.

“Did so good,” he murmurs between kisses, voice affectionate. “So good for me, angel.”

You melt under the praise, letting your eyes drift shut as you soak in his breathless devotion. It contrasts how wild he’d been just moments ago—downright relentless—makes his current tenderness all the sweeter.

With a gentle grunt, he pushes himself onto his elbows, brushing back the stray hair that clings to your damp forehead. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”

In your blissed-out state, all you can manage is a drowsy hum of assent. He slips off the bed, and you watch through lidded eyes as he pads across the room, disappearing into the bathroom. 

You hear the tap running, the faint rustle of him disposing of the condom, then the soft swish of water in a washcloth. Your body feels utterly spent, a pleasant tingle still humming along your skin.

There’s a quiet care in the way he cleans you up. The washcloth is warm and soothing against your overly sensitive skin, and you shiver at the sensation. 

His gaze follows your every little twitch, making sure he hasn’t hurt you. You can feel his hand trembling ever so slightly—not from uncertainty, but from the flood of emotions surging through him.

“Hey,” he says, voice subdued, “that was okay?” His eyes lift to yours, a glint of worry in them. “I mean… you’re good, right?”

You let out a lazy, content laugh. 

Yeah, you're pretty fucking good.

“Think I’m gonna need a week to recover.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up. 

“Definitely.” A mischievous curl graces your lips. “Now, come here and let me fall asleep on you.”

You really are bossy tonight. 

“Alright. Gimme a second.” He stands up, rummaging through a drawer for a pair of boxers. When he slips them on, you catch a glimpse of the faint lines of his scars, but he still doesn't seem bothered.

He fishes out a soft, worn T-shirt for you, returning to the bed to help you pull it over your head. The patience contrasts all of his previous actions.

“Better?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

You nod, contentment seeping into your bones. He climbs in beside you, pulling the covers up until you’re both tucked in. He wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you close enough that you can press your face against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you, punctuating the silence.

You open your mouth to say something—maybe to tease him about how he just passed some imaginary line from shy to sweet to downright insatiable—but before you can form the words, you realise his breathing has already gone soft and rhythmic. 

The drinks and all the exertion apparently caught up to him, and he’s fallen asleep, mouth parted and face slightly smushed into his pillow.

“Good night,” you murmur, a fond smile tugging at your lips, even though you know he can’t hear you. You lean up to plant a delicate kiss on his jaw.

You knew he'd appreciate it if he was awake.

He mumbles something incoherent, shifting only to pull you tighter against him, and you let out a quiet giggle that he sleeps right through. Feeling his warmth, your own exhaustion rushes in, and you finally let your eyes flutter shut.

The hungover teacher stirred with a low groan, rolling onto his side as the dull ache behind his temples made itself known. His mouth felt tacky and dry, and he blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through the blinds. 

Nine o’clock was the time displayed on his alarm—usually he was up before then, but after the night he’d had, it was hardly surprising.

Last night was fun.

Last night...

Last night.

Oh, God.

The realisation hit him like a jolt of caffeine. He cast a quick glance around the bed. The rumpled sheets on your side were cool to the touch, and his heart gave a lurch. He noticed right away that the clothes the two of you had tossed around last night were no longer strewn across the floor. 

His mind whirred with images of the previous evening: how he’d practically been glued to your side in the car, half-drunk and babbling. How he’d lost every ounce of self-consciousness once you got inside… 

And dear lord, that torrent of absolute filth that had poured out of his mouth.

He didn’t regret the closeness—far from it. But the specifics came rushing back, making him wince. 

He’d definitely gone too far, pushed some kind of boundary here. A flush crept over his cheeks at the recollection of the way he’d practically manhandled you, said things to you he hadn’t allowed himself to say in years. 

And the marks—no, not his—he vividly recalled leaving little reminders of himself on your skin. What if you were hurt or upset? Is that why you weren’t next to him in bed?

Fuck this is bad. 

So very very bad. 

Just as he was about to scramble out from under the covers to search for you, he heard the bedroom door creak open. His stomach flipped—and there you were, peeking in with a bright grin, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand.

“Oh, Casanova has finally risen,” you teased, stepping fully into the room.

Relief flooded him so quickly he almost felt dizzy. You were still here. 

And you looked…

Well, you looked content. 

Happy, even?

You were practically glowing.

He stayed propped on one elbow, eyes roving over the fresh T-shirt you’d thrown on, a new one from the previous night, hair still mussed. He swallowed, trying to find words, but they didn’t come. He settled for a sheepish smile as you rounded the bed and set the cups on the bedside table before perching on the edge of the mattress, near his legs.

“How’s the head this morning?” you asked, tilting your head in concern.

“It’s, uh…” He shrugged a bit stiffly, still grappling with the residual embarrassment. “I’ll live,” he managed, realising only then how dry his throat was.

You leaned back, letting out a laugh, you couldn’t help it. He looked so frazzled in the low light of the morning. Your movement caused your hair to shift, and he finally noticed the marks he’d left on your neck. 

His stomach lurched. Guilt surging through him.

Crap. 

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, pushing himself upright. His hands slid over your shoulders, fingertips grazing the bruises with excruciating caution. “I swear, I never should’ve done that. Please tell me they don't hurt—are you hurt? I promise—”

You pressed a finger to his lips to stop his apologies spilling. 

“I’m fine,” you soothed.

He shook his head, eyes clouded with worry. He didn’t believe it, you were just being nice—too nice—like you always were. 

“Angel, you don’t have to lie to me,” he insisted, voice hushed. “I got carried away, I know I did. Just—just look at your neck. I—”

He never wanted to leave anything physical on your body. 

You batted his fussing hands away before he could delve into another apology. He felt you shift closer, sliding a leg over his lap and effectively straddling him. The contact made his heart thump in a way that was not filled with desire, but with reluctant relief.

If you were willingly crawling into his space like this, you couldn’t be too upset. 

Right?

“Hey,” you said softly, “look at me.”

He did, brown eyes trained on yours. The moment they did, he felt the tension in his chest loosen just a fraction. 

“Were you ever going to tell me where you learned to talk like that?” You teased, voice playful as you decided to steer the conversation in a new direction. 

You knew he’d be beating himself up—that’s just how he is. So, it was up to you to pull him out of it, to ease his mind from the intensity of the night before and steer him somewhere lighter, something more playful.

Also, you were definitely curious about where he got that mouth from.

A deep crimson spread across his cheeks. He remembered fragments of last night. The shamelessness of it all, the confidence, the raw desire that had him spouting every sinful thought crossing his mind. 

“… I don’t know!” He admitted, eyes shifting away but he knew you would not be satisfied with that answer. “Back in high school, I, uh… picked some stuff up, I guess. Whenever I just said what I wanted, reactions were… enthusiastic.”

“Reactions, huh?” You arched a brow. “Were you some kind of player?” You press further, leaning into him and watching him squirm. “I can imagine you had all the girls wrapped around your finger.”

Steve’s stomach knotted—he hated how this conversation was going, even if you punctuated it with a compliment. 

“I wasn’t, like, a player player,” he defended, lost as to how to word it right, “but I—fuck—I know my way around a woman, okay?”

“Way around a woman? So romantic.”

He groaned, planting his face in his hands in a thoroughly mortified gesture. 

“You know what I mean, God—” he mumbled, voice muffled. “You’re bullying me right now—this? This is bullying. Shouldn’t have introduced you to Rob, she’s rubbing off on you.”

With a grin, you gently peeled his hands away from his face, enjoying every once of embarrassment. 

“Call it payback,” you said, eyes dancing. “Because if this is bullying, I don’t know what to call your behaviour last night.”

He tried to retort, but ended up pressing his lips together. 

You got him there. 

He couldn’t bear it any longer, needed to put an end to this ruthless interrogation and wipe that cruel expression off your features. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said, voice still raw from sleep. Slipping his arms around your waist, he tugged you beneath him, rolling you onto the bed in a playful tumble. Your giggles filled the space, effectively silencing your questions.

When the laughter finally subsided, you stroked his cheek, a question in your eyes. 

“So I take it the hangover isn’t too bad?”

You’re finally done with torturing him.

“No, not too bad,” he shook his head, lips curving. “Told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

You gave him a dramatic eye-roll. 

“Yeah, alright,” you teased, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. “Hop in the shower. I’ll make us breakfast.”

His brows rose, something like hope glinting behind his eyes. 

“You’re not gonna have one too?” He tried to sound casual, but truth be told, he was already imagining the possibility of you joining him.

“I already did,” you replied, shrugging. “You were dead to the world. Didn’t wanna to wake you.”

“Well, next time, do.” He huffed in playful protest. “I could’ve helped.”

You shot him a pointed look as you slid out from under him. 

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

He tries to follow, strong arms itching to have you back in them. 

“Depends what you mean,” he countered with a sly half-smile. “I can be very useful when I wanna be.”

You’re sure he could. 

“Go shower, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and grab a pillow, swatting him lightly. “I’ll get us something to eat.”

He laughs as he stretches up, blanket slipping to expose his torso as he clicks out all the sleep of his spine. He slips off the bed, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he scurries through the doorway.

You wander into the kitchen, the morning sun giving the space a homey atmosphere despite the sparse contents of the fridge. When you open it, you are met with a mildly irritating discovery.

Three eggs. 

Damn it. 

You decide he’s earned two of them for all his hard work last night. A shopping trip is definitely in order, he’s not going to survive on leftover cereal and a couple of condiments. Setting the eggs aside, you gather bread and butter for toast, determined to whip up a breakfast that’s at least semi-nutritious. 

Grabbing a small notepad from a drawer, you remember that your boyfriend tends to dump half his belongings in the console table by the entrance whenever he can’t find a proper place for them.

So you wander over, opening the drawer and flipping through random scraps of paper in search of a pen. Old receipts, a couple gold star stickers, a manual for an appliance that he apparently never installed—typical Steve Harrington clutter.

Your fingers still on something that immediately stands out. A small stack of official-looking envelopes, bold printed letters across the front. The same sender, repeated name after name on each envelope. 

The stamp—some government seal or maybe an organisation’s letterhead—catches your eye. Your heart gives a peculiar jolt. 

National Laboratory? 

You’re not entirely sure, but it’s definitely not from his school. It looks official, maybe serious. Possibly part of the story he’s only given you glimpses of. You hover there, tempted. 

It’s not your place. 

You know that. 

But curiosity thrums in your veins—if only you knew more about where these came from and how they tie into his past. You catch a snippet of text on the paper, scanning just enough to see some names that mean nothing to you—except that they might mean everything to him.

Before you can open it fully, the shower in the next room clicks off, the pipes clanging in that telltale way. Mild panic surges up your spine, and you hurriedly tuck the envelope away. 

Grabbing the first pen you spot, you practically race back into the kitchen with it clutched in one hand, notepad in the other, as though scribbling down a grocery list had been your sole focus this entire time.

Trying to steady the beat of your heart, you begin jotting random items—milk, bread, eggs, fruit?—each word an effort to keep your thoughts from drifting back to those envelopes and the million questions you suddenly have. 

You care about Steve, more than you can articulate, and you still yearn to know every piece of his history. 

A soft rustle of movement alerts you to his presence before you feel it. He steps up behind you, pressing a warm, damp kiss to your shoulder. The heat of his skin seeps through the thin T-shirt you’re wearing. You notice his hair’s still dripping from the shower, and he smells faintly of soap.

“What are you up to?” 

“What does it look like?” Feigning ease, you hold up the list. “Making sure you don’t starve here. Clearly, you didn’t plan on feeding yourself for more than a day or two.”

He leans in, peering over your shoulder at the small list, then huffs a quiet laugh. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Wanna go to the store with me later? I’m sure there’s some pizza in the frozen-food section calling my name.”

You turn your head enough to catch his eye, relieved he hasn’t noticed anything amiss. 

“We should probably go soon,” you point out, recalling Sunday hours. “They won’t be open all day.”

Instead of answering right away, he skims his lips up the side of your neck,. The bare expanse of your skin prickles with goosebumps, and you fight the urge to melt against him entirely. He chuckles at your reaction, pressing a little closer so you can feel the solid weight of him.

“I can be quick,” he teases, voice dipping into the same husky register you remember all too vividly from the night before. 

“You’re not tired enough from last night?”

He’s insatiable.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning into you, “you’ve got me wide awake this morning.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he turns you around, guiding your hips so you’re facing him, your notepad nearly forgotten in your grip. He kisses you then, slow but with a playful flick of his tongue that reminds you he’s not quite done pushing your buttons. 

“Bet I can have you calling my name again in five minutes, tops,” he whispers, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You roll your eyes—though your pulse jumps traitorously—and push gently at his chest. 

“We’ve got errands now. If you wanna eat something besides toast for the next few days, you better rein it in.”

You playfully bat his hand away, though you can’t suppress your grin. He leans in for one more quick kiss before he finally heads into the bedroom to put some clothes on.

You watch him go, and he’s still the Steve you know. There’s still a layer of him you’ve only just glimpsed, wrapped up in those official envelopes, as well as Robin's previous slip-up.

That is the real Steve Harrington, the one you intend to fully understand. 

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