#and yes the pictures are from all of us strangers

[citrustan]

Hey, Citrus!! I miss seeing your stories and posts on the tl! Do you have a "love-daze" update for us? 🤤

hi!!! thank youuu wee i thought you'd never ask wink wink. this is a follow up to love-daze (myg) so please read that first!!

love-daze (myg) #2

title: only when no one's looking

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: unrequited love (but is it....?) n friends to lovers but yoongi's a tad uneasy because well yk

warnings: you and yoongi run into a little problem. a little heavier on the angst this time! non linear storytelling, lmk if you find it confusing because this was written in a haste.

"I have a problem," you say, mostly to yourself.

Nini just happens to be in the room. She looks at you intently, waiting for an explanation.

You debate whether or not this problem is even worth discussing. On one hand, you already have the solution but won't exercise it, but on the other, whining about it will certainly make you feel a lot better. But do you deserve that relief?

“It’s kind of complicated,” you murmur, more to buy time than anything.

You're now dating dating Yoongi. Technically. Emotionally. Exclusively. But only in private. Because Yoongi refuses to be open about it as to lessen his ex's pain. (But, in turn, he's risking yours.)

It's not like you're dying to be out and about, paraded around as his girlfriend, but when he goes out of his way to protect his ex's feelings, it stings.

"Yoongi won't date me openly," you blurt, "-because his ex is in the same friend circle, and I'm kind of over it." It comes out more blunt than you intended.

You don't know how she'll handle this. You could have worded that better though.

She sinks into the couch, next to you, giving you her undivided attention. She squints for second, trying to remember where she saw Yoongi.

Jennie (or Nini) moved in only two weeks ago, so she has limited knowledge of your life.

Yeah, yeah, point and laugh. You're a grown woman with a roommate. It's a tough economy. Teaching doesn't pay your bills anymore. You had to find a side gig, and this is it. Renting.

Pride took a back seat somewhere around your third bounced paycheck.

"Yoongi's your boyfriend?" She looked surprised, finally connecting the name to the face.

"I mean, kind of. We've never really discussed it in that many words." You pause. "We're only dating each other right now, isn't that all that counts?"

"Yeah, more or less, yes." Nini nods along before adding, "But I still don't see the issue. If you're secure, why does it matter whether or not you're openly secure? I mean, if I were in your shoes, I'd be lowkey too."

TLDR: I'd keep my head down if I were you.

That irritates you more than you'd like to admit.

"No, but you don't know..." You trail off, sighing. You hope this doesn't turn into an argument. "I know it sounds bad right now, but this has been a long time coming." You sounded like you were convincing yourself.

"Yoongi and I were friends first. I've always liked him. She knew it too. Everyone did."

Nini's eyes widen, "Oh! Sure, that makes sense. I mean making the moves on your friend's ex is a little..." She smiles awkwardly, "I mean, I'm not judging."

You felt the need to defend your choices, "I didn't make moves on him. Yoongi came to me. And Sera isn't really a friend, she never was. We were friendly but that's it. We've never been anything more than convenient company to each other."

You feel crazy trying to explain yourself to an almost-stranger.

Jennie shook her head in reassurance, "I get it! I'm not attacking you, I'm just... You know, sharing my perspective."

You throw a beady-eyed glance at her, trying to figure out if she hates you yet. Because that was the reaction you had gotten from most of your friends. Her friends.

They couldn't stop talking about it when they saw you kissing Yoongi at some deli.

Once, someone spotted you at a dinner date and actually went as far as to take pictures of you.

Obviously, they circulated back to the two of you.

Yoongi wasn't pleased.

Another time, you and Yoongi ran into Sera and her best friend at a Claire's.

That was the last place you expected Sera to be at.

You had only wanted to find a cheap belly button ring.

How was that the first time you came into contact after the break-up? At a Claire's?

You should've accepted Yoongi's offer to buy you a custom made ring. But he wanted to take you to Swarovski. And you thought they were a scam. You could get the same quality of stuff for way lesser at other places.

You tried to pretend to not have seen them but then she greeted you while her friend glared at you.

Which obviously made you look insanely rude.

But hello? Wasn't it an unwritten rule for the ex to not acknowledge the new girl? Or were you just childish?

You awkwardly force a smile.

The four of you just stood there. In the middle of a Claire's. All staring at each other waiting for someone to make a move.

Was Sera actually that nice and unbothered? You don't know. But, her sidekick sure wasn't.

And exactly at that moment, Sera decided it was too difficult for her to deal coming face-to-face with her ex and his new flame and excuses herself, dramatically (intentionally or not, it was dramatic) turning away and storming off.

But the cherry on top was Yoongi's reaction.

Instead of calming you down, he went after Sera! And she didn't even look half as frazzled as you did!

Yoongi's legs automatically moved to chase after her.

And, you get it. Fair enough.

Because love doesn't just go poof and disappear. And with Yoongi and Sera--- whatever anyone thinks about them now--- had once been in love. For a long while at that.

It must've been insanely difficult and hellish for them to have to move on from something like this.

So, you really don't blame him for running after her.

Connections don't always break cleanly.

It's just... You wish you didn't feel like collateral damage here.

Like do you think you'd do the same if she was your ex? Yes, probably.

Was it embarrassing for you? Also, yes.

Still, you wished Yoongi had asked your permission or at least glanced at you, just once, to make sure YOU were okay.

But you were left alone with Sera's friend.

She shot you the nastiest stink-eye the entire time Yoongi and Sera chatted on the side.

It was nearly barbaric. It was as if she was trying to overpower you in some way.

Shivers.

That look made you want to hide behind your hands or something. It sucked.

Everyone gave you the look. The 'oh, she swooped in like a vulture' look, that 'there goes the homewrecker' look.

You awkward shifted your weight from one foot to another.

These heels were killing your soles. Yoongi told you to wear walking shoes but you were confident you wouldn't need them.

You looked everywhere but at her. And you still felt her eyes burning holes into your head. Like she was trying to decipher your thoughts.

When Yoongi and Sera rejoined you, they were closer in proximity.

You don't think too much of it. You're just glad your boyfriend's back.

Yoongi instantly wraps his large hand around yours, gently stroking it with his thumb. You look up at him with a small smile.

"Um... _____, I'll see you around more I hope?" Sera's voice broke your little moment.

What the hell had they talked about?

Pleasantly surprised, you just nod slightly. You'd like that actually.

"That would be... Good." You agree. A bit more genuinely this time.

Sera's friend also toned it down after getting a little elbow from Sera.

The two women then bid goodbye, leaving you and Yoongi alone again.

You look at Yoongi who's already gazing down at you, "Still wanna look through the Claire's catalogue?"

No, you think. You're actually done with Claire's now.

As if he read your mind, he pulled you in closer and you let him guide you whenever. Preferably to the nearest Swarovski.

Whatever the hell happened there with Sera, you're grateful for.

He took really good care of you later that evening.

But from that day onwards, you noticed he had pulled back from you significantly, all under the guise of being overworked.

You're a teacher. You get it. Overworking, that too without pay, is, like, part of your job description. Yet, you make time for Yoongi.

But all he ever wanted lately was to hang out at his place. He'd come over only when Jennie wasn't home.

He made you feel like you had to hide your relationship. As if you were doing something shameful.

Nini shifts next to you on the couch. She's still quiet, probably turning it all over in her head.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve.

"Do you still want to be with him?" She finally asks, soft but cautiously.

The question catches you off guard. It’s not an accusation. It’s not even advice. It’s just… a question.

Wasn't it already apparent that you did?

Of course, you want to be with Yoongi. It's all you've wanted for months. Nothing has changed about that.

With a voice barely above a whisper, you frown, "I really do."

Jennie doesn’t say anything at first. She just nods like she's trying to convince herself.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," she says, "But you shouldn’t have to shrink to be with someone."

You raise your chin a little. Hm. True.

Feeling satisfied by your reaction, Jennie grins and pats your head, "I'm gonna go now. Won't be back until tomorrow... After breakfast?" She looks to you for an answer.

"Um... No, yeah ok." You don't know if Yoongi would stay over after the conversation you were gonna have with him. "Actually, whenever is fine. I dunno."

Jennie raises an eyebrow at your waffling, but doesn’t press. She just stands, stretches, and gathers her things into her canvas tote. You hadn't even noticed her stuff around.

"Okay then. I’ll assume brunch. Or post-brunch," she says with a wink, already halfway to the door. "Text me if you need anything. Or if you want me to fake an emergency call and drag you out mid-convo."

You nod with a little smirk.

She lingers a second longer at the threshold, like she’s debating whether to say more.

"Just… don’t let him confuse you into thinking this is what love’s supposed to look like, okay?"

She looks at you pointedly, waiting for a response.

"I won’t."

She smiles. Then she’s gone.

You check your phone. Five unread messages from Yoongi, all within the last thirty minutes.

[5] unread messages.

yoonie bby: Thinking about you. Can't focus.

yoonie bby: Wanna be inside you already. Miss your mouth.

yoonie bby: Also your pretty laugh.

yoonie bby: Should I cook or bring food?

yoonie bby: Your favourite cheesecake secured BTW. Can't wait to hold my sweet girl tonight.

You stare at the screen for a moment. Your stomach flips, as always. He’s so filthy and considerate in the same breath. He's so Yoongi.

You lock your phone and let your head fall back against the couch cushion, reminding yourself that you were still upset at this situation.

note: okayyy sooo i decided to drop this as an apology for my lack of posting in the recent months soooo do tell me what you think of this :) thanks for reading!

[hearts4golbach]

Picture Perfect. // Chapter 17.

TBP!Gerard Way x AFAB!Reader.

Warnings:

threatening w/ firearm, cursing, angst, smut, oral sex (F recieving), p in v sex, no protection (don't be silly, wrap ur willy).

Word count:

3.0k

You shot up out of the bed drenched in sweat. The room was bright, forcing your sensitive eyes shut. Panic settled in you as you vigorously rubbed your eyes.

"Woah, hey, you're okay, Y/n. You're safe. Just lay back down." You felt someone press against your shoulder, helping you back to a laying position in your hospital bed.

You groaned, a splitting pain in your head becoming more prominent. You fought the urge to reach up and touch the newly stitched wound. "What happened? Where's Gerard? Where's the man?" A million questions ran through your head.

"I'm right here." His gentle voice made your heart flutter. You squinted your eyes as they began to adjust to the fluorescent lights. Gerards hand took your own. You braced yourself for the worst, clutching his hand tighter. "He's okay." He squeezed your hand.

"And alive, thanks to you." Officer Fuentes added.

Relief washed through your body. You loosened your grip on Gerards as some stress began to leave your body. "What about the rest of the family?"

"The newborn made it out unscathed." Franks voice came in. He shut the door behind him quietly. "You crazy bitch, why would you do that?"

You let out a strained laugh. "'Cause I had a chance to save them, and I did." You sighed contently.

Gerards thumb rubbed your hand soothingly. "Don't ever do some dumb shit like that again. You could've died."

"Yeah," you sighed. That was all you could say. Your eyes met his hazel orbs. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on with me?" You gestured to your forehead.

"Well," Gerard sucked air through his teeth, "you've got stitches in your forehead and thigh along with a broken leg."

You nodded in acknowledgment. "When do I get discharged? I have - I know what he looks like, somewhat," you added, "I have evidence."

"Work is the last thing you need to worry about right now," Frank trailed off.

"Bullshit. I'm fine," you argued.

"Just rest for now, okay? We can worry about that tomorrow," Way interrupted. "You should be released tonight."

You whispered a soft 'okay' before shutting your eyes again. Memories of the previous day began to flood your mind. Your body ached as you recalled the events. You couldn't shake the feeling of dread. It was something you'd never forget; being covered in a strangers blood and barely holding onto consciousness.

You were in and out of sleep the rest of the day, but the pain was something you couldn't sleep off.

The sun had begun to set whenever you finally received the release form. Agent Way stayed with you the whole time, despite your protests.

Once you were finally able to be discharged, you got to retrieve all of your things (minus your bloody clothes, which were deemed a biohazard and discarded). The plastic container had your gun, wallet, and lanyard.

Gerard had gone to get you a change of clothes despite you claiming you could do it yourself. He knew you were bluffing - there was no way in hell you'd walk out of the hospital in a gown. He hurried back and met you in the waiting room. You looked up from the Harry Potter book of release forms and met his soft gaze.

He handed you a pair of black sweats and a T-shirt you recognized as his. You shot him a questioning look as you picked up the worn piece of clothing. "You didn't have any comfy-ish clothing clean," he shrugged, lying through his teeth.

You didn't respond before returning your attention back to the papers. Yes, you were injured, but you had never seen him like that with anyone. His gaze on you was so soft and it matched his gaze, like you would break if he spoke too loud or furrowed his eyebrows too much. It could've easily been mistaken for love as he watched you finish signing the last paper.

You had to use crutches to get yourself out to Ways car. His grip around your waist was tight, which helped a lot, even if you wouldn't admit it. There was a comfortable silence in the car despite your mind racing. He hummed along quietly to the song on the radio station.

Once you had finally gotten back to the safe house, you collapsed onto the couch and opted not to get up unless you had to.

October transitioned into November, and the rain was replaced with snow and sleet. Both you and Gerard were required to work from home due to safety reasons (as if the safe house wasn't enough already). With a vague description of the killer and the evidence you had aquired... neither of you had made any progress in the case. The killer was off the radar. Even Ray had trouble finding any sort of lead.

Even though you were stuck in the house with him, you and Gerard rarely spoke. Every little thing he did irritated you, from the way he explained his thought process to his long glances from across the room. You didn't know if it was the side effects of the pain meds or from the feelings you buried due to the situation, but you couldnt stand it.

Your leg had healed incredibly fast. Some would say it was a miracle. It was a snowy Friday morning whenever you got the cast removed. You were required to keep weight off of it. You were still somewhat weak, but your strength would return soon enough.

You were finally able to take a real shower and remove all of the gunk that had built up under your cast. You gently scrubbed, making sure to leave no dirt. The hot water was a calming contrast to the cold outside. You avoided thinking about the case for your own sake. You'd have enough to do when you got back to work on Monday.

You climbed out of the shower and made your way to your room. There still wasn't any sign of Gerard, which was a relief. You threw on shorts and a t-shirt before grabbing your scar treatment off of your vanity.

You plopped down onto the bed and began to rub the ointment into your calf. The scars going away was highly unlikely, seeing how dark they were, but you still wanted to try.

A soft knock on the door startled you. "Yeah?"

Agent Way opened the door and rested against the doorframe. "I'm about to make lunch. Do you want some?"

You shook your head. "I'm okay." He chewed his lip nervously, his eyes trailing down to your leg. You furrowed your eyebrows. "Go away, Gerard."

"I just want to make sure you're okay, I mean- that shits traumatizing, you know? I'm here if you need to-"

You cut him off. "I'm fine," you spat, "stop fucking staring at me."

"I'm just trying to be nice, Y/n. You don't talk to me, I thought we were over this.." he trailed off. His voice was laced with anger and hurt.

You got the hint that he wasn't going to go anywhere. You just wanted to leave. You picked yourself up and threw on your shoes before grabbing your gun and wallet. You stormed past him.

"Where are you going?!" He followed close behind you.

"Leave me alone, Gerard. Do you not know what that means?" You rolled your eyes, unlocking the front door.

"No. I know when something is wrong!" He was growing more annoyed by the second.

You flung the front door open and began to walk out, but his hand quickly wrapped around your wrist. You didn't want to face him, it was all too much; your feelings, the case, him. You swung around, pulling your gun out of your waist band and putting it to his head.

His eyes widened. "What the fuck?" He let go of your wrist quickly and gripped the tip of the gun, moving it away from him. He smirked. "You think that was supposed to scare me away?"

"Fuck you," you spat. "Let me leave."

He snatched the gun out of your hand. "You're not going anywhere." He slammed the door behind you.

You stepped back, leaning against the door to remove the weight from your leg. He ran his hand along your jawline. "You're really pretty when you're angry. Did you know that?"

You rolled your eyes once more, unable to hide the blush on your face. "Fuck off," you emphasized once more. It was in his nature not to listen.

He stepped closer, placing a kiss on your cheek and peppering them all the way down to your neck. You sucked in a harsh breath, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Sometimes I wish you weren't so stubborn," he muttered against your skin, "it'd make it easier on both of us."

"W-what do you mean?" You choked out, the feeling of his lips on your collar bone giving you chills.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," he rolled his eyes, "I know you're not naive."

"I don't know what you want me to say," your voice was low, almost a whisper as you looked up at him.

He kissed back up, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

You placed your hands on his chest. You were mesmerized by his eyes. The thought of forming sentences was out of the window whenever he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and slow. Ways hands snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You melted into the kiss: this time, it was different. It was far from rough, but just as needy. His lips moved against yours perfectly. You ran your hands through his white hair (whatever you could run them through).

He pulled away, his breathing ragged as he kissed down to your neck once more. He slipped his hands under your shirt, gripping your waist softly.

"Gerard, please," You were sick of waiting, and you made that very clear to him.

He pulled you away from the door, not removing his lips from your skin as he began to walk backward. You giggled softly. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful, sugar."

He laid you down on the couch carefully, crawling on top of you and pressing his lips to yours again. Your heart fluttered with excitement. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, rubbing small circles as he brushed his tongue along your lower lip. You immediately granted him entrance, gliding your tongue with his.

His hands made their way back up your shirt, unhooking your bra and slipping his hands under it. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay, Gee."

His face flushed at the nickname. A small smirk appeared on his face, but there was nothing but adoration in his eyes. He moved to the rim of your shirt and peeled it off along with your bra. You were left exposed to him, causing embarrassment to flush through you. "You're so gorgeous," he kissed in between your breasts, down your stomach, and to the rim of your shorts.

He tucked his fingers in the waist band, looking up to you for confirmation once again. All you could do was smile softly and nod.

He slid your shorts off, moving so he could remove them from your legs fully. He took your calf into his hand, kissing the scars that were littered across your skin. Your heart ached at the scene you were witnessing. It was almost too good to be true. "Beautiful," he added under his breath.

He finally crawled in between your legs, littering kisses along your inner thighs. "Is this okay?" He asked, looking up at you through his lashes.

You nodded eagerly. "Mhm," it felt like you were dreaming as you felt his hot breath against your core. He licked a slow stripe through your folds, making you gasp at the sensation.

He hummed against you, making you squirm beneath him. His movements were full of passion but oh so gentle. His hands snaked around, holding your hips down as the tip of his tongue flicked your clit. You ran your fingers through his bleached buzz cut, moaning softly. "I've been dreaming about this, about you," you corrected.

He hummed in acknowledgment and satisfaction at your admission. He looked uo at you again, his pupils blown wide with lust and adoration as he continued to lap at your pussy. You bucked your hips involuntarily, which was prevented by his strong grip on your hips.

His tongue swirled your opening before delving inside. "Gerard- please.." You begged, wanting to feel him inside of you.

He pulled away, the lower half of his face covered in your juices. He couldn't help but kiss you. He pecked your lips before resting his forehead on yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours, mumbling. "What do you want, sugar?"

He kissed softly along your jawline before sucking a hickey right below. Your breath hitched as you wrapped your arms around his back. "Jus' wanna feel you, Gee. Please?"

He couldn't resist your quiet plea as you whispered in his ear. Not that he wanted to, anyway. You moved your hand down to the hem of his jeans, fiddling with the belt buckle before pulling them off completely. The outline of his cock through his boxers was prominent, making you let out a whimper at the sight.

He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, placing opened mouth kisses on your bare skin. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked, his voice sweet like honey.

"100% sure," you nodded. He rested his forehead against yours once more. Your hand flew up to his cheek, caressing the warm flesh as he lined himself up with your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut, jaw falling open as he thrusted inside of you.

He rubbed gentle circles into your hips as he gave you time to adjust. You gave him the nod of approval, signaling him to move. He groaned quietly, placing his lips onto yours. The kiss was slow and sensual, making you arch your back into his touch.

"God, you're so gorgeous," he muttered against your lips. "How did I get so lucky?"

You whimpered as he began to pick up his pace, eyes raking over your form before flickering back up to your gaze. He left his hand locked with yours, running his thumb along the smooth skin. "How did I get so lucky?" You emphasized, letting out a choked out moan as he angled himself deeper.

Gerards eyes softened. "You're doing amazing, honey," he moaned, chewing on his bottom lip. "You're so fucking amazing."

His endless praises along with his quickening pace brought you close to the edge. His movements were fast but far from rough. Sure, you have had sex before, but it was never like that: gentle, caring, loving.

You pulled him back in again, your lips moving together in sync. His tongue snaked along your lower lip, quickly gaining entrance. Your tongue danced with his as you moaned into eachothers mouths. He began to twitch inside of you, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge too.

"I want you to cum with me, sugar." He mumbled, peppering your face in kisses. You nodded eagerly. "Where do you want me?"

You let out a breathy giggle before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Im on the pill," your words were lewd in a way that he couldn't describe, making him groan as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

His free hand moved to circle your clit, hitting all of the right spots as he felt your pussy clenched around him. "Cum for me, sugar."

He smashed his lips against yours as your high crashed into you like a freight train. He swallowed your moans as he filled you up, helping you ride out your high in the process.

It was silent for a moment. His cock softening inside of you as he held you close. "I love you," he whispered, placing a kiss below your ear.

"I love you, too." A stupid grin formed on your face at his sudden confession. It was like you were living a dream. You fought the urge to pinch yourself, to do something that would confirm this was really happening.

He moved, laying down beside you and pulling you on top of him. "We should probably go lay in a real bed." He laughed softly, running his hands along your waist.

You nodded in agreement, grabbing his T-shirt off the floor and throwing it on. Gerard slid his boxers back on, taking your hand in his and leading you upstairs.

Once you were finally comfortable in his bed, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close once more.

A comfortable silence filled the room, but it didn't last long.

"I was so scared that day, you know?" He said suddenly, sliding his hand under your shirt and running his hand along your bare back. His voice was just above a whisper, as if he was scared to be too loud.

You sighed softly, not knowing how to respond. "I'm sorry. I know it was stupid of me."

He pecked your forehead. "I don't want you to apologize, not for saving someone's life. I thought you were going to die in my arms. That was the scariest moment of my life."

"I didn't mean to scare you," you kept your voice low.

He shut his eyes. "I'm just so fucking glad you're here. This case would've driven me crazy by now without you."

You didn't respond, allowing the room to fall back into silence. You listened as his breathing patterns slowed, signaling he fell asleep before you soon did, too. 

[calumfmu]

i'll see you when you get here

You're perfect. There's nothing wrong with you, and he's still single, still stuck in the same town that you left to pursue a better life. You should've been happier than you were, finally glad that you got out of the rut he seemed to be stuck in. But you couldn't help to wonder what your life might've been with him by your side.

ex-boyfriend!Steve Harrington x AFAB!reader | 7.1k + words

cw: smut, p in v, fingering, oral, sweet but rough (?) sex idk, porn with plot, imposter syndrome, mentions of loss of virginity, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), og fictional male character, swearing, 18+, mdni

You belong here.

It's what you keep telling yourself. What you have been telling yourself for the past few years, in every situation or encounter you found yourself in. Oddly enough, it eased the tension in your shoulders, calmed the nerves that always seemed to build up whenever you realized you were so, so far from what you tried to convince yourself.

"-okay?"

Blinking away your thoughts, you felt a hand tighten its grip on your own. Glancing down at it, you were met with the sight of his hand grasped into yours, skin smooth, moisturized, well-groomed finger nails. Someone who had access to money, resources all his life, you could tell. There was a softness to it that couldn't be described.

"Huh?"

It fell from your lips before you could even register the noise properly, chastising yourself at the improper sound. Blush began to tint your cheeks as your date quirked his eyebrow, a similar sound to your own escaping his lips to mock you.

"Huh?" He teased, lightly brushing your cheek with his free hand. You subconsciously tilted your head away from it, his eyebrow dipping as he noticed the movement. "I asked if you were okay. You seem... a little lost."

"I just—yeah." You squeezed his hand instead of fully answering, urging him to lead you through the throngs of people. Nodding, you put on your best smile, moving through the motions.

He couldn't be someone to confide in, at least, with your idea of what was wrong. Because honestly, there was nothing wrong. The man in front of you was Tomas Windsor, heir to the fortune of one of the richest families in your college town. He was beautiful, smart, kind, a gentleman in every aspect of the word, everything that you should've wanted to date at this time in your life. He was marriage material, the type of man you knew that you had to settle down with no matter what age you had found him at. Any girl would have died at the opportunity to be in the same room as him, let alone asked out by him on a third date (third!).

You were three weeks away from graduating summa cum laude, had a paid internship for a multinational corporation, and living in a swanky apartment well beyond your means. He fit perfectly into the mold of your life, a perfect soon-to-be-boyfriend-turned-husband who you couldn't find anything wrong with.

He had taken you to a party in the city, blocks away from your place, yet still so unfamiliar to you due to the crowd. A high rise apartment, some of the richest people you could think of in one room. He was to introduce you to a few "important people", who you had later learned were the adult children of important people. Connections were connections, and networking was going to get you places, you had to keep telling yourself that.

Seven different names that sounded like variations of each other later, that same anxiety began to bubble in your chest, feeling like it was eating away at you.

Gripping his arm, you gave him a tight squeeze. Tomas' blue eyes cut to yours, crinkled with a smile as he laughed at a joke thrown to him by one of his friends—Jake or maybe it was Brandon, you weren't quite sure at this point.

"Hey, I think I may head—step out for a second," you stuttered, feeling the urge to bail on all plans right now.

A small frown crossed his face momentarily before he covered it up.

"Do you want me to come with y-"

"No! No! Please-" You choked out an awkward laugh as his friends suddenly looked at you, the loud outburst somehow sounding out of place at the noisy party. "Enjoy your friends—I'll b-be right back."

You scurried away before you could even process his reaction to it, hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you searched for any type of refuge. The palms of your hands slapped into your cheeks as you batted the falling trails away.

Shoulders crashed into yours, a few splashes of whatever kind of alcohol sprayed your arms, shoes stepping over your own as you made your way through the crowd. You felt like an animal with the way your head snapped over the sound of a sliding glass door closing, a primal urge to seek shelter.

"Excuse m—Oh, I'm sorry!" You whispered, placing your hand on the backs of the girls you were trying to squeeze by. You had stepped on one of their boots, kitten heel digging into the toe.

She had recognized you, her face lighting up after a grimace of pain.

"It's me!" She exclaimed, teeth wide and white as she smiled at you. Your eyes were blank. "Ash!" Nothing. "Ash McCoy! From last year's sisterhood retreat?"

Your eyebrow quirked, your own smile mimicking hers, eyes crinkled uncomfortably as your feet slowly moved towards the sliding glass doors. Faking it was something that you had grown used to during the past few years, in every aspect of your life.

"Oh my goodness, Ash!" You reached a hand towards her, waving your fingers in the air as the gap between you increased. You were almost at home base. "Did you do something with your hair?"

She beamed, nodding as she didn't realize how far you actually were from her. Her finger twirled a strand of her locks.

"I went to Sam's girl! She did low lig-"

"You know what, Ash, I'll text you!" You laughed a little, hand finally finding the handle of the door as she nodded, shooting you a thumbs up before becoming distracted with another person who had crossed her path. With a slight roll of your eyes, you pushed the door open and slammed it behind you as you exited.

The cool heat of the night air hit you in the face first, wind wisping up a rosy colour on your face as you tilted your head back. There wasn't a breath deep enough to take in the moment, ears and eyes burning with thoughts of how much you felt you didn't belong here. You leaned over the balcony railing slightly, taking a deep breath that seemed to get caught in your throat.

It wasn't like you this was your first party or first time going on a date or hell, even talking to someone. You couldn't tell what was wrong, but you knew something was. Everything felt off, your clothes too big on you, necklaces too tight, English a language foreign on your tongue.

The balcony you stood on was huge, still scary nonetheless. You had to be at least 60 stories up, the people and cars below you seeming so small. It was the type of view that made you realize just how big the world is, how none of this really mattered.

"You look like you could use a cigarette."

A voice called out to you, a hint of a laugh behind it. You pressed the palms of your hand to your eyes, the pressure causing stars before you turned to the stranger, ready to let the facade slip to tell him to fuck off.

The smile is what stopped you in your tracks.

Hands falling by your sides, you watched as his gaze dropped, smile immediately fading as recognition struck you both.

"Steve?"

"Is that really you?" His voice sounded small as he kicked himself off of the wall, fingers reaching to grab the cigarette that hung between his lips.

Before you knew it, your feet were inching closer to him, a wide eyed gaze set on him.

You could see the watery glaze of his hazel eyes as you came face to face with him, only inches between you. At this distance, that familiar scent of his cologne hit you, memories of the adolescent versions of yourselves flooding your mind. His face was still freckled, lips still rosy pink, boyish charm wafting off of him.

You couldn't find the words to speak, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between you two, fingers itching to lace themselves in his hair, tangle between the fabric of his clothes. Somehow, you found them.

"What are you doing here?" The crack in your voice would've been unnoticeable to anyone else.

"Oh, you know, loitering on stranger's properties. The usual," he quipped, confidence flooding back into him. If you were anyone else, you would've believed his faux confidence, but you saw the twitch in his eye, the slight shake of his fingers as he raised the cigarette to his lips again.

"Steve Harrington," you joked. His smile widened. "Prodigy. A legacy many only dream of becoming."

He shook his head, a slight roll of his eyes as he pulled you into a hug, his chest nearly smothering you with the grip he had. Eyes fluttering close, you breathed in his scent, cedar and cinnamon.

His head was thrown back into a laugh, long expanse of his throat highlighted in the sunlight. A pencil was tucked behind his ear, holding the few strands of hair that didn't fall over his eyes. The hazel orbs were perfectly framed, time slowing down in the moment as flecks of pollen floated in the air around you two, glimmer in the summer light. He was a part of a movie scene, straight out of a catalogue, an endless amount of happiness surrounding him as he stared you down.

For a second, you felt at home.

The summer air around you suddenly felt cold as he let you go, hands lingering on your shoulders before falling to his sides.

"Where-what have you been—you're graduating soon!"

He seemed to remember something in that moment, tapping his coat pockets before pulling out a battered down carton of Virginia Slims. He pulled one out, placing it in his lips besides the already lit one before raising a lighter to it.

Shaking your head, you remembered the same antics five years earlier. He handed the fresh one off to you, lit and smoking into the air. It felt foreign, yet familiar in your fingers, like seeing the first photograph of a memory you always replay to yourself.

You hesitated as you slowly brought it to your lips, breathing in a heavy waft of thick smoke, choking you.

He threw his signature smile, fucking giggled at your coughs.

"Wooww, look what we have here," he shook his head, watching as your face turned crimson. "Years ago, you would've smoked me under the table. You're out here coughing like a dweeb."

A blush covered your cheeks.

"Well, we can't all stay the same people."

A slight uncomfortable silence filled the air between you as he nodded slowly, eyeing you down as he breathed in a long drag. His gaze felt heavy on you, burning with every trace they made over your skin.

"You do look different."

Suddenly, you felt under and over dressed at the same time. Your stupid, pressed cigarette pants, idiotic grey fucking cashmere sweater with gold buttons, tennis bracelets adorning your wrists, an expensive ass handbag that had been gifted to you by your sorority president. Who the fuck were you? Why couldn't you recognize yourself in front of him?

Your hand instinctively shot out to press down a crease in your sweater while the other lifted the cigarette again to your mouth, the drag much easier this time around. You felt the smoke ease a wave of anxiety all while tension began to rise in your shoulders.

There were two sides of you fighting each other, yet working in sync.

Steve's stare became too much.

"I could say the same about you," you sarcastically laughed, your own eyes running over him.

He was the same. But he was so, so different.

He had swapped the bright, striped shirts and khakis for something a little more form fitting. White fitted tee that clung to his chest in a way you don't recall seeing before, a brown canvas jacket hanging over his frame, dark jeans that shouldn't have fit him that tight, in all the right places.

His face had matured, suiting him better than you could've imagined. Facial hair dusted over his face, jawline sharper than ever, hair still wild, but tamed enough to show how much of an adult he had become.

"You look... good," you whispered, finally fully grinning at him. It was the same grin that you used to give him whenever you remembered just how much you loved him.

He recognized that.

Stepping closer to you, his free hand shot up to rest on your upper arm.

Silence filled the air yet again. Comfortable, yet full.

"Where've you been?"

The words of the same sentence left both of your mouths at the same exact time, your eyes searching his for an answer you both weren't quite sure of. After all these years, you two were still in sync, still thinking of the same things at the same time.

The heaviness of the air crept between you two.

As he opened his mouth to say something, you heard the sliding glass door open a few feet away from you two. The loudness of the party inside blared out suddenly, interrupting the moment you shared.

You stepped away from him like you had been burned, eyes widening with a faux persona appearing, smile wide like it hurt. Your fingers tightening their grip on the purse in your hands. You pretended like you didn't notice the way Steve was looking at you, his hand falling to his side as he stepped away from you.

"Tomas!"

Your date smiled at you softly, ignoring the man that stood beside you.

"Are you feeling better?" He questioned, stepping towards you.

His smile dropped, brow crinkling as he noticed the lit cigarette in your hand. Your eyes followed his gaze, dropping it immediately before stubbing it out with your heeled shoe. Taking a step closer to him, you ignored the low whistle that left Steve's mouth, followed by a sarcastic scoff.

Party foul, you both knew this. The only way to put out a cigarette was by smoking all of it.

"I, uhhh...."

You turned to glance at Steve, noticing the way his eyes hung low, focused on the tip of his boot as he puffed away. Smoke billowed around him, clouds filling the air before being drifted away by the small gusts of winds. The balcony light combined with the shine of the moon allowed you to see more of the matured side of him, years of catching up owed between you two.

You glanced back towards Tomas, seeing his expectant look.

"I think we’re going to head out now."

He turned towards inside the penthouse once more, hand on the outside of the building as he expected you to follow him. His words hung in the air between the two of you. A perfectly shaped eyebrow quirked in your direction, his dress shoe tapping once, twice on the tiling.

You glanced back at Steve, seeing his back turned towards the two of you. He was checked out of the interaction at this point, focused on the view of the city skyline in front of him as he neared the end of his cigarette.

Tomas called to you once more, urging you to follow his lead.

Anxiety pooled in your chest.

"I'm going to stay."

What the fuck were you doing?

"What?" Tomas and Steve's voices blended together in disbelief. Blue eyes darted to meet hazel for the first time, both men not realizing what was transpiring.

Steve had a slight smirk on his face, puzzled, yet proud at the same time. Tomas, on the other hand, looked slightly disgusted, surprised by this version of you, even if he really didn’t know you that well. Maybe you didn’t know yourself too well either.

Change your mind.

You gulped, blinking hard as you took a step back. "This is my... old friend from my hometown. I would like to catch up."

Every sentence out of your mouth sounded rehearsed. Badly rehearsed. Too formal, yet too casual at the same time. The persona you had built up during the last few years felt like it was crumbling all at once. And for what? You said all of six words to your childhood boyfriend you hadn’t seen since the summer after graduation?

Tomas' posture straightened up, suddenly sizing up Steve as his attention shifted. Steve didn't look at him once, staring you down as he tried to figure out what you were doing.

It had been years since you had last spoken to him, but he knew that this lifestyle had been what you were shooting for since the day you turned 9 years old. There wasn't anything that could deter you from that. Except maybe one thing—one person.

"Your.. hometown?"

There was a hint of something in his voice, something that made your skin crawl. The same tone that had been directed towards you your entire life. A tone that Steve would understand.

It was like he had read your mind, stepping forward while he flicked his cigarette over the edge of the balcony, the same hand extending towards a hand shake.

"Nice to meet you. Steve."

His smile was smug, an outward show of confidence you had witnessed him try to perfect in his teen years. He had somehow done it, standing taller and more proud than the heir in front of you. It was then you had realized Steve was exactly who he thought he was.

Tomas eyed his hand, reluctantly taking it in a firm grasp.

"Tomas."

There was a small laugh that left Steve's mouth, "Toe- mas? Thomas wasn't good enough for you?"

A thin line pressed into your date's mouth. You can see the flicker of irritation behind his blue eyes, something so unfamiliar to his perfect face.

"Just Tomas is fine."

Steve hummed, shrugging as he quirked an eyebrow. He turned around to face you again, shooting you a face that made you bite back a smile. You avoided eye contact with him, knowing it would take just one more look to get you to crack. He still remained the same world class idiot, always wanting to joke around at the most inconvenient times.

What were you doing?

"Are you sure you don't want to...?" Tomas' voice had trailed off. You felt like an idiot, just standing there.

You heard the scuff of Steve's boots behind you, a metronome in your mind that tethered you to the moment. Remaining silent, you shrugged slightly, not quite sure what to say.

"I guess I'll just... text you then," Tomas muttered, slightly banging his fist on the wall before he turned inside. He lingered in the door for a moment, waiting to hear you call back out to him. When you didn’t, he continued, disappearing into the crowd.

The sliding door was left cracked open behind him, shouting and music from inside spilling out.

Steve was smirking at you as you turned around to face him, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. The canvas jacket he had complimented him well, bringing out the bronze undertones of his skin. It reminded you of an Indiana summer you missed so much, nothing quite like the feeling of home.

"So do you want to get out of here or what?"

He looked up at your apartment building, a long, low whistle in his throat as he slowly guided his eyes up the 15-story building.

"Nice place here, Einstein," he joked, wiggling his eyebrows. He followed you as you got out your key card, opening the door.

Holding it open for him, you rolled your eyes, ushering him inside. You had to push him through the lobby and corridors to the elevator, his jaw dropped in faux mockery as he took in the building. He spun in several circles as you walked through, pointing out the vases that littered the lobby and expensive looking paintings.

It wasn't that nice, you had to tell yourself.

You felt embarrassed by the place, feeling suddenly like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn’t belong here.

You tried hiding the floor button you pressed, frame attempting to block his view from it. The elevator was silent as it rose, a small hum of the mechanics along with the pleasant sound of an orchestra coming from the speakers.

"Twelfth floor?!" Another whistle. "I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Steve."

He laughed at you, hand finding the small of your back as you lead him down the hall and inside of your place. Butterflies filled your stomach, your mind resorting to the teenage version of yourself at the familiarity of his touch.

As you made your way inside hurriedly, you slipped off your shoes at the entrance, throwing your purse down at the table.

Your fingers were shaking as you went into the fridge. Water? Coffee? Wine? Does he even drink still? Would he be hungry? God, you were such an idiot, were you over thinking it? Deciding between the filtered water container and a canned seltzer, you turned to face him, eyes focused on the labeling.

“Do you want mo-”

You cut yourself off, finally noticing the way he was looking at you. He leaned over the small island, head propped up on his elbow, eyebrows raised into his hairline, a fond look in his eyes.

Growing self conscious, you took a few steps towards the counter, placing the drinks down.

“What?”

Steve hummed, blinking languidly at you while his smile softened.

“Nothing, I just—,” he spoke, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You’ve done good, kid.”

Warmness filled your chest, and you were consumed by this overwhelming sense of home. Something you hadn’t felt in years. Since you left Hawkins. Sure you’ve found your friends here since being in college, spoke to your parents enough to not be homesick (well—whenever they weren’t concerned with your siblings), but it was nothing compared to the feeling that Steve had brought you.

You didn't know what to say in that moment besides offering the beverages to him. He opted in for the water, and you silently kicked yourself, realizing that you were an idiot for even offering him the alcohol.

He called your name, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Stop it," his eyebrow quirked with his words, a stern, but loving look on his face.

A warm flush crossed your face as you stood across from him, fully dressed, yet feeling exposed.

"You don't even know what I was thinking!" Your mouth fell open in a laugh, bringing your hands up to cover your face briefly.

"I do, babe," that nickname had your heart skipping, a deeper flush crossing your features.

Steve stood up, walking around the counter to stand beside you. He leaned against it, hand stretched out. His height towered over you, the waft of his cologne flooding your senses. To distract yourself, you hopped on the counter, nearly next to eye level with him.

"You might be in this nice place," he started, fingers trailing over the marble counter as he took a swift look around. "You may be hundreds of miles away from Hawkins, a college degree away from me, but you're still the same person, babe. I know you."

Huffing, you couldn't help, but agree with him. If there was anyone that knew you better than yourself, it was him.

Years apart couldn't have taken that from you, especially when there was years of history to support your relationship.

He had been a part of your life since you two were in the 3rd grade, way before time had separated you.

"I feel like I don't know you," you finally replied, blinking up at him. His eyes trailed over your face, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How were you there? Why were you there?"

"I told you," he laughed. "Loitering, it's my favorite pastime."

You cackled, rolling your eyes at him.

"Steve."

"Okay, fine, fine." He leaned slightly closer to you, frame almost fully in front of you. "I was meeting a friend."

You rose an eyebrow, leaning back at his words.

"A friend?"

He hummed, tilting his head side to side as he debated answering truthfully, "A... girl."

Why the fuck did that sting? You literally had been on a date. That same date had a conversation with Steve.

"Oh?" You feigned interest, a wide smile on your face. "And who might this girl be?"

He rolled his eyes slightly, grimacing as he looked towards the ceiling. His body has moved closer to yours, hips squared in front of your knees. This was the closest he had been to you in years, and you never wanted him to move.

"This... girl. We met in the city, a night at the only cool dive there," he muttered, shaking his head as he laughed at the memory. Your cheeks hurt as you continued to fake your smile. "She seemed cool."

"Aannd... what happened to her?"

He hesitated, staring you in the eyes with a serious expression on his face. You had thought he zoned out for a second before he cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"She never showed."

You felt sorry for him and guilty at the same time. Grateful that she hadn't showed because you could have him for yourself, yet so, so remorseful over the feeling that might've caused.

"Oh my goodness, Steve. I'm so sorry," you reached out a hand to soothe him. He captured it in his own, fingers rubbing against yours as he looked down at it.

Your hand seemed so small in his, your manicured fingers contrasting his working ones.

"It's okay, babe," he smiled at you, bringing your hand up to kiss it. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Her loss... right?"

Nodding, you didn't know what to say. It was her loss. She was crazy for not showing up for this man, not realizing what she was missing. He had been the best god damn thing to happen to you, so why would she risk it?

You sat on the marble counter of the kitchen island, legs swinging. It’s not like you were trying to avoid eye contact, but you weren’t able to look him directly in the eyes.

One of his hands was tapping against your knee in rhythm with the swing of your leg, the other caging you in. You could tell he was fighting the urge to step in between your legs fully, hips finding their way in a place they used to call home.

Silence filling the air between you, it felt comfortable.

“I missed you, babe,” he whispered, hand reaching up to swipe at your jawline before finding itself back on your knee.

All you could do was barely nod before he was stepping forward, his hands flying forward to pull you to the edge of the counter. One of your legs snaked up to rest at his hip, muscle memory catering to his body.

Everything was still the same.

The taste of tobacco and mint, a soft tug of his teeth at your bottom lip, the gentle swipe of his tongue against yours.

One of your hands tangled in his hair, the other at his shoulder, attempting to push off the heavy material of his canvas jacket. He was helping you with it, leaning over your frame all while taking off his coat, lips pressed to your own.

Time had worked in both of your favors, knowing each other so well, yet experience allowing you to pleasure each other just that much more.

His coat was thrown across the floor somewhere, your hands running down the expanse of his chest. It was firmer than you remembered, muscle replacing the soft flesh that once was. His fingers found your face, creeping underneath your chin to bring your mouth fully into his.

“St-Steve,” you moaned, gasping into his mouth as once of his hands griped your side hard, pulling your hips into his.

He ground down into you, hardness behind his dark jeans rubbing against your core.

Heat flooded your body, memories of your last moments together all those years ago flooding back. You had hoped they were going to be pushed down, so far in the back of your mind, they didn’t exist anymore.

"You're going to leave me, okay?" His voice was loud in the room, cutting into the midnight hours as sheets tangled around the two of you. There had been so much love between the two of you hours before, bodies becoming one for the last time as you knew it.

Your brow crinkled in confusion as you took in his words. "Steve, what-"

"You're going to get on that plane tomorrow and leave me," There was a soft smile on his lips as he leaned up to press a kiss to your forehead. He brushed a loose strand of hair off of your face, fondly staring down at you. "You have such a big future ahead of you, babe, I would only hold you back. We both know this."

You shot up, wanting to interject. He cut you off before you could say anything. Gripping your hand and pulling you into his chest, he sighed, lips pressed into a smile.

"It's our last night together. It has to be. Let's enjoy this, and then you'll never look back." You wanted to pretend like you didn't know what he meant, but it was clear to the both of you. You did have to leave. Hawkins would only hold you back.

You pushed him off of you, thumb swiping at your bottom lip as you grew self conscious of yourself. He was confused, panting as his eyes trailed over you. Lust was written all over his face, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

It was the type of look that would’ve sent you over the edge in your teen years, but now? It just made you regret every accomplishment you had made because he hadn’t been there for it.

“Sorry—was I—was that too much?”

He stepped away from you fully, hands moving to rest at your knees.

You still avoided eye contact with him.

“I just need to be good,” you said softly, tongue swiping over your lip.

“What?”

“I need to be good, Steve,” you said it a little louder this time, finally looking into his eyes.

He tilted his head in confusion before nodding, a smug look on his face.

“Yeah, heard you the first time,” he shook his head with a scoff, turning to grab his jacket off of the floor. Your heart sunk in your chest, realizing the insinuation of your words. You didn't mean to insult him, but it was the truth. You didn't know how to be good with him, didn't know what your future might hold if he stood here with you in time.

“No!”

Jumping off the counter, you stopped him before he could move.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Steve,” you were frantic with your movements, fingers gripping his arms as he looked to the side.

Turning to look down at you, his hand reached up to smooth back the hair that had fallen in his face. He still had that look in his eye, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he stared down at you.

Butterflies rattled you from the inside, your tongue suddenly feeling heavy.

“I don’t know what all of this means,” you admit, allowing Steve to move you back towards the counter, your backside hitting the edge of it. “After all this time, it doesn’t make sense.”

His hands touched your hips, pulling you into him. You couldn't breathe with the way he was overwhelming you. He smelled heavenly, temptation you couldn't resist.

"I still feel the same as—as I did w-"

Steve leaned down, his lips finding the side of your neck. Head tilted to the side, you closed your eyes, hand reaching up to toy with his hair. A soft moan slipped from your lips, feeling the wet hotness of his mouth against you.

"—as I did the day I left."

Your stomach turned as he pressed his lips in a trail down the side of your neck. You craned your head back so he could have better access to you.

"Ste—I can't."

"It's okay," he whispered, licking a stripe up to your ear.

The feeling had you whimpering, head thrown back even further.

"I'm going to have to leave again," you whispered, hips tilting as his fingers found their way to your waistline.

He pulled away from you, brow furrowed as he shook his head. Guilt overwhelmed you once again as you saw the look on his face.

'You're not leaving me again," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your mouth. "I finally found you again."

All you could do was nod and not say anything as he pressed his mouth to yours.

"You're mine again, babe."

Lips slotted together, your eyes fluttered shut as he slipped his hands underneath your sweater, pulling it over your head. The cool air of the room hit your skin, his hands trailing warmth wherever they touched. He pulled away from you to look at the lace bralette you wore underneath your clothing, his large hands moving to cup the material.

"You're beautiful, baby."

Before he could kiss you again, you turned away from him, hand clasped into his as you led him through the living area of your apartment. The double doors of your bedroom were thrown open, Steve pressed to your front, hands on either side of your face.

He walked you backwards to the bed, pushing you down on to it before taking off his shirt. His mole dotted skin was flushed red with arousal, skin warm as he laid on top of you.

"Fuck," you breathed, pushed up the bed as he grinded down onto you.

The material of your jeans was getting to you both, frustration evident in both of your movements as you struggled to get them off. His mouth didn't want to leave yours, a clash of lips and tongue and teeth as your hands roamed.

"God, I missed you."

He sounded breathless as he cupped your face in his hands, firm kisses to your lips. He was aggressive in his movements, pushing your face to the side as he kissed down your jawline, down your neck, and to your chest.

One of his hands had trailed down to your core, fingers brushing over your clothed cunt as you attempted to kick off your pants from your ankles.

"Ste—"

You could barely finish moaning his name before his lips had found your nipple, breast spilling out the top of your bralette. His fingers had pushed your panties to the side, finger dipping slightly into your wetness.

You couldn't remember the last time you were this turned on. Wetness was dripping out of you, pussy clenching around nothing as he teased you.

"Ste-Steve, I need more."

He muttered something around your nipple, switching to the other one as he sunk his middle finger into you. A loud moan fell from your lips, back arching as your head was thrown back into the sheets.

Leaving your chest, he kissed down your stomach, biting at the skin just to watch the small indents from his teeth form.

You painted, looking down at him, feeling the urge to cum immediately just from the sight of him. He was fucking beautiful. You couldn't believe he was yours again.

His hair had fallen completely in his eyes as he looked up to you, free hand aiding his teeth in pulling down your underwear while his other worked a long finger deep inside of you.

"Fuck—"

Your back arched again as he added his ring finger along side it, a light kiss pressed to your clit.

"Open wider, baby," he muttered, nudging your knee to the side. Immediately, your legs opened, one of your knees hooking onto his shoulder.

He smirked at you, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Good girl."

Another wave of wetness hit you as you pulsed at his words. He knew exactly what to say to get you going, validation being that one thing that always had you falling apart for him.

He looked down at you, pursing his lips as he let a trail of spit drip down from his mouth to pool at your clit. It was the filthiest thing you've seen in a while, a gasp leaving your lips as he looked up to you to make eye contact while he dipped his tongue to lick at you. His eyelids were low, nearly shut as he sucked at the small nub.

You arched your back, head thrown back against your sheets. Reaching out, you grabbed a handful of his hair.

"St-Steve, you can't—I can't— I'm not going to l-last if you do that," your speech was so muddled, nearly incoherent as you babbled.

"M'kay," he mumbled against you, diving even lower to tongue at your folds, dipping in between his fingers.

A tingle struck your spine, pleasure coursing through your body.

Steve brought his free hand around your thigh propped up on him, pulling you closer to him. The noises filling the air were sloppy, you breathing heavy, panting his name, his tongue running along you, his own moans filling the air.

"I missed this," he breathed against you, eyes squeezed shut.

All it took was one curve of his fingers inside you, and the trigger was released, blinding white pleasure coursing through you. With a whine, you came against his mouth, pulsing around his fingers, clit throbbing under the weight of his tongue.

He knew when to slow down, tongue licking at you once more before he released his grip on you. With one last kiss, he left the space between your thighs, kissing up the length of your body while you caught your breath.

"How's my girl doing?"

He asked, eye to eye with you now. He led his hands through your hair, thumb swiping against your brow bone.

Nodding, you lifted your head off the sheets, kissing him. He was biting back a smile, gripping the back of your head as he towered over you.

"Good, baby?" He asked again, urging you to nod with him. Biting your lip, you brought your hand to his stomach, trailing down slowly until you reached the waistline of his unbuttoned jeans.

Glancing down, he was hard, poking at the fabric, a dark patch at the groin.

Before you could begin pulling down his pants, he gripped at your wrist.

"Babe—we don't have to-"

Rolling your eyes, you cut him off. "Steve."

He grew serious, propping himself up while his grip slightly loosened around your wrist.

"I've waited damn near five years for this," you continued, waiting on him to let up. He only looked at you, concern written in his face. "You're mine again. Let me have you."

With a nod, he let you go, aiding you in pulling down his jeans. He kicked them off of him, off the edge of the bed before he found his place again, settled between your legs.

"Just let me know, okay?"

You nodded, raising one hand to rest of the back of his neck and the other on his arm. He propped himself up on one arm, reaching down with the other to guide himself at your entrance.

The tip of his cock nudged at you, a stretch you weren't prepared for, but had somehow been waiting for this entire time.

"Baby?"

Steve wanted to make sure you were okay one last time, and with the final nod you gave him, he pushed in. Slowly stretching you apart, you felt the puzzle pieces coming together.

With a moan, you dug your nails into his arm, manicured hand turning a few shades lighter as you felt so, so full.

As he reached the hilt, he let himself go before gripping your thigh, pushing your leg up towards your torso. The bend, the stretch, the fullness, this was the most complete you had felt in years.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, waiting for your confirmation before pulling out, a quick jolt of his hips to push back in.

You could tell he was being sloppy, holding back his own orgasm that was threatening to end this a lot sooner than you both were expecting. His thrusts were moving you up the bed, the weight of his body pressing your leg back further with each movement.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so—so deep."

He closed his eyes, groaning at your words.

"Shit, baby, you can't say shit like that."

You attempted to giggle, cut off by a moan as the tip of his cock hit your bundle of nerves deep inside of you. The hand by your hand tangled in your hair, pulling on it slightly as he gained momentum.

"You're so—" Steve leaned to bite at your jawline, nipping the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. "Such a good girl, just for me, baby."

Nodding, you felt his words bringing you closer to the edge.

"Just for you, baby."

He brought his hand to push your leg back even further, his hips picking up speed as he fucked into you. Your pussy was dripping around him, the praise going straight to your arousal. You weren't going to last much longer.

"B-babe." You whined, feeling it build inside of you.

He was close too, his hips only speeding up as his breathed heavy against your ear. He let out a whimper as you squeezed around him, eyes glued shut as you reached your peak.

"Fu—"

A strangled moan left your lips as you came around him, his cock deep inside you, pressed right up against your core. You could've sworn you blacked out for a second, pleasure blinding you as you came around to Steve cumming all over your lower body. It dripped over you, covering your cunt as he worked his length, one arm holding himself up.

Somehow, you managed to keep your eyes open to stare him down, a second wave of pleasure hitting you as you took in the sight.

With a collapse next to you, he stared at the ceiling, panting heavily.

"I think I just died," he whispered, turning his head to look at you.

A giggle escaped you, shaking your head at how dumb he could be after a moment like that.

"I must've too because I think we're in heaven," you whispered, moving to cuddle up next to him. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you.

You couldn't have dreamt of a moment like this before. Nothing in your life had made quite as much sense as this. All this time spent apart, just to be brought back together in the end. It made sense. He was your person, he had always been your person. You just needed to time to find yourself in between.

Thinking he had drifted off, his breathing evened out. His scent filled your nostrils, tobacco and cinnamon mixed with the sweet scent of sweat.

You could die here.

"She reminded me of you," he suddenly said, hand tracing over the small of your back.

You propped your head up on his chest, your own hand brushing against the dusting of hair on his sternum. Confused, you frowned at him, "Who?"

"The girl," he continued, biting his lip as he avoided eye contact. "The one I went to meet."

Not knowing what to say, you let him continue.

"She seemed like a small town girl, big city dreams," his hand moved higher to rest at the top of your spine. His hands were warm, tingling your nerves where he touched. "I wanted to convince myself that I could be with someone who wasn't you. It's all I've been doing since you left."

"Steve—"

"No, it's okay," he shook his head at you, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to your forehead. His hand was pressed at the back of your head. "It's funny because I went to meet her actually. And I... I couldn't do it. I went straight to the balcony and hid. She was walking around, I heard her ask for me a few times."

Your eyes were wide at this point, feeling your heartbeat beating to the drum of his. The two of you felt in sync.

"I just couldn't get you out of my head." He looked at you in the eyes, soft lines at the corner of his eyes that hadn't been there years prior. "I kept thinking about you, especially the last couple of months. I wanted to reach out, beg you to... I don't know what honestly, but I figured it was too long. You'd have moved on by now, forgot about little ol' me."

He let out a sarcastic laugh, fingers tightening around you as he held you closer.

"I felt... incomplete," he admitted, looking up at the ceiling as he fully laid back down.

You remained silent for a bit, heart in your throat as you took in his confession. You knew exactly how he felt, exactly that feeling that was unable to escape you since the day you left. It was a gnawing pain, an ache that you couldn't shake no matter what remedies you tried.

Laying your head down on his chest, you held him close and tight. You couldn't let him go now, you wouldn't make that mistake again.

"You have me now," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his skin. "We're complete now."

masterlist. inbox open. guess who's baaackkkkkkkkkkk. pls comment and reblog so I can know what you guys like !! I’m getting back into writing again and would love to hear from yall. I missed you guys so so soooo much <33

[clownakai]

Akam Princess Mononoke AU with Shuuichi as Ashitaka and Rei as San. That is all

[beanietopia]

choso has a porn addiction, plain and simple. every morning for him starts with the same: open up twitter, get his bottle of lotion, and scroll through his bookmarks until he can cum. he’s had girlfriends in the past, they all thought his addiction was gross. what girl would ever entertain a guy that jerked off to random girls getting creampied on twitter?

well, you, of course.

he messaged you on a random morning, ‘hey’, was all it said. you happened to have a slight porn addiction of your own, having filled your bookmarks for your own solo sessions. you didn’t realize your messages were open and felt your brow go up as you read his message. a click to his bio and there wasn’t much there, just the year he was born and 🇯🇵. your first instinct was to delete the message, but your curiosity got the best of you. you messaged back, investigated how he found your account, and choso revealed his intentions.

‘are you into the idea of sending some nsfw posts to each other?’

choso used to sext with his ex girlfriends, but none of them wanted to include porn. they found it weird and considered it cheating to look at videos while in a relationship. now here he was, randomly texting a stranger on the internet to get a quick nut. if he wasn’t palming his dick through his shorts right now, he’d actually think he looked a bit pathetic. it wasn’t until you said yes and started sending your bookmarked videos did he realize what he was getting himself into.

freeing his dick from his briefs, he started to stroke himself while imagining himself doing the things in the videos with you. he didn’t know what you looked like, hell, he wasn’t even sure you were who you said you were. but you were just as porn obsessed as he was, and he didn’t think you could get any better until you sent another message.

‘let me suck it while you play video games.’

it’s like you knew the exact words to say to get him off. choso hastily reciprocated, although it had become quite difficult to type with one hand. he confessed on how desperately he wanted to cum in your pussy and how you suck him in so well, not knowing that you too had started pleasuring yourself at the mere thought. it had been a while and you needed some action too, okay? his messages started getting further and further apart until he asked you to send a post he can finish to. bringing yourself back to reality for a quick moment to send him a creampie video, how could you have known his favorite genre? you found yourself soon chasing your own orgasm. the echoes of the moans coming from your phone had blended with yours, and you soon came undone on your fingers. 

once you remembered to look at your phone again, choso had let you know that he had made a mess, followed by a picture of his cum stained hand and torso. when you sent back a picture of your glistening fingers and soiled sheets, choso audibly moaned. what a pervert.

‘fuck, you’re making me hard… is same time tomorrow good with you?’

part 2

--------

uhh welp this is my first piece of work on tumblr LMFAO HEY GUYS! special shoutout to my pookie bears @gojoscinnamonroll @xixflower @takumasimp @webism for encouraging me and AAAAAAAA I HOPE SOMEBODY LIKES THIS,,,, i wanna keep posting on here so lmk what you think :3 ok bye beanie out

[deathofacupid]

ᡣ𐭩 content — fan!gojo x pop-princess!reader. fluff, gojo's kind of a freakk :P

fan!gojo is, delicately put, obsessed. his penthouse apartment? a whole room dedicated to your discography, limited edition vinyls glowing under soft led lights, and walls plastered with every magazine cover you've ever graced. his credit card? permanently swiped for your latest merch drops, holographic posters, and plushie keychains.

fan!gojo who hears about the meet-and-greet raffle from your instagram (he's the first to like the post). panic sets in. a raffle? random chance? this is an affront to his meticulously planned life. no amount of money can guarantee a win.

fan!gojo who has to beg for this stranger on reddit to give them their tickets to him. he lost a little over a million dollars (yeah, okay, in hindsight, that wasn't financially smart — but, this was the opportunity of a lifetime).

fan!gojo who ends up bringing geto with him, since he doesn't want the other ticket to go to waste. out of geto, of all people, he's not sure. geto, the heavy-metal aficionado. their music tastes' are worlds apart, but gojo's doing his best friend a favor.

fan!gojo who spends hours picking out his outfit, to which geto snorts, "it's not like you're going on a fucking date with her."

fan!gojo who huffs, dramatically crossing his arms. "we're taking pictures."

fan!gojo who ends up bring all of your vinyls to the meet-and-greet. every single one. "what?" he asked geto, who was giving him a funny look. "i couldn't decide. they're all amazing."

fan!gojo who's practically bouncing off the walls, when the security guard tells him it'll be their turn, soon. will he be okay? does he look okay? wait, does he smell okay?

fan!gojo who's shoving his to-be-signed merch into geto's hands, cracking his knuckles. after a moment, he snatches them back, hissing, "don't do anything embarrassing, okay?"

"...says the one bringing a whole ass record store."

fan!gojo who is freaking out when he lays his eyes on you. in person. even geto, who's never seen him flustered over a girl, can't help but snicker.

fan!gojo who thinks your voice is even sweeter in real life, if that's possible. you smile, a soft greeting leaving your lips. all he can do is stutter a response. (yes, geto is filming.)

fan!gojo can't tear his eyes off you. you're dolled up in the prettiest shade of pink, and you look gorgeous. your hair rests in soft curls, styled to perfection. though, he'd pop a boner if you showed up with bed-head.

fan!gojo who gets all his merch signed by you, as he grins boyishly, a warm pinking dusting his cheeks.

fan!gojo who musters out the courage to blurt; "i love you! y— your music, i mean," stuttering over his attempted amends. too much courage, it seems.

fan!gojo who practically sighs in relief when you laugh. "yeah?" you ask, handing him his items.

"yeah," fan!gojo says, breathy. "huge fan."

you tilt your head at him, thoughtful eyes. "i can tell." fan!gojo's cute, you think. as they're heading out, you stop him, watching his brows knit in confusion.

"we can take a picture, just us," you suggest. "if you'd like."

if fan!gojo would like? fuck, yeah, he would.

fan!gojo who's beaming, waiting for the click of the camera, when you catch him off-guard — pressing a kiss to his cheek.

fan!gojo who's eyes widen, and he's sure that photo came out odd on his end, but god, he'll keep it forever.

fan!gojo who thinks his life can't get any better, but you're sliding off your bejeweled, pink bracelet and slipping it on his wrist. eyes twinkling, you wave him out.

it's not until he gets home, placing his merch back where it belongs (on what normal people would call a shrine, but fan!gojo prefers the term collection), that he notices something on his vinyl, not just a signature.

it's your number, with, right below it; for my biggest fan.

fan!gojo who's breath hitches. he's won.

[navybrat817]

Late Night Recap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).

A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didn’t encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didn’t seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldn’t get your smile or voice out of his head.

Wait, he didn’t tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing. 

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn��t happen.”

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him?  “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.”

Was that creepy? It wasn’t like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasn’t lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t believe him.

“You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said. 

Steve held a hand up when Bucky’s fists curled. “What he means is we’re surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesn’t usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously different,” the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Alpine really liked her.”

Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasn’t it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.

Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?”

If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.” 

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

“You’re not going to meet her or ask her anything,” Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. “Because I probably won’t see her again.”

It didn’t make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didn’t exist in his world, not for people like him.

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadn’t dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadn’t lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter. 

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. “I didn’t get her number.”

“Wait, you didn’t ask for her number or give her yours?” Steve asked.

Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasn’t the suave guy he used to be. “She was drunk, Steve. I didn’t ask since there’s a good chance that she might not even remember me,” he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.

“Well, you know where her apartment building is,” the blonde smiled. “That’s a start.”

“But not her apartment number,” he sighed. 

You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how “true crimes” began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldn’t run straight inside.

Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done over the years, it didn’t change that he didn’t get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?”

Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.”

Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. “But wouldn’t that be weird to add her as a friend?” he asked.

Because, again, there was a chance you wouldn’t remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said “single” like he hoped.

…Was he venturing into creepy territory again?

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

“And that’s the end of this conversation,” Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.

“You’ll see her again,” Steve smiled, quickly adding, “Now that’s the end of the conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didn’t want to keep you a secret. 

He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see “Queen Alpine” while you were sober.

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[tsukisrants]

The Help

pairing: choi san x afab! reader

word count: 11k

warnings: smut (i mean,,, it’s me), d/s undertones, reader is kind of a brat, brat tamer choi san (yes), unprotected sex, rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving), spit kink and play, spanking, praise, name calling, possessive sex, kind of a breeding kink?, creampie, past abusive relationship (so if that’s a trigger skip the first few paragraphs), reader is a badass (i love women), lots of teasing.

summary: you’re tired of your ex trying to control your life, and as you’re once again faced with him, you know you’ll have to rely on yourself to make it. but… things don’t go as planned, and for once, someone steps in, and helps you. instead of going home, you decide to give the stranger a chance at making your night memorable. and fuck, he does.

A part of you is scared. But more than fear, the emotion burning and growing in your chest is anger. Maybe even humiliation? So many feelings flicker incessantly through your body, and even when you try to reach out and grab hold of some, they mock you, swirling away, resuming their constant motion: their circus dance.

“Please, let me go,” you plead again. Because even though you’re angry, you’re trying to be clever. Trying to find a way out, trying to escape quickly and painlessly.

But he doesn’t seem to care. Jaewon grips your wrist with force, with arrogance. You’d like to say it’s something you’re not used to, but you’d be lying. Still, you swallow your tears. Even though too many have already fallen, and even though you wish you could push them back, you know it’s impossible.

“I told you to fucking listen to me!” he shouts. His eyes are bloodshot and god knows what else. His hair is disheveled, dark circles etched under his eyes. So far from the image you once had of him.

Jaewon was your boyfriend. He was, for a while. Nothing too serious, at least not for you. You ended things when he started becoming more aggressive, more inclined to control you. You ended things when you found pictures of other girls on his phone, and the undeniable proof that besides you, others had also warmed his bed.

He didn’t take it well. Constant messages, sometimes calls. He showed up under your apartment more than once, and now—now he waited for you outside the club you were heading to. He probably followed you from home or used whatever other insane method he thought of to keep tabs on you.

The fact is, you can’t do anything now. He’s gripping you tight, and he looks desperate. Nothing about this promises anything good.

People are ignoring it: some too afraid, others utterly indifferent. You’d like to blame them, but you don’t. Maybe you’ve always been used to indifference. It doesn’t surprise you at all. In fact, for you, it’s the norm. You’ve always had to take care of yourself. No one else ever did.

“I don’t want to! No… we’ve already said everything there was to say. We’re done, Jaewon. I’m done. Let me go and leave. Can’t you see you’re only making things worse?”

He doesn’t like you talking back. He doesn’t like you standing above him. And you are, fuck. You are, and pretty much anyone would be, compared to the scum you have in front of you. A small, petty, useless man. A coward.

“Y/n, watch your mouth, you hear me? Don’t piss me off more than you already have,” he growls, yanking you closer to him. With the boots you’re wearing, tripping is almost impossible. You hate being so close to him and try to push him away. But he takes advantage of it, and now he’s gripping both of your wrists, moving your body like it’s made of rags and forcing you to look him in the face.

“Look at how the fuck you’re dressed! Don’t you have a shred of respect for me? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

You’re exhausted. You want to scream, you want to shove him away and kick him until he feels the pain he’s causing you. And you hate it, hate that he’s trying to make you feel this way. You even hate that a tiny part of your brain is pushing you to feel guilty. But you don’t listen to it. You swallow your emotions and try to stay sharp because he deserves nothing. He doesn’t deserve your suffering, your reverence. He’s just a self-centered lunatic who wants something he knows he can’t have.

“I’ll dress however I want, I always have. I owe you nothing, Jaewon. And you’re hurting me, I told you. Go home before you do something you’ll regret.”

Despite everything, you can’t swallow down your own nature. As if some part of you still wants to protect him, too used to taking care of everyone and everything. But you’re at your limit. You just want some peace. You just want to enjoy your night. Better yet, your life.

“What’s this, are you threatening me?” he snaps back, a twisted laugh escaping from his lips bitten raw. He misunderstood because he always misunderstands everything—every word, every thought.

You don’t know how to get out of this. You don’t know what to do. It all keeps getting worse, second by second. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel small, crushed under the weight of something far too big. But you want to be strong. Really, you desperately want to be. But more than anything, you wish you didn’t have to be. You wish you could be small, fragile. But safe.

You open your mouth to respond, even though resignation is already growing within you.

Something — someone — interrupts you.

“She’s not threatening you. But I am. Get your hands off her, buddy.”

You’re confused. This… this shouldn’t be happening. It never has before. No one has ever tried to help you, and it feels so surreal. But when you raise your eyes, you realize you’re wrong.

Your first thought, absurdly, is that the guy — the man — who spoke is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. Black hair, feline and intense eyes, broad shoulders. Jaewon’s jaw clenches. He’s not used to being interrupted, either.

But the nameless man has a hand gripping his arm, and he seems to be holding tight. And yet, his face shows little emotion. A stern gaze, but one that seems to soften slightly when it lands on you.

“Who the fuck is this? Someone you’re screwing, Y/n?”

The coward doesn’t have the guts to talk directly to him, so he keeps trying to belittle you, who are gasping, confused and scared, panic slowly growing in your chest. “No. But I am someone who’s about to hurt you really bad if you don’t let her go. You’re a pathetic worm, and I crush worms like you, buddy.”

Jaewon hesitates, his grip on your wrists loosening just a fraction. He looks at the guy up and down, a flash of doubt crossing his eyes. But then, like the pathetic creature he is, he tries to recover by puffing out his chest and snarling, “Mind your own fucking business, buddy. This is between me and her. Isn’t it, Y/n?”

The man’s gaze turns icier, his hand still gripping Jaewon’s arm like a steel vice. His expression remains calm, unsettlingly so, like he’s not even remotely threatened by the man in front of him. If anything, he looks vaguely irritated. Especially due to the fact that Jaewon tried to use you as a support for his own fucking tantrum.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man begins, his voice cutting through the night like a beacon. It’s something tangible where there was only darkness before. Maybe even a shred of hope. Salvation. “I’ve been polite up until now. Leave her alone.”

Jaewon seems stuck. Confused, maybe. You know him well enough to tell he’s seething with rage far beyond what he’s showing. But like the coward he is, he only targets those who seem defenseless, weaker than him. Jaewon doesn’t fight battles he knows he can’t win. “Fine,” he growls. It’s almost animalistic. His hands release your wrists with the same violence he used to grab them. He shoves you away, and you stumble a bit.

He doesn’t let go out of remorse or a guilty conscience. He lets go because he’s a coward.

The man next to you takes a step forward, steadying you. But before he can move any further, you find yourself clutching at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to keep him from leaving you alone.

Jaewon stalks off, radiating fury.

“Don’t leave me alone,” you whisper. You’re shocked by your own words because you never ask for help. It’s just not you. But now? Now you feel drained, overwhelmed, lost in a whirlwind of emotions you can’t fully process. And you don’t want this guy — this stranger who actually dared to intervene — to end up getting hurt because of someone as worthless as Jaewon. It wouldn’t be fair.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine now,” the man reassures you, his voice softer this time, actually addressing you directly. His gaze is completely different now: gentle, comforting. Still feline, yes, but more like a cat’s rather than a fierce predator’s.

“My name’s San,” he murmurs, and there’s a hint of shyness there, like he’s not used to introducing himself under these kinds of circumstances.

“I’m Y/n. Thank you, San. I didn’t think anyone… that anyone would help. You didn’t have to, but thank you. Really.”

San shakes his head, a tiny, dismissive smile curving his lips. But there’s something sad beneath that smile, something that looks almost like frustration. “No one was doing anything. I couldn’t just stand there and watch,” he mutters, his eyes casting sharp, judgmental looks at the bystanders — those who chose to do nothing yet couldn’t resist gawking at the scene.

“I’m used to it, don’t worry,” you reply with a sad smile of your own. Your body feels sluggish now, adrenaline bleeding away and leaving you with a mess of feelings you can’t quite untangle.

“Doesn’t make it right,” he counters, and the firmness of his words feels like a reminder, one you almost needed to hear. He gives you a little space, stepping back just enough to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. And that’s when you realize your hands are still clutching his shirt. You pull away as if you’ve been burned, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You mumble some kind of apology, but he quickly brushes it off.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some water or something?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

You shake your head. The ghost of Jaewon’s touch still lingers on your skin. “I’m fine, really. I just… I just need a minute.”

San doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push. You’re grateful for that, and grateful that he stays nearby, radiating a sense of security that feels so strange and new. “Take all the time you need,” he says, his eyes darting around as if making sure Jaewon’s really gone.

As your breathing steadies, you notice your whole body is trembling. You were planning to drink yourself into a carefree night at the club, not get stranded in the cold, fighting off the ghost of someone you never wanted to see again. You rub your arms, trying to warm yourself. The thin blouse and mini skirt you’re wearing do nothing to protect you from the chill.

“I owe you. Really,” you murmur, hating how weak your voice sounds. San shakes his head, almost annoyed by the thought of you owing him anything.

“You don’t owe me a thing. That guy’s a piece of shit, and you shouldn’t have to deal with his crap. No one should. I just did what was right,” he explains, and even as he speaks, he’s already shrugging off his leather jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to him with an obsessive, almost painful elegance.

“Here, put this on,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders before you can even protest. Its weight is immediate and comforting, the warmth sinking into your skin and chasing away the last of your chills. It smells like him. Intense. Overwhelming. Alluring. And you hate that your first instinct is to bury your face in the collar and breathe him in like he’s the oxygen you’ve been starved of.

“Is that better?” he asks, his voice a little gentler now. And you can’t help but be thrown by how genuine he sounds, how every word feels like it’s meant just for you.

You nod, offering him a shy smile as you pull the jacket tighter around yourself. Your body’s finally starting to feel warm again. “Yeah, much better,” you reassure him, shrinking into the comfort of his jacket, trying to make yourself as small as possible within its safety.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" San asks, his gaze lingering on how your body all but vanishes within his jacket. His smile is soft, disarming, and you can’t help but notice how the delicate dimples decorating his face only enhance his allure. They’re a subtle charm, something that both fascinates and entices you in a way you can’t quite place.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to say yes. To go home, hide away, retreat to the safety of your four walls where everything is quiet and predictable. But you don’t want that. Not really. You refuse to hand Jaewon that satisfaction, to let him force you to abandon something you had planned for yourself. He's not worth it. And you've always promised yourself you wouldn’t sacrifice any part of who you are for anyone, especially not a man. And if that man is that sleazy idiot Jaewon, then your resolve is all the more unshakable.

So, you shake your head. And while your decision feels uncertain at first, the moment you take a long, grounding breath, you know you’re making the right choice.

“No,” you murmur, your shoulders tightening slightly before relaxing again. “I still want to drink and have fun. If I go home now, then he wins, right?”

Something flickers in San’s expression, a curious mixture of pride and admiration. His head bobs in an immediate nod, that dimple of his still very much present. “Exactly. Good. You shouldn’t let him think he has any power over you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, a trace of hesitation lacing your movements. San is gorgeous. One of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on, if not the most beautiful, period. Maybe it’s irrational, maybe it’s reckless, but who could blame you for trying to salvage something good out of an otherwise disastrous night?

“But if you want…” you begin, and his whole face seems to light up, feline eyes glittering with something rich and deliciously intense. “If you want, you could still keep me company? I was thinking of having a drink, clearing my head... But I don’t know if you had plans or needed to meet up with someone.”

San’s response is immediate, as if he’s been waiting to hear those words. His hand moves to brush back a rebellious lock of pitch-black hair that frames his face just so, making him look even more captivating. “Gladly. No, I... just some friends, but nothing important. I’ll send them a message. Mingi’s probably already out cold, anyway,” he explains with a casual shrug, as if you have any clue who the hell Mingi is.

But that’s not the point. The point is that San is here, offering his time and attention like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, tonight doesn’t have to end as badly as it started. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. His answer comes so easily, so naturally, like being here with you is exactly where he wants to be. And that thought alone makes your heart stutter a little.

“Okay,” you say, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I hope your friends don’t get too mad at you for ditching them.”

San’s laugh is low, rich, with an edge of something playful that tugs at your nerves. “If anything, they’ll be relieved. Especially if Mingi’s already passed out somewhere. He’s a lot to handle, believe me.”

You chuckle, the tension easing from your shoulders bit by bit. “Sounds like a wild group.”

“You have no idea.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting under the dim lights as he studies you. Not just looks at you, but really studies you, like you’re something worth figuring out. You don’t miss the way his eyes seem to flicker down to your exposed legs, nor the way his ears get red when he notices you caught him staring. “But right now, I’d much rather get to know you,” he adds, a boldness to his tone that you don’t know whether it’s genuine or fake.

You take a breath. The umpteenth one of the night. You smile, because even when courage feels distant, you force yourself to embody it. You force yourself to give everything you have, no matter the cost. Even when it feels like you have nothing left to give.

You take a step. Timid, maybe, but determined. The next one feels almost scorching. You reach out and take San’s hand. Your fingers slip between his, intertwining so naturally it’s like they were always meant to fit. San’s eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face as a gorgeous flush blooms along his cheeks. The sight leaves your own skin blazing, but even through the embarrassment, you push forward, daring to claim what you want.

Heat rushes through you, sweet sparks dancing across your skin—tiny, glowing constellations sparking to life wherever your bodies connect. You lift your gaze to his, and it’s like he’s already wrapping himself around you, his presence both sheltering and electric. That intoxicating sense of protection lingers, and you already feel yourself starting to get addicted to it.

Your lashes flutter, but your eyes remain locked on his, a magnetic pull neither of you seems willing to break. His breathing has quickened, his grip tightening around your hand like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“So, are you coming with me?” you whisper, your voice low and daring, trembling with all the possibilities hanging between you. His lips part, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that threatens to unravel you. But that’s fine. Because something about this moment feels real. Raw. Undeniably yours.

San licks his lips, and the he pulls you closer, his grip possessive and protective all at once. “Lead the way,” he murmurs, voice roughened by something you can’t quite name.

The club looms ahead, lights spilling out from the entrance, throbbing with bass-heavy music and the echo of laughter. You hesitate, but only for a moment, before tugging San forward, your fingers never breaking from his. As you step inside the club that was on other side of the street, the atmosphere swallows you both whole. You don’t usually go out clubbing, but when you do, you easily lose yourself to the feeling.

Neon lights slash through the darkness, painting everything in shades of electric blue and crimson. Bodies move and sway to the music’s hypnotic pulse, but it’s the warmth of San’s hand entwined with yours that makes your pulse stutter.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his voice low and tempting. “So, was this part of your plan? Dragging me in here just to keep me close?” The playful accusation sends heat spiraling through your chest. You meet his gaze, your smile taunting.

Despite the music, all you can hear it’s him.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t call it dragging if you’re the one holding on so tightly.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and smooth, his dimple flashing as he looks at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the room. “Touché. Guess I’m not letting go anytime soon, then.”

“Is that promise?” you answer, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your lips, his face following the way your lipstick stained lips shine under the lights of the club. “Maybe. Or a threat. It depends.”

You shake your head, but your answer gets lost when someone bumps against your shoulder as they pass by. San is quick: he tugs at your wrist, making you fall against his chest.

“Got you,” he says, looking proud of himself from doing so.

“Seems like it,” you answer, and he looks extremely pleased with the way you two seem to be playing the same game.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart is racing. He raises an eyebrow. “At what?”

“At making me forget about everything else,” you admit, softer than you intended.

San’s gaze softens, and his smile turns almost tender, though there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he replies. “Never said it was,” you say, your body starting to tremble with the way the music dances around you two.

“Drinks?” he asks, titling his head towards the bar and pointing at it with his chin. You nod immediately, and San takes the lead, making you follow him as he makes room for the both of you in the endless sea of bodies that fill the space around you guys.

You reach the counter, and San leans over the bar with confidence, catching the bartender’s attention with a wave and ordering something you vaguely recognize as potent and smooth. Strawberry flavored, for the both of you. You like it, that that’s what he would choose for himself. He does indeed own a sweet vibe that you can’t quite capture.

When the drinks arrive, he slides yours toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment—enough to make your breath hitch. He watches you intently as you take a sip, his own glass untouched.

“Good?” he asks, and instead of answering with words you decide to chug the drink down in one go, the alcohol immediately flooding your body and making your mind foggy enough to make the air thicken around you. “That’s my girl!” he says, laughing as he mirrors your gesture, a droplet of the drink spilling from his lips and leaving a sweet trace on his chin that he quickly dries with a flick of his thumb.

You’re momentarily stunned, your heart caught between beats. San doesn’t break eye contact, and suddenly the air between you feels charged, like a wire pulled too tight. Your instincts scream at you to look away, to break the tension before it swallows you whole—but you don’t. You can’t. You wouldn’t even dream of it.

“Let’s dance,” you say, the words slipping from your lips with more confidence than you feel. San’s smile blooms, wicked and beautiful, and before you can second-guess yourself, he’s leading you into the crowd, his fingers still interlaced with yours.

Once you reach the center of the floor, San doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist, fingers curling around you with a firmness that sends a fresh rush of heat through your skin. The music thrums low and sensual, and without needing any more invitation, you start to move.

At first, it’s just you finding your own rhythm, letting the beat guide your hips. But San matches you with ease, his body moving against yours with a grace that leaves you breathless. It’s like he’s made for this, the way his touch seems to melt into you, every subtle shift bringing you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

His body is a dream. And on top of that, he knows how to use it. Your brain really has a hard time processing all that it’s happening, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You keep moving, your bodies swaying in perfect sync, the music’s rhythm melting into the charged heat between you. San’s hands roam over your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every line, as if he’s known them all along. And you let him. You let him touch and explore, your defenses slipping away with each lingering brush of his fingers.

Your hands find their place behind his neck, your fingers pressing against the warm, feverish skin there. It feels like fire, a burn that leaves you craving more instead of pulling away.

Your fingertips glide through his hair, slow and testing, and you catch the way his eyes flutter shut the moment you touch him. His breath stumbles, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something wild unfurl in your chest.

Taking it as encouragement, you let your hands dive deeper into his hair, threading through the silky strands with a confidence you didn’t realize you had. The delicate texture brushes against your skin, soft but electric, feeding your courage. Then, with deliberate pressure, you tug at a few strands, savoring the sensation of his hair tightening against your grip.

The reaction is immediate. A deep, guttural sound vibrates from San’s chest, spilling into the air between you with a rawness that makes your own pulse stutter. His eyes snap open, dark and molten, searching yours.

But you don’t back down. You hold his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair, daring him to show you more of that unguarded desire simmering beneath the surface. You want him to break. You need him to.

“Was that on purpose, Y/n?” he rasps, his voice thick and unsteady, the sound of it rumbling from deep within his chest. His lips are so close to your ear that his breath fans over your skin, hot and tantalizing.

“I don’t know, was it?” you bite back, mischievous and sweet, teasing him. You love the way your name sounds as it leaves his mouth. He smirks, and you can’t help but do the same.

“Looks like I found myself a little brat,” he comments, clearly amused by your antics. “Think you can handle it?” you ask, and just to prove your point, you tug again, just a little harder, and the way his jaw clenches makes your head spin.

His eyes flash, that competitive spark flaring to life. “Oh, I know I can, little one. But now you’ve got me curious. Just how far are you planning to push me tonight? Just how much you think you can take?” As he talks, San’s hands never stray far from you, his touch alternating between gentle and possessive, like he’s trying to figure out exactly how much of you he can claim. Little does he know, he already has it all. But, to be honest, you like the idea of him working for it a little bit.

“Sannie,” you start, smiling at him and enjoying the way the nickname seems to get through his skin, “I can take it all. And more.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes closing for a second. You’re making him lose his composure, and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the way his eyes roam over your face, lingering on your lips, makes it clear he wouldn’t have you any other way. “I should’ve known you’d be trouble from the moment I saw you.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have. But it’s too late now,” you tease, your nails digging into the skin of his neck, probably leaving tiny red marks as you keep on touching him.

Before you can think better of it, your fingers trail down his neck, brushing against his collarbone before settling on his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath your touch, matching the wild rhythm of your own. “San…” His name falls from your lips like a plea, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Somehow, despite not even knowing you, San seems to know exactly what you need, like he’s reading you with a precision that leaves you breathless. Maybe it’s because it’s what he needs, too. You like to think so.

His hands tighten around your hips with a bruising force, and you gasp, the blend of pain and pleasure coiling hot and restless in your chest. His grip is possessive, commanding, and the way he handles your body leaves your legs trembling.

“I could make you say it out loud,” he whispers, his voice thick and dripping with wickedness. “Make you ask for it. Maybe even beg for what you want.” His face is so close to yours, his words brushing against your skin like a scorching caress. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your pulse a frantic beat under his ruthless attention.

“But maybe later, yeah? Right now, I think you deserve a little reward.”

And then he kisses you.

There’s nothing gentle about it: just pure, unfiltered hunger and greed crashing into you violently. His mouth claims yours, desperate and demanding, and it feels like everything suddenly clicks into place. His lips are rough and consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a skill that leaves you reeling. And you try, you really do, to seize control of the kiss, to meet his intensity with your own. But it’s useless. He overpowers you effortlessly, his dominance written in every movement, every searing touch.

He tastes like everything you’ve been craving and everything you’re afraid to lose yourself to. He tastes like danger. Like hope.

You claw at his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, but it only seems to encourage him. He loves how desperate you are. His grip on you tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin with a force that leaves you aching and dizzy.

“You’re trying so hard to fight it, aren’t you?” he taunts against your lips, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Pretending you’re not dying to give in. Pretending it doesn’t make you wet that I’m so much stronger than you. That I’m in control.”

His words sting, but you can’t deny the truth tangled within them. The way your body trembles under his touch, the way your pulse races at the sound of his voice, it all betrays you. Your own body.

“I’m not pretending anything,” you bite back, but even you can hear the waver in your voice. It doesn’t matter. Not really.

“No?” His lips trail along your jaw, leaving a trail of sinful kisses over your skin. “Good girls don’t lie.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a ragged groan from him. You want to claw back some control, to make him feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s stirring in you.

“Never said I was one” you manage to say, breath heavy and tone not convincing at all.

“Oh, princess.” His laughter is low, charged with an amusing darkness. “Then I’ll just have to turn you into one.” A promise, a threat. The middle point, the perfect balance, the unbreakable intertwining of the two. Your chest rises and falls quickly, each breath you take feels almost solid, tangible.

In the whole room, there’s only one thing: San. San. San.

“I’ll have fun watching you try, then,” you reply, your tongue darting out to wet your lips just a bit. San loves the way you challenge him; it’s more than obvious by now. His excitement is as palpable as yours, and in the surrealism of what’s unfolding between you two, everything feels perfectly right.

“Come home with me, then. So I can prove you wrong.” San’s words cut through everything. He looks at you with something you’re not sure you can read. His eyes are dark, determined, but you catch a hint of hesitation and sweetness. Yours probably look the same.

It’s not like his request surprises you all that much, and yet, you feel completely caught off guard.

San’s hands don’t leave you, their warmth keeping you anchored to reality. His grip is firm, certain.

“I’m never wrong,” you say to him. It’s not a yes, not yet. San waits, patiently. You love that he doesn’t push, not even a little. “But maybe you’ve earned a little sympathy from me, Sannie. So I’ll give you a chance.”

He smiles. The reaction is immediate. His face lights up, and a soft giggle escapes your chest, too.

“You should be grateful we’re in a public place and your skirt is short, or I would’ve already thrown you over my shoulder,” he explains. You rise onto your toes and, with all the naturalness in the world, press your lips to his for just an instant. He’s caught off guard but clearly pleased by your boldness.

“Already feeling jealous, San?”

He rolls his eyes. Bingo.

He leans in, just enough that his breath grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it to my place.”

Your laugh is soft, a little breathless. “And here I thought you had more self-control, San.”

“Self-control, y/n?” His smile is sharp, eyes darkening as they trace over you with an unapologetic hunger. “I have just enough to get us out of here without breaking all the rules. After that...” His gaze drifts down your body, then back to your eyes, voice low. “...I make no promises.”

You don’t bother hiding your smirk. “Then what are you waiting for, Sannie?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like he was waiting for you to say those exact words. His hand finds yours once again, grip firm and impatient as he leads you through the crowd, the thrum of music and conversation fading to nothing.

Outside, the air is cooler, but it does nothing to dampen the heat sparking off of San. His fingers are still tangled with yours, and when he looks at you, you swear the city lights reflect his grin, sharp and electric. The moon touches his face gently, kissing his beautiful honey skin. Unreal. That’s how you’d describe him.

Then… it’s all hurried. He calls for a taxi, and you guys fight yourselves to keep your hands in place, trying hardly not to make a mess in the backseat of the car as a complete stranger drives you home. It’s- comforting. He tells you a little about himself: he dances. Teaches a class to kids to earn some money between his jobs as a dancer. Tells you you probably have seen him in some music videos in the past. Promises he’ll sing for you one day.

One day. The promise of a tomorrow.

Once you reach his place, though, there’s no time left for pleasantries. He holds your hands as he guides you to his door, and once inside his apartment the small talk dies.

Flames arise, and you’re ready to run through hell with him. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, San’s hands are on you, pressing you back against the wall with a hunger that’s only grown since that first playful exchange.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he murmurs, voice thick and heavy. His eyes search yours, still checking, still giving you room to pull away. “Well,” you whisper, breathless and smiling. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

The jacket he landed you falls on the ground, and he mutters a curse under his breath as he looks at you.

His lips are on yours before you even finish the sentence, though, all heat and intensity, the kind that leaves you dizzy and clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is. So strong and perfectly built, his body is towering over yours, making you feel small and helpless in the most delicious way.

The kiss you share is ravenous, a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. His mouth claims yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His tongue and yours twist and tangle, battling for dominance, as his teeth nip at your swollen lips. The small, unbidden moans slipping from your mouth only spur him on, his own growls of pleasure vibrating against you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans against your lips, his voice thick and ragged. His breath fans over your skin, hot and impatient.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your thighs, lifting you from the ground like it’s nothing, pressing your body flush against his. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your hips grinding against his without thought or restraint. You can feel how hard he is, the strained bulge of his pants rubbing between your legs, igniting heat that leaves you trembling. Your skirt rides up, leaving you scandalously exposed to him, and you catch the wicked glint in his eyes as he notices.

“Impatient,” you murmur, but your voice is breathless, betraying your own eagerness. His mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave you shivering. His grip tightens, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs as he carries you with firm, determined strides. You cling to his shoulders, the world around you a blur of shadows and heat. The only thing that matters is him.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, his eyes never leaving you as he kicks it shut behind him. His bedroom is dim, but you barely register the surroundings. All you feel are his hands on your skin, his mouth teasing and tasting wherever he pleases.

“You have no idea,” he growls, his lips tracing along your jaw before his tongue flicks over your lower lip, drawing a shiver from you. “I don’t know how I stopped myself from lifting your skirt and fucking you on the dance floor in front of everyone.”

“You should have,” you moan, hands rubbing at his shoulders. “I would have let you.”

“You can’t just say shit like that, fuck,” he groans, his desperation palpable.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and filled with something almost primal. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You swallow, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as his mouth moves to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His teeth scrape over your pulse point, a wicked smirk playing at his lips when he feels the way your body arches into him.

“San…” his name falls from your lips, a needy plea. It only seems to drive him further. You’d say more, but the words die in your throat, leaving space only to desperate little sounds that would make you blush in any other occasion.

“Say it again,” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin with infuriating gentleness. “Let me hear you. Say my name.”

“San,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire, your nails digging into his shoulders as you press yourself even closer, arching your back to try and get some friction, your core pulsing and your panties getting wetter by the second.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s moving again, carrying you effortlessly until you reach the edge of his bed. You fall onto the mattress, and he’s on top of you in an instant, his weight pressing you down, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and drenched in heat. “Every time I looked at you tonight, all I could think about was this. You. Spread out beneath me, exactly where you belong.”

“Show me,” you whisper, hands moving to grab his shirt and pull at it, working with the fabric to ask him to take the useless piece of clothing off. “Show me what you wanted to do to me, Sannie. You promised. You said you’d make me good. Fucking do it already.”

It was the right thing to say. “Watch your mouth, brat,” he bites back, looking at you like he wants to devour you whole.

San finally takes his shirt off, and what you see almost takes your breath away.

He’s perfect, so much that looking at him is almost painful. His skin shines like honey, his muscles are defined and imposing, and his body honestly looks like a wet dream come true.

San licks his lips. His smirk makes your head spin. He grabs your legs, moving your body around like one would do with a doll. He takes your boots off, and as he does that he kisses your ankles, looking at you in the eyes and sending shivers through your whole body. Your boots are soon forgotten as they fall on the ground with a loud noise.

You play with the buttons of your blouse, teasing him. One. Then the other. You espose yourself to his hungry gaze, anticipation mounting into you and making your hands tremble.

When it finally falls open, San almost rips it off of you. “No bra?” he asks, hands moving from your sides up to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing, making you hiss in pain. “Dirty girl,” he comments, thumbs rubbing against your sensitive nipples.

You fight your own body, and force yourself to keep your eyes open as your hips move to meet his, your aching pussy begging for attention as you try and rub it against his clothed cock.

“Want it that bad?” he asks, pinching one of you nipples and making you almost cry out in pain. Tears pool at your eyes, and his hips are finally being pushed against your core, too. The length of his cock rubbing over your soaked panties.

You feel helpless, really. You want— you need him to touch you. You need to touch him. So your hands move frantically, trying to reach his pants and their button, your fingers rubbing against his bulge and making him hiss at the feeling. He lets go of your breasts, reaching for your wrists instead and stopping you from getting his pants off of him. “Good girls ask for permission,” he says.

Your eyes roll at the back of your head in frustration, and you try to escape his grip, but to no avail. He’s way stronger than you.

“Fuck, fuck, San, take them off. Please, wanna see you, wanna feel you,” you beg, way too impatient to get his cock inside of you to keep teasing him about it.

San smiles, “you can do better than that, can’t you? But this will have to do for now.”

You really wanna cuss him out, but you stop yourself when he starts to finally take those useless pants off, showing not only his bulge, but those sinful, strong legs of his. The sight is too much for you to take, so as you spread your legs wider, you decide to tease him some more.

You shift your hips, pulling up your skirt up until it’s resting all crumbled against your belly, exposing your wet panties to him. Your fingers start to rub against your own pussy with hunger, your clit begging to be touched and relieved.

San’s eyes go wide at the sight, and you watch as he grabs his own bulge in return, hips moving forward as he fucks into his own hand as he watches your pitiful attempts at pleasuring yourself.

“I’m so wet for you, Sannie,” you whisper, moans escaping your lips as you arch you back to get more friction against your cunt.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Fuck, look at that, Y/n… Pull those panties to the side. Show me that pretty little hole, yeah?”

“It’s all yours, Sannie,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you grab the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Air hits your core, and the cold makes you shiver all over. Your hole pulses with the need to be filled, and your lips are glistening with the thickness of your arousal.

San’s eyes burn your skin. He seems completely lost in the sight of your pussy exposed to him. Enough that impatient starts to show off on him, too. He pulls his boxers down, and reveals his cock to you. “Fuck,” you moan, cause you just can’t help yourself. It’s long. Thick, with veins running through the length. The tip is such a pretty shade of pink, shiny with droplets of his pleasure. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your mouth starts to feel empty, too.

What you’re feeling is so intense it’s overwhelming. It leaves you stunned, breathless, your body feverish and desperate for relief.

For a fleeting moment, you think of Jaewon and everyone who came before him—how utterly insignificant they seem now, more than ever. How San is beyond their reach, and maybe even beyond the rest of the world’s.

Standing naked before you, San looks like a dream. Even you can barely believe it, as if he’s nothing but a mirage. But he’s not, because his breath matches yours, its warmth colliding with your skin.

A delicious reminder that, tonight, the most beautiful man in the world is yours. And if you have any say in it, you’ll do everything to keep him close.

But what you don’t see is how San’s eyes drink you in, reverent and hungry all at once. To him, you are the very thing dreams are made of—something precious, fragile, yet burning with a fire that matches his own. San’s world narrows to the space between you, his thoughts muddled and clear all at once: he wants to be yours just as fiercely as you want him to be.

It’s your resolve that breaks first, and you find yourself taking your panties off, throwing them at his face. He laughs, and you do the same thing. But his eyes never cease to hide darkness.

His hand grabs the fabric, and you see him mouth at your panties, lips running through the wet cotton. It’s so fucking dirty, that you can’t help but raise on your hips and pull yourself up, your hands reaching for his neck.

You pull him down with you, making him fall on top of your body. You kiss him through your own fucking panties in what has to be the most desperate, nasty kiss of your own life.

Spit mixed with your own juices, the texture of it all fucked up and weird in a way that makes you even more desperate. San growls against your mouth, his hands going back to your breasts first, before one leaves to trace your body up to your neck. You freeze as the loudest moan of the night leaves your throat, and the panties finally fall on the bed, now forgotten.

“You like that?” he asks, testing the waters. “What do you think?” you reply, forcing yourself to be a brat just a little longer.

“I think you like it. I think you want me to be rough, and that’s why you keep being a brat. You want me to make it hurt, baby? You just had to fucking ask.”

And then- then his grip gets tighter. Just as he pushes down his hips, your pussy welcoming his hard cock. The tip slides easily against your abused clit, and as breathing becomes harder, you find yourself spreading your legs even wider than before. “Look at you,” he whispers, laughing softly. “So pathetic, huh? Cock makes you stupid, little one. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You want to deny, really. But I’d be useless. You both know it. So you do what you do best: you take. You take and moan and feel.

San seems pretty satisfied, and while he never lets go of the grip he has on your neck, his other hand reaches your face. “Open,” he orders, tapping on your chin. Your mouth falls open almost immediately. “Tongue out,” he adds. You obey.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you moan.

“If it’s too much- anything. If anything is too much, you tell me, okay?” Softness. His tone caressing you. You nod, you voice it out. “Yes,” you say. He nods, then he spits. He spits in your mouth, and you feel the thickness of it as the juice slides on your tongue.

“Make them wet,” he says. Then he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth. His skin is both soft and rough: hjs body must require hours in the gym, and you don’t have to wonder why his hands have that weight to them.

“You like it, don’t you? Having your little mouth full. I can see it. You’re humping me like a bitch in heat, princess.”

His fingers get more rough: he rubs them inside your mouth, pushes them down your throat and makes you choke a little, the passage tight from the grip he still has on your neck. “W-wish t’was your cock,” you manage to blurt out, words slurred as your mouth gets filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, you’d feel so good choking on it. A little cock sleeve for me, your head empty as you only have to fucking suck and get messy for me.”

You nod, moaning desperately. He chuckles, and then your mouth is empty. But- but then your pussy isn’t. He takes those wet, shiny fingers down, and pushes them between your legs. He finds your hole easily, and those two fingers are pushed inside your pussy without care. It drags a loud moan from you, and San starts to fuck you with them immediately, curling them up just the way you love, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

“So tight, fuck,” he groans, leaving your neck. He raises a little, cause he wants to fucking look at the ways your pussy swallows his fingers hungrily. They disappear inside of you and your walls clench over them, trying to get them as deep as possible.

“More, more, please,” you moan, your hands replacing his as you touch your breasts before his eyes. “Shit,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he groans, the slide of his fingers loud as squelching sounds come from your hungry core. You raise a little and look down, too, desperate enough to want to have the sight of his hand glistening with your wetness engraved into your mind forever.

Pleasure builds up from all the arousal you’ve felt during the night, and you almost feel like crying as San takes pity on you and decides to rub more constantly at your puffed clit, his thumb making circular movements to help you reach your climax.

“G-gonna… you’re gonna make me cum,” you groan, fighting your own body to keep your eyes open. You want to see: him, his body, his face. Everything. “Ask. Be good, Y/n. Ask for fucking permission, or else.”

It’s too much. His tone, his stern voice, the threat lingering behind his words. You can’t take it anymore, and your whole body starts to tense up as your legs being to tremble uncontrollably.

“Let me- let me, please. Sannie, m’gonna cum, let me, please, please, can I? I can’t- I’m going to…”

“Cum. Fucking cum over my fingers, princess. Be a good little slut and make a mess for me.”

That’s all you needed. You fall back onto the mattress, pitiful moans leaving your mouth as you hiccup through your own pleasure. San keeps fucking his fingers into you, your orgasm seeming to never end as you comply to his orders and make a huge mess of the sheets and of his fingers, wetness gushing out of your reddened pussy as you clench hardly over his hand, sucking in his fingers as they own you from the inside.

He guides you as you try and gather some control over yourself. Your hair is a mess, your skin flushed red and nipples so hard it hurts. A thin layer of sweat covers your skin, and you can see that the same thing goes for him.

He pats you, fingers leaving your body: he gives your overwhelmed pussy a few light slaps, a weak scream leaving your mouth as pleasure and pain seem to electrify you all of a sudden, making you take deep hurried breaths to keep yourself grounded. “Made me so proud,” he praises, and as he does that he brings his own hand to his face, tongue moving sinfully as he licks his fingers before your eyes, moaning as you juices invade and dominate his tastebuds. “Such a sweet pussy,” he comments, and something seems to flash before his eyes like a sudden realization.

He bends over, folding you in a half as he moves you around by the back of you thighs, face disappearing in between your legs as he attacks your cunt, licking at the skin to clean your own mess up.

You grab onto his hair, pulling at it in the way he so clearly likes, and the tip of his tongue fucks into you a few times, making your head spin.

“Gonna… Sannie, you’re gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that,” you warn him, legs closing around his head as you can’t help but ride his tongue which is now torturing your clit. You’re all puffy and wet, and San shows you no mercy, moaning loudly against your pussy. You see that he’s basically humping the bed under him, and the sight is so dirty that it brings you painfully close to the edge.

“Do it,” he groans, “give me another one, princess. Squirt your juices on my face, wanna taste you.”

How could you deny him? You scream his name: both because he loves it when you do it and because there’s nothing else your mind knows apart from that right now. Just: San. San. San. And his fucking magical tongue, apparently.

The second orgasm of the night is as powerful as the first, if not more due to the extreme overstimulation. Despite the pain, it’s still insane. Your body trembles all over, and your eyes roll at the back of your head until San slows down, lazily lapping at your lips and at your thighs, cleaning them up. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cum, wish I could stay trapped between your legs all fucking night.”

He keeps kissing your legs, allowing you some time to regain control over yourself. He bites, too. Sucks on the skin to leave what surely are gonna be pretty marks. He rubs his cheek over the inside of your thighs, and then he helps you out of your skirt, which was still all ruffled over your waist.

San looks almost possessed, chin wet with a mixture of spit and of your pleasure, a satisfied smile on his face that makes him look like the happiest man in the whole world.

“Kiss me, please,” you ask, eyes heavy as you make grabby hands at San, feeling vulnerable yet safe. He doesn’t make you wait, kissing you immediately. Your lips meet once again, and you don’t dwell too much on the reason why it feels so right to be kissing him, rather focusing on the way you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Please, Sannie,” you whisper against his lips, “Fuck me. Wanna get fucked so bad, please. Wanna make you feel good,” you add, moaning as you let out all the begging you had been keeping down.

“Precious, you’re so precious,” he grunts, licking inside your mouth as he takes your legs and forces them open. You lick your hand, spit covering your skin.

You’re touching his cock now, having it into your hand and tugging at it, hand sliding over his length and rubbing at the tip, making him moan and whimper. It’s a delicious sound.

“So big,” you comment, guiding San’s cock to your pussy. “Such a big cock, Sannie. Biggest cock i’ve ever had, baby. You’re gonna split me in a half. Gonna have to make it fit, Sa-“. He interrupts you, probably going crazy at the thought of any other man ever coming close to you.

He just— pushes inside. In one sinful stroke. No condom, just raw skin against raw skin, all thanks to you mentioning being on the pill on your taxi ride back home.

It’s insane, cause yours weren’t lies. He really has the biggest dick you’ve ever had, and it’s stretching you open beautifully. You feel it all the way inside your belly, and even to the point in which you could feel in your fucking throat.

“Take it,” he says, looking down at where your bodies meet, “take it all. Take my fucking cock, baby. Gonna be the last cock you ever fucking take. Gonna keep you, yeah? Gonna keep you all to myself.”

Should it scare you? You don’t know. But it doesn’t, cause that’s what you’re thinking too. You want no one else. After this, it has to be him. He has to be yours. You have to be his.

“Gonna- my cock. It’s my cock now, Sannie,” you reply, smiling happily as you get stretched over him, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside of your body you can feel it hit your fucking cervix. It’s so good, you already feel yourself getting dumb from it. “It’s mine, all mine. And m’yours. Fuck me like I’m yours, Sannie. Ruin me, hurt me, anything, please.”

He won, after all. He won and you’re happy he did, cause you wanted to lose to him ever since the start of the night.

“You’re mine. My pretty princess. My beautiful little slut. I found you, huh? Not gonna let you go.”

And now he’s fucking you. His cock slides in and out of your body, balls hitting you as he hurriedly moves inside of your throbbing cunt.

His forehead glistens with sweat, and you move your head to slide your tongue over the skin of his neck, the taste salty yet sweet. You suck on the skin, feeling something primal that shouts at you to mark him up. He must like it, cause he buries himself deeper inside of you as you lap and bite at his neck.

“Harder, please… fuck me harder,” you beg as your nails run through his back, leaving pretty red marks on his skin. “Yeah? Harder, baby?” he asks, smirk appearing in his face alongside his pretty dimple, feline eyes burning into your skin.

While you nod, he leaves. He leaves you empty and begging, and you feel yourself on the verge of tears as soon as he does. But he’s quick to take care of it, and he manhandles you around, moving you around until you’re face down ass up on the bed, all spread open for him as your pussy spasms with the need of being filled up again.

San spanks you a few times, ass moving with the force of his hits. You moan out each time, pushing back against him cause you seem to never have enough of it. Grabbing you by the hips, San finally sinks down back inside your cunt, balls hitting your clit now, adding yet another feeling to the overwhelming mixture of sensations you’re feeling now.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, and you bend your neck to be able to see the wicked expression he’s showing now. He grabs you by the hair and fucking yanks, making you cry out in pain as he practically bends you in a half, “you like it, doll? huh? pulling my hair at the club and thinking you could fucking get away with it?” he growls into your ear, tongue lapping at your earlobe and sucking it into his mouth.

“Say you’re sorry, whore. Say sorry for being a fucking brat, be a good girl.”

For a moment, everything spirals into madness: a fierce, unrelenting overload of emotions and sensations. Tears stream from your glossy, reddened eyes, your face a wreck of smudged makeup, ruined and raw. Your mouth hangs open, a thin trail of saliva connecting your parted lips to your chin. You are the very image of desperate slut.

And yet, it’s time to confess.So you nod, crying beautifully through the wreckage. “Sorry, sorry, San, I’m sorry,” you babble, a frantic litany of apologies spilling from your trembling lips, earning an amused grunt from him, who hasn’t stopped fucking you.

He’s rough with it, touching your body all over. Holding you up by the hair and making it hurt just like you asked, fucking his cock into you over and over again, the sound of it nasty and loud. He pushes you closer to your limit, stuffing your mouth full of his fingers and commenting on how debauched you look. “Filled up from both ends just like you deserve, baby. Happy? Yeah, look at that pretty smile of yours, princess. You just love getting stuffed, it’s so hot.” His words are filthy, humiliating, and they burn at the pit of your stomach, making your arousal grow bigger than your own self.

You can’t answer, cause your mouth is getting pulled open by his fingers. He’s fucking them inside, holding your mouth open and making you make a mess of yourself as spit falls from your lips and reaches your neck.

Right before it gets too much, he lets go, using the hand that was in your hair to push your face back into the mattress, pushing you down using his strength and making you feel extremely overpowered.

“Stay fucking there. You stay there and take it, you hear me? Take my cock, Y/n, you were made for it,” he orders, and you feel how he’s starting to lose control, too. His cock feels even bigger now, and as crazy as it sounds you can feel it pulse inside of you, rubbing against your abused walls.

He’s just using you at this point, using your body, your cunt— turning you into his personal flashlight as he chases his own release.

You want it so bad, and the thought of him finally dumping his load into you has you getting closer and closer to the third orgasm of the night. You’re drooling over yourself like a dog, moaning so loudly you’re probably gonna have do deal with a sore throat in the morning, but it feels so good that you don’t care at all.

San takes and takes. Gives and gives. Hurts you and destroys you and puts you back together all at once, owning your mind and body completely.

“I’m so close,” he warns, shoving himself inside of you without care, hands coming down to hit your ass, probably leaving red marks resembling his hands all over your skin. You nod, over and over again, begging him to give it to you.

“Cum inside, Sannie, inside of me please,” you start, and you get interrupted by him blurting out a “fuck,” so loud that it makes you smile with pride.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Want me to blow my load inside your pussy? Breed you full?” he asks, running his fingers and nails over your back, using your hips as leverage to fuck inside your cunt deeper, your walls convulsing over his cock as if begging to have it as deep as possible.

“Yes, please, want you to cum inside, want to be full of it, want your cum… i’ve been so good, Sannie, give me my reward, please,” you beg, crying freely and using your own hands to hold your cheeks open, moaning loudly as it only makes his cock slide deeper.

You don’t even need to touch yourself this time, because the thought of him filling you up would be enough on its own to make you cum.

You feel the orgasm approach and you surrender to it when he grits his teeth and blurts out a series of curses, calling you names and praising you all at once as his movements become more erratic and violent. You feel your stomach bulging with it, the tip of his cock poking at your belly from the inside, and your eyes roll back as he fucking spits on you- droplets of it hitting your ass.

“Here it comes,” he warns you, chest rising fast as his legs tremble. “Take my fucking load. Don’t fucking spill it, baby. All inside this pussy, I’m- I’m coming inside of you, pretty. Fuck!”

His last strokes are languid and dirty, deep and full of ownership. He shoves his dick as deep as possible inside of you, and your spasming pussy welcomes it and milks it. Your own juices gush out as you cum all over his dick, your orgasm strong and powerful, and he pumps his load so deep inside your cunt you can fill every drop of it as it paints your insides white. Thick and hot, his cum gets pumped inside of you, claiming your pussy and marking it up as his once and for all. Staining you, messing you up, breeding you full.

He stills, staying inside of you for a little longer, feeling every second of his orgasm as you clench over him, enhancing his pleasure.

Your breaths are both heavy and ragged, bodies hypersensitive and buzzing with lingering warmth. San’s body collapses against yours, but even then, he’s careful not to crush you under his weight. Despite his own exhaustion, he moves you across the bed with ridiculous ease, still making sure to handle you gently.

He holds you close like he’s afraid you might slip away, and, truthfully, you find yourself doing the same.

Eventually, he gets you both where he wants: him lying on his back, and you curled up against his chest, which is still heaving with every fierce breath. San’s fingers slide through your hair, playing absently with a few strands, while you leave tiny kisses along his chest, your cheek brushing against his skin.

“That was…” you start, biting your lip and blushing a little, “…incredible,” you both finish at the same time, laughing softly as you cling even tighter to each other.

You feel his hand trail down your back, fingertips tracing random patterns on your skin. He tilts your chin up with his other hand, smirking just enough to make your heart skip.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief. “I might just have to keep you all to myself from now on.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your cheeks burn, and he catches it immediately. His smirk softens into a fond smile as he pulls you even closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing beneath your touch. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you whisper, half-challenging, half-reassuring. A promise and a threat, both interlaced with hope.

“Oh, I know,” he replies, voice dropping just enough to make a shiver run through you. “You’re mine now. Not letting you go.”

He kisses the top of your head, then leans down to murmur against your ear, tone both teasing and affectionate. “Better get used to it, princess. You’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

notes: thank you for reading this! this is my first san fic… can you believe it? since he’s my bias and all. i hope you liked it, really. let me know in the comments your thoughts (the dirtier, the better). i hope you had fun! see you next time <3

[rafayelxsylusho]

the jealous fic series is sooo good! can’t wait for the sylus one

I almost forgot about my man. Thanks for reminding me!

Hope you like it!!

How the LADS men fu€k jealousy out of you.

TW: SMUT

***There is a quote from a book that some of you have probably read before, I just really wanted to use it in one of sylus fics😊😊***

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

You had been looking forward to surprising Sylus at home, craving some much needed alone time with him after recent missions that kept you apart. However, once you got to his place you found the house quiet and empty. No sign of Sylus anywhere. A flicker of concern began to rise in your chest as you wandered the halls, calling out his name, but only the echo of your own voice greeted you.

You found Luke and Kieran in the study, engaged in their usual antics, lounging on the plush leather sofas, having a lively discussion that ended abruptly when they noticed you.

"Look Kieran, our favorite hunter came to visit," Luke drawled. "Here to see the boss man, y/n?"

Kieran sat up and offered you a genuine smile. "Boss isn't here at the moment," he explained "He's been called away to attend a rather important auction tonight."

"Auction?" you asked, frowning. "What auction?"

Luke leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The big one. The one everyone's talking about. The one boss has been prepping for all week."

You try to recall any mention of an important auction Sylus had spoken of, but as much as you rack your brain you come up empty. It's not like him to keep something like this a secret from you. A flicker of concern crosses your face as you wonder why he wouldn't have mentioned it to you directly.

"So, when will he be back?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as you felt a flutter of disappointment at his absence.

Kieran shrugged. "Hard to say. These things can go on for hours. Days even. Depends on how stubborn the other bidders are."

Luke snorted. "And how determined Sylus is to win."

You find yourself waiting for Sylus to return home from the mysterious auction. The hours tick by, and to pass the time, you decide to engage in some friendly competition with Luke and Kieran. The three of you spend the next couple of hours engrossed in a highspeed, adrenaline pumping videogame.

In between races, you raid the well stocked kitchen, returning with an array of tasty treats and Sylus' prized collection of gourmet chocolates.

As the night wears on you can't help but glance at the clock more frequently, wondering what's keeping Sylus. A regular auction should have ended by now, and while he is known for his meticulous attention to business dealings, this delay is starting to feel a bit longer than usual.

You decide to reach out to Sylus. You pull out your phone and dial his his private number, the one reserved for emergencies and urgent matters. After a few rings, his deep, smooth voice fills your ear.

"Y/n, what is it?" his tone unusually distracted. It's clear that he's in the midst of something important, his words clipped and hurried. The sound of muffled voices and distant commotion can be heard in the background, hinting at a crowded and chaotic environment.

"Hey, I'm at your place with Luke and Kieran," you explain, trying to keep your own voice casual despite the unease you feel. "I've been waiting for you to come home. Is everything alright?"

There's a pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Sylus' mind as he considers his response. "Yes, everything's fine," he says at last "This auction... it's taking longer than expected. Complications arose with a few of the other attendees." He sighs, and you can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, a telltale sign of his exasperation and stress. "I'm doing what I can to wrap things up, but it may be a while."

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a woman's voice, a stranger's melodic tone. The woman's words are muffled, but her term of endearment "Sylus darling" rings out crystal clear through the phone speaker.

You stiffen, gripping the phone tighter as a flurry of unwelcome thoughts and emotions wash over you. A cold, sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach, and you suddenly feel like an intruder in the intimate moment.

"I apologize, kitten, but I must go," Sylus says abruptly, his voice tight and strained. "I'll deal with this and be home as soon as I can. Wait for me" With that, he ends the call, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned disbelief.

"Shit, was that Ira?" Luke asks looking at Kieran.

Your head snaps up as Luke's question hangs in the air, a sense of confusion etched on your face. Kieran, noticing your expression, quickly elbows Luke to silence him, shooting him a warning glare.

"Shh, don't be an idiot," Kieran hisses under his breath, though not quiet enough that you don't hear him. "You shouldn't go around throwing around names like that without knowing for sure."

Kieran clears his throat, his expression turning somber as he sees the confusion and hurt in your eyes. "Ira is just an old business partner of Sylus," he explains carefully, choosing his words with deliberate precision. "They have a history together, but it's all about work. Nothing more.

Unable to shake the sense of unease in your gut, you eventually make your way upstairs to Sylus' bedroom, hoping to find some sense of comfort and familiarity in the space that has become so closely associated with the man you've come to love so deeply. You curl up on the plush, king-sized bed, inhaling the faint scent of Sylus' cologne that still lingers on the silken sheets. As exhaustion finally overtakes you, you drift off to a fitful sleep, your dreams fragmented images of Sylus and the unknown woman, their figures intertwined in ways that make your heart ache with a painful, jealous fervor.

When you awaken sometime later, the first light of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains, you reach out instinctively for Sylus, only to find the space beside you cold and empty. You check your phone, hoping for a message or a call, but there is nothing.

You know you can't stay here, not like this, not with the way your mind is racing. The feelings inside you threaten to consume you, jealousy, anger, and a deep, abiding fear of losing the man you love.

As you zip up your backpack, the weight of your decision to leave Sylus' place feels both heavy and necessary. You take a deep breath and make your way back to your apartment.

Once inside the familiar confines of your own space the memory of Tara's camping invitation surfaces, and you realize that the solitude of the city may be more than you can bear in your current state of mind. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone and dial Tara's number, praying that she hasn't already made other plans or filled the available spots on her trip. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful.

"Hey, Tara," you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I know I already declined the camping trip, but... I've changed my mind. If the offer still stands, I'd love to join you and the team this weekend."

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the surprise and delight in Tara's voice as she responds. "Of course, y/n! You're more than welcome to join us. I'm so glad you changed your mind," she says warmly, her words a balm to your battered soul. You thank Tara profusely, already feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at the prospect of escaping the city and the thoughts on your mind.

During the trip Tara and the rest of the team were wonderful hosts, ensuring that you were kept busy and distracted with hikes, campfire stories, and hearty meals. As the night of the trip wears on you lose yourself in the simple joys of the outdoors, the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke, the distant hooting of an owl, the warmth of your friends gathered around the flickering fire. Slowly but surely, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the painful thoughts of Sylus and the mysterious woman start to recede.

By the time the weekend draws to a close, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the fresh air and company of your friends having done wonders to clear your head. The feelings of jealousy are still there, lingering in the back of your mind, but they no longer threaten to consume you as they once did.

As you step into your apartment in the late afternoon, the familiar scent of home envelops you, offering a sense of comfort and security that you desperately crave. The weight of the weekend's emotions and the long journey back to the city have left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Without hesitation, you make your way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime and weariness of the past couple of days. As the hot water cascades over your skin, you let out a sigh, allowing the steam to fill your lungs and cleanse your mind.

You linger in the shower for longer than necessary, the heat of the water soothing your aching muscles and helping to melt away the lingering tension that has taken up residence in your body. By the time you step out, your skin is pink and tingling, and a sense of renewed energy courses through your veins.

As you towel yourself dry, you remember the need to charge your phone, which had died during the camping trip due to the lack of a reliable power source. You pad out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints on the hardwood floor as you make your way to your backpack. Fishing out your phone from the depths of the bag, you plug it in and watch as the screen flickers to life, the dim glow illuminating your face, the phone chimes and you take a deep breath before unlocking the screen. The anticipation of seeing Sylus' name among the list of notifications makes your heart race in your chest, a mix of hope and dread swirling within you.

As the messages load, you scan the list of senders, your eyes widening as you realize that there is not a single one from Sylus among them. You set your phone down on the kitchen counter, the glow of the screen illuminating the darkened room as you rummage through the cabinets for a glass. The house feels strangely quiet, a stark contrast to the lively chatter and laughter that filled the campsite just hours before. As you fill your glass with cool, refreshing water and take a long sip, you can't help but let your mind wander back to the memory of Sylus' curt goodbye and the sound of that woman's voice, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that even the cold water can't wash away.

You set the glass down with a heavy sigh, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened window above the sink. In the dim light, you can see the weariness etched into the lines of your face, the shadows beneath your eyes a testament to the restless nights, and just as you're about to turn away from the window, a sudden movement outside catches your eye. You lean closer, peering out into the darkness, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see a tall, familiar figure standing beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

It's Sylus.

He stands motionless, his dark silhouette unmistakable even at this distance. He seems to be looking directly at your window, though you're not sure if he can actually see you through the darkness and the reflection on the glass. You take a tentative step back from the window, lots of questions race through your mind. What is Sylus doing here? How long has he been waiting? You freeze at the sound of a knock, your heart leaping into your throat as a wave of panic and adrenaline surges through your body. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, the sound of Sylus' fist against the wood unmistakable.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart as you make your way towards the door. You pause for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, and take one last steadying breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open.

"Sylus," you say, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Even in the dim light of the hallway, you can see the intensity of his gaze, the crimson eyes that seem to pierce right through you, seeing straight into your very soul. He's dressed in a dark shirt and pants, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it in agitation.

"Hello kitten" Sylus murmurs, "how was your trip?"

"It was fine," you say shortly. "How did you know I went on a trip?"

Your mind races as you wonder how Sylus could possibly know about your last-minute decision to join Tara and the others for the weekend. You didn't mention it to anyone. So how did he find out?

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He looks tired, you notice, the lines around his eyes a little deeper than usual. But there's a intensity to his gaze, a fierce focus that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I have my ways," he says, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips "The real question is, why did you leave without telling me?" His voice is low and smooth, but there's an hint of frustration beneath the calm exterior. 

"Come in," you say softly, stepping back to allow him entry. As Sylus steps into your apartment, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he moves past you.

Sylus turns to face you, his crimson eyes searching yours in the dim light cast by the single lamp you left on before your trip. He looks different in the low light, softer somehow, the harsh angles of his face gentled by the shadows. But there's still a intensity to his gaze, a fierce determination that makes your heart race in your chest.

You stand there, clutching the towel tightly around your body. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of the emotions that have been building for days.

"Well? Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we going to stand here all night?" There's a undercurrent of impatience in his voice, a frustration that belies the casual tone.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and gesture towards the couch. "Of course, please, make yourself comfortable," you say, the words sound too formal to your own ears.

You turn to head to your bedroom, suddenly feeling the chill of the air on your damp skin beneath the thin towel "I'm going to change," you say over your shoulder, not looking back at him as you make your way to your bedroom.

You gasp as you feel Sylus' strong hand grab the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the damp skin and pulling you gently but firmly towards him. The sudden contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your heart stuttering in your chest as you find your back pressed against the firm wall of his chest.

"Sylus," you breathe out "what are you doing?"

His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his long fingers splaying across the curve of your waist, holding you firmly in place. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the towel, the warmth seeping into your flesh and making your pulse race.

Sylus leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur. "I couldn't let you walk away without getting an answer first," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me, kitten, why did you leave without telling me? His grip on your neck tightens slightly, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make it clear that he has no intention of letting you go until he gets the answers he wants. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy of a man on the brink of losing control. It both frightens and exhilarates you, the power he holds in his hands, the way he can make you feel with a single touch.

"Sylus, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to pull away from him. "Not like this. I can't think straight when you touch me like this."

Sylus chuckles darkly, a low, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through his chest pressed against your back. His fingers tighten briefly on your hip before releasing you, only to trail slowly up the curve of your side, his touch feather light and teasing. "Like what, kitten?" he murmurs in your ear. "I haven't even touched you yet, not the way I want to. Not the way you need me to."

His hand reaches the side of your breast, his fingers grazing the swell of it through the damp towel. You can feel your nipple tightening in response, betraying your body's desire for his touch.

"Tell me why you left, y/n," Sylus demands, his voice hardening with impatience. "And don't lie to me."

You take a shaky breath, Sylus' proximity and touch making it hard to focus on anything else. "I...I needed some time to myself," you admit "To clear my head and think things through."

Sylus' hand stills on your breast, his fingers curling possessively around the soft mound. "Think things through about what?" he asks, there is something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the smooth surface of his voice.

You swallow hard, knowing you can't avoid the conversation any longer. "About us," you confess, the words falling from your lips "About what this...thing is between us. I didn't know how to handle it, so I left."

His lips brush against your shoulder, the ghost of a kiss that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. You can feel the heat of his breath, the dampness of his tongue as he traces the curve of your collarbone. "Tell me, kitten," he breathes against your skin, "is this what you needed to escape from? Me, touching you like this? Wanting you like this?"

His hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Because if it is, I can make it so much worse. Or so much better," Sylus promises darkly "All you have to do is say the word, sweetie."

"Who is she, sy?" You whisper, words barely audible but you know he heard you. Sylus' teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips curling into a smirk against your flesh. He knows exactly what you're asking, but he's in no hurry to answer, not when he has you like this bare, breathless, and at his mercy.

His tongue flicks out, tasting the salt of your skin, the dampness of the water that clings to you. "You know, for someone who needed to clear their head, you seem awfully focused on her." Sylus' hand slides down to your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your backside as he holds you close.

"Ira is someone I knew from my past. We were discussing a mutual investment opportunity. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about."

"Is that so?" you ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He nips at your neck again, a little harder this time, sending a jolt of sensation straight down your spine.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kitten," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But I must admit, it's...intriguing. Seeing this side of you, the side that wants to claw and scratch and mark what's hers."

He spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. With a sharp tug, he yanks the towel down, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. Your nipples pebble instantly, peaks tightening under the sudden exposure and the intensity of Sylus' gaze. His hands slide up your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts, teasing the sensitive skin. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the evidence of his power and strength, the way he could take you and claim you and make you his. His hands still on your breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you in place. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, his eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath away. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, filled with raw emotion.

"What makes you think I could ever look at another woman the way I look at you?" Sylus asks "Do you have any idea what it's like, y/n, to be consumed by someone, to have them under your skin, in your blood, in every fucking beat of your heart?"

He leans in closer, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your own. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and the hunger that he keeps leashed, barely contained. His eyes flash with a mix of anger and pain, his grip on your breasts tightening almost uncomfortably. His voice drops to a low, fervent whisper "I've waited lifetimes for you, kitten, dreaming of the day I could hold you again, touch you again, make you mine again."

His thumb brushes over your nipple roughly "And this is what I get in return? You, running from me, doubting me?" Sylus' voice rises, the anger and the hurt bleeding through every word. His eyes darken with a predatory gleam, a smirk spreading across his face as he sees the fear and excitement in your eyes. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, sinful purr. "Go ahead, kitten. Run. See how far you get before I catch you." Sylus' hand slides down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. "Run, If I catch you, I fuck you"

The dark promise in his voice sends a thrill of fear and anticipation down your spine. Acting on instinct, you wrench yourself out of his grasp and turn to run, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you race up the stairs to your bedroom. You can hear Sylus' footsteps behind you, his long strides eating up the distance between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you reach the top of the stairs. You don't look back, you don't dare to see if he's close.

Just as you think you're about to reach the safety of your bedroom, you feel Sylus' Evol envelop you. An unseen force lifts you off your feet, strong and unyielding, pulling you back towards him. You let out a startled yelp, your hands grasping at the empty air as you're lifted higher, your bare breasts bouncing slightly with the movement.

"Sylus!" you cry out, a mix of fear and excitement lacing your voice. You're suspended in mid-air, towel no longer wrapped over the lower half of your body, your legs kicking futilely as you try to find purchase on the carpeted stairs.

"Did I say you could run that far, kitten?" Sylus' voice comes from behind you. You feel his presence looming over you, the heat of his body, the power radiating off him in waves. "I told you, I'd catch you. And now, I'm going to claim my prize."

His hands grip your bare thighs, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh as he hoists you over his shoulder. He carries you effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all, his steps never faltering as he walks towards your bedroom. You find yourself staring at his back, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretches taut over the muscles beneath.

When he reaches your room, he kicks the door open, the wood slamming against the wall with a bang. He carries you inside and with a few more strides, he reaches the bed and tosses you onto it, your naked body bouncing on the mattress. You land on your back, your breasts heaving as you catch your breath. Sylus looms over you, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, a smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and bare before him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your heart pounding as you watch Sylus remove his clothing. He starts with his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly to the side. His fingers move to his shirt buttons next, undoing them one by one with deliberate slowness, as if he's savoring the anticipation of revealing what lies beneath. As he shrugs off his shirt, your breath catches in your throat. The dim light from the hallway casts shadows across the planes of his chest, highlighting the defined muscles, the sculpted abs, the V that disappears into his pants. You remember how his skin feels beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and your core clenches with sudden, desperate need. His hands move to his belt next, undoing the buckle with a sharp tug. The leather slips from his pants, falling to the floor with a soft thud. He undoes his fly slowly, inch by inch, until finally, he's shoving his pants and boxers down his long legs. He kicks them off to the side.

Sylus stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You've seen me like this before," he says softly, his voice rough with desire. "But I don't think you've ever really seen me. Not like I want you to see me." He crawls over you, his large frame covering your smaller one as he settles his hips between your thighs, the hard length of him pressing against your core. His hands come up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"You should know very well that I adore you," Sylus murmurs, his voice low with emotion. "There is no love purer than mine" His eyes search yours, the intensity burning into your very soul. "But right now," he continues, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and dangerous. "Right now, I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." His grip on your face tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

Before you can process it he's thrusting forward, burying himself deep inside you. A scream tears from his throat as he hilts himself fully, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. "FUCK!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls of your bedroom. At the same time, a scream of pleasure and surprise rips from your own throat, your back arching off the bed, "SYLUS!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as he stretches you, fills you, completes you in a way that feels so right and so perfect.

For a moment, he stays still, buried deep inside you, his heart pounding against your chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Then he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust. "Oh god, Sylus!" you cry out, your voice hitching and breaking as he drives into you again and again. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

He feels your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back. With an approving growl, he sits back on his knees, bringing you up with him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he changes the angle of his thrusts, now driving up into you from below. "Fuck, just like that," Sylus grunts, his voice filled with lust. "Hold onto me, kitten. Wrap those pretty legs around me tighter." His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, meeting his upward thrusts with a force that steals your breath away

You can feel every thick, hard inch of him as he fills and stretches you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his length. The new position allows him to go even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust. You throw your head back, a silent scream of ecstasy on your lips as the pleasure builds and builds inside you. Sylus knows your body intimately, understands what buttons to push, what touches will send you flying. And right now, he's determined to draw this out, to make this last as long as possible. He wants to feel you come undone around him again and again, wants to hear you scream his name until your voice is hoarse and raw. So he restrains himself, ignoring the desperate pleas of your body as your hips buck and writhe against his, seeking more friction, more stimulation.

He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hands avoid your throbbing clit, his lips and teeth avoid your aching nipples, even as they map your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive skin behind your ears.

"Please, Sylus," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, your nails scraping his scalp. "Please, I need..." You can't even finish the sentence, too lost in sensation, too desperate for release.

"I know," Sylus murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly what you need, kitten. But I'm not going to give it to you. Not yet." He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, a twist of his hips that has you seeing stars. "You're going to come on my cock when I say you can come on my cock," he commands "And not a moment before."

Sylus uses all his strength to drag your hips down his length with brutal force. Your body is no longer your own as he manhandles you, using you for his pleasure. Each powerful thrust drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping, your tits bouncing wildly with every slam of his hips against yours.

"Fuck, your cunt feels incredible," Sylus growls, his eyes wild and fevered as he watches your body jolt and quake with his relentless pounding. "So fucking tight and wet and perfect. Made to take my cock". Your mind starts to go hazy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as he fucks you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your voice raw and broken as he rails into you. "Sylus, please, I can't...I can't..." But your protests only seem to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more demanding.

Sylus leans in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh at the top of your breast, marking you. He bites down hard enough to make you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure short circuiting your brain for a moment. As he releases your skin, he laves the reddened mark with his tongue, soothing the sting.

"Do you want some help, kitten?" Sylus murmurs, his voice a low against your skin. He rolls his hips, grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, giving you a momentary respite from the relentless pounding. He waits for your response, his eyes glinting with a dark, knowing amusement. "Yes? No? Maybe so?" His tone is playful, taunting, as if he knows exactly what your answer will be. He reaches in between your bodies, his fingers find and circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, pushing you to the very edge of ecstasy. Your hips buck wildly against his hand, seeking more, craving more.

"Yes, Sylus," you manage to gasp out" Please..please..please.." Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin.

 "That's my good girl," he purrs, rewarding your submission with a hard thrust. "Now, come for me, kitten. Come all over my cock. Let go, y/n . Give yourself to me completely."

With that command, Sylus leans down and drags the flat of his tongue over your nipple, the wet heat sending a shock of pleasure through your body. At the same time, his fingers pinch your sensitive clit, rolling it, tugging on it, giving you the direct stimulation you've been aching for. The dual sensation is too much for you to withstand. Your body seizes up, back arching in a semicircle, as a intense orgasm crashes over you. "SYLUS!" you scream, your voice echoing off the walls, as wave after wave of ecstasy radiates out from your core, consuming you entirely. Sylus buries himself deep inside you once again, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he also finds his release. "Fuck, y/n , fuuuuuck!" his hot seed erupting from his cock and painting your insides. You can feel every twitch, every spurt of his thick come as he fills you up. Sylus' hips jerk and stutter, grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, pushing his seed deeper with every movement.

He collapses on top of you, his muscular frame blanketing your smaller one, pinning you to the mattress. He's still buried deep inside your fluttering, over sensitive heat, his softening cock plugging you up, trapping his seed inside you. His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he comes down from his intense high. He takes a moment to marvel at the utterly debauched picture you make, hair mussed, skin flushed and slick with sweat, your bodies still joined intimately.

"I can adapt to any location and call it home, as long as I'm willing" Sylus murmurs, his voice low and intimate "but now I have a condition" His eyes bore into yours, the crimson depths swirling with unreadable emotions. "If you are not there then I'm not interested. "This," he gestures vaguely at the bedroom, but you know he means more than just the physical space, "means nothing without you in it."

Sylus' hand slides down to rest over your racing heart, feeling it beat against his palm. "You are my home, my haven. The one constant I crave." His voice drops to a fervent whisper, heavy with unspoken emotion. "So that condition is you must be there. Always. Or I will not settle for anything less."

[dunham-doodles]

A Picture Worth A Thousand Words

Remmick x fem!reader

2k words | Pure fluff

Summary: (AU - Remmick survived the juke joint.) It’s 1964 and you’re an artist who decides to draw the handsome stranger who keeps turning up at your door every night.

Tags: yearning; soft and sweet; lingering gazes; touching scars; 1960s music; puppy!Remmick; touch starved!Remmick

A/N: I wanted to borrow an idea I’ve seen used with Astarion from Baldur’s Gate 3. I love love love the idea of an artist drawing the face of a vampire who hasn’t seen their reflection in God knows how long.

“Hold still,” you ordered, “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“This ain’t gonna hurt, is it?” Remmick said playfully.

“It will if you keep moving,” you shot back, only half joking. “Eyes on that horizon, boy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled out, rolling his eyes lightly. He tilted his chin in the direction of wherever horizon meant. Although his tone was sarcastic, a grin curled at the ends of his lips.

The night air was crisp. It was the beginning transition of spring into summer where the days warmed the skin like an embrace from a loved one but the nights remained cool like a reminder of their absence. The town had eased into sleep around you.

You thought the best thing about living out in the middle of nowhere was that there was no light pollution. Despite the dark, the sky was alight with hues of deep purple and blue like an ocean dotted with pinpricks of multicolored stars. In school, they taught you the names of each and every constellation that rotated with the seasons.

You found him right under Polaris. You had been awake after losing track of time. You were locked into your paintings so intensely, you didn’t see the sky turn. The ashtray was loaded with burnt out cigarettes, remnants of smoke curling in the warm glow of the single lamp glowing on the end table. You kept the window open to air out the smell, the soft trickles of a sad guitar playing through your stereo speakers filtering through the pane.

He stood at the end of the dirt path that served as your driveway, hands in pockets, curious, as if he were contemplating going up and installing himself into your life. You weren’t going to get a say in when or how.

You turned down the record as he got closer.

“There’s no need to do that,” he said, hands stretching out in the open air, “I came up here to ask what you was playin’ is all.” His blue eyes pleaded innocent.

“Lonnie Johnson,” you stated, an edge to your words.

He hummed low in his throat. “She sure knows how to play.”

“He,” you corrected, “Lonnie’s a dude.”

“H-He,” the stranger repeated, “He sure knows how to play.” A beat of silence strung between you awkwardly. He shuffled his feet underneath himself. “You wouldn’t mind if I sat and listened, wouldja?”

You chuckled to yourself. A strange white man asking you if you minded if he sat and listened to your records in the dead of night? Your eyes took a precautionary glance over where the trees met the boarder of your land for any sign of unsavory movement.

“You alone?” you asked finally. He nodded his head. You pursed your lips, weighing your decision in your mind. You turned on your heel, away from the window. You crossed to your record player, moved the needle to the beginning track, and turned the sound up a little louder.

You met the eyes of the stranger’s once more. His features reflected his gratitude. He leaned against the strong post of the porch landing and closed his eyes, taking in the music.

You shook your head. What a weird man.

He kept finding his way to your home every night after sundown.

“Whatcha got spinnin’ tonight?” he’d ask you without fail. You’d tell him anything from Etta James to Freddie King and he’d happily sit his ass down on your porch no matter who poured through those speakers.

Some nights he came with some 45s he thought you would like.

“The guy on guitar has to be one of my favorites from this decade,” he said, pushing the small disc into your hands. To be honest, you thought his music tastes were a little too old. Nothing he gave you was dated past the forties. But still, you admired the gesture. In return, you gave him a more modern musical education, opening his ears to the sounds of the 60s. He was floored the first time he heard Hendrix.

“Find a new favorite guitar player, did ya?” you teased.

It was nice having him to share your nights with. He didn’t make too much of a fuss; didn’t ask for anything to eat or drink, despite your offerings. He was perfectly content listening to your music and asking questions about your art. He praised the paintings, kept saying they belonged in the Louvre rather than hidden in this small town. You shooed away his compliments like water off a duck’s back but you couldn’t stop the blush creeping into your cheeks.

One evening, you decided you were gonna join him out on your porch. Armed with your drawing pad and a tin of charcoal sticks, you rocked yourself gently on your porch swing with your big toe. You had tucked yourself into an oversized crochet blanket, preserving your warmth as you waited for the sky to dim. You had the radio on instead of playing a record to save yourself from having to leave your seat. The tinny voices crackled over the sounds of the crickets singing.

“Evenin’ Remmick,” you called when you saw him crest your driveway. He told you his name some nights ago and you kept it on your tongue whenever he was near. You just liked the way his face lit up like Christmas whenever you said it.

“You waitin’ for me?” he asked, a hand pressed to his chest.

“Sure looks like it,” you replied. He crossed over to your place on the swing but leaned against the post of the porch landing instead. “You ain’t gonna sit by me?”

Remmick jolted like he touched an electric fence. “I didn’t know you were offerin’.”

You scooched over to make room for him and patted the empty space. “I don’t bite,” you winked. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were keeping down a really good joke.

The swing groaned under his weight. Your heart flip-flopped at the proximity of him. His brown hair curled at the base of his neck, grown too shaggy. His face was pocked with unkempt whiskers and a white scar cracked the left side of his cheek. You wanted to trace that scar with the tips of your fingers.

His blue eyes watched you carefully. Watched for any indication that his nearness was offensive somehow. He kept himself small, not daring to brush your skin. He moved as if you were on fire and he was trying very hard not to get burned.

“You’re gonna be my muse,” you declared.

“That’s the first time I’ve been called that,” Remmick smirked, “What do I gotta do?”

You picked up a charcoal stick and told him to face forward, keep his eyes on the dirt path ahead. The charcoal scratched the surface of the paper, debris crumbling onto your lap.

Santana crooned over the speakers on your radio lying on the kitchen counter inside. Remmick shifted under the weight of your presence.

“I think I like your music better,” he mumbled.

You breathed out a small laugh without looking up. “You’re too kind. Your taste isn’t too bad either. You just got an ol’ soul.”

Remmick pursed his lips. “You could say that.”

“Did you grow up here?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “No,” he sighed sadly, “You?”

“Nope. I moved out here a few years ago.”

“How come?”

“Just wanted a change. The city was too loud.” Your eyebrows knit together in concentration. Remmick took this moment to steal a look at you.

Your eyes flicked up at him through your eyelashes. The tips of your ears turned crimson. “Eyes forward, Pretty Boy.”

“Pretty Boy?” he tossed the name around his mouth like a shiny token. You bit your lip to keep from saying much else.

You twisted the length of your charcoal stick to match the angle of his nose before copying it onto your page. His shoulders slowly began to relax. His hands brushed down his thighs, right where your knee almost touched him. He curled his fingers as if to check that they were still operational.

“Can I look yet?” he asked tenderly. His pinkie stretch precariously, bridging the gap between you two. You could feel his nail ghosting on your bare skin. Your heart leapt into your throat, the lightest of touches already turning your nerves into an inferno.

“Just gotta work on the shading,” you replied meekly. He nodded, correcting his head. His finger never dropped. He began to soothingly stroke your knee back and forth, keeping time with the new song that played. It tickled you.

It was harder to concentrate now. From the briefest of looks, you noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching, chewing on words he almost felt ready to say. And what would those words be? What could he possibly say to make your heart race any faster?

To ease it along, you pushed your knee further into his touch. Remmick inhaled sharply in response. He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to melt.

“Okay,” you said after a while, “I think I’m done.” You pressed the pad of paper to your chest before revealing it slowly to him. He cradled the pad in his calloused hands like it was a newborn.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, “This is me?” He asked the question like he wasn’t sure what he looked like.

“It’s a rough sketch,” you admitted, “If I gave it more time, I could clean up the lines and be more precise with the shadows.”

“When did I-?” he wondered under his breath. His fingers brushed the hair curled around his ears to the hair on his chin, trailing all the way to the scar that marked him. His brow furrowed as if remembering the fresh wound marring his face and the blood and pain that came with it. He covered it fully with his hand, ashamed to have you look upon it any longer.

“How’d you get that?” you asked tentatively.

His eyes tore reluctantly from his portrait. “I, uh…” he paused, “The war.” He locked back onto the sketch, studying it as if he hadn’t seen his own face in centuries.

“Is… Is everything okay?” you whispered. You gently pressed yourself into his side.

“Yes,” he murmured. He straightened his back and finally met your gaze again. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

“Y’know, you can tell me if you hate it,” you chuckled, trying to make it light. “Don’t gotta spare my feelings.”

“No, I love this! I love—,” he started. “You did an amazin’ job.”

“You can keep it,” you said. Your hands met his and you lightly pushed the drawing pad against his chest. You leaned into his space, your touch lingering on his. Your thumb rubbed the side of his hand, returning the gentleness he showed you. Remmick’s lips parted slightly, exhaling a shallow breath.

“Thank you,” he spoke. His voice frayed like he hated that he broke the silence. You smiled softly at him. Your fingers reached and stroked the angry crevasse on his cheek.

He looked so fragile being held. His eyelids fluttered as he bathed in the warmth of your hand. He winced like it hurt but his head leaned into you instinctively. A soft trembling sound slipped past his lips.

“You are a wonderful muse,” you said. You leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on that scar. He dipped his head slipping past your ear before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You gathered him into your arms, wrapping the blanket around his broad shoulders. Your fingers stroked the relaxed curls of his dark hair. His arms lifted with difficulty, still unsure if he was allowed this much, and rested around your waist. When you didn’t fight him, he pulled you in closer. You began to hum along to the song that wept from the radio.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the steady rocking of the porch swing on the light breeze and the feathery trail of kisses tied with promises of everlasting happiness.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Take A Break | Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: Toto has been pushing himself too hard trying to get the upgrades sorted. As his concerned wife, you plan a surprise visit.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Bad writing

Requested: Yes by Anon (Hope I did this justice)

2024 season. There's a little blurb halfway through as well.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff_official, lewishamilton and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work 

1,198 comments

ynwolff_official you better be looking after him

→ mercedesamgf1 yes, ma’am. we’re doing our best 

→ ynwolff_official tell him if he doesn’t stop working late, he’ll be in trouble when he comes home 

→ mercedesamgf1 stop making the admin team threaten me, schatz. they keep coming into my office shaking and you’ll get me into trouble with hr - toto 

user1 tell him to make an insta 

georgerussell63 he looks like a sith lord

→ ynwolff_official i think you mean, very handsome

→ georgerussell63 i’m not going to say that about my boss

→ alex_albon why not? you were telling me the other day that you think he looks much better in the white shirt than the black zip up 

user2 anyone else think he looks tired lately?

→ user2 he’s been working extra hard to get the upgrades ready, i’m guessing 

→ user3 plus wifey and jack haven’t been able to make a race in a while so he’s probably missing them after that triple header

user4 george won’t be getting those upgrades once yn tells toto that he wouldn’t admit he was handsome

→ mickschumacher i’ve already told 

→ georgerussell63 betrayal

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Strolling through the Hungaroring paddock, you kept a tight hold of your son’s hand. Bustling bodies brushed past, paying the the pair of you no heed, which worked well with your surprise.

Over the past few weeks, Toto had been working tirelessly to ensure the upgrades were ready and working in time for the Hungarian Grand Prix, albeit to the detriment of his own health. He’d been sleeping less, running himself ragged to ensure Mercedes didn’t remain fourth in the constructors. After winning at Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, he knew the potential was there. All he had to do was unlock it. But that had meant shorter calls with his wife and son, fewer responses to messages and a growing distance that he hated feeling during the season. And so, arranging a surprise visit during race weekend had been the most obvious solution.

Mercedes hat sat atop his dark hair, Jack babbled about everything he could see as the tall form of George Russell guided you towards the garage. 

“Hello, stranger.” Lewis’ voice met your ears when he caught sight of you. “Toto didn’t tell me you were coming. What’s up, little man?” 

George vanished into the back of the garage, searching for the Team Principal. Leaning over to the Brit, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the 7x WDC. Lewis gave your shoulders a squeeze before pulling Jack up into his arms, whisking him over to where the W15 was being polished. 

“George, this better be important. I was in the middle of an analysis report-.” A disgruntled Austrian accent filled the garage, bringing a smile to your face. You could picture the deep frown twisting his handsome’s features without even turning to see it.

“Liebe?” 

The silver arrows watched the tension seep out of their Team Principal’s face as he took in the appearance of his wife. Striding across the garage floor, he pulled you in for a tight hug, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. Aware of the eyes on you both, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to yours. Denying you both the deep kiss you truly desired.

“Surprise,” you whispered, slipping your arm around his waist. Your hand automatically rubbing soothing circles against his hip. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home. 

“You sounded like you needed us.”

“I always need you.”

“Well, then, let’s go rescue your son from Lewis.”

Holed up in Toto’s office, the Wolff family basked in their first moment of family time since over a month. Toto had ordered everyone to leave them alone until qualifying was due to start or somebody was dying. Thankfully, the team listened and so he spent the past hour listening to his son tell him about school and watching Lewis win a race on telly.

Fussing over the amount of coffee cups in the waste bin, you turned to lecture your husband on his inability to get enough rest but paused, mouth open. Curled up on the deep couch pushed against the wall, Jack was snuggled into his father’s lap. His iPad had fallen to the side, and soft snores escaped from his mouth. Glasses askew, Toto’s chin rested on his son’s head, eyes closed tight. Father and son, exhausted from the excitement of their day.

Taking a quick picture on your phone, you smiled at the sight of your family. Reaching into Jack’s backpack, you pulled out his blanket, draping it over your favourite boys.

“Ich liebe dich,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and others

mercedesamgf1 our favourite family 🐺

1,554 comments 

georgerussell63 admin, you used the same quote for a photo of toto with me, lew and mick the other week?

→ mercedesamgf1 we were paid to do that 

→ alex_albon great now he’s crying 

→ landonorris ha! at least our admin love us more than zak

→ mclaren don’t tell on us! 

mercedesamgf1 inside scoop; toto asked us to print out the photo of yn and jack to put in his office 

mickschumacher does this mean i can take the little wolff karting?

→ ynwolff_official only if you promise to come for dinner

→ georgerussell63 and me? 

→ user5 poor toto can’t escape his drivers even during his time off because his wife adopted them all 

lewishamilton nice to see you and jack in the paddock again, yn

→ ynwolff_official and you, lew. hopefully we can attend a few more now that the summer holidays are here 

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ynwolff_official just posted

liked by valterribottas, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynwolff_official my favourite part of summer break is the view 

1,003 comments 

mercedesamgf1 tell boss man to bring that smile back with him 

→ ynwolff_official don’t worry. i’ll be sending him back to work extra happy 

→ lewishamilton yn, love, this sounds less than family friendly 

→ ynwolff_official oops 

user6 oh she’s FEEDING us 

user7 has george joined you for a sleepover yet

→ ynwolff_official of course. he’s like the son i didn’t ask for 

→ georgerussell63 but you love anyway?

→ user8 silence speaks volumes 

user9 yn wolff thirst trapping her husband was not on my 2024 bingo 

→ user10 silly season is extra silly this year so yn obvi thought she would participate 

→ user11 and we love her for it

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[aventurineswife]

Can I geeeeeeet reader getting absolutely wasted and crying over a pic of them with their s/o (Kaeya, Aventurine, Kaveh, or Ratio), who then walk in on them like that. When asked what’s wrong, reader just sobs “I love him so much! He’s so beautiful!” (Cuz they don’t even recognize who they’re talking to cuz they’re so drunk)

Drunk on Love

Tags: Kaeya x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Confessions, Slight Angst, Established Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Soft Comfort, Light Teasing, Gentle Affection.

Warnings: Alcohol Use, Crying, Mild Language, Overwhelming Emotions, Characters Taking Care of a Drunk Reader, Excessive Sappiness.

The tavern air is thick with the scent of wine and the warmth of too many bodies pressed close together. Your head spins, the rim of your glass tilting precariously in your unsteady grip. You've had… how many drinks now? You lost count somewhere after the third.

But it doesn’t matter. Not when you’re clutching your most prized possession—a slightly crumpled photograph of you and Kaeya, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his usual smirk softened into something more genuine. The sight of him, even in a mere image, has your throat tightening with emotion.

“I love him so much,” you murmur to no one in particular, fingers stroking the picture like it’s some sacred relic.

A shadow falls over you, and a familiar voice—silken, teasing—cuts through the fog of your inebriation.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

You blink sluggishly, barely registering the man now standing before you. He’s tall, elegant, with striking blue hair and an eye that twinkles with mischief even in the dim light. If you were even a fraction more sober, you’d recognize him in an instant.

But right now, all you see is a stranger.

He crouches down to meet your gaze, concern flickering behind his usual amusement. “Care to tell me why you’re drowning in wine and tears?”

You hiccup, pressing the photo against your chest as if to protect it. “I just—hic—I love him so much!” Your voice wavers, and fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “He’s so beautiful. He’s—he’s perfect.”

Kaeya blinks, and then, much to his own surprise, laughter bubbles from his lips. “Oh? He must be quite the catch, then.”

“He is!” you insist, completely missing the smirk tugging at his lips. “His stupid hair—so soft—his voice—ugh, it makes my heart melt!” You dramatically thump your fist against your chest for emphasis, eyes shining with a lovesick haze. “And his smile—his smile! I’d die for it.”

Kaeya exhales, shaking his head in amusement. He’s flattered—more than flattered—but he also can’t let this moment pass without a little mischief. “You must really adore this man.”

“I do!” You clutch the picture tighter, brows furrowing in determination. “If I saw him right now, I’d—I’d—”

He leans in, voice dropping into a velvety whisper. “You’d what?”

You squint at him, your drunken brain struggling to process the sudden proximity. And then, like a grand revelation, it finally clicks.

Your gasp is so dramatic it could belong in a stage play. “KA—”

Before you can finish, Kaeya’s hand is already over your mouth, his laughter barely contained. “Shhh, love. No need to wake the entire city.”

Your eyes widen, then water all over again. “K-Kaeya!” you wail against his palm. “You’re here!”

He sighs, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms. “Yes, yes, I’m here. Now let’s get you home before you profess your love to the entire Knights of Favonius.”

You sniffle into his shoulder, still clutching the picture. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kaeya chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

The world around you is a blur—spinning, tilting, swaying with every sluggish blink of your eyes. The dimly lit lounge, the luxurious drapes, the faint hum of music—it all fades into the background as you stare at the picture in your hands.

Aventurine’s signature smirk stares back at you from the glossy surface, his arm draped lazily around your shoulder. The way he looked at you in that moment, the amusement laced with something softer, something real—it has you sniffling pathetically into your drink.

“I love him,” you slur, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your ridiculously expensive coat—one that he bought for you, because “no partner of mine should be seen in anything less than luxury.” “He’s so beautiful.”

A low chuckle, rich and teasing, cuts through your daze. “Well, darling, I can’t say I’ve ever heard a more glowing review.”

You lift your head, vision swimming. A figure leans against the bar beside you, decked out in the finest attire—dark green, gold accents, gambling motifs woven into every detail. A hat tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his sharp, enchanting eyes.

Your breath catches. “You look like him.”

Aventurine’s smirk widens. “Oh? And who, pray tell, am I impersonating?”

You clutch the photo dramatically, thrusting it towards him. “This man,” you declare, nearly toppling off your seat. “He’s perfect.”

Aventurine’s laughter is genuine now, the kind that shakes his shoulders. “Now that’s a compliment worth savoring.”

You grab his wrist, peering up at him with wide, watery eyes. “I’d bet my soul on him.”

He pauses at that, his playful demeanor faltering just slightly. Then, with a smirk softer than before, he leans in, brushing a thumb over your damp cheek. “Careful, sweetheart. I might just take you up on that wager.”

Sumeru’s night air is warm, but the alcohol burning in your veins is warmer. You’re slumped over a table in the tavern, a picture of you and Kaveh clutched in your trembling fingers. His golden hair, his crimson eyes—his smile.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you trace the outline of his face. “I love him so much,” you whisper, barely coherent. “He’s so… so beautiful.”

A chair scrapes beside you, but you’re too lost in your misery to notice. A familiar voice, gentle yet exasperated, reaches you.

“[Name]…?”

You sniff, barely glancing up. “Go away.”

Kaveh sighs, but there’s fondness in his voice. “Now why would I do that when my beloved is busy drunkenly serenading my photograph?”

Your lips wobble. “Kaveh?”

“Yes, my dear?”

You blink at him, then hold up the picture. “You look just like him.”

Kaveh stares at you. Then, with a soft chuckle, he cups your face, brushing away your tears. “That’s because it’s me, love.”

Your heart swells, and with a dramatic sob, you throw yourself into his arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kaveh lets out a breathless laugh, catching you effortlessly. “I know, love. I know.”

Ratio wasn’t expecting to find you in this state—slumped over your desk, eyes glossy with unshed tears, a picture gripped in your trembling hands.

“Love?”

You lift your head, eyes unfocused. “Ratio…?”

He folds his arms, raising an amused brow. “Care to explain why you’re weeping over my image like a tragic protagonist?”

Your lower lip trembles. “You’re just… so beautiful.”

Ratio stares at you, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

And yet, as he wipes your tears away, a small smile tugs at his lips.

[catalinasroom]

stranger things fics

steve harrington

it's just us @andvys

You and Steve hated each other from the first moment you met but when you get betrayed by the people you love the most, all you have is each other. (8k)

ain't it fun? @maroon-cardigan

since high school you were always regarded as a top student with a brilliant future, but after college is over you find yourself doing the one thing you promised you wouldn’t do: moving back to hawkins. if being a total failure wasn’t humiliating enough, once you’re back you find out that your friends now hang out with no other than your high school bully. (29k)

touch me baby @sweatervest-obsessed

(21.7k)

chrisrtmas affairs @maroon-cardigan

your christmas turns into a chaotic mess when your boss can’t fly back home and you end up stuck in New York City with him. (26.7k)

indifferent @stevesherdaddynowlover

you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention (15.5k)

whats the name of the game? @maroon-cardigan

every winter steve harrington and you fight over the frozen pond between your houses. while he loves to bring his friends to skate, you need to de-stress from the pressure of ballet practice. it’s always an entertaining game between you two until you get the lead role in the winter production, and steve sets his mind to break through your stubborn, overachieving façade. (25.6k)

stuck @thecreelhouse

Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. (4.6k)

come home @stevie-petey

come home to me, okay?" "always," steve promises. in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington. (series)

save room for us @maroon-cardigan

one year after his divorce, steve sets his mind to give his daughter nellie an unforgettable christmas, yet in the midst of his efforts, he finds himself orbiting around the pretty receptionist that works in his office, diving into a holiday season full of secret encounters and sensual indecency. (24.2k) part two (20.2k)

guts! @water-loos

(series)

three's a secret @general-kenobis

You and Steve are friends with benefits. However, you've been wanting to try something way out of your comfort zone, and it brings Steve to a mission: find someone who agrees to your intentions. (Ps: your guest has a very peculiar piercing on his body) (7k) ft eddie munson

the edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) @andvys

Everything he once knew, is gone, dead and buried, burned to the ground and turned into ash. All he has known is loss, death and pain, he despised this world, until it brought you to him -- the sunshine he had long forgotten. Light he will follow till the very end. (series)

gasoline @stevie-petey

it starts out simple enough. photograph the februarys in exchange for a cheap place to live. all you have to do is go to their gigs, take a few pictures, and hope that they like them.it starts out simple enough. until the bands frontman, steve harrington, begs for more. (series)

training wheels @maroon-cardigan

first kiss, first love, first heartbreak. you and steve have never been good at doing things for the first time, not unless you're together. yet there are certain types of tension that not even the strongest friendship can bear, and after years of distance you two can't help but wonder if there's a possibility that all those firsts were only leading you towards forever. (22.8k)

eddie munson

the hat rule @ghost-proofbaby

the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. (13.3k)

forbidden fruit of desire @frombeyondthegravez

You are a dancer in the city, consistently trying to stay in line and be perfect. You usually don't let people see the darker desires plaguing you, but one man discovers too much at a party. He offers you a chance to get a taste of these fantasies, and you can't help but give in...if only you knew what he was hiding. (8k)

are you or have you ever been @elegantpaperoperatormaker

You’re the most popular girl in school, a 4.0 student, a fantastic cheerleader, and a  force to be reckoned with. Eddie is…well, Eddie. When you two mix, it’s like oil and water. Spewing hateful insults one minute and hooking up the next, you and Eddie navigate the thin line between love and hate.  (25.4k) part two (14.7k)

secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought) @andvys

A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever. (20.4k)

smoke me out @strangerstilinski

you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? (7.4k)

[iinsertblognamee]

a baby? for me?

summary; you break the news to your daughter that you and alexia are having a baby pairing; alexia putellas x single mum!reader spanish | english translation

"Estás bien?" 'are you okay?'

Alexia's attention is taken away from the gym equipment in front of her and towards the resistance band that was thrown at her forehead, before turning towards the person who threw it.

Mapi's wearing a slight frown as she looks over her best friend. Looking down at her knee for a split second before back towards Alexia's face.

"Tu rodilla está bien?" 'Is your knee okay?' The midfielder can't help but nod her head suspiciously, her eyebrows frowning before asking "Sí? Por qué?" 'Yes? Why?'

"Has estado fuera de esto toda la mañana. Qué está sucediendo?" 'You've been out of it all morning. What's going on?' She moves closer to Alexia, making sure to lower her voice before continuing "Es yn? o maní?" 'Is it yn? or peanut?'

The two of you had found out you were finally pregnant after two attempts of IVF, besides yourself and Alexia knowing about the pregnancy, you had told Mapi and Ingrid as well as Jonatan. You both had agreed to keep it quiet until your first trimester was over, not wanting to create any panic from friends and family during this time.

However today you were adding one more person to the list. Mia, your daughter.

She was Alexia's daughter too, after everything Alexia had done for the two of you - everyone knew Alexia was Mia's second mum.

Mia was her daughter, for all intents and purposes.

Alexia met you and Mia three years ago, Mia crying in the middle of the supermarket as you tried to calm her down. Alexia discarded the two dips in her hand that she was debating on getting to send a small wave to the upset two-year-old. Mia took one look at the footballer before calming down.

Alexia had been smitten ever since.

Mia's father was never really in the picture, a sloppy one-night stand with a stranger was all it took for you to fall pregnant. You had attempted to get in contact with the biological father, but after meeting at a cafe to let him know of the situation you found yourself grateful he walked away. Mia and you didn't need him in your lives.

Alexia had no problem stepping up, she was coined 'My Lexi' by Mia within six months of meeting, and Alexia's heart beat that little bit faster every time she was blessed to hear her nickname.

Mia never called Alexia 'mum', but when you explained that Mia thought having a 'Lexi' was so much cooler than having a dad, Alexia didn't mind the name one bit.

She hoped that maybe one day, when Mia was comfortable she may find herself being Mia's mami, but she wanted it to happen authentically and on Mia's terms. So for now, she was Lexi.

"si, todo esta bien Mapi" 'yes, everything is fine, Mapi' Alexia started, leaning back into her stretches, flexing her leg a little further, "Yn is telling Mia today"

Mapi's eyes widen almost comically, her mouth falling open before stepping closer to her best friend. "sobre el" 'about the' she pauses, as she lowes her voice "Baby?!". Alexia nodded her head, rolling her neck as she felt a slight pop from her muscles.

"sin ti?" 'Without you?' Mapi questioned.

Alexia ran her hand over her face, nodding her head once more "si, yn and I talked and we agreed that it would be best for yn to break the news to Mia alone, and tonight the three of us can have a talk. In case Mia has any questions".

You and Alexia agreed Mia needed to hear this news from you, the pair of you had no idea how she would take the news. It had always just been the two of you, and then Alexia. You didn't have any siblings and Aleixa's sister didn't have any children of her own so for as long as Mia had been aware, she was the only baby of the family.

You had tried to tell Aleixa how excited Mia would be, you had caught her watching the children at the park and the longing in her eyes to have someone to play with but Aleixa was still super nervous. She didn't want Mia to feel like she was getting replaced or felt that Alexia would love the new baby more than her. Mia was and always would be Alexia's first baby.

The song connected to the speaker finishes, and the next one starts. Alexia takes this as her cue to stretch the other leg. Before Alexia could get in the next position her phone vibrated between the pair.

She takes a deep breath, before picking up the phone and seeing two new messages from you.

mi amor 💗 ignore my sniffles in the background

mi amor 💗 sent a video

Mapi seems to get Alexia's need for some distance, before giving her one quick hug and moving away from the anxious mother. Alexia takes one last look around the gym. noting it's completely empty before turning up the volume and pressing play.

The video starts with you setting the phone up and leaning it up against something as Mia gets comfy on your couch back at your shared apartment. The sound of one of Mia's shows in the background suddenly becomes mute as you pick up the TV remote.

"Mama!" Mia splatters out, as she looks between the TV and her mum. You reach your arms out, an indication you knew Mia would take as to come into your embrace - which she does.

Alexia can't help the small smile that appears on her lips as she watches her two girls embrace on the screen. You give Mia a small, delicate kiss on the crown of her head before pulling away enough to catch her attention, but still close enough that she was still in your embrace.

"I have a little something for you baby girl" You take this chance to pull out a small piece of paper from your pocket - Aleixa recognises it instantly as one of the ultrasound pictures the pair of you had picked up last week.

Mia takes the picture out of your grasp, her eyebrows frowning as she takes in the picture - ensure what exactly she was looking at.

"What is it, mama?" Mia lifted her gaze from the picture to her mum, before tilting her head and taking another glance at the piece of paper. "It looks funny" Mia can't help but giggle as she admits that. You let out a small giggle as well, running your hand through her hair "It does look kinda funny doesn't it huh" You agreed with her, Mia only letting out another laugh at her mother's confession.

"What is it, mama?" She asks once more, her curious nature taking over once again.

"It's a baby" You clarify slowly, your hand now dropped from Mia's hair and into your lap. Alexia felt her heart start to beat faster as she tried to catch every little moment happening on the screen in front of her - trying to catch a glimpse of what Mia was thinking at that moment.

It takes a second or two before your words seem to make sense to Mia, her eyes widening before looking down at the picture once more before towards you "Is it your baby?" her little voice pitched, somehow her eyes managing to widen even further.

You let out a small chuckle, nodding your head as some tears start to swell up in your eyes "Yeah baby, it is"

Mia looks towards her mother before her gaze drops to her stomach and back to her mother's face, "Is it in your belly? Like right now?" Alexia watches as Mia's hand drops the picture and places her little hand on your flat stomach.

You nod once more, your hand now covering your daughters, "It is, but it's very little right now so we can't see the difference quite yet".

Alexia knew exactly what you meant, she would check every morning before the two of you got out of bed and everything night before turning the lights off. She would run her hands over your stomach, planting kisses and mumbling promises to your unborn child. But besides the slightly firm change, that was the only indication there was a child growing in your womb as of now. That and the very picture sitting in Mia's lap.

Alexia watches as Mia's mouth forms into a slight O shape, before letting out a loud shriek and jumping up on the couch, bouncing and giggling.

"I'm going to be a big sister" She declares to the room, "Mama I'm a big sister!"

The first sniffle shifts Alexia's attention from Mia and onto you as you let a few tears fall down your face, but a massive smile plays on your lips. Alexia's face mirrors yours.

"What do you think about that sweetheart, is that okay?"

Mia throws herself into her mum's embrace, squeals leaving her lips "I'm so excited!-" Then before continuing, she suddenly pulls herself out of your embrace, her gaze falling to your stomach before placing herself right next to you on the couch, her hand back on your belly. "Sorry Mama, don't wanna hurt our baby"

Alexia thinks her heart stops at Mia's declaration. Our baby.

"You won't hurt them lovie, we just have to be a little more careful is all, and once they come they're going to be very small and fragile"

"That's okay mama, I'll look after her. Or Him. I don't care, mama. I don't. I'm so happy"

"That's very kind of you baby" You kiss her head, Mia's hand still flush against your stomach. "How come I can't see the baby yet Mama?"

The sight of your flat stomach was confusing Mia, she knew when people were having babies that had big stomachs, like her school teacher who had to leave because she was having a baby.

"Because the baby is still very small, but they'll continue to grow and as they get bigger and bigger you'll be able to see then".

Mia didn't seem too impressed by your answer, her eyes squinting to see if she could notice a difference towards your belly.

Just when Alexia thinks the video is going to end, Mia pipes up with another question.

"Who put the baby in there Mama?"

You and Alexia both freeze up at the same time, a nervous giggle leaving your lips as you try to quickly come up with something that would satisfy a five-year-old.

"Uh, Alexia and I did with the help of some doctors"

"Why?" Mia asks, looking from your stomach to your face.

"Uh. Well. Well, we wanted you to be a big sister. Is that okay?"

Your answer is enough for Mia, who throws her arms around your neck before giggling into your hair. Her response is muffled but from what Alexia can tell, you are grateful for her answer, your shoulders dropping in relief as you kiss the side of her head. "I'm glad you're so excited honey".

"Mama, when the baby comes, can I hold it?" If Mia's face wasn't so serious, you would have giggled a little at the question - Alexia watching the video doesn't stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Of course baby, you can hold them, and Alexia and I would love for you to help us out"

"I want to help Mama! I'll help you and Lexi"

"I know you will, you can help push the stroller and bathtime and maybe even a diaper or two" You joke at the end but Mia doesn't seem fussed, a smile growing as she nods her head along. "I'll help so much mama. I will"

"I know you will baby, you'll be the best helper" You assure her, before grabbing the phone from the spot you had placed it before. "I'm going to send this video to Aleixa, is there anything else you want to say to her?"

"Lexi! We having a baby, come home so we can celebrate" She quickly turns her attention from the screen to you, asking for your permission "Can we celebrate when Lexi comes home?" You giggle and nod your head in response, a squeal leaving Mia's lips. "Lexi Mama said yes! Hurry home so we can celebrate! I miss you"

You mumble something about getting the table clean for this celebration before turning your attention to the screen - your eyes filled with tears once more "I think we can call this one a success, we love you. come home soon"

The video cuts off, as you blow an air kiss towards the camera, Alexia letting the tears stream down her face, as the last few minutes replay in her head.

Mapi's head sticks into the gym a minute or two later, an uneasy look on her face as she takes in her crying best friend.

"¿Estás bien Ale?" 'are you okay ale?'

Alexia responds with some fast head nods, wiping her tears away.

"Amazing, Soy asombrosa" 'I'm amazing'

& bonus

Alexia walked through the front door and was met with an energetic five-year-old throwing herself into Alexia's arms. Squeals leave her lips as she bounces in her embrace.

"Mama! She's home. She's home!" Planting kisses all over her face, Alexia finally sets her down as you walk into the hallway, pulling you into a tight embrace, kissing you on the lips twice over before placing her hand across your stomach.

"How are you feeling mi amor" 'my love'

"Perfect"

Alexia hums into your lips, before pulling away once more "That's what I like to hear".

"Mama! Lexi! Hurry up"

Alexia and you meet each other's eye contact before giggling to each other, "She gets that from you, you know?" you comment, planting one last kiss on Alexia's lips before moving down the hallway and towards your daughter.

Alexia doesn't even try to argue, following you down the hallway, a smile permanent on her face.

Mia was ready at the table, Alexia's favourite meal was dished out, and some soft music playing in the background with some pink streamers across the walls that had been leftovers from Mia's last birthday party.

It was about halfway through the dinner, before Mia dropped her fork, looking between you and Alexia.

"Everything okay pequeño?" 'little one?' Alexia questions, her fork placed next to her plate as she reaches out for Mia's hand.

"Lexi, are you gonna be this baby's mami?"

Alexia swallows thickly, looking at you for some guidance between back towards Mia, nodding her head a little "Yeah, pequeño. Yeah, I am" 'little one'

"Can you be my Mami too?"

The simplicity of her questions makes Alexia's heart stop for a second, she shifts her gaze towards you once more, your face positively beaming, as a tear trails down your cheek. You give a slight nod before turning your attention towards your daughter.

"Uh. Do you." Alexia clears her throat a little, the tears swelling up once more "Do you want me to be your mami baby?"

Mia looks between the pair of you, before picking up her fork and taking another mouth full of her food. "I kinda thought you already were. I drew you in my family picture for school and you love me like how mama loves me"

"I do baby, I love you so much, you're my hija" 'daughter'

"Hiji" 'daughter' she tries to repeat, Alexia had been teaching her Spanish since your second date, claiming that no child of hers wouldn't know her mother language.

"It means daughter. because you are, always have been and always will be my little love"

"I love you mami"

"I love you hija"

"And I love you both" you add, your heart beaming.

[cherry-coffees]

Love, Sweat, and Queers

gym!Caitlyn x pilates princess!reader

cw: 2.6K words | gym AU, meant to be s2 act 2 Caitlyn, hints of sun x moon dynamic, reader is a cute pilates princess, she also works there, Caitlyn does NOT want to be there, then she meets you and it's allll better, Caitlyn/Jayce sibling dynamic, mutual pining, confessions, title is like blood/sweat/tears but WLW VER.

"You can't be serious, Jayce." Caitlyn scoffs at him.

She strides into the gym as if she's annoyed to be in the presence of sweaty strangers and loud machines. Which she is. She has no issue with public gyms, but she just can't understand why she would go to one when she has all the exercise equipment she could ever ask for at the Kiramman manor.

"Oh, relax," Jayce rolls his eyes in response. "I didn't want to go alone. Besides, you need to get out of that house every so often."

"What?" Caitlyn huffs, her posh accent prominent in her indignation. "I get out quite enough, thank you."

Jayce has a point, though, and she knows it. She's been locked up in her office ever since her mother's death — ever since Ambessa had come into the picture. She needs to get out of her office, even if it's to a gym that she has no reason to go to. Now, having broken up with Maddie a few weeks ago, she also needs to be surrounded by people other than the Noxian warlord on her shoulder.

"Cait," Jayce sighs, swinging the main door open and gesturing for her to walk through first. "Just trust me, okay?" And with that, he enters behind her and makes his way up to the front desk.

The front desk where you are sitting.

"Hi," you smile, all bright eyes and cheerful tone. "Go ahead and swipe your membership card on the scanner in front of you."

Jayce swipes his card, returning your smile. "I have a guest with me, today."

"Okay," you nod, typing something into the computer that sits on the desk in front of you. "How many?"

"Just one."

"Perfect," you hum, grabbing the receipt as it prints out and sliding it across the desk along with a pen. "We do have a small fee for each member that brings a guest, so if you'll just sign here. Is she a first time guest?"

Jayce taps Caitlyn's shoulder, motioning her forward from where she had been looking around the building. "Yes, she is."

"Oh, hi," you beam another smile as her eyes lock onto yours for the first time. "I'll just need you to fill out a form so we can make sure we have your information."

"Ah—" Caitlyn's breath catches in her throat. The way you're beaming up at her, so sweetly that it's almost innocent, steals the words from her lips. You're really cute, she notices. "Okay, sure."

You reach under the desk to grab a form before handing it to her over the desk. "Just fill this out and then you're all good to use the gym."

Caitlyn merely nods, forcing herself to not glance back up at you as she answers the questions on the paper. She's done in a minute or two, sliding the form back to you, earning yet another smile. "Perfect, you're all set," you tuck the form into one of the drawers in a cabinet under the desk.

"Thank you—" Caitlyn trails off, lacking your name.

"Of course!" You glance between her and Jayce. "Let me know if you have any questions."

"Yeah," Caitlyn responds, almost dazed as she follow Jayce away from the desk and fully into the gym. The moment Jayce heads off for the leg extension curl up machine, she's right beside him. "Who is that?" she whisper-shouts: enough to be audible in the loud building without being overheard.

"Her?" Jayce sets his water bottle down, stating your name like it's obvious. "She works at the front desk a few nights a week. Don't think she lifts much, but I've seen her doing pilates sometimes."

"Is that so?" Caitlyn murmurs to herself, casting a sidelong glance back at you. She doesn't notice Jayce as he begins to work out, too preoccupied with thoughts of meeting you again. Preferably when you're not checking her into a gym she doesn't want to be at.

Well. She didn't want to be at. That's quickly changing — whether she wants to admit it or not.

|------» ~~~ «------|

Caitlyn's back at gym the next day.

This time, she's here alone. She strolls in through the main doors with an almost aloof expression: her face betraying none of her nerves. She's all dressed in her expensive navy leggings with a loose, white tank top clinging to her tall stature. She heads straight for the front desk, her eyes locked on you.

You glance up from your phone as she approaches. "Oh, hi! Are you here with Jayce again?"

"Actually, I'm here alone," Caitlyn's icy-blue stare doesn't waver. "I was hoping to get a membership?"

"Oh!" Your smile feels like beams of warmth, like if the sun itself decided to smile upon Caitlyn. "Sure, I can help you with that! Do you know which plan you'd like? They have different perks, but they also cost differently, and—"

Caitlyn doesn't really hear what you say, too focused on the slight movement of your hair and the change in your expression as you talk. She blinks back into reality when you tilt your head questioningly, as if expecting an answer. "Um," she mumbles. "I'll do the top one."

"Okay," you type something into her computer, and Caitlyn tracks the movement of your fingers tapping across the keys. As the Kiramman heir, she's beyond rich, but she's also classy with it. She wasn't going to spend her money on something she'd never use.

A membership at the gym her now-crush works at, though? She can make an exception.

"Okay, now just a few questions," you click something, then shift your gaze back to her.

When Caitlyn nods, you resume. "Well, I would ask your name, but—" you cut yourself off, cheeks tinging a rosy pink.

"Oh," Caitlyn blinks, suddenly remembering that everyone in Piltover knows her name. Especially now, with her being a commander: earning the legacy passed on to her by the recently deceased Cassandra Kiramman. She takes in your blush with a hint of hope, though she remains her usual composed self. "Yes. Are there any others?"

You rattle off a few more of the usual questions before you motion for her to swipe her card. She does without a second thought, and you can't help but briefly wonder what someone of her status is doing at a public gym in the middle of Piltover. Surely someone of a commander status — especially with her wealth — has more than enough for their own private training areas. Why is she here?

"Thanks," Caitlyn flashes you a smile of her own, and you're a little embarrassed to register how it makes your heart flip. She must give it to all the Piltover citizens, you remind yourself. It's practiced for the public.

"Of course," you maintain your cheerful demeanor. That marks the end of this conversation, or so you think.

Instead, Caitlyn lingers, taking more time in front of the desk than she needs. "So, what do you like to do here?

You look up at her again, surprised that she hasn't disappeared into the depths of the gym yet. "How do I...work out?"

"Um, yeah," she mumbles, scratching at the tiled floor with the tip of her shoe. "It's only my second time here, so I'm looking for recommendations, you know?"

"Right," you consider. "I usually stick to pilates. I know it's a little cliché since it's super popular, but I really like it."

"I don't think it's cliché," Caitlyn's quick to reassure you. Gods, the last thing she needs is you thinking you can't share your hobbies with her. "Maybe I'll try it sometime."

You think for a moment, as if mentally going through your schedule in your head. "I usually do it on Mondays and Thursdays, so I don't know about the other days, but there's usually not as many people wanting to do it those evenings."

Aha.

You just explained what Caityn had wanted to know since she stepped foot in the gym and saw you. Monday and Thursday evenings. Not as specific as she'd have liked, but still far more information than she ever expected to get. She would just have to be sure she caught you at the right time.

|------» ~~~ «------|

For the next week, you catch sight of Caitlyn coming into the gym nearly every day you're working. She's always dressed in expensive workout clothes with what you're sure is the finest quality fabric, casually gracing your presence at the front desk before heading off to work out. Her tops always exposed her toned arms, and they occasionally lifted from her stomach to showcase her abs, and gods, is the universe trying to kill you by giving you the hottest women to ogle at while you're supposed to be working?

It doesn't take long, though, for you to run into her in a far more casual setting.

You're in one of the gym's studios — off of work today. You lay back on the mats, stretching out your right leg for one of your stretches to cool down from your pilates workout. You roll over to do your next exercise, pushing yourself off the mat, facing the mirror in a side plank. Your gaze is downcast in concentration, so don't notice the hint of navy hair that flashes in the doorway before a familiar face appears.

Caitlyn watches you exercise from just outside the studio door. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of your legs and backside in your leggings. You're wearing a cute, blush pink workout set that hugs all your curves in just the right ways, much to her appreciation. You're a cute little pilates princess, and she loves it.

And oh, how she'd love to run her hands over your body and—

After a minute passes, you lower yourself back onto the mat, happening to glance up at the mirror and catch sight of Caitlyn's reflection. "Hey, Caitlyn," you smile at her in the mirror. "Did you want to use the studio?"

"Oh, no," Caitlyn rushes her words, stepping into the space before letting the door close. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was—" she fumbles for a moment before regaining her usual composure. "Would you mind teaching me some stretches? I feel like I need more before I work out."

"Sure," you blink, a little surprised that the Caitlyn Kiramman is not only regularly visiting the gym you work at, but now also asking you for help. "I was just finishing up, anyways."

You sit up straight, crossing your legs on the mat in front of you and turning your back to the side as far as your flexibility will allow you. Caitlyn sets her bag down and joins you on the mat, mirroring your actions. "I like this one for stretching my back, but I also like to do lunges for my legs," you continue to explain.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, continues to hyper fixate on how kind you are to help her with whatever she needs — even when you're not working. She notices how your eyes narrow when you're focused, how you carefully position yourself for the next exercise, how pretty your cheeks look when they're a little flushed.

The next few minutes go by with Caitlyn quickly picking up every stretch you teach her. It's not surprising: she's toned and athletic both from her years of sharpshooting and the training she does now as a commander. She completes the stretches with ease, her body moving languidly like a cat's. And, in return, you can't help but notice how good she looks like this, too.

When you call it, standing to clean the mat with a wipe and roll it back up, Caitlyn stands right along with you. Her dark eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out how she can make this moment with you last even longer. As you bend to pick up your bag and water bottle, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

You turn, eyes widened, to see Caitlyn shifting on her feet. "Hey," she murmurs. "I know we haven't known each other long, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner? If you haven't already eaten, that is."

"You—" You freeze, unsure if this is some kind of joke or misunderstanding. "You want to have dinner with me?"

"Yes, with you," Caitlyn smiles down at you. She's much warmer under that professional, stoic demeanor she always puts up. "I've grown quite fond of you."

"Thank you," you mumble, your eyes darting between hers and your shoes as an act of sudden shyness. "Yeah, dinner sounds nice."

"Take it as my way of asking you out," Caitlyn's long fingers brush yours. You wish she'd hurry up already and just hold your hand, but she's taking her time — that much is clear. Respectful: yet another thing you like about her.

You fluster even more at her comment, almost disbelieving. "Asking me out?"

"Yes," Caitlyn tilts her head, icy eyes imploring yours in curiosity. "You haven't figured that out? I feared I was being too obvious about my infatuation."

This draws a quiet laugh from you, amusement spilling from your lips. Only Caitlyn Kiramman could manage to sound so properly formal and also be so endearingly unsure at the same time. "Well, I was probably too worried about my feelings to notice yours."

Caitlyn blinks once. Then twice. "You like me too?"

There's a moment of quiet after that, both of you just staring at each other in realization. Then, another giggle spills from your lips at the absurdity of it all, and Caitlyn's joining you in her own laughter within moments. "We might be a little dense," you smile, biting your bottom lip in thought.

Caitlyn's gaze traces the movement of your lip between your teeth, wishing she could remove your bite and replace it with hers instead. "Ah, well," she returns your sheepish smile, a hand coming up to tuck strands of navy hair behind her ear. "If being dense got me here, I'll gladly admit to it."

"Me too." You're the one that reaches out this time, taking her hand to lace her fingers with yours. "So, dinner?"

"And maybe dessert," Caitlyn mumbles under her breath as she lets you tug her out of the studio hand-in-hand. She just can't help her intrusive thoughts, sometimes.

But if her intrusive thoughts had landed her a date with you, she'd gladly admit to that, too.

|------» ~~~ «------|

A week later, when you're spawled out in her silk sheets with pink cheeks and heavy breaths, Caitlyn curls up beside you. Your legs tangle together, and it's a moment of pure bliss after your previously heated moments.

You're just about to drift off into a deep sleep when Caitlyn buries her face in your hair. "So, now that I won you over," she mumbles. "Can you cancel my gym membership?"

"Wha—?" You reel from the sudden request, incredulous how she could talk about such casual things when she had just given you the time of your life. "Your membership?"

"Yes," Caitlyn huffs, and you can feel the puff of breath against your scalp. "I know it's not a big deal, but I hate spending money on things I'll never use, and I only bought it so I could come back and see you, and—"

You lean your head up, pressing your lips to hers in a gentle kiss. When she's sighing against your lips, you pull back to tuck your head back under her chin. "Yes. Now shut up. You're ruining the moment."

The corners of her mouth tug up into a smile. "You just can't admit that you went from a pilates princess to my princess."

"Caitlyn—"

"Right," Caitlyn allows her lips to press against your forehead before her eyes slip shut. "Goodnight, my princess."

Spent ten minutes trying to come up with a title before my women-loving instincts took over. Blood, sweat, and tears MORE LIKE LOVE, SWEAT, AND QUEERS >:)

...im just proud of it okay? :(

ANYWAYS! Just posted my masterlist! This request got me out of writer's block SO hope you lovelies enjoyed!

~Cherry 🍒