#but i was listening to “against the kitchen floor” instead

[sunboki]

— KOREA'S MOST WANTED (BLACKWATER) : TEASER

🎥 : The Cypher! Seo Changbin x fem. reader

TROPE. part of the “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, criminal! au, ‘The Gunsman’ (Christopher Bahng) is a coworker of ‘The Cypher’ (Seo Changbin), fwb

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 5k-10k words

WARNINGS. murder, guns and other weapons, descriptive violence, mature themes, alcohol, blood, lying/hitman activities (??), smoking, cursing allusions to sex/drugs

PLAYLIST.

AUG'S NOTES. and.. without further ado, the teaser has been posted! welcome to ‘Korea’s Most Wanted’, the second adaption!!!please tell me your thoughts! :))

SYPNOSIS. The Cypher leaves his mark even when his presence is gone. Though, you knew Seo Changbin, not The Cypher. Not until an act upon feelings led to unwanted discovery, in which the question lies: Who really is the man you’ve fallen in love with?

or alternatively :

If everything goes to doom, let it be with you.

CRIMINAL #0003 — SEO, CHANGBIN.

CRIMINAL RECORD

Changbin has been convicted of murder using a baseball bat and is described to be aggressive and out of control. Please proceed with caution.

⭑ REWARD

⎯ CRIMINAL FILES (additional cases)

There are many things you remember from him.

He smokes. You don’t like the smell.

His favorite shirt is a worn one.

He believes everything has a purpose, including the goldfish bowl he keeps below his bed, filled with used packs of Marlboro cigarettes.

You also remember his bad habits, and his good ones.

He is an intricate man, after all.

You remember his hands. Stubby fingers, bruised knuckles he never talked about. Dirt and grime smeared in the creases of his palm.

He has a ferocious temper, but is also kind hearted. A juxtaposition of many things all at once, scrambled together in the scars by his ribs, the details carving him physically as opposed to his mind—intricate and delicate, too frail to touch.

Amongst many things you could recall from him, after he left, you allowed him to take himself with it. You bought air fresheners to rid of his smell, and always donned new t-shirts, ones lacking holes gaping at the armpits, without stretched collars.

Slowly but surely, you got rid of him, and yet, he stays. 

Seo Changbin can never stay somewhere for too long, but he still resides in your apartment.

Like an apparition, roaming about whenever it pleases.

Here, and yet not.

Maybe that’s another bad habit you forgot to add.

“And as for the next week, we’re expecting warm temperatures in the east–”

Accidentally pulling the wrong cord, the weatherman’s voice abruptly cuts off. From your couch, a groan resounds in response.

Rising up from your squat on the floor, your slippers squeak as you walk across tile, stained and scratched a distasteful baby blue as you throw a kitchen towel at the man.

His hand covers a lighter, held up to the cigar dangling from chapped lips.

Leasing the cheapest apartment in Seoul came with a price. That, along with letting him linger around.

“I told you not to smoke in here, the ventilation sucks,” You grumble, wandering around to the window, trying to budge the halfway broken glass coverage up to no avail.

Of course, Changbin, the man in question, doesn’t listen, eyes drawn to the panties peeking from beneath your big t-shirt (his big t-shirt) instead.

Quickly snuffing the lit embers against his palm without so much as a hiss of pain, he stuffs the remnants in his pocket to dispose of afterward, walking on up to where you continuously try lifting the unwavering window.

“Bin, help.” Managed as a grunt between heaving breaths, your expression pinches in irritation.

Alternative to the request, he scoops you up, big palms wrinkling your shirt as his hands wander upward, effectively hoisting you into his arms. Wordlessly does his face tip down to litter kisses along your neckline, pulling you flush against him.

“Don’t wanna,” He grunts, humming along to your hand reaching behind for him, holding his kiss to your skin, lips parted whilst staring ahead dazedly.

Control. The one thing you hate when it comes to Changbin. The thing his lips render you unable to gain a semblance of.

As for him, he likes that face on you. Likes when he kisses you a lot, when your lips get all puffy and kiss-bitten. Likes when you drool while he stuffs your face into the mattress those nights you were supposed to ‘just have a drink together’.

He’s always been a fan of your lips.

Then again, if you’re listing his worst habits, you might as well confess one of your own.

You can’t say no to him, not even when the window remains unopened, smoke mogging the air when he takes you on the couch, ignorant to the thin walls as usual.

“Y/N, c’mon,” Changbin groans, his bottom lip jutting outward in a pout unfitting to the man’s disposition.

His hair’s a mess from your tugging, looking honorably disheveled. You can't say you look any different, if not worse, leaning against your doorframe.

“You know how we end up. I let you in and thirty minutes later we end up fucking,” You cross your arms over your chest, eyeing him up and down. 

Obviously wracking his mind for an excuse, he mimics your crossed arms, tongue poking into his cheek—an action that would’ve caused you to fold any other day if you weren’t attending a friend’s birthday party tonight.

It’s true, and serves as an additional factor keeping Changbin’s mouth closed. Each time, without fail; wrapped around your finger, you wrapped around his.

“But–” 

“Nope! Bye!” Interrupting his impending words, you hastily close the door, awaiting an entourage of incessant messages a few minutes later, full of frowny faces and helpless pleas.

Who knew such a man could behave so pitifully?

Yet, no such messages notify your phone, failing to buzz on the bathroom sink while you clean up your mascara with a q-tip, leaning over the faucet, face pursed with focus. 

It’s not often you get the excuse to go out, and with Dixie’s being the party spot in particular, you won't waste the opportunity of attending one of Itaewon’s most frivolous clubs.

As for you and Changbin, the understanding rests on your lack of commitment. He wanders, you wander. He isn’t one to put down roots, and you respect that.

Granted, the sex is mind-blowing, so it wouldn't be a surprise if the frequency of your nights are accompanied by him, but it’s never shackled that way. 

Although, that isn’t your goal tonight. Earlier today was enough to satiate, and your newfound goal consists of enjoying free drinks and the obnoxious bass blasting through your ears, numbed amongst the sea of bodies crowding every side.

Upon arriving at the entrance, you flash your phone in the bouncer’s direction, displaying an invitation before he unhooks an old-fashioned barrier rope—allowing passageway into masses of sweaty bodies and the nauseating stench of alcohol overtaking everyone’s inhibitions.

Navigating around to the private booths, it doesn’t take long to find the crowned birthday queen by the squeals of laughter and enthusiastic clinking of beer bottles, an expansive array of liquor displayed on any surface available the moment you walk inside.

It’s a relief, surrounding yourself by happy faces and busied chatter, senses buzzing each shot you take, unsure whether it’s vodka or water entering your system at a certain point.

“So, how’s that hunk of muscle doing?” Sabina piques, her overlined lips pursing, huge hoop earrings dangling from heavily pierced ears.

In the blue-tinged lighting, she looks ethereal, dark skin practically glittering with her recently applied perfume.

If you’re drunk enough, you might’ve considered switching sides for this absolute angel. This girl was gorgeous and quite literally everyone’s wannabe-with or wannabe altogether.

“You guys aren’t exclusive, right?” The birthday girl, Margerie, adds, slumping on the leather cushions, her stiletto heels propping on Sabina’s thighs. 

These two have been your ride or die since college, and you're more than happy to spill every aspect of your life’s complications and delights at any chance to who you like to refer to as your big sisters.

“Mhm, he stops by on a daily basis.” 

Swishing the clear liquid in its glass, you watch the deceiving concoction catch light, periodically looking back to them.

Sabina barks a loud laugh, one that ushers everyone else into laughter as well. Infectious.

“On a daily basis?” She chokes, slapping Margerie’s calf. “What? Gettin’ his daily head?”

Safe to say she earned a threat after that jeer.

“Well, I respect your decisions, but I think ya’ll would be great together, y’know. Don’t think we don’t see the way he looks at you,” Margerie snaps her fingers, the two sharing an agreeing nod you dismiss with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

“Oh please, you met him once at a bar and he was already wasted, you can’t base his love for me on that!” You interject indignantly, immediately shrinking under the girls’ scrutinizing stares.

“Um, yeah, we can.” 

Your silence beckons either of them to burst into laughter again, assuring you their words were all in good fun while you playfully grovel, rising up to excuse yourself to the bathroom and assuring your giggling, now drunken messes of friends you’ll be back soon.

Unfortunately, you end up walking in on a couple certainly enjoying the booth’s privacy, earning your hand slapping over your face while blindly stumbling in the opposite direction.

Even better? The next room you accidentally approach leaves you dizzy with the overbearing reek of nothing short of hard amphetamines, the cherry on top in your sad pursuit of a simple bathroom break.

It’s just your luck getting lost, but at least you’ll have funny conversations to bring back to girls.

However, your continuous search is cut short when a booming echo is heard in the main club, and you watch in horror–having finally escaped the maze of the booth section to peer through the joint doorway–as a bartender’s head slams onto the countertop, a pool of blood cascading around him.

In a fit of panic, outrageous gatherings of people ram themselves out the doors, screaming as they go, trampling each other with only one goal: escape.

All you can do is stare, frozen in your spot, eyes frantically flitting between the now-dead bartender,—bullet-hole puncturing straight through his head— the surging crowd, and whoever the assailant is, where they may be.

Yeah, you’ve certainly lost a need for the bathroom.

Instantly, your heart ascends to your throat, wobbly, unsteady feet climbing back through the booths, desperately slamming open doorways in your search before a “Psst!” breaches your ringing eardrums.

Sabina, holding an utterly wasted Margerie against her shoulder, crouches down behind a door, gesturing for you to rush over and claiming a second exit should be near the back. 

Police sirens blare in the distance, and through repetitive words of encouragement to your petrified frame from the older girl, you escape from the first exit in sight, gasping for the air unwilling to enter your lungs.

“I already called a cab for this gal right after hearing the shots,” Sabina relays, rubbing soothing circles on your back as she regards a very much intoxicated Margerie. 

“You,” She points in your direction, brows lifted. “Call your man. And don’t tell me he’s not your man, he will come and get you.”

All you can do is nod, hands fervently scrolling through your contacts, pressing onto his number as you bring the phone to your ear.

The line crackles for a moment before you realize he picked up, sounding rather out of breath for some odd reason. Must have been at the gym, although it is pretty late.

Ignoring any questions, you get straight to the point.

“Binnie,” You urgently whisper, voice breaking a bit.

The man in question immediately perks up at your tone, nudging the screen closer to his ear with his shoulder, using his teeth to get rid of the gloves on his hands.

“Mm? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He quips, concern evident.

No matter your relationship status, he still cares. For you, for your safety.

Ah, he makes no-strings difficult.

“I.. I need you to pick me up, I’m really scared right now.”

Stifling, you wave a very wasted Margerie off in her taxi, craning whilst awaiting his response, Sabina remaining beside you.

“Send me the address, I’ll be there,” Changbin soothes, pulling the magazine from his pistol and stuffing it in his ‘gym’ bag, washing his hands in the sink of the exact bathroom you’d be searching for.

And when your text comes in after he hangs up, his face contorts into that of surprise upon finding you in the same location he was at: Dixie’s.

Because while you were partying, Changbin was completing a job.

No, The Cypher was completing a job requiring the death of a certain someone, a certain bartender who just so happened to be the murder you were a first hand witness to.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[sidesteppostinghours]

*whispering softly* it all comes back to you, you little shit

small analysis about why i think this is a really good song for fhr under the cut

—

Is it really a complex or just lacking context/Why would someone go so far to be a walking lie?

this just. sums up step as a character. such a massive chunk of their story is exploring the identities they take up(puppet, step, and vsona) and the reasons why they use each one. why did step decide to be so many different people at once? is it safety? comfort? simply not knowing how to be anything else? the vagueness leaves it open for interpretation. a lot of the song is like this, which is why i find its really good for a wide variety of peoples steps.

Yeah, that don't sound like me/I don't think I'm that guy (enter beginner's guide)

technically not an analysis, but i have a really strong image of step singing all three lines (counting the one in the bracket as a line) with their three identities singing one line each if that makes sense.

Please, excuse our current appearance/I realize that it's quite a mess

this line can be taken as two things. either its step talking about themeselves– most likely post-heartbreak– and how theyre clearly not the hero they used to be. or the line can be about the rangers. the second interpretation makes more sense with the next lines:

And our deepest apologies for all of the noise/We're understaffed and we're over-stressed

i think with the previous lines being an interpretation of step, this dives more into their gripes with their villainy (eg, some steps are overworked, some steps are unsure of their own goals, some of them arent sure if they want to be a villain) and how the it affects their mental state ("the noise" in this case could refer to the stress and doubts, or if you want to get literal, it could be steps endless amounts of brain passengers).

with the rangers interpretation, though, i imagine it being one of them literally describing the state of the rangers at the moment. most likely ortega showing step the hq after the argent incident? in this case it could become a lot more sinister, since theres a lot of room for step to take advantage of the information ortega just handed them.

That I would lose (needed a change of pace)/Oh, I would lose/Between my left and right, one day I'd have to choose (gone without a chance)

honestly? this whole section is the kind of thing id imagine is running through steps mind 24/7. lots of missed opportunities, cutting back and forth, regrets everywhere you turn. and step still has to make a choice now to be better or worse than who they were the day before.

He found the man before him had died

looking in the mirror. finding a dead man. need i say more.

[luveline]

Spencer’s oldest child (either with reader or previous relationship) wanting to help out with readers baby!

“So…” 

“So,” Spencer echoes, hooking Amy under the arms before she can wriggle away. He props her on the counter, cloth already in hand. 

“About the baby.” 

“What about the baby?” he asks, encouraging her head back gently to wipe her mouth. She’s covered in butter and omelette, a chive stuck to her chin. 

“You know how she’s little?” 

“Yes.” Spencer wipes her face clean very gently. It’s not a good plan, Amy wriggles and squirms away from the warm water and it takes a long time, but Spencer can’t bring himself to be rough. “She’s really little. I know all about it.” 

“And mom is tired.” 

Spencer grins. “Yes, mom is tired.” 

“Can I look after the baby? ‘Cos I’m big?” 

Spencer isn’t in the habit of lying to her, perhaps to the detriment of his own easy life. “Probably not. You are getting bigger, but she’s so little she’s actually quite fragile. We have to be careful to hold her the right way, and to carry her gently, because she’s not done forming. You don’t have the dexterity to do this all the time. Plus, she’s heavy.” Spencer puts the cloth aside. He leans down enough to be face to face with Amy, puckered up for a kiss. 

Amy frowns. Spencer kisses her damp cheek. 

“I do too have dex-trity.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I want to look after the baby.” 

“Then who will look after me?” Spencer asks cheekily. 

“Mom.” 

“Okay. Listen,” he takes her face carefully into his hand, wiping at the place where he’d kissed affectionately, “there are ways you can help with the baby. Lots of ways! Stuff we already do, like making dinner, and stuff we’ve been doing to help mom, like washing her clothes and watering her plants.” 

“I love mom so I water the plants, that’s not the baby.” 

“I know,” he says, rubbing her cheek. “That’s why I do it too. But I promise it helps mommy more than you realise when we do this stuff for her.” 

“Let’s do something else.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Spencer opens his arms for her and she latches on like his baby sloth. He used to say it to her all the time, how she was his lazy sloth pup, always on his chest. “How about we ask?” 

He carries her out of the kitchen and upstairs to find you, only you’re not where they left you in the master bedroom. Instead, you're sitting on the floor of Amy’s bedroom with the baby swaddled to your chest. “Oh, hey, it’s big Reid and little Reid.”  

“What Reid does that make you?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m ambiguously sized Reid.” You look down at the baby. “And this is tiny Reid.” 

“What are you doing?” Amy asks. 

“I’m cleaning up your humongous mess, angel.”

“What!” Amy shouts. Spencer laughs at her outburst. “Mom, I’m supposed to help you!” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me! Daddy, put me down.” 

Spencer obliges her and sets her down. Amy runs to you and takes the doll from your hand, to your surprise, sweeping the pile of her dolls away, mixing the ones you’d redressed with naked and ragged ones. You cover the baby’s back, sighing. Spencer knows from experience those dolls are finicky. 

“I was just trying to help,” you say, pouting at her. “It was a big mess, you can’t do it all by yourself, you’re just my little girl.” 

Spencer appreciates the way you say it. It’s good to love someone, but it feels like great luck to have fallen in love with a mom who couldn’t adore her children more than you do. He wanted kids so badly, and your love for them cements a great decision. Amy doesn’t feel so lucky, throwing herself against the side of her bed with a dramatic, forlorn whine. 

You tip your head back as Spencer kneels by your side. “What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He pulls the swaddle from the baby’s face to see her. She’s awake but quiet. Recognition lights her features when she notices his poking, giving him a gurgling smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says to you. “Amy just wants to help today, ‘cos she’s our lovely girl.” His voice turns to sweetness as the baby’s smile widens. “Hello, angel. Hi, hi, hi.” 

“You wanna help me?” you ask. 

Amy pulls her face up from her messy bed sheets. “Yes, please.” 

“Well, nobody’s given me a hug in a while.” 

“I want to help with the baby!” 

“Nobody’s given her a cuddle today, either.” 

“She’s cuddling you right now!” 

“She’s just resting. What she needs is a good hug and a good kiss.” You stretch your legs out in front of you and reach back to pull at the swaddle. Spencer helps before you can stretch your shoulder in the wrong way, taking the fabric down your arms and releasing you from its confines. You cup the baby’s weight in one hand, her head the other, and slide her into your arm. “Come on, best big sister. Come and hold her for me.” 

Amy rushes to do as you’ve said. Spencer smiles to himself and pulls the mound of dolls toward him —there’s a lot of work to do in here, you weren’t kidding about the mess. 

You put the baby in Amy’s lap. 

“Now,” you say, leaning into Spencer’s, arms opening expectantly, “for me?” 

Spencer can’t wait to abandon the doll and bend down over you. He almost pokes your kidney out with a Barbie, but he’s never been any good at resisting you when you ask for a cuddle. It’s not your most comfortable embrace, and yet it’s as perfect as any other, his laugh lost in your shoulder, wrapping his arms behind your back. 

“Keep an eye on the babies,” you whisper. 

Spencer checks that Amy’s holding the baby the right way and makes you into a Reid sandwich. “She told me she is too dexterous.” 

“Did you imply she wasn’t?” 

“I said,” he relents, smiling to himself as you squeeze his waist, “that she’s not dexterous enough to carry the baby all day long.” 

“But how do you know?” 

“I read a couple parenting books a few years ago, I tend to have a pretty good memory.” 

“Do you remember how to rub my back?” you tease, softly, still a little shy after all these years. 

Spencer rubs your back. Amy babbles loving nonsense at the baby for a few minutes, and then complains of being bored and wanting another omelette. 

[deafsignifcantother]

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

.

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remote down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

.

.

.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, party scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

.

.

.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.” 

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before). 

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame. 

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips. 

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.” 

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

[willowser]

"i ain't takin' a fuckin' bath."

katsuki's half-undressed, standing in the kitchen with the fridge doors wide open; shirtless, shoulders broad and muscles round and taut, cool air raising goosebumps across his exposed skin. his un-buttoned tac pants are dangerously low on his hips, so low that you wonder—while staring at the dimples of his back—if he's doing it on purpose.

the dewy sheen of sweat he'd come home with has gone matte, leaving him in a thin, sticky, grimy layer that is grimace-inducing to feel. like most nights, dirt and soot and even blood—grown dark and less worrisome with time—color him haphazardly, strewn across his body; a mosaic of dynamight, made by his own hands.

"but you stink," you fail to suppress a smile when he snaps his head around, to fix you with an ugly look that you return. he manages to hide his own amusement in the bulge of his bicep. "i'm serious! a bath will help you relax!"

turning back to the open fridge, he grumbles, "i am relaxed," in a tone that doesn't sound relaxed. at all.

"come on," you urge, shuffling up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist despite all his dried grease and muck. "you go first and i'll be there in a minute."

that catches his attention enough that he finally closes the doors, facing you as he runs a lazy hand over his stomach. to his credit, he does look a bit more relaxed than he had when he'd come through the door—but the set of his jaw is still too stern, brow only ever furrowed, a little more argumentative than usual, even if it's harmless.

katsuki seems to consider your unspoken proposition, before finally surrendering with a roll of his eyes. "fine, but i'm takin' a shower like a grown ass man."

"no!" you groan, latching onto his arm when he moves to step around you. you try to dig your heels into the ground, but you're in the kitchen in socks, and katsuki only yanks you after him with a wicked grin. "bath! a bath will help you relax, i mean it! i've got lavender oils!"

"i ain't using' your frilly shit!"

he finally slips from you when you sputter out a laugh, tugging free from your grip before throwing you a look that is hot in more ways than one. innocent as you aimed to be, something tightens in your stomach; awakened at the sight of him.

you warn, "i'm only coming if you're in the bath!" and his loud, exaggerated groan echoes nearly throughout your entire house, swallowing up your chirpy laugh.

—but, much to your surprise, he listens.

you let him soak for a good five minutes before following after, and when you find him, he's got his head leaned back over the edge, elbows resting on either side of the tub, legs bent and knees sticking up out of the water. handsome as ever, you think, a little dreamy, before the marble of him shifts at your arrival.

he only opens one eye, and you can see already the tension has drained from his face; half-asleep, a little bloodshot and breathing too even to convince you otherwise.

"well, well, well," you murmur, lowering to the floor on your knees after his eye slips shut again. "look at you, princess."

katsuki makes a haughty noise of irritation, but doesn't bite back: a dead giveaway of his exhaustion. instead his hand finds the material of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before he slurs out, "get y'r ass in the tub."

you'd bite his fingers if they weren't still disgusting, but you place a teeny kiss on the cleanest spot you can see on his wrist. "i don't need a bath, but thanks."

"hah?" he grunts, eye shooting open again as he frowns at you. when you only smile coyly at him, he raises his head and glares at you properly. "y'dirty liar, you said—"

"i said i'd be right behind you," you grin. "not that i'd be getting in."

the water sloshes up against the sides as he straightens his posture, baring his teeth at you as he prepares, you think, to lunge out and haul you in with him despite a screaming protest—but you reach forward just before he can, dipping a hand down into the warmth right between his thighs.

katsuki jumps, seriously, leg kicking out so hard that his heel slams into the edge of the tub, when you gently hold him where he's soft. "jesus!" he all but yelps, eyes going a little wide as he realizes what you've done. what you've made of him.

he's still—marble-still—air sucking in sharply between his parted, frozen lips as you touch him, and heat pools so obviously, so suddenly, in his cheeks, sweet enough that you want to bite into the apples of them. in your hand he swells thick, quickly, a little slippery from the soap he's already added to the water.

all his tension returns, as a different strain; katsuki swallows, hard, as his eyes dart back and forth between your own and where your hand disappears into the water; when you gently rub your thumb back and forth across the tip of him, his back straightens, even moreso, and, you don't think he knows it, but his legs part even further.

an invitation if you'd ever seen one.

he finally comes back to life when you lean in close enough to nudge your nose to his, just to see him blink.

he's so cute, you want to eat him alive.

"the f-fuck are y'doin'?" he whispers, eyes dropping back down as you stroke him lightly, just enough to coil him tighter. at the end of the tub, water sloshes quietly from the movement, and katsuki's ears burn.

you've caught him entirely off guard, and if it wasn't clear before, it becomes crystalline when you kiss him, deeply. he's lazy to reciprocate, breathing softly, open-mouthed, as you press a soft kiss to his top lip and then to his bottom, whispering his name back to him just to hear his sharp inhale.

you time a clever stroke of your wrist with the firm press of your mouth to his, insistent and fast, urging the wildness of him to catch up, to come out. it hits him all at once—your desire, his own, the heat of it all—and his hand shoots out of the water to grip the back of your neck, a deep groan slipping from his chest as his cock kicks in your hand.

you try more than once to pull back from him with a sneaky little laugh, but his fingers tangle in your hair and he kisses your teeth and you think, maybe, you're not teasing him enough. his knees knock lightly against the ceramic as he tries to spread them, even further, and his hips shift up with every slick pump of your fist, urgent and eager.

he speaks, furiously, against your lips, when you snatch your hand away, instead teasing your fingers along the inside of his thigh. "get—in th'fuckin' tub." his shoulders tremble, ever so slightly. "i ain't askin' again."

you laugh against him and his nostrils flare. "you didn't ask at all!"

"so quit your bullshit already."

you lick his bottom lip, nipping at the fat of it gently before weaving your own hand into his damp hair. "no," you tease, like a brat, but when you tug enough at the strands, he gets the hint and allows you to pull away. "i'm trying to help you relax, you know?"

katsuki doesn't respond at first, only huffing out a frustrated sound when you wrap your hand around his length again. his face is steaming, despite how firm he's trying to be; your own desire strikes hot when his head tips back just slightly, jaw straining as he grits his teeth.

"no," he finally grunts, eyes dark and pinned to you. "'s'the last thing i feel, is-is relaxed."

"hmm," you make a point to frown and look away, like you're thinking, but katsuki's impatience wins out and he drags you back in for a shuddering kiss. he's fervent, now, nipping at your lip and brushing his tongue against your own eagerly, trying to muffle a painful sound against your cheek. "that's too bad," you tell him—but you don't think he hears you, really, over his low curse and the returning slosh of water against the tub.

but when you ask him again, only a handful of minutes later—his boneless answer is precisely what you were looking for.

[kayewrite]

Want so Bad

genre:; fluff and (..) word count: 3.9K

Minho x reader! Minho x fem. reader!!

wherein: Minho is everything you never wanted in life. But he wants you….so bad.

(an: this is my favorite and i had fun writing while listening to Minho and Jisung's "Want so Bad" again and again and again. so i hope you enjoy reading it!! a comment, like, and reblog is very much appreciated)

"Why are you here?"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up at the person standing in front of you, your voice dripping with boredom.

"I'm here because I miss you," he replies, winking at you in that infuriating way that always makes you cringe.

You’re in your living room, buried in your textbooks, when this boy suddenly appears in front of you, as if someone summoned him from nowhere.

Minho.

He’s your brother Jisung’s best friend in the entire world—or so they claim. There’s a three-year gap between you and them. They’re in their final year of college, while you’re just a freshman.

You would give him a proper introduction, but the truth is, you can't stand him. You’ve hated him ever since you were 15. He and Jisung have always loved teasing you, making your life miserable whenever they could.

"Jisung! Your favorite family member is here!" you shout, unable to handle Minho’s relentless teasing any longer. Sure, you’re in college now and supposed to be more mature (or so you tell yourself), but after years of dealing with them, you’ve become accustomed to hating their antics.

"I wasn’t even part of the family… but I guess I will be after I marry one of the family members," Minho smirks, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Then go marry my brother," you retort, your expression as nonchalant as ever.

He laughs and casually snatches the book you were studying. You’re so used to his flirty teasing by now that it barely fazes you.

It all started back in high school when Jisung teased you relentlessly, convinced you had a crush on Minho. He found it on your pink diary and read it out loud, complete with the cheesy music that played whenever you opened it. (Well, you did have a crush on Minho back then, but it faded over time.)

Jisung teased you so much that you cried your eyes out, and then he told Minho all about it, sparking years of torment.

"Oh no, my sister might actually ace her exams now that she’s seen her only inspiration," Jisung chimes in as he walks down the stairs, pulling on a t-shirt. You roll your eyes at him too.

"I think I should come over more often. I might just make your sister the top student," Minho adds with a grin.

There goes your peaceful day.

But thankfully, they don’t bother you too much, as they soon move to the kitchen to eat. You try to refocus on your studies, but chemistry is giving you a hard time, so you pop in your earbuds and pull up a tutorial on YouTube. Just as you’re getting into it, a glass of orange juice and a muffin appear on your table (or rather, on top of your notebook).

"Eat, little devil. Food helps you focus more," Jisung says, placing the snacks down.

You mumble a quick thanks, thinking he’ll leave, but instead, he plops down on the couch behind you. You’re sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, your books and notes spread out on the coffee table in front of you. Then, without a care in the world, Jisung props his legs up on the table, acting as if your things are invisible.

You were almost touched by your brother’s gesture… but never mind.

"Yah!" You glare at him, but he just shrugs and turns on the TV, putting on a movie. A minute later, Minho joins him.

"What are you studying, kid?" Minho asks, even though he’s already glanced at your book.

"None of your business."

"Oh, is that a new subject? I’ve never heard of it before."

Argh.

"You should help her, Minho. I heard from her professor that she scored low on a quiz," Jisung says, his tone annoyingly casual.

How does he know that?

"Really?" Minho leans forward, peering at what you’re writing. "Well, chemistry is indeed tough."

"Help her out. You always got high scores in that subject back in the day."

You’re listening to them while half-heartedly writing, your earbuds now turned down low. You’re trying to pretend they’re just ghosts, but hearing them talk about your struggles in chemistry makes you want to join the conversation.

"Sure, if you give me that game console," Minho quips.

"On second thought, I think my sister will manage just fine."

Arghhh.

You can’t take it anymore. You gather up your things, smack your brother’s leg, and stomp upstairs.

Later, you’re back in your study area, trying to focus again when there’s a knock on your door. It can only be one of them since the three of you are the only ones at home. Your parents are working, even on a Sunday.

"What?!" you yell, your irritation clear.

You’re about to open the door when it swings open on its own, revealing Minho.

"You shouldn’t talk like that to your tutor," he says, flicking your forehead.

"Ow!"

Tutor? Jisung must’ve given him the console.

You don’t bother complaining because, aside from being tired… well, yeah, you’re just too tired.

"You should listen well, okay? If you don’t, we won’t get married," Minho teases, treating you like a child as always. You hate it, but you’re too drained to argue.

"Okay." You roll your eyes for the ninth time and settle in to listen as he starts to explain.

The tutorial is full of bickering and Minho’s relentless teasing, but unexpectedly, you finally understand the material. Your questions are answered, and for the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief.

"Thank you," you say as you bid him goodbye.

"Goodbye. Let me know when you get home. And say hi to your baby cats for me," your brother says, waving Minho off.

"How did your chemistry exam go?"

You’re happy with your results and you share them with Minho.

"I got an almost perfect score!"

"Really?" He messes up your hair. "Then you should thank me. You owe me."

"I’ll get Jisung’s console for you," you joke

Minho is at your house again. He says they have a group study session, but Jisung isn’t home yet. You both settled into the living room, the hum of the TV in the background as Minho lounged on the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably. You took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch, your study materials spread out on the coffee table.

“So, what else do you need help with, little genius?” Minho teased, nudging your shoulder with his foot.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I don’t need your help again, Mr. Top Student. I can manage just fine on my own.”

Minho chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “Sure, you can. But remember, you owe me for that almost perfect score. I think I might start charging for my tutoring services.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Minho leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “You know, you’re pretty impressive. Balancing all this studying and still managing to have a sense of humor.”

You felt a small flutter in your stomach at his words, a sensation that caught you off guard. You quickly masked it with a smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Minho.”

He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Who says I’m flattering you? I’m just stating facts.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words got caught in your throat when you met his gaze. There was something different in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. The usual playful glint was still there, but beneath it was a warmth that made you feel… special.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the notes in front of you, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling. “Anyway, where’s this group of yours? I thought you were supposed to be studying.”

Minho shrugged, casually twirling a pen between his fingers. “They’re running late. I guess they’re not as eager to study as I am.”

“Right, because you’re so eager,” you muttered, the sarcasm clear in your voice.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and familiar. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you. You’re much more fun than Jisung.”

Your heart fluttered again, and you bit your lip, trying to keep your cool. “You’re just saying that because I actually study, unlike my brother.”

“True,” he agreed, his tone light. “But also because you’re interesting. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

You were about to respond when you heard the front door open and Jisung’s voice echo through the house. “I’m back! Did I miss anything?”

You quickly straightened up, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment that your brother had arrived. Minho, however, just smiled, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, “We’ll continue this later.”

Your breath hitched at the closeness, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. As Minho pulled back with a wink, you felt the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

Jisung entered the living room, oblivious to the tension that had suddenly filled the air. “Hey, what are you two up to?”

“Just studying,” Minho replied casually, as if nothing had happened, though the smirk on his face told a different story.

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, just studying.”

But as you glanced at Minho, who was now chatting with your brother like everything was normal, you couldn’t help but wonder if things between you had just shifted in a way you hadn’t expected. And as much as you tried to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the fact that, for the first time, Minho’s teasing had made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite understand.

You were walking through the university courtyard, your thoughts scattered as you mentally planned your study schedule for the rest of the day. It had been a busy week, and you were looking forward to some peace and quiet when you suddenly spotted Minho across the way. He was chatting animatedly with a girl, her laughter ringing out as he carried a stack of books for her.

You instinctively slowed your pace, your eyes lingering on them for a moment longer than you intended. The girl was pretty, with a bright smile and an easygoing vibe that made her seem instantly likable. She playfully nudged Minho with her shoulder, and he grinned back at her, that familiar teasing spark in his eyes.

For a second, you considered changing your route, avoiding the interaction altogether. But then you stopped yourself. Why would you do that? It’s not like it mattered. It wasn’t like you cared who Minho was talking to, or how close they seemed. Right?

So you took a deep breath and kept walking, your expression carefully neutral as you approached them. As you got closer, Minho caught sight of you, and his grin widened.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” he called out, his voice full of mock surprise. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? Saw my handsome face and had to come over.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Oh please, I just happened to be walking by. Don’t flatter yourself.”

The girl next to him laughed at your banter, and you noticed the way she lightly slapped his arm, a gesture that spoke of familiarity. It was clear they were close. Your eyes flickered to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of something—what was it? Jealousy? Annoyance? Whatever it was, you quickly pushed it down.

Minho noticed your glance and, as if reading your mind, raised an eyebrow. “Ah, sorry. Where are my manners? This is Seoyun, a friend from my class. Seoyun, this is my little genius here,” he added with a teasing smirk.

You gave her a polite nod, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at the word “friend.” “Nice to meet you, Seoyun.”

“Nice to meet you too!” she replied cheerfully. “Minho’s told me a lot about you. He says you’re quite the brainiac.”

You shot Minho a look, and he just grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep him in line,” you said, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Seoyun laughed again, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable they seemed together. It was… unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But you weren’t about to dwell on it.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” you said, glancing at your watch. “Places to be, things to study.”

“Always so busy,” Minho said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “But you know, all work and no play…”

“…keeps you out of trouble,” you finished for him with a smirk. “But don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

Seoyun smiled at you again, giving a little wave. “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully, we’ll see each other around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, waving back before turning to continue on your way.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, just once, to see Minho and Seoyun laughing together as they continued their conversation. You tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that settled in your chest, brushing it off as nothing.

‘She must be his girlfriend,’ you thought to yourself, trying to sound nonchalant even in your own mind. And then you shrugged, forcing yourself to focus on your day ahead. ‘Why would I care?’

But even as you walked away, you couldn’t quite shake the image of them together, the way they seemed to fit so naturally. And for the first time, Minho’s teasing didn’t just annoy you—it made you feel something deeper, something you weren’t ready to face just yet.

“Hey.”

You looked up at the voice calling your name. It was Jeongin, your classmate.

“We got paired for the presentation,” he reminded you. Oh! You remembered now, probably too occupied with other subjects to focus on this. “If you don’t mind, can we start after class? That way we’ll finish early and can focus on other things.”

“Sure,” you agreed, appreciating his practical suggestion.

“Great. We should head to a coffee shop after this.”

After class, you walked together, discussing the presentation details. Jeongin had some good ideas, and you found yourself easily slipping into a productive conversation. The atmosphere between you two was relaxed, and soon you arrived at the coffee shop.

“What do you want?” Jeongin asked as you both approached the counter.

“Latte, please,” you replied, smiling. “Thanks.”

As Jeongin went to order, you scanned the room, your eyes landing on a familiar figure. Minho. He was with a group of friends, casually chatting. When he looked up, his gaze met yours. He smirked at you, and you were about to wave, but then he broke the eye contact and turned his attention back to the person next to him. You scanned the group quickly, noticing your brother wasn’t there.

You tried to focus on your work, but you kept catching Minho glancing at you from the corner of your eye. For the first time, you wondered what he thought of seeing you with another guy. The idea made you smirk a little, enjoying the small twist of the situation. Minho, always so sure of himself, might just be a little thrown off by this.

Jeongin returned with your latte and his own drink, setting them down on the table.

“Ready to get started?” he asked, pulling out his notes.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you replied, pushing the thoughts of Minho to the back of your mind—for now, at least.

You were studying in the living room, the soft murmur of a video tutorial explaining organic chemistry filling the space. You were too focused to notice Minho entering your house until his voice broke through your concentration.

“Hey, my favorite person,” he greeted with a playful smile.

You glanced around, looking behind you and to the sides. “My brother’s not here,” you stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course you are the one I meant. My favorite person.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “If Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were people, they’d be your favorites.”

“Of course,” he agreed, his tone light.

You returned to your studies, but Minho didn’t leave. Instead, he plopped down on the couch, stretching out as if he had all the time in the world. You tried to ignore him, but it wasn’t long before he broke the silence again.

“So, who was that guy you were with at the café earlier?” His tone was casual, but you could feel the underlying curiosity.

You hesitated, not sure how to respond. You didn’t have to be honest, but something made you want to see how he would react. “He’s a suitor,” you said nonchalantly, not looking up from your notebook.

Minho’s expression shifted slightly, but he quickly masked it, leaning back with a smirk. “A suitor, huh? I should tell your brother. Maybe he’ll confiscate your phone so you can focus on studying.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a spark of irritation. “I’m not a kid, Minho. I can decide who I want to spend time with.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, really? You’re still just a freshman. You should focus on your studies instead of getting distracted by things like relationships.”

Your irritation grew. “What about you? You’re in a relationship with that girl you were walking with, but I can’t be in one?”

Minho’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before he quickly composed himself. He knew you were jealous, and he had to hide the smile threatening to break through. “So, you were jealous?” he teased, leaning forward.

You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, and you stood up abruptly, gathering your things. “I’m not jealous,” you snapped, turning on your heel to head back to your room.

As you walked away, Minho couldn’t help but smile. He knew you were, even if you wouldn’t admit it, and that only made him like you more.

Life continues as usual, with your brother Jisung and Minho still finding every opportunity to tease you. Tomorrow is their graduation day, and as you walk into your brother's room to borrow a math book, you decide to ask him a question that's been on your mind.

"Jisung, what’s your plan after graduation?"

You’re genuinely curious, even if you’d never admit it to his face. Despite all the sibling rivalry, you’re proud of him for making it this far.

"Probably end up unemployed," he replies with a shrug.

You give him a deadpan look. What answer did you expect, anyway?

"Obviously, I’ll take the board exam first, then start job hunting," he says while folding his clothes. Then he glances at you, squinting. "You’re not asking because you’re curious about Minho, are you?"

Yeah…no!

You quickly throw a pillow at him, trying to hide your flustered expression. "Do you really think my world revolves around him?" Jisung catches the pillow and smirks, clearly not convinced.

"Even if you don't ask about Minho, I'll tell you anyway. Remember when I told you to spend more time with him? You should’ve listened, because after graduation, he’s going abroad. There’s a job offer waiting for him."

Oh…

You manage a nonchalant nod, but as you leave his room, the news weighs heavily on your mind.

That night, as you lie in bed, you can’t help but replay Jisung’s words over and over. Minho is leaving. The thought sends a strange ache through your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s not a big deal, that his absence won’t matter—but deep down, you know it will.

Graduation day arrives in a whirlwind of excitement. Your parents are there, beaming with pride, and you stand among the crowd, clutching a bouquet of flowers. You watch as your brother and his friends, including Minho, happily pose for group pictures, congratulating each other and hugging in celebration of finally finishing their studies. The joy is infectious, but there's a tinge of sadness in your heart.

Minho is leaving.

The thought lingers, even as you force yourself to focus on the present moment.

"Hey, little devil, take a picture of us," your brother calls out to you. You roll your eyes at the nickname but comply, grabbing the Polaroid camera hanging around your neck. It is his day, after all.

You snap the picture, capturing their bright smiles and laughter. The moment is perfect, but it tugs at your heartstrings.

Minho is leaving.

No matter how much you’ve pretended to hate him, the truth is, you’re going to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

"Are these my flowers?" your brother asks, reaching for the bouquet in your hands. You quickly hide it behind your back.

"They’re not yours! Mom has your flowers," you retort, giving him a playful glare.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief, probably know what you are planning. "Okay, okay, I get it."

Just then, Minho approaches you, his usual teasing grin in place. "Can you take a picture of me? So you’ll have a souvenir picture of me," he said with a wink.

Pushing aside the urge to roll your eyes. Today, you’re happy for him, even if it’s bittersweet.

"Ha ha ha, I’m honored," you reply with mock sarcasm, but you can’t help laughing with him. You snap the picture, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

"We should take a picture together too," he says suddenly, taking the camera from your hands. He hands it to one of his classmates and stands beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder. You try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, secretly pleased to have a picture with him. You’re going to miss him.

After the picture is taken, you slowly extend the bouquet toward him. "These are for you. Congratulations."

Minho’s eyes light up with surprise and genuine happiness as he takes the flowers. "It’s my first time receiving flowers. I’m blushing," he says with a laugh. Then, with a mischievous grin, he adds, "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? Wait, I need to think about it."

He presses a finger to his temple, pretending to be deep in thought.

You slap his arm lightly, laughing. "It’s a farewell gift, you idiot."

"Wait, you should give me more time to think," he says, closing his eyes dramatically. After a few seconds, he opens them with a playful glint. "Yes. I will be your boyfriend."

You freeze, caught off guard. What?

"So from now on, you’re my girlfriend," he declares, and before you can react, he leans in and plants a quick kiss on your lips.

Your mind spins as his words sink in. "I promised myself I’d wait until you graduate, but I can’t help it—especially since I’m going far away, someone might take you from me." he says softly and laughs, messing with your hair. "So wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll come back to you."

It takes a moment, but you finally manage a small nod, a smile tugging at your lips.

Minho smiles back, his eyes filled with warmth.

You realize then,

more than ever,

that you want him

just as much as he wants you.

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 36. an overwhelming realisation

(wc: 2.601 but its worth it TRUST ME..)

it was only around 17:30 when karina, minjeong and you had finally made it back to your apartment complex. even though you initially didn’t plan on purchasing anything, you had returned back bags full of clothing and whatnot as the two had decided to shower you with birthday gifts. of course you had protested, they just didn’t care.

“my legs feel so sore.” you humoured in slight pain, leaning against the the wall of the elevator. “at least we had fun, right?” and minjeong was right. you responded back with a small smile and nod, changing your view to karina who was stuck on her phone. “who are you texting?” you questioned. karina hummed in response, looking up before pushing her phone into her pocket. “no one.” she casually answered back.

with sudden movement, karina had reached forward and tugged the shopping bags out your hands, leaving you barely any time to register it. “i’ll bring these to your room, minjeong has a present for you in her room so you should get off on the third floor with her.” karina suggested, reaching back to grab your purse too. the elevator’s door had opened, leaving you not much choice as karina urged the two of you out before pressing the close button.

you watched the lift go up to the fourth floor and turned to minjeong with a dumbfounded stare. “what was that about?” you mused with a slight laugh. minjeong smiled back at you, nodding her head down the corridor of the third floor. “lets go.” you wondered what both their issues were as minjeong was already walking ahead of you without any other words following.

instead of words, it was you that was following her and you couldn’t help but think there was something off about the silence minjeong remained in. you two reached her door and she turned back to look at you. “i forgot my keys at jaemin’s place, can you get them for me?” she requested with a slight plea, already holding you by the shoulders and pushing you towards jaemin’s door.

again, you were left with no other choice but to comply. jaemin’s room was right next to hers anyways, and you questioned why in the world she couldn’t get it herself. you knocked on his door, and the sound of muffled voices infiltrated your hearing before it went quiet. ‘come in’ was all you heard after, the voice being nothing like jaemin’s distinguishing one. you hesitated, but eventually opened the door to enter jaemin’s dimly lit apartment.

it took you by surprise, the way the dark room had lit up and a chorus of cheers erupted as you entered. your eyes scanned the whole room that had been filled by your 3rd and 4th floor neighbours, all carrying a variant of party decorations. you were even more surprised to see mark and rei, both of them pulling you into the room. “happy birthday (—)!” rei cheered, dragging you to the middle of jaemin’s living room.

at a loss for words, you just gaped at your surroundings, a warmth swelling in your chest. “this wasn’t needed.” you shied away, too embarrassed by all the sudden attention on you. mark, who had found a spot right next to you, threw his arm around your shoulder. “of course this is needed, i’m glad jaemin didn’t listen to your words.” you hadn’t even noticed him slyly slipping a party hat on your head, because something else caught your attention.

“jaemin? this was his idea?” majority confirmed your question, and mark added that ‘both jaemin and karina planned this, they really put effort into it.’ and the surge of emotions you felt as you saw jaemin exit his kitchen with a cake in his grip were enough to almost bring you to tears. he had placed the cake down on the coffee table, carrying a small grin on his face as well as a party hat of his own. his eyes locked with yours a few seconds later.

“(—)! i know you said that you didn’t wanna do anything for your birthday, but i thought it would be nice to spend your first birthday in this apartment with everyone else.. i even invited mark and rei!” jaemin rambled. “i hope you don’t mind.. i also didn’t have time to bake the cake myself so i hope you don’t mind cake from the-”

jaemin almost toppled over from the force you attacked him with. you hugged him with the biggest smile you’ve ever had, almost choking him in the process. “this is so sweet of you jaemin, both you and karina are the best.” you took a step back, placing a hand over your stupidly huge smile. feeling the arms of someone else around your shoulder, you were met with karina who planted a chaste kiss on your cheek. “happy birthday (—), i hope you’re happy today.” it was rare that you’d see karina smile so big, but the smile on her face as she squished you into her for a hug was something you wish you’d see more often.

it was enough to finally bring you tears.

you could hear both mark and who you assumed to be jungwoo, laughing. “no way you’re actually crying.” mark asked in disbelief, though the comforting feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back showed that it was nothing more than a friendly tease. you really couldn’t help it, and as you pulled away from karina with your eyes filled with tears, you wondered what you had done to gain such friends who’d go out of their way to plan a surprise party for you.

“you’re going to make me cry too.” rei sulked, an endearing smile on her face as she hugged you from the side. jaemin agreed, and if you looked closer, you could see the way his eyes had threatened to gloss a little. he had walked over to you, wrapping his arm around you. “i’m glad you like it, once again happy birthday! and i’m sorry for all the trouble i’ve caused you but i’m glad you’re still sticking with me despite all that.” jaemin also wore an endearing smile on his face.

“this is getting sappy.” jisung cringed from across the room. haewon pushed him aside in return, kissing her teeth at his remark. “let them have their little sentimental moment before we celebrate her birthday.” she muttered warningly. “happy birthday (—)!” isa exclaimed, and a chain reaction of birthday wishes from the rest soon followed after.

“lets cut the cake now.” mark announced right after, already reaching down to the coffee table. jaemin had left your side and rushed to the kitchen to get the utensils as well as paper boards. it gave you time to take a look at the room, it was decorated nicely and everyone was seemingly enjoying their time as they conversed over the soft music playing in the background.

it was too perfect to be to true, though something felt missing. someone was definitely missing.

“we invited him but he said he had other plans, don’t think too much about it.” as if she could read your mind, rei who was still beside you reassured you with a rub to your shoulder. your head turned to her, surprised that she could tell that you were specifically looking for him. you nodded in acceptance. she was right, after all, today was about you, donghyuck shouldn’t be a thought when you were surrounded by all the people you loved.

but it wasn’t that easy, and every now and then, your mind would wander to donghyuck’s whereabouts, as well as his words. he said he would remember your birthday, and all you could wonder for the remainder of the night was how much truth those words really held.

“so i just knock on her door and give her this and the letter?” jaehyun repeated in confirmation, and donghyuck nodded. “just wish her a happy birthday. you can improvise the rest.” donghyuck instructed while he stood in front of jaehyun, grabbing onto his hand before sliding an envelope into it. “tell her to not read it until you’re gone.”

“and do you want me to tell her this is your doing?” jaehyun asked as he started to step towards the door. donghyuck thought about it for a while, before shrugging. “only if she asks.” the response made jaehyun laugh, who’s hand was now on the door handle. “she’s not gonna believe her eyes.” donghyuck claimed with a grin, checking the time on his phone. “i think she came back upstairs like twenty minutes ago, you can go now.” haechan walked over towards jaehyun before patting him on the back. it was their last interaction before jaehyun exited the door and turned to stand right in front of yours.

in those twenty minutes in your room, you had time to come down from the high you were on. you had checked your phone to see if donghyuck had texted you anything, the time already nearing 11 pm, but there was nothing, and you’re not sure if you expected it or are disappointed because you didn’t.

a knock on your door was what broke your train of thoughts, and your first thought was that it must be one of your neighbours. your second thought was unfortunately donghyuck, and it was probably that assumption that made you rush to your front door, heart beating in what you sadly can only assume was excitement.

it wasn’t donghyuck, though you wished it was him even more now. you could feel your stomach drop as you stood face to face with none other than jaehyun himself, the guy carrying a soft smile which displayed his dimples. your heart went from not beating at all, to beating erratically, your breath being anything but regular. were you perhaps dreaming? “you’re (—) right?”

so you were not dreaming. the realisation caused panic to form in your body, your eyes widened in the process. “you’re kidding me..” you muttered. jaehyun found it quite humorous and chuckled at your state. “i heard a lot of nice things about you from mark. its nice to finally meet you.” jaehyun’s words caused your breath to hitch. there was no way jaehyun was right in front of you.

“i’m dreaming right?” you whispered in disbelief which made jaehyun smile. “haechan guessed that you’d say something like that. since it’s your birthday, i’m here with a signed EP, as well as a special envelope that you can only open once you’re inside. i hope you enjoyed your birthday and i hope mark or haechan bring you with them to my next concert, you seem like a sweet person. it was nice meeting you (—).”

it was truly too much to comprehend. you knew that the possibility of meeting jaehyun wasn’t slim due to your connection with both mark and donghyuck, but with their persistent refusals, it was merely a wish, not something you actually expected to become reality. and as jaehyun’s words sunk in, the mention of donghyuck’s name finally caught onto your ears, a subconscious smile forming in your face from it.

“thank you so much.. seriously.” you sheepishly thanked him and jaehyun nodded, taking a step back before his hand motioned into a small wave. “its nothing, i hope you enjoy the rest of your night, happy birthday.” jaehyun bid his farewells before he turned around, leaving you inside your apartment, still not grasping the unreal experience.

you closed the door to your apartment and looked down and the items in your hands. you placed the EP carefully down before opening the envelope. the whole day was full of surprises and you were once again filled with surprise as you pulled out a small paper sheet, containing a hand written letter. the hand writing reminded you of a familiar one that you had seen before. your eyes raked over the words that donghyuck had written to you, a stupid grin stuck on your face as you did so. you weren’t even aware of how hot your body had started to feel, or how your stomach had started to tingle at the stupid words he wrote.

your feet carried you on its own and you exited your apartment with urgent steps. your hand had reached up to knock on donghyuck’s door, and as if he could sense your presence, it had opened after the second knock.

you remember the first time you met donghyuck. he wore a simple white shirt and black shorts as well as his black framed glasses, sporting copper brown hair as he opened the door for you. you remember the resentment you felt when despite his good looks, he was an asshole to you at that time.

now, stood in front of you with the same identical attire he wore that night, you felt nothing but butterflies growing in your stomach as donghyuck looked at you with a smile you could only describe as fondness. “happy birthday sweetheart, did you like my present?” you couldn’t even be annoyed at the teasing tone in his voice, or the use of that nickname you had started to grow fond of.

all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around him without any warning. donghyuck stumbled back, taken aback by the sudden affection but quickly reciprocated by wrapping his own arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and if your heart wasn’t beating like crazy itself, you’d be able to feel the way donghyuck’s heartbeat matched yours perfectly.

“what’s this about?” donghyuck chuckled, remaining his hold on you. you removed yourself from the crook of his neck and took a step back, though donghyuck’s arms remained around your waist to keep you close. you had to physically hold your smile back, not wanting to go overboard. “thank you… that was really nice of you.” you whispered, too scared that your emotions would be overwhelming if you spoke any louder.

donghyuck shrugged, looking at you in amusement. “its nothing. you said you wanted to meet him so here we are.” it felt like the more he spoke, the more your body tingled and heated up. you didn’t even know how to respond back to what he said, which allowed him to continue his words. “now that you met him, does that mean you’ll finally get over this crush you have on him?”

his words were meant to be a joke, simply referencing your previous conversation. but as you continued to stare at him, taking in just how… beautiful he looked up close like this as well as the way your heart wouldn’t stop beating, there was already an answer going through your head.

you think you already have.

your brain wasn’t in the right place, and your body moved before your thoughts did. you leaned closer to him and without much thought, placed your lips on donghyuck’s. it was nothing more than a peck because your mind had registered what you had done. you’re not quite sure why you did it, maybe it was because of the overwhelming excitement you felt, or the gratitude you had, or maybe it was the fact that he had been eyeing your lips for the past five seconds leading up to that.

your excuses didn’t matter, because just as you pulled away, donghyuck pulled you right back in himself, kissing you in the halls of the 4th floor with his hand on your jaw, so soft and delicate that you thought you were dreaming.

you had definitely gotten over jaehyun.

bonus! (haechan’s love letter draft)

previous — master list — next

notes ; happy late mark day 🥳🎊 as celebration we got… ynhae realising their feelings after 36 chapters? POP THE CHAMPAGNE AND FIRE THE FIREWORKS 🔥🎉🥳🎊🍾

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[darklordofthesimp]

Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.

Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.

A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.

Category: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language

You weren't a medic by any means. 

There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.

Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare. 

You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling. 

You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around. 

You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping. 

For some reason, the thought hurt. 

You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadn’t expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.

“Ghost,” you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. You’d never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would. 

You’d even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask.  

But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise. 

“You gonna give me hand or not?” His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. “Oh God.” 

You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldn’t see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didn’t have enough strength to take it off himself. 

“Stab wound,” Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. “Got me good.” 

“This shit needs to come off,” you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didn’t object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand. 

“Fuck,” the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. “Feel better already.” 

You didn’t reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood. 

No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasn’t a punctured lung. You didn’t have any seals on you and you didn’t want to slap him with some duct tape instead. He’d never let you live that down.

“How’s it lookin’, Sunshine?” Ghost asked, breathing heavily.

“Unfortunately,” you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, “if you apply pressure, you’ll live.” 

“Unfortunately?” He coughed,  the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement. 

“Very fucking unfortunate,” you confirmed with faux seriousness. 

You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. You’d wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided. 

“A ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckin’ usual.” 

You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldn’t stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasn’t dying any time soon. 

You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldn’t think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldn’t believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour. 

You hated it. 

Why the fuck couldn’t you open this wrapping? 

You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard? 

A gloved hand fell over your own. 

Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it. 

For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath. 

"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

You swallowed hard. 

His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same. 

"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess. 

There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."

You sucked in a breath.

Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you. 

“I’m a sniper, Sir.” You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. “I don’t shake.”

Ghost tutted from beneath his mask. 

“Haven’t been with the right bloke, then.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

Ghost blinked at you as though he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when you’d all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple. 

“The L.T can’t hold his tongue when he’s on the piss.” 

You thought that implied aggression. 

Clearly not.

“There is no right bloke,” you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier. 

Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghost’s face, praying he hadn’t noticed. You should have known better. 

His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making it’s way to your ears. 

“Looks like I’ve proved you wrong, Sunshine.” 

The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didn’t feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you. 

“You crack a lot of jokes for someone who’s a literal shish kebab,” you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.” The words were fired back, demanding your attention. 

You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. You’d never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something. 

“Can’t care too much in this business, Sir.” You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.

“I believed that once,” he tilted his head. 

“And now?” You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast. 

Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward. 

You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simon’s eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in it’s rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare. 

“Now,” he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. “Could say I’ve had a change of heart.” 

[ink-n-shadow]

Angel reader and demon Simon first argument.

He storms off and leaves for countless of days, till he comes back with some fruits to ease his way into her forgiving heart..

this might be my favorite thing i've written for demon!ghost yet...

[ TIME APART ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where angel!reader and demon!ghost get into their first argument

𝜗𝜚 pairing: broken angel!reader x demon!ghost, brief incubus!soap x angel!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: mature themes (no smut but minors still DNI), angel!reader being a brat, ghost disappearing 𝜗𝜚 link to all my works in the demon!ghost au can be found here

"y'still fuckin' poutin'?"

the feathers at the base of your wings bristle at the sound of his rumbling voice, but you refuse to turn to face him, instead letting your legs dangle out over the bottom of your new cage once again suspended up above the expansive living room. your arms are locked tightly around the hand-welded bars, cheek smushed against one of them as you let out a rather petulant sigh.

all you had asked of ghost was if he would ever let you out—allowing you to walk the expanse of his palace with little restriction. it wasn’t like you would try to run away!

ghost just scoffs bitterly, muttering something about you being difficult under his breath before disappearing through the monstrous living room doors and slamming them shut behind him. the force is enough to rattle your cage slightly, causing it to sway from side to side and jostling you around a bit.

“don’t do that, ghost!” you scream after him as your fingers curl tightly around the bars, trying to keep yourself upright and stable amongst the tremoring movements. “you…you asshole.”

and that would be the last time you saw ghost for days. he would send one of his buddies (an incubus who you learned was named johnny) to lower your cage and feed you at the same times every day. at least johnny was more chatty and lenient than ghost, letting you roam around to your hearts content under the guise of “promise y’won’t tell ‘em? he’ll have my fuckin’ head on a bloody pike if he knew i let his bird out.”

you got to see places you’d never been able to before, like the large kitchen filled with gourmet meals and ingredients courtesy of Hell’s finest. you also found a smithing shop tucked outside near the labyrinth, stocked with the finest metals and blown glass you ever could’ve imagined. that’s where you see the scraps from when ghost made your new cage, multiple ruined plaques where he’d written things like “GHOST’S SWEET ANGEL” and promptly scratched through them.

but you know ghost is coming back one day when johnny’s delicately placing you back inside of the gold cage, latching the cuff around your ankle as his other hand gropes at the fat of your outer thigh (“so fuckin’ soft. how’s the bastard not takin’ care of ye yet, hen?”).

you can hear the distinct and heavy thumps of ghost’s steps before you see him, ambling into the living room with a large wicker basket full of goodies hidden neatly beneath a white silk cloth. you scramble to the other side of the cage, brows pinched together in reignited anger as you listen to ghost quietly moving to the other wall and beginning to turn the crank to lower you.

it’s silent as the chains suspending you groan with loud creaks, cage slowly descending from the ceiling until you’re once again safely on the living room floor. ghost doesn’t even breathe a word to you until he’s gently pulling you out of the cage’s bares, clawed hand pulling the cuff from your ankle and soothing the slightly raw skin with a gentle massage.

“y’have fun with johnny, i take it?” ghost muttered under his breath as he manhandles you with ease until you’re perched on one of his muscled thighs once more, thick arm looped behind your back to keep you upright and the other moving to card through your hair with an unseen gentleness.

you don't bother responding verbally, offering ghost a halfhearted shrug as you unconsciously sink deeper into the comforting touch of his hot skin against yours. as frustrated and angry as you are with ghost, you know deep down that you had actually missed him while he was gone.

ghost simply hums at your shrug, nodding his head gently as he pulls the wicker basket closer to his other thigh. "brought y'some new snacks to try—dunno if y'like 'em, but they looked good."

the demon doesn't wait for you to respond before he's uncovering the basket and letting your eyes fall upon the right feast he brought for you. it's stocked full of your usual favorites—ripe plums, pomegranates, peaches, wheels of different cheeses, freshly baked loaves of bread, and fresh cuts of meat and jerky. but he's also brought you an assortment of what looks like baked desserts, different cakes and cookies wrapped neatly in red ribbon. there's also different candies, sugared gummies and hard jawbreakers in neat pouches.

"don't be shy, angel. try somethin' f'me," ghost coos softly in your ear as he points to one of the small desserts, pulling your hand over and letting your small fingers rest on the edge of the basket.

another petulant huff leaves your lips before you're complying with his command, reaching out to pluck one of the cakes from the top of the basket and bringing it to your opened mouth. you can barely stop the soft moan of content that follows, eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile flickering onto your lips as the flavors of chocolate and peanut butter bleed out onto your tongue.

and ghost lets you eat in peace (and allows you to feed yourself for once), simply leaning back against the arm of the couch and placing a thick arm behind his head as he simply watches you indulge in the treats he brought. once you're full and satiated, he's pulling you up off his lap, standing up to his full height and taking the still almost full wicker basket up with him.

he's almost to the open kitchen door when he peers at you over his shoulder, noticing you toying with the gold cuff and trying to secure it around your ankle. "the hell 're ya doin', angel?"

"getting back into my cage?" you answer meekly under the heated gaze ghost is casting your way, trembling fingers letting the cuff clatter to the floor as you peer up at him with big eyes. you barely catch the soft shake of ghost's head before he's going into the kitchen, calling after you.

"no more cage, 'lright? why don't you go out to the garden for a bit? or y'can go lay down in my bed."

[taintandviolent]

Nosy Neighbours ; Gambit x Reader

summary: PART TWO TO TACO TUESDAY! Reader wakes up after a night of debauchery.... and continues it. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.2K | smut with very little plot, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, blowjobs, eating out, no use of y/n, a sprinkling of angst at the end because things are developing for reader.

a/n: Listen, listen. I am blown away by the love on my first Remy fic, and the fact that you guys wanted a part two made my day. Thank you so much for all the praise and I hope this one lives up to the hype as well! part 3....? peut être... - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @atomicfoxx!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Sunlight filters in through the crack in your curtains, warming a stripe across your thigh and stomach. You squeeze your lids shut tighter and turn your head away from the window, trying to get away from the glaring brightness. A grogginess lingers heavy in your system, but despite that, your body is giving you all the internal signals that it's time to wake up. You stretch deeply, muscles quivering as you flay your limbs out on the bed.

You hadn't gotten that drunk. At least, you didn't think you had. You don't remember falling asleep, but you definitely remember the dreams you had. They were lusty, lewd and lascivious, and every other adjective to describe naughty; your brain had conjured up the filthiest dreams you'd had since... well, ever. And they were all with the Cajun guy you'd met at Wade's. Remy. You remembered his name because you'd said it at least a dozen times in your dream. 

Still half asleep, you flop over, throwing your arm and leg over onto the mattress. Your sheets are pulled down on one side, oddly, but you assume you just tried kicking them off or burritoing yourself in the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. You sniff and an unexpected sweet, warm fragrance fills your nostrils. Breakfast? You roll over again, and sit bolt upright to look down the hall. You suck in a breath and hold it, listening intently to the sounds coming from your kitchen; the scrape of metal against cast iron and a distinct sizzling sound. 

“What the hell?” You whisper, scooting yourself to the edge of the mattress. 

As you get up off the bed, you pull the sheet with you, wrapping it around your naked body, which honestly, was odd - you never slept nude – always in an oversized shirt. Your muscles seem to shake as you walk, and ache pings somewhere in the area of your hip flexors as you pad down the hall, barefoot. When you get to the kitchen, there’s a visual in front of you that causes you to come to a screeching halt.

Had it really not been a dream? 

You nearly have to pick your jaw up off of the floor. He – Remy – stands in your kitchen, over your stove, in nothing but his purple briefs and your polka dotted apron, which hasn't been tied and hangs from his muscular neck.

As he tends to the bacon sizzling in the pan, he sees you in his peripheral, and turns his head slightly, a bright but relaxed smile on his face — the look of it tickles something in your core. You hum quietly.

"Mornin', cher." 

What you want to say is holy shit but you instead mutter out an inquisitive and unsure: "Uhhh, morning...?" 

Even though you’ve seen him naked before, you’re still flabbergasted by the visual. You swallow, and let your eyes fall down the length of his body; tan skin pulled taut over sculpted muscles. He's just as delicious now as he was in your dreams. Maybe even moreso, with the lingering cuddle of sleep, his hair mussed, and the sunlight beaming in from the small window over the sink, kissing his skin in a yellow haze. 

"Hungry, mon ami?"

"Starved, actually." You blink away from his half-naked form and up to his face. "I'm so sorry, am I still asleep or did we....?" 

Remy chuckles and flips the bacon. "We sho’ did. I ain’t remember the last time I had it like ‘dat." 

You take a breath, and think back. It doesn’t take long to differentiate between dreams and reality as it all comes rushing back, playing out in your mind like a dirty movie. 

The way he held you close to his chest, the way his hands explored your body, fingertips kissing your flesh... the way his thick cock felt as it filled you, pleasure coursing through your body in ways that you’d never experienced before. The way he spoke, the way you said — moaned — his name. The way you nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder after you both had cum, the way he’d stroked your hair as you fell asleep… 

You swallow and blink again, bringing yourself back to reality. Remy is plating the bacon and walks it over to your small kitchen table. He gestures with a nod of his head and you walk over, plopping down into the seat, which squeaks as you do. Tucking the sheets underneath your armpits, you reach forward and pluck a single piece from the plate; it's warm and sticky, and tastes like maple syrup. You hum happily as you chew, and Remy takes a piece for himself as he sits down in the chair across from you. 

"Remy," you coo. It sounds far more wanton than you intend, almost a moan. Judging by his reaction, it sounds familiar — like the way you were whining his name last night as he hammered into you. 

"Hoo, don't start 'dat again or we gon' be havin' a repeat of last night." 

You swallow the mouthful of bacon and reach for another strip. He’s a good cook on top of everything, and made the bacon just the way you liked it. Great. 

“Listen, I… I’m not usually like… that. I don’t hook up with random guys or anything.” 

“Is ‘dat what ‘dat was?” He asks, a taunting tone in his voice. There’s something behind it, something warm and inviting, but you shake the thought off. 

“Wasn’t it? Isn’t that what that’s… classified as? I’m…”

He interjected, pushing the plate towards you. “Well, I dunno’, cher. You fell asleep in my arms… and I’m still here.”

You munch on another slice of bacon as you grapple with the fact that maybe it wasn’t just a one-night stand. Your eyes glaze over, staring at nothing in particular as you consider a couple of things. 

First, was the fact that you’d never been one for one night stands. They were frivolous, and usually ended in embarrassment or heartbreak. Neither of which had happened here. He had a glaring point; he had stayed, and apparently, you were comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms. Another something that you never did. 

Second, was the fact that you’d also never really been one for the whole fate, destiny, or soulmate thing. That was cringy, and not something you’d ever entertained, because why would you? Save for a few meaningless relationships in college, you’d been alone and liked it that way. Less to deal with, less to have to clean up at the end of the day. You weren’t actively looking for a relationship, but Remy had just been there. Wasn’t that how fate worked? You furrowed your brows.

Third, was the undeniable fact that something – and you didn’t know what – but something about Remy had been written deep within the confines of your heart. The magnetic pull that you’d felt towards him last night still lingered heavily, and you wanted nothing more than to push yourself against him and feel his body against yours. 

Lust at first sight. That’s got to be what it is, you decide. You’re in lust with him.

But why not test it again…. Just to be sure. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, having been sent the signals that you plan to pursue him. Again. 

The wanton voice returns as you push yourself up out of your seat, leaning over the kitchen table. “Maybe we should… do it again… for good measure. Remy…”

"Chere, what did Remy say about usin' ‘dat voice...?"

"What if that's what I want?"

Remy's chewing slows and his eyes lift to yours. The legs of the chair scrape against the tile as he stands up, stretching forward to meet your mouth. Your lips barely graze each other, before – 

As if on cue, someone knocks at the door, the sound echoing in your ears. Shit. You hesitate for a moment, eyes darting towards the door. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Begrudgingly, you move away from him, kick the sheet out behind you so you don’t trip on it, and hurry to the door, unlatching it.

"Wade," you breathe as you throw open the door, almost exasperated. 

Wade pauses for a beat, assessing your appearance. "Oooh, good morning, sunshine. Looks like someone celebrated Taco Tuesday with some extra Cajun seasoning."

You heave a sigh; half out of annoyance and half out of embarrassment, because the reality was, you hadn't looked in the mirror this morning, so your appearance was a mystery. You look down at your sheet-clad body, and pull it tighter around you, as if that's giving back any of your modesty.

Wade leans on the doorframe, grinning like an absolute idiot. Lips pursed, he wiggles his eyebrows (or lack thereof) at you and waits for you to say something. Confess something. He's waiting for the juicy details, and you aren't delivering. 

"Speak, Lassie! Tell us what happened!" 

You huff. "What do you want, Wade?" 

"So hostile. Actually, like State Farm, I was just being a good neighbour. Checking on you and the Cajun Sensation since you two never came ba - oh fuck me is he in his underwear? What in the Magic Mike is happening here?" He peeks over your shoulder, spotting the half-naked Gambit behind you. 

"Wade!" You try to lean into his line of sight, preventing him from looking any further. "Look, I hardly know you, I'm not about to divulge my sex life to you-" 

"Woah, TMI, princess. But thanks for the confirmation!"

"What!? No, that's not what I meant! I'm just..." 

"Sure, pumpkin. It's okay, Disney gave it an R-rating for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Nothing." You snap, obviously frustrated. "Look, I'm fine. Everything is fine, we just --" 

Remy's voice comes from behind you, fast approaching. "Cher? Everythin' alright?" 

You cast your glance behind you briefly – he’s ditched the apron, and is now in nothing but those tight fitting briefs that leave little to the imagination. God, he's so attentive. He’s already acting like a boyfriend, a thought that turns your guts to butterflies. 

Wade preens, clearly amused. "Oohh, well fuck me sideways. It was that kind of night, huh? Real x reader type plot. Cute. Have you said I love you yet? Or is that chapter three?" 

You bristle, absolutely appalled at the question. Behind you, Remy opens the door further and  raises one arm over his head, leaning it on the wood of the interior frame. He sees Wade and grins brightly, a twist to his lips, almost like he knows what’s happening.

“Mornin’, mon petit rouge.” (My little red)

“Oooh, I felt a tingle with that one.” 

Remy chuckles, shaking his head lightly. Starting with his bare bicep, which was now on full display, Wade's eyes trail down the length of Remy's body, lingering far too long at his groin before snapping back up to his face. 

"Jesus fuck, someone needs to put Agent Tequila on ice again. I thought it was Texas where everything is bigger–"

You feel your cheeks get hot and your eyes widen. “CHRIST, Wade!" 

“Oh please, drop the Sandra Dee act, pookie. You two fucked nasty and everyone knows it. At least the whole floor.” 

Behind you, Remy laughs low. You can feel his gaze on you, tunneling into you, almost as if he’s waiting for you to confirm or deny. The decision weighs heavy on your shoulders, and finally, you blurt out an answer.

“Okay, so we did. Happy now?” 

Wade’s shoulders drop and he heaves an over dramatic sigh. “Hallelujah. There, doesn’t honesty feel good?” 

Remy leans forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Not as good as what I did to you last night, huh cher?” 

“Heard that.” Wade barks. 

Your entire face feels hot, and the blush is spreading down your neck the longer this goes on. 

Remy’s hand comes forward to take a fistful of your ass, squeezing firmly before giving it a determinate smack and heading back to the table. He’s apparently ascertained that the situation is safe; Wade may be a character but he means no harm. You stiffen at the feeling, fighting against the betrayal of your body. Wade arches a brow, his eyes darting to the very subtle way that your hips pitch forward stiffly. 

“Anyway, this isn’t a threesome — could be, but isn’t — so I’m going back home. I have a big… wet… chimichanga waiting for me. Toodles.”

You’re relieved he ends the conversation before you have to; you aren’t quite sure what might’ve come out of your mouth had he stayed any longer and as an afterthought, you don’t want to create hostility with your next door neighbour. You shut your door, throwing the deadbolt into place. 

You march back to the table with an apparent chip on your shoulder over the interaction with Wade – which all things considered, wasn’t that bad, but you’re still worked up. Your muscles are tense with frustration, which you don't notice until Remy's large hands are sliding up the sides of your arms. He eventually gets to your shoulders, which he pinches and massages between his fingers, forcing them back into a more relaxed state. You let out a sigh, and buck your hips back slightly. His groin is pressed up against the ample curve of your ass, your bodies fitting together like a erotic puzzle piece.

“What’re you all mad  for, cher? C’mon now…” 

“Who does he think he is? Making me confess that… and I’m a grown wo—“

“You was pretty loud last night.” He interjects, that mischievous smirk on his lips. 

You spin around in his grasp and cross your arms, shooting him a disapproving look. “Whose side are you on here?”  

He's unphased by your anger, and instead, brings his hands up to your cheeks, pulling them forward until your head gives way, and your lips smash against his.

At this, you let out a mewl of faux discomfort, and Remy smirks against your lips. He shakes his head softly, and pulls you closer at the waist. After a moment, he breaks the kiss and looks down at your sheet-clad figure. While it is a tantalizing sight -- the way the sheet drapes over your figure, conforming to the curve of your breasts, peaking over your semi-hard nipples -- he wants to see your body again. It's been hours, and he's craving it again.

“Yours.” His voice is so sure, so low and so close. 

Well… his hands are definitely on your sides. They roam between your waist and your hips for a few moments before he makes a fist with one of them, the gray fabric bunching between his fingers. 

“Who you bein’ modest for, huh? You don’t need ‘dis. Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” 

“I… I don’t know…” you whisper, falling into the trap of his eyes again. When he looks at you, really looks at you, you feel like you’re standing at the edge of a building, but going nowhere, because his big, brawny arms are wrapped around you tight. You’ve never felt safer. Uh-oh. That’s not good. 

As he drags his fist down the front of your body, the sheet pulls free of your arms, the fabric grazing your nipples. The sensation has them hardening, and Remy’s hand replaces the sheet, running his thumb over one of them, while cupping the fullness of your breast with the rest of his hand.

He leans forward, kissing from your hairline, over your ear and down the curve of your shoulder, sending convulsive shivers down your spine. The feeling of his lips, pressing into your soft, warm skin… your lids flutter. Your hand reaches down, sliding over his taut muscles, until you find the bulge between his legs. The fabric is warm, heated by the fire of his cock. Your fingers curl around the length of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Unconsciously, his hips pitch forward, forcing more pressure on your palm.

"Remy," you breathe, looking down between your bodies. His briefs are tenting now, his cock straining against the fabric. You swallow back the saliva that's gathering in your mouth, literally on the verge of drooling. 'I wanna'... I have to -- need to taste you."

"In Louisiana, 'dey call 'dat having an envie for somethin'."

"Yeah, well I have an envie for your cock right now, so..." 

The surprise is apparent on his face, his brows lifting on his forehead, but it quickly morphs into something more lusty, something more pleased. His dick jumps at your words and he reaches up to grip your chin firmly, looking hard at your mouth. 

Aroused, his accent thickens. "Hoo, you a naughty girl with 'dat mouth. Why don't you show me what else it can do, huh?" 

You nod and sink to your knees, slowly. Once you're situated in front of his groin, you reach up and hook your fingers around the elastic of his waistband, peeling it away from his skin. You lean forward to trace the tip of your tongue along the lines of muscle, that tantalizing V cut. Remy chokes on his breath, as your tongue flattens against the skin. 

You continue baring him, pulling the fabric down his thighs in one quick motion. He helps you by kicking them off to the side, and now stands, completely bare in front of you. His cock bounces heavy in front of your face and you immediately take him into your hand, wasting no time. You wrap one hand around the thick shaft, towards the base, and slide it slowly up towards the tip.  

The heat coming off his cock radiates into your palm and the contrast of the velvet, soft skin, and the aching, rigid center has your mouth (and cunt) drooling. You can't help it, and the way Remy's muscles flex every time you move your hand eggs you on. You begin stroking his cock, slowly, but tightly and his breath hitches in his throat. Tightening his abdominal muscles as he does, Remy bucks his hips, forcing his dick through the circle of your fingers. The precum is spreading now, making the action easy. His head is down, watching you intently. 

“‘Dat’s it, babygirl, just like ‘dat…”

As you drag the head over your bottom lip, glossing it with precum, it twitches in your grip. Extending your tongue, you slap the heavy, fat tip against it a few times, teasing him. Your lips wrap around the head, tongue massaging the underside with a flattened tongue.

Remy braces his hands on the counter top above you, his breath rushing out. 

“Hoo, you don’t need no help from Remy, you know what you’re doin’.”

You nod and tighten your grip around the base, leaning your mouth forward to press a single kiss against the tip. Your tongue peeks out, licking a long stripe from the base to the head, and you hear Remy make a sound that can only be described as a growl. You moan against his cock, the sound buzzing against his skin. He bucks again, forcing his cock further into your mouth.

Remy’s grip tightens on the counter top. He’s doing his best to keep it together but the way that your warm, wet mouth has enveloped him, the way that you’re gently sucking as your head bobs, the way your fingers wrap around his cock, gripping him firmly and jerking him off at the base has him in pieces. Aside from last night, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this good – certainly not in the Void, and try as he might, no memories are coming forward from before the Void. All he feels – and sees – is you. You. You, in your naked, morning messy glory. His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths, his gaze heavy and half-lidded.

You have to open wide to take him all the way in, but you don’t care. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your cunt weeping profusely between your legs, and the head nudges the back of your throat, teasing at your gag reflex. You steady yourself and get back to it. Your nose prods the thatch of coarse hair above his cock as you deep throat him, over and over again. The salty pre-cum glides over your tongue, saturating it with the taste that you’re craving.

“Mon coeur,” He exhales a low, raspy breath, and backs his hips away from your mouth, his dick leaving your lips with a wet shlick. You stare up at him with wide, unknowing eyes, chin covered in saliva. His cock twitches in your grip; the visual is erotic. 

“Believe me when I say ‘dis, cher. I wanna’ make a mess on your face, but Remy ain’t ready for it to be ova’. C’mere.” 

With a gentle tap, he urges you up off your knees, helping you to get to your feet. Just like before, he’s hoisting you up into his arms and you’re ready to be carried off again, but this time your ass comes down atop the counter, and Remy slots himself between your legs.

“Wait-wait…. What are you doing?” 

“Eatin’, mon ami.” He says it so nonchalantly and throws in the ever casual mon ami as though this is something done between friends. His hands cup your kneecaps, urging them apart with careful urgency. He looks at your cunt, and his brows lift slowly, a smirk crawling across his lips. 

“Hoo…” He chuckles, running a single finger along the slit of your cunt. As he pulls back, his finger is coated in your arousal, thick strands of clear stringing from your cunt to the tip of his finger. “You get yourself all worked up while you were down ‘dere? She is glistenin’, cher.”

You’re almost embarrassed. Almost. You hadn’t told him, but giving head was a massive turn-on. Besides that, the mere sight of his massive cock was enough to get your engines running. Something about admitting that to him sounds a little too whorish, so you keep your mouth shut. You whine, leaning your head against the cabinets and buck your hips forward, closer to the edge. 

It’s as though he can tell you’re withholding something from him. 

“Ah-ah, cher…” He brings his face close to yours, licking at your mouth. “Tell Remy what’s on your mind.”

“I… I like giving head… I like giving you head…. I like…”

He nods, encouraging you further. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and you roll your eyes to the ceiling. 

“Ugh, okay. You have an amazing cock, and I like having it in every part of me.” You curse yourself for being so honest. 

Now it’s Remy that’s on his knees, and he dives at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue is strong and warm against your clit, flicking upwards against the bundle of nerves. He’s burying his mouth in your folds, lapping at it. Every time his tongue nears your opening, you let out a long, whining moan. 

Pause. Let’s just recap. Just to make sure we’re on the same god damn page. You met this guy at Wade’s…. Fucked him all night long, he made you breakfast and now he’s giving you the most toe-curling head you’ve ever had. And you think, just maybe, you might be falling in love with him. Cool. Okay. 

Your hand snaps to the crown of his head, fingers lacing amongst his hair to hold him to the spot he’s working. His tongue is drilling into your clit, and that’s when you feel the pressure of two fingers, prodding your slick slit. 

“Sweeter ‘den ‘dat maple syrup up on your counter,” he says, practically into your cunt. You look down; his gaze is lust-blown, and lips are glossy, spit-slick and reddened. He presses a few gentle kisses to your clit before his tongue starts swiping at it again, and plunging his fingers deep within your core. Just like before, he knows just how to curl his fingers up into the sensitive spot inside you. You let out a moan, and bump your head against the cabinets again. 

A shudder rips through your body, overwhelmed at the dual stimulation. His mouth closes around your clit, sucking gently and you can feel the slippery puddle forming on the countertop beneath you. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll just slide off the counter, but really… the only place to go is further into Remy and his mouth. 

Abruptly, you feel the flash of heat between your legs and arch your back, readying yourself for the drop. Your cunt aches, throbs and – Remy suddenly pulls away, his chin shimmering with your arousal. 

“Huh, I didn’t hear anyone say you could be doin’ ‘dat yet, ah?” 

Holy shit. You clench her tight, holding back the wave of an orgasm. Your teeth grind together, legs quivering at the feeling of denial. You were right on the edge, right on the edge of white, hot bliss. 

“Ffffuck,” you whisper. “Fuck. Please….” 

“I said no, cher. Not yet.” There’s a playful lilt in Remy’s voice and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck me then, please…. I need to feel you.”  

He chuckles, and presses a deep kiss to your folds. “You ain’t gonna’ have to ask me twice, ma bichette.” (my little doe)

He slips his fingers out, and inserts them into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off of them. Your jaw drops. It’s such a casual, but erotic action, and your cunt responds feverishly. She’s got a heartbeat of her own at this point, thrumming between your legs. Leaving you leaking on the countertop, Remy gets to his feet and turns around to the kitchen table. He shoves the plates out of the way, somehow not knocking them onto the floor. 

“C’mere…”

You’re in his arms again, and he’s swinging you around, plopping you down on the kitchen table. Your hands go back behind you, pressing down into the wood apprehensively. 

“I don’t know if this table can support me…. ” 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout ‘dat, cher. It might not, but Remy’s gonna’ be holdin’ you tight. This is just givin’ me a betta’ angle, ‘das all.” 

He wasn’t lying; most of your weight was in his grasp. One arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you up. You scoot yourself closer to the edge, closer to him, and inhale a deep breath. Remy shuffles forward, his cock leading the way. The red, leaking tip nudges your entrance and he lifts your head to place a kiss against your lips, nibbling softly on the bottom one. He’s so passionate, even amidst the burden of his fiery, seemingly untameable lust. A lover. Fuck… you think. You’re falling into a deep, dark hole that you don’t think you can climb your way out of. 

Remy reaches between your bodies, pushing his cock down slightly, until he feels the sopping wet opening of your cunt. Groaning deeply, he stuffs himself inside, inch by inch until your bodies are flush. He finds a rhythm quickly, bucking his hips against you. As he splits you open, you can’t help but moan loud, louder than last night, his cock filling you, throbbing veins rubbing against your inner walls.

“God, yeah… yeah, fuck me hard…!” You chant, sounding more and more like a porn star with every passing moment.

“Only if you give it t’ me, cher… the way you takin’ this dick, I ain’t gonna’ last long.”

You nod hurriedly, looking deep into his eyes. He growls and pulls his hips all the way back before slamming them back into you – hard. Your jaw drops again, and you find yourself staring at the cabinets, vision going hazy with lust as your orgasm rushes to the surface, claiming your body wholly. The plates that previously hung on now go clattering to the floor, but the sound does little to interrupt you two. Remy’s got his dick so deep inside of you that you’re seeing stars, and the sounds that are tumbling from your lips are far louder than the sound of porcelain on tile. 

With a smooth, guttural sound, Remy loses it, too. He fills you, deeply, and what leaks out the sides, he hurriedly pumps it back inside of you until his cock starts to soften, his thrusts languid and spent. 

“I could do this with you all day…” You whisper into his neck, rubbing your nose against the warm, sweaty flesh there. 

“Me too, cher, me too.” He nods, blinking slowly. “But I can’t be doin’ ‘dat… not today.” 

You rear back suddenly, looking him in the eyes. They’ve still got that mischievous glimmer that he seems to always possess, but there’s something behind them. A sort of… coldness, that has your arms falling away from him. 

“You have to leave…” you say softly, suddenly understanding. 

Remy nods, and slips out of you, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. He pushes your hair out of your face, and rubs his thumb along the fullness of your cheek. He disappears then, and your shoulders sink slightly. You stay on the table for a few minutes, your legs hanging limply off the table, just listening to the sounds of him getting dressed; the gentle rustle of clothing, the snap of his elastic waistband as it hugs him.

Finally, you hop off the table, and bend down to retrieve the rumpled pile of sheet. You hold it against your body, not worrying about what’s showing. Like he said before, he’s seen everything. You turn, and spot him – standing tall behind your couch. He reaches for his leather jacket.

He’s attractive, so the sight of him dressed is to be appreciated as much as him undressed, but there’s a pang of sadness in your chest. Your lungs feel tight, and you wring the sheets around your fingers as he smoothes a hand through his hair, tousling it lightly. Again, as though he’s in tune to your emotions, he seems to notice that you’re staring sullenly. 

“Remy be needin’ to deal with some things, cher…” he says, adjusting himself in his jacket. You wonder what it is he has to deal with, where he has to go. It’s none of your business, you’re sure. You want to ask him if he’ll be back, but your gut warns that that sounds too desperate, so instead, you nod once. 

“Thanks,” you start, trying to find the strength in your voice. “I had a really good time. My door is uh, always open.” 

“Good t’ know, cher.” He says. He sounds genuine, but he’s still leaving. Every bone in your body is screaming for him to stay. He makes his way over to you, wordlessly, and wraps his arm around your waist. His lips find yours, and he tips you backwards slightly as he kisses you. The way he tastes you feels like he’s trying to stain his own mouth with your essence, to remember it later. When he breaks off and straightens you back up, you let out a pathetic little cry that you know he hears. You bring your fingers to your mouth, stroking your bottom lip softly. 

And with that, he opens your door, slips out and shuts it behind him, but not before casting one last look at you, standing there in a sheet that he fucked your brains out on. 

To the closed door, you whisper: “I… think I love you.” 

He doesn’t hear it and maybe that’s for the best. 

[charnelhouse]

safe house

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: semi public sex. rough smut. pain kink. size difference. ghost is a simp. sex on a couch. cum play Summary: “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.” Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Of all the risky shit you've participated in, deciding to sit with Ghost post-mission takes the cake. Things just happen. Out of your control.

You can't not listen to him.

Even your teammates give you nervous glances when Simon barks at you to come see him for a "debrief."

You're screwed, lass.

Eat a dick, Soap.

So here you are, forced to brush shoulders with your hulking lieutenant while the others shower or scrape cold chili out of cans in the tiny safe house kitchen.

Everything is secure.

Ghost smells like fireworks. There’s snow still melting in his boots. He’s managed to remove all his gear aside from his gun on the coffee table, but he’s just as enormous. Burly. Rippling with that animal aggression, he can’t shake off after a mission. 

“You should shower,” you suggest sweetly. You’d gotten first dibs, but you’d been unable to scrape off the blood wedged under your fingernails and mud crusted to your hairline like sea barnacles. You feel dirty, as if the job had left you withered and full of dust. There’s the particular flavor of guilt clinging to the underside of your mouth. 

“You didn’t listen to a direct order,” Ghost utters in a voice so quiet it could flicker into smoke. He was screaming at you earlier, demanding that you return to him instead of toward the USB drive with the intel. Red Fox. You take one more bloody step, and I’ll suspend your ass.

“It would have been for nothing had we not gotten it,” you protest. Deny. Deny. Double down. Invent excuses, even though the scariest man alive is speaking to you like he may just break your neck. 

He shifts on the couch. The sounds of your teammates seem very far away, although they’re only in the next room. Simon is angry, and it’s not the familiar hot-headed fury he favors. No. It’s chilling. He’s holding himself back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gloveless fingers curl around the edge of the couch. They’re enormous hands. They can wrap entirely around your bicep, the nape of your neck, or the crown of your skull.

He leans back, thighs spread open, stealing space and shoving you toward the end of the couch without even moving a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” you offer rather pathetically. Your voice is audibly weary, utterly subservient. Ghost runs a tight fucking ship, and everything can collapse if you step a hair out of line. 

He presses his arm against yours, lowering his head closer to your ear. “I don’t give a fuck.” 

His hand finds your hip, and before you realize it, he’s got one arm banded around your chest while keeping you pinned to his front. Hee slides behind you until you’re both horizontal, your legs tangled together, his covered mouth puffing warm air against your jaw. You could be spooning if his embrace wasn’t so carved with aggression. 

“You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders,” he growls as he shoves your sweats down your thighs.

“Wha-”

You choke on a gasp as the muscular forearm around your cotton-covered tits squeezes, sealing you into him until you can’t budge an inch. You can hear him fumbling with the button on his pants. There’s blood on his boots. The denim and his sweatshirt irritate your bare skin. You’re damp from your shower, and he’s coated in a thin film of battle. “Simon,” you warn. “They’ll - they’ll come in.”

Unbothered, he continues, and you can feel him, heavy and hot against your lower back. “What did I tell you?” he mutters into your hair. “Before we left...when I had you on your knees?”

Your mind is sprinting on overdrive. The blood rushing under your skin is flaring to an almost unbearable heat. Yesterday morning? You’d snuck into the bathroom with Simon...gotten on the cold tile floor, and sucked him off until he’d nearly punched a hole in the cheap plaster wall. He’d been surprised. It’s not like you hadn’t screwed before, but anytime you ever gave him pleasure when it was only about him, he’d get totally weird. 

Like he didn’t deserve it even though he -

Without warning, he breaches you with a thick finger. You bite down on your lower lip, swallowing a grunt. Your sweats are caught around your knees, and his tree trunks for legs spread you open and stretched like you’re latched into an intricate web. He lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt, drawing his finger out to the tip before sinking it back to the knuckle. 

“Jesus, Riley,” you moan, and the arm across your breasts lifts just enough so he can cover your mouth with his hand. 

“What did I say, love?” 

Your brain isn’t working. Your entire focus has narrowed to the overwhelming sensation of him finger-fucking you from behind. It is a rare show on his part. It’s risky, but Simon Riley is a super soldier, and his hyper-fixation is now firmly on the task of ruining you.   

He lowers the hand from your lips to allow you to speak.

“Swallow it?” you try, and he pauses before an unsettling, baritone noise reverberates within his massive chest and he withdraws his finger only to bury two inside you. 

You jerk, keeping silent but dangerously on the brink of a damn orgasm. You’re drenched, and Ghost’s slow, drawn-out movements squelch with every perfunctory pump of his hand.

You can feel the hard shell of his mask against the crown of your head. “You’re going to be the death of me, kid,” Ghost sighs.

He sounds...exasperated. Perhaps, you had, admittedly, fucked up. You shouldn’t have done it. You should have listened to him. Escape had been narrow and made even more narrow by you wasting precious seconds to grab the intel. Even if Ghost had the countenance of a bull shark, he cared more than most. He was staunchly loyal. He wouldn’t lose people under his watch. 

But you aren’t just people.

Fuck buddy? Sure. 

More than that?

You weren’t entirely oblivious to how he touched you outside their secret trysts. His gaze lingered, his presence curled around you like an oversized shadow. 

What had he said yesterday morning?

“Stay alive,” he husked as his palm enveloped the top of your skull, those sleepy, ink-filled eyes searching yours. His thumb traced your cheek as you rested the side of your face against his thigh. The salt of him coated your throat, the nape of your neck still tingled from his iron grip when he finished in your mouth. “Please.” 

Gingerly, you tug an arm free to grasp the hand silencing you. You pull it away, and Ghost, Simon, allows it. Shooting him a desperate, aching glance over your shoulder, you press your lips to his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’ll stay alive for you.” 

You give his words back, hoping it’s enough. 

See? I was listening. I was listening as you throat-fucked me. 

Pleased, he murmurs your name as he presses closer before you force two of his fingers into your mouth and suck. He goes rigid, and the other set of fingers inside you become still as if he’s trying to assess this startling development and figure out the next strategy. It is only a moment, a few seconds, and then he draws away from your cunt to grasp the underside of your thigh. He eases it up before shifting his hips forward, and there he is: his thick, unforgiving length crudely gliding through your folds. The pleasure comes in bursts. Tiny pricks. Stars. Each time the head of his cock grazes your clit, it sends sparks unfurling in your belly. You shove your ass back into him, demanding and needy. 

You started this, you want to say when you know he’d turn it around with: You did when you didn’t fucking listen. 

His hand returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing small, tight circles into the flesh. “Desperate, are we?” His voice is rough - all gravel and artillery smoke and so low it sweeps like a tongue against the seam of your pussy. “I thought you were scared the others would see us?”

You release his fingers with a slick pop, and he, once again, wraps his forearm around your chest in order to anchor you to him. You can just imagine the scene the team would walk in on. 

Ghost, fully clothed, with his tattooed arm snug around your tits. You’re in a flimsy tank top with your sweats tangled around your knees. His mask-covered face is notched over your shoulder. To anyone, he’d look untouched while you were ruined. Bare thighs glistening with your own arousal. Humiliating.

“Do you care?”

He chuckles, and it vibrates against your back. “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.”

You shiver, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “Right,” you croak as you feel his hips draw back again, the fingers holding your thigh in the air, are digging into your skin. Blunt nails. Dirt. “Because...because then they’d know I’m yours.”

That must do something to him because he sucks in a breath and suddenly, without hesitation, slides into you until his groin is nestled against your ass. You black-out. Your vision swims and blurs until you can’t distinguish between the dark fireplace and the shitty armchairs. His cock is too big. That’s a stone-cold fact. The first time he’d fucked you had been more than a challenge. He’d prepared you with his tongue, fingers, spit and lube you filched from Soap, but it had still been difficult. 

He’s breathing steadily as his heart thumps against your back. His hand falls to your stomach, where he can, undoubtedly, feel the head of his cock nudging one of your internal organs. You feel full - crammed to the brim and feverish. Sweat collects at your hairline as you endure the pressure of him inside you. The girth. The weight. Every time Ghost fucks you, it’s a lesson in endurance. He can go for hours, and you take it like his well-trained soldier. The two of you are an HR nightmare.

You squeak when Ghost presses his balaclava-covered mouth to your neck. “Good girl,” he soothes, clucking his tongue. “Good girl...just take it like you are. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Well-endowed fuck. 

It’s only painful in a good way. Your body accommodates him, allowing him to squeeze an inch deeper as his hand slides down from your belly to your clit. He presses it gently before drawing circles. He retreats, his cock dragging through your walls until he’s halfway out before he plunges back in. The pace is unhurried. He’s grinding into you as if he’s savoring every part of your pussy. He cups your tits, grasps your throat, and explores the sensitive flesh stretched around his enormous shaft. 

You’re never having anal. 

Unless he asked really nicely. 

“I want to mark you,” he muses through long, deliberate strokes. “If I come in that lovely cunt, you’d keep me in there, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, even though you sound like you’ve been drowned and spit back onto the beach. You’re so sick with him, overwhelmed and a little in love and how did this fucking happen? “Anything you want, Luitenant.”

He delivers a sharper thrust that nearly propels you off the couch, but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. His strength. His presence. He smells like sweat and packed dirt and a forest fire. “You’re bloody obedient when I’ve got my cock in you.”

Obviously. 

“I know,” you murmur as you bite your lip again when he strikes something tender. He’s rubbing your clit in time with every snap of his hips, dick pistoning inside you as your lower muscles buckle, your thighs quivering as your pleasure hangs precariously over a steep drop. His legs wedge yours open, keeping your cunt spread as he manipulates your body like one of his precious guns. If I move this, what will this do? Let me make it better.  

“I’m so - so fucking easy,” you slur. 

“No,” he grits as his pelvis begins to stutter against your ass, his breathing ragged. “No, you’re the most difficult thing I’ve ever had beneath me - ever - ever had to fuckin’ handle.”

God - that has double meanings. You’re his subordinate. You’re his lover. You’re on your knees for him, but it goes both ways. It had been Ghost who had turned the lights off the first time and removed his mask. He’d trusted you enough to shut your eyes and let him lick your pussy until you were in tears. 

I wouldn’t look, Riley. That’s something I won’t take unless you give it. 

You had felt his face, though. In the pitch blank, you had touched his full lips, the defined lines of his cheekbones. You’d felt his thick, silky hair and the bumps of various scars. 

You feel sexy.

You’re trying to butter me up. 

The sounds from the kitchen startle you. The men are taunting each other. A pan clatters. The volume turns up, and you suddenly realize that you and Ghost are making quite a bit of noise. The couch is creaking. Your cunt indecently squelches with every spear of his cock. He’s grunting into your hair, the skin at his groin smacking the full flesh of your ass as he bottoms out. 

“They’re going to hear us,” you warn. You’re on the cusp of exploding, breaking into fragments. 

“They probably already do,” he quips before fucking you harder. Your hand flies up to clutch at his burly forearm, your other hand rises higher to grasp the back of his head. You want his hair, you want to fist it and hurt him just a little. “Easy, love,” he urges. “Relax...relax...you’re getting too tense.”

He’s right. Your orgasm has fluttered away because now you’re fully aware that your teammates have probably created a racket to drown out their Lieutenant, their stiff, cold enigma of a Lieutenant, railing their comrade into the couch. 

“Focus, kid,” he orders bluntly as if he was chastising you on a mission. He ducks his head and nuzzles your cheek to coax you back into his fold. “They won’t come in,” he drawls in a low, piercing rumble. “They won’t say a goddamn word because they know I’d murder every one of them if they tried ripping me away from this cunt.”

Holy. Fuck. 

Everything has climbed up your throat. Your head is on backward. The pressure of his cock, his fingers on your clit, and his massive body wrapped around your own is causing the air to crackle. 

“Simon,” you gasp as he readjusts his grip and forces you forward. He shifts his hips so he’s thrusting down, and it’s impossible to know when he’ll be done. He rides your ass until his pace falters and his cock twitches and throbs before he abruptly settles, douses out the fire, and continues at a more even, lazy rhythm. 

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he encourages softly. It’s dipped in a tenderness that surprises you. His voice remains deep and gruff, but there’s a gentleness behind it. You’ve never seen his face, and the intimacy with which he handles you is nothing you have ever experienced. It is too much. 

Ghost gives you his history in patches. There are brief moments where finishes and rolls off you, and you both just stare at the ceiling, fingers brushing in the dark. “There’s this pub by the Irwell that I think you’d fancy,” he remarks. “Jesus knows if it’s still around, but I reckon you’d like it.”

It’s not just sex. This is not just sex at all. 

Stay alive. 

Please. 

You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders.

Simon is coaxing you into your climax. He’s buried so deep that you can feel the tip of him nudge against your womb. You feel swollen and raw, and his muscles twitch against you. You’re throbbing like an open wound as he maneuvers your ragdoll body on his cock. It should be overwhelming, but his fearsome rough voice is full of yearning when he motivates you to find your pleasure. 

The tang of your climax builds until there’s nowhere else for it to go. It roars forward, jolting through your limbs as it forces you to curl into a fetal position, but Simon is right there. He holds you in place, his mask grazing your cheek. “C’mon, love,” he says. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

As his palm clamps over your mouth, you erupt, and you bathe his cock in your climax. Hot and flooded as the punch of a tropical storm. “Bite me,” Ghost demands, instinctively thrusting into your soaked, fluttering heat. “Do what you need, love. Take it out on me.” 

He groans when your teeth nip his palm. You bite harder, and he nearly chokes.  

You don’t understand how this has gone from him enraged to riding you to a full gallop to allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. As he fucks you through it, jamming into the searing, wet clutch of your spasming sex, he hits his end. His hands on you tighten as he makes a deep, grating noise from his chest, filling you up. It’s warm and somewhat soothing. Shuddering, Ghost has to brace his arm on the couch to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he buries his face into your neck. “Jesus.”

He slips out, and there is only emptiness. You’re aching and sore, and he pets at your cunt, pressing his come deeper so it doesn’t drip. You shift onto your side to face him, his hand still nestled against your pussy, his eyes black and heavy-lidded as they regard you with subtle affection. 

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you. 

Hesitantly, you snag the edge of his black ski mask and slowly lift it. He stops breathing, his heart beginning to thump wildly as his gaze widens. However, he doesn’t stop you, and it’s a test you predicted. 

“Red,” he warns. Your call sign. The bite of his authority rippling between you. 

You hitch the mask just a centimeter above his top lip. You sit up awkwardly, your sweats still knotted around your knees, your lower half gone to jello. You grasp his stubbled jaw and kiss him tenderly. He stiffens, making a startled noise in the back of his throat before he decidedly returns it, licking into the cavern of your mouth as he forces you onto your back and wedges himself between your legs. The pointed edge of his skull mask digs into the top of your cheek, but you’re past caring. You can feel his cock filling against the crease of your thigh. 

Again? You can’t go again. You’d surely split in half. 

“Don’t worry,” he says as if he can read your mind. “I just want this.”

Just this. The couch, the safe house, and their teammates only a room away. 

He breathes against your mouth, the sliver of his secret skin scratching your own. You nudge your thumb along a scar and kiss him harder. 

[luveline]

hi jade!! if ur still up for kbd, can we see an instance where mom feels insecure about her parenting like she feels like she's doing something wrong or being a bad mom (she's not) and Steve just helps her through it? thank<3

KBD —Steve can make you feel better just by being himself. mom!reader, 1.4k

Wren wriggles like a worm on the floor. You’ve spread her baby mat out over the rug, rainbow hearts and stars and smiley faces all around her. 

“Mom, what did you say? What’s tummy time?” Beth asks. “I can’t ’member what you said.” 

Wren whines. Her face is smushed into the floor again. 

“Tummy time is to help her develop her muscles,” you say. “It’s supposed to help her hold her head up by herself. Not working yet…” 

You slide your hand between Wren’s face and the floor. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you say. 

“Try her on your chest,” Steve says, Dove in his arms as he walks through the kitchen doorway into the living room. “She’s much happier when I lay her on my chest before her nap. I lay real flat on the couch.” 

You scoop Wren up under her armpits. Her hair is getting much longer now, the same wavy texture as her father’s, though as she’s grown older her hair has thickened. You’re sure she’s gonna have full curls when she’s older, but for now, you hold her to your chest and brush a hand through those waves thoughtfully. It’s much darker than Steve’s, as are her eyes.

She gurgles as you carry her to the couch. When you lay down, Beth crawls to your side to ask if she can sit on your feet. 

“What are you upto now?” you ask Steve, laying Wren out on your chest. You realise that’s not gonna work and pull her down so her face and neck are flat on your stomach instead. 

“We just washed our hands,” Steve says, letting Dove down. “She made a little mess, that’s all. Need something?” 

“Come n’ sit down, baby,” you murmur, beckoning him in. 

Steve doesn’t need telling twice. He sits in the armchair by your head and feels around for the TV remote. Things go quiet, Dove with her Barbie’s to the right of the room where all the toys live, Beth squeezing your ankle, and Steve clicking through channels until he finds the family movie channel. You tease Wren’s cheek where she rests, but she won’t lift her head. You’re scared she’ll smother herself. 

“Honey, what am I doing wrong?” you ask. 

“Doing what?” 

“Tummy time? She never wants to lift her head.” You frown. “S’like she doesn’t wanna see me.” 

“Maybe you’re just comfy.” 

You sigh and lift Wren again. When she sees you, she smiles. “Ba?” she says. 

“Hiya, baba,” you say softly, “what’s wrong? You don’t wanna play with mama?” 

“Ba,” she says again, dribble curling down her chin as her hand grabs for your face. You let her down against your chest, unperturbed when she grabs your ear. 

“No tummy time, then.” 

“That’s fine, she was on her tummy for a long time earlier,” Steve says, “she’s probably just tired out.” 

“It hurts my neck to hold it up all the time,” Beth says. 

You scrub your eye. Are you hurting her? You hadn’t realised she was tired, but how could you not know that? You’re her mom. 

You’re tired, too. You murmur a sorry to Beth and take your legs from under her. You curl in, pill bug style, baby curled in with you. “Sorry,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. 

“Ba,” she says again, her spit on your cheek. 

You’ve had one of those shitty mom days. You burnt the last bagels in the toaster so Beth had to have toast, which she doesn’t even really like. You tore Avery’s Princess Polly dress trying to clean the sleeve. Dove cried because you didn’t listen to her story, Wren won’t do tummy time, and Steve wouldn’t have done any of those things. He’s amazing, and you’re just… you. He makes being a dad look so easy, he was basically born to do it, and you love your kids but you suck. Today sucks. 

Wren babbles all over you. “Ma-ba ma,” she says, then, “grrrrr.” 

“You growling at me, baby?” 

She lets out a bunch of gr’s and wr’s. You rub her back, tickle it until she giggles. Even the sound of her bumpy baby laughter doesn’t improve your mood. 

Steve goes to the kitchen in silence. He opens the freezer a couple of times, and then he’s calling for the girls to come and have some ice cream and chocolate fudge. Avery tumbles down the stairs from her room. She could take the hallway to the kitchen, but she stumbles into the living room instead. “Hi, mommy,” she says, smiling widely, “are you tired?” 

“A lot,” you confess. 

“Can a kiss make you feel better?” 

You turn your cheek and poke it. “Please. Just one,” —she darts forward to kiss you soundly— “go have your ice cream, baby, quick, before Dove eats it.” 

Steve dodges her. He has a bowl when he returns. He says your name so nicely you don’t think twice about taking it. An ice cream sundae melts inside, three scoops of thick ice cream adorned with cut fruit and a chocolate fudge heart. 

“It looked better five minutes ago. I did yours first.” 

“Where’s yours?” you ask. 

“I thought I’d share yours,” he says. “No?” 

You grin. “Nope.” 

“Alright. Can I sit with you, at least?” 

You straighten up. Wren stays in one arm, your bowl rests on your leg. You lift the other to take your spoon, while Steve sits next to you, not a millimetre of space between your two bodies. 

He doesn’t ask for the baby, which is actually nice. Usually eating with a child in tow is irksome, but you feel a little more capable without his asking. And besides, Steve’s fully trained. You could drop any baby into his lap at any hour and he’d take them without complaint. 

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, but you know you could tell him. Can tell he’s waiting for a confession, or ready to let it go. 

You don’t want to talk about it. Admitting your failings is too embarrassing, sometimes, and he’s biased, so he’ll tell you anything to make it go away if he needs to. Instead, you sit, you eat your ice cream, and you rest your face against his shoulder, listening to the girls scratch their bowls in the kitchen. 

“You can go to bed early, if you need to,” he says gently. 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“How about a shower? A walk?” He lifts his head to press his nose against you. “Just let me know what you want.” 

“I’m okay, really.” 

“Okay,” he says, both of you aware that you’re not fully okay, and that he doesn’t believe it. “Can I have some of those strawberries?” 

You scoop up some strawberries and lift the spoon, but notice movement from the corner of your eye that makes you laugh in surprise. Wren is opening her mouth, waiting for a bite. She’s just on the cusp of being old enough for soft foods, but she’s never expressed any interest, until now. 

“Oh, do you want to try?” you ask, laughing. “I’m sorry, baby, this is much too sugary for your first bite.” You lean down to kiss her head. “Sorry,” you murmur into her hair, “we’ll have to find you something tomorrow.” 

Steve smiles so hard you can hear it. “Wow, soft foods already!” he says to her, rubbing the tip of his finger up and down her chest. “Our big girl, huh? Are you mama’s big girl? Daddy’s big girl?” 

“Ma,” she agrees, before her lips part again for a taste. 

Steve looks into your face proudly, eyes darting between you both. He looks at you like you’ve just hung the moon, when you didn’t do much of anything. 

“What should we make her?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, what do you think she’ll like?” 

“What do you think?” 

You abandon your spoon to soothe one of her curls away from her forehead. “I don’t know… she looks like an applesauce girl, doesn’t she? Or maybe some sweet potato.” 

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll have sweet potato mash for dinner, then, and she can have the first bite. Good idea, angel.” 

You turn into his hold, letting him nose at your ear. 

[beesspacedotorg]

bee what about calling chan daddy for the first time??

hihi. uhm. putting warnings is too hard. i hope u enjoy ems <3

warnings: oral (m rec), daddy king (duh), uh. tbh there probably should've been more discussion about what's going on here before it happened but there wasn't gender neutral reader as usual

You’ve been fussing at him all day. To be honest, you’re not even sure why, you’ve just been having a bad time and Chan managed to be in the right place at the wrong time and now he’s contracted your ire. It’s unfair to him, and a part of you knows this, but a larger part of  you is pissed off that he’s breathing so fucking loud, so you’ll just apologize later.

“Baby, are you planning on doing the dishes today or-”

“God, can you shut up?!” There’s a moment where you both stare at each other in shock. You don’t yell at each other. Chan raised his voice at you once before and you cried so hard you almost threw up, and after that you both agreed the two of you wouldn’t let it get to that point ever again. You don’t yell at each other, and yet, your voice has raised to dangerous decibels because your boyfriend asked you about the dishes.

“Okay, what is your problem?”

“Problem? I don’t have a problem.” That is not what was supposed to come out of your mouth. You know it, and Chan especially knows it, because he raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure? Because you just yelled at me.”

“I didn’t yell.”

“Then what do you call that? Speaking with purpose?”

“Yes. Speaking with purpose. You’re also doing the exact opposite of what I told you to do anyway.” Chan brings his hands to his head to rub his temples, and for a second you think you’ve gone a step too far. You’re ready to apologize to him, to inform him that somewhere between the dishes and now your anger has been replaced with a weird eagerness for him and that maybe you should’ve apologized for yelling at him before starting to play a horny game, but he takes a step towards you before you can open your mouth.

“You have two seconds to apologize to me.” Chan’s voice is tense, a voice you’ve heard people describe as his “leader voice.” You would describe it as something else, but you’re not that brave, so you haven’t yet.

You stare at him instead of apologizing, blinking once and then twice at him. You watch as he clenches his jaw and see the tick of his muscle in real time.

“Okay. Fine.” Oh, you’re fucked. Literally. He grabs your arm and bodily hauls you off the couch. You knew what he was going to do, and you go along with it, so luckily he doesn’t chuck you across the living room.

“Chan.” He keeps dragging you towards your bedroom. “Chan.” You’re pretty sure he’s not listening on purpose. “Christopher.”

“God,” he starts, and you know how his sentence is going to finish before it’s fully out of his mouth, “can you just shut up?” Hearing your own words parroted back at you makes you frown.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not? That’s how you were talking to me earlier.” You roll your eyes at him and open your mouth to respond and then he’s kissing you well enough that you don’t care anymore.

“Baby, I wasn’t kidding. That mouth has gotten you in enough trouble, why don’t you just keep it shut, hmm?” You frown at him again, brows furrowing and he pushes you onto your knees and sits on the bed. You stare up at him from your spot on the floor, lips still downturned and then he’s fishing his cock out of his shorts and yanking you towards him by your hair.

“Hey! Let go!” You reach up and dig your nails into his wrist and he grunts at you.

“What is your problem today?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Sure.” He brings your face closer to his dick. “Suck.” You shut your mouth with a click of your teeth and when you look up at him you can see that he’s thrown his head back in exasperation.

“Jesus, why are you being like this?” You cross your arms over your chest and you hear him sigh. His hand untangles itself from your hair to press at the hinge of your jaw, forcing it open until he can slip fingers inside your mouth and open you up for himself.

“Ow-” Your muffled protest is cut off by the heft and weight of Chan’s cock being shoved into your mouth. You aren’t insane enough to bite him, but you are insane enough to not move. You’re unsure why, but there’s something in you that wants to push him and see what he’ll do, see just how far you can annoy your sweet, lovely Channie until he becomes something else entirely.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” You can’t help the way your lip twitches into a smirk from where it’s wrapped around the girth of Chan’s dick, can’t help the way it takes you a second to school your expression into something bored and uninterested. Chan sees it though, because of course he does. Sees the way your eyes widened for a second when you got caught before flattening out. You hear him huff a laugh, finally catching on, before he’s dragging one of your hands to rest on his thigh and taking your head between his palms.

“Fine.”

He starts a rough pace right off the bat. Doesn’t give you any time to adjust before his cockhead is ramming cruelly against the back of your throat. You gag, drool bubbling past your lips, down your chin, dripping onto the floor. Your hand lifts off his thigh for a moment, taken aback, and his pace slows. He pulls halfway out of your mouth and then you put your hand back on his leg like nothing happened and he’s back to using his cock as a battering ram to your throat.

“Kept mouthing off,” he grunts, slightly out of breath. “You and I both know that this is all your little mouth is good for.”

He keeps on like that until you’re crying, until tears are slipping down your cheeks and your nose is running a little. Uses you as nothing more than a fleshlight until your eyes are red rimmed and your knees are sore. He pulls out and tilts your head back to look into your eyes. Your head is swimming from the lack of oxygen and your vision is blurry from tears and something else. He looks at your face and down at the floor and his cock twitches.

“Made a mess,” he scoffs, derisive. “Are you done?” You whine at him, you have no idea what he’s asking anymore. He shakes your head a little.

“Brat. I asked you a question.”

“Channie- daddy.” Your voice is hoarse and wobbly, your hands are grabbing at his thighs and you're leaning your weight into him. You hear him inhale sharply and suddenly the hands on your head shift from a grab to a cradle.

“Oh, baby.” He hauls you up into his lap. “Look at me.” You do, whatever Chan finds in your face makes him soft.

“Was that all you needed, sweetheart? Was for daddy to set you straight.” You nod at him and he coos.

“Daddy’s not done yet, baby.” You whine. He laughs. “You gave me a hard time there, honey. A bit of face fucking isn’t gonna make that up to me, you know that.”

You do know that. It isn’t gonna stop your pout though. Chan sees your face and laughs.

“Lay on your back,” he says. “Maybe if you apologize well enough, I’ll give you a reward after.”

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 6)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Here it is, after (quite) a long wait. Thank you for your patience! Oh, I actually shed a couple of tears writing this chapter, just warning you guys! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this <3

You couldn’t believe your eyes. So much in fact that you had to rub them to make sure you were seeing straight. Larissa Weems was sitting at your kitchen table.

“Just a second,” you muttered.

You walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, not even bothering to use a glass and choosing instead to drink straight from it. You couldn’t remember being that thirsty ever before and the water didn’t seem to help at all.

“I guess we need to talk.” You said as you placed the bottle back inside the fridge.

“Yes, we do. But I don’t think you’re in a fit state to have a serious conversation right now. How’s your head?”

“Hmpf-“ you groaned and looked down, noticing that you were still wearing your outfit from the previous night. You reeked. A nauseating mix of sweat and alcohol.

Larissa noticed the way you stared at your dress and pushed a small sympathetic smile.

“Would you like to take a shower?” She offered.

“I think so, but I’m not sure I’ll have the strength for it.”

“Let me help.” She wasn’t offering this time.

Letting Larissa see you naked would have been a highly arousing thought a few weeks before, but not anymore. Not after what you had done to her.

You closed your eyes as she walked with you to the bathroom, listening to the muffled sounds of her stocking-clad feet against the wooden floor.

“Let me-“ Larissa said when you struggled to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress.

She carefully unzipped it and you heard her breath hitch in her throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Larissa quickly answered.

A bitter iron taste filled her mouth as she bit down on her tongue at the sight of the bruises on your spine. She would make that man pay. She didn’t know how yet, but she would.

She helped you step out of the dress that was pooling at your feet before her hands moved to unclasp your bra until she suddenly stopped herself.

“Are you alright with me removing your underwear?” She asked.

You stayed quiet for a few seconds. She was asking for your consent. You had treated her like shit and still, she was showing you sympathy.

“Yes.”

Larissa gave a small nod and unclasped your bra before removing your panties, making a point of keeping her eyes off your body as she did so.

“There,” she said, gesturing towards the shower.

She turned the water on and made sure it was at a nice temperature before letting you in.

You sighed with relief as you stepped under the warm water jet, the gentle pressure massaging your back.

“Should we start with your hair?” Larissa offered, to which you answered with a nod.

Having her hands in your hair would feel less awkward than on your body to start with.

She rolled up her sleeves and poured some shampoo in her hands, waiting for you to turn around before applying it to your hair. She was gentle with her movements, her fingertips massaging your scalp and making sure to thoroughly wash your hair.

You were lost in your thoughts when Larissa suddenly started humming a song, a soft melody that immediately made a lump grow in your throat. You felt like a child. For a moment you were sent back to your childhood home, sitting in the tub as a little girl as your mother bathed you. It must have been a Sunday, you could still smell the cake that was baking in the oven.

You were brought back to reality by Larissa carefully spinning you around.

“I’ll wash your body now if that’s alright.” She waited until you gave another nod before starting to wash your shoulders. You kept your eyes closed as she carefully moved down your body and Larissa wished she could have done the same. She felt like she was intruding, only adding more weight to what had happened to you the previous night.

You were grateful for the water that was falling down your face for it hid the silent tears that you had been shedding for a couple of minutes.

Your body suddenly twitched as you tried to hold back a sob, making Larissa look up at your face. She stood up from the kneeling position she had taken to wash your legs and gently cupped your cheek.

“Sweetling, are you alright?” She asked.

You only gave a nod as an answer, your throat too tight to say anything.

“Look at me,” she said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes only to meet Larissa’s worried ones.

She stepped back as soon as she noticed that you were crying, the warmth of her hand leaving your cheek. Larissa immediately thought that she had hurt you somehow and you watched as her mouth fell open as she searched for a way to apologise.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What?” She frowned.

“I said-“ You took a deep shaky breath, feeling more tears threatening to spill. “I am so, so sorry Larissa.” You managed to say before bursting into tears and falling to your knees.

Larissa stayed still for a moment, watching your body jolt as you sobbed loudly.

“Oh, sweetling…” She knelt and gently placed her hand on your shoulder.

“N-no!” You hiccuped looking at Larissa. You hid your face in your hands and tried your best to calm your breathing down, Larissa’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm.

“Why are you here?” You eventually managed to say after a few minutes. You didn’t give her any time to answer before you went on. “After what I did to you, why the fuck are you here? Being nice to me and taking care of me when you should be gloating about me getting what I deserve.”

“You did not deserve that!” Larissa said severely, cupping your cheek so you’d look at her. She looked into your eyes for a moment before looking down at her lap. “You don’t wish any ill will on those you love, no matter how badly they hurt you.” She said barely audibly.

Love.

There. She had said it.

Love.

The lump in your throat only grew bigger as you watched her blue eyes get glassy.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again. “If I had known-“You shook your head and burst into tears again, feeling both helpless and hopeless.

“I know.” Larissa nodded and took a deep breath. You don’t wish any ill will on those you love. She carefully wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you close, letting your wet skin and hair soak through the fabric of her dress.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, the both of you kneeling on the bathroom floor until you started shivering and Larissa decided to wrap you in a towel. She picked a pair of pyjamas from your wardrobe and helped you put them on before taking you back to the living room.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea, it might help.” Larissa said as you lay back down on the couch.

“That’s what he said.” You answered after a while, remembering some bits of your night.

“He?”

“The man,” you groaned softly. “The one who saved me… He reminded me of you.”

“Did he?” Larissa asked as she walked back to the couch only to find you hiding under a cushion.

She placed the cup on your coffee table and carefully lifted your head to let it rest on her lap while her fingers brushed through your hair.

“Get some more sleep, you need it.”

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

There was a second of silence before Larissa answered.

“You know I will.”

————————————————————————-

Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @i-love-nerdy-stuff @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[christinarowie332]

“sit on my fucking face .”

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

requested !

warnings : language , smut , pov switching .

not proof read

———

“yo y/n are u listening right now?”

i’m snapped out of my trance i was in by matt’s voice , i snap my head towards him on the couch we were sat on . realising i have literally just been staring at chris opposite me .

“yeah sorry , just zoned out , carry on” i reply while turning my body towards him , tucking one leg under the other so i’m half cross legged . i glance back at chris , noticing a small smirk he has on his face , his eye brows twitch before he breaks the eye contact and looks at matt . i follow his gaze .

“as i was saying , imma drive nick to the airport to pick up nate , but the house is a mess so you and chris should stay here and clean it up a bit , we will be gone for a while cause of the traffic so you have plenty of time” matt explains to us , moving his gaze from me and chris . everytime he looks at chris , i also look at chris , his nose and lips are kinda red from the cold , god i want my thighs wrapped-

“Y/N!?”

fuck

“yeah sorry matt ,” i turn my head towards him

“what did i just say?” matt asks while slumping into the couch pillows , rolling his eyes .

“clean the house ? picking up nate , me and chris stay . we have a long time” i reply , a blush creeping to my cheeks as i feel my heart race .

matt shakes his head and gets up from the couch , he says something but honestly i was too busy thinking about chris , how his eyes would look from below me , blown out , rolled back in his head , mouth covering my-

“which rooms do u wanna start on”

chris’s voice booms , snapping me away from my thoughts .

“uh . idk …. the kitchen and your room are the only messy ones , so let’s just start with the kitchen i guess” i reply back , trying to shake away the tremble in my voice .

“you okay ?” he says taking a step forward , face painted with concern , tilting it sideways , crossing the room to stand infront of me .

i take a shakey breath in before speaking, my bestfriend inches away from me , being so sweet but all i can think about is suffocating him with my-

“there is is again.”

“what ? there’s what again?” he fully has my attention now , my face being just as confused as him.

he laughs slightly and searches in my eyes , jumping between them rapidly. “you keep just going somewhere else … what are u thinking about?”

oh idk chris , your face pressed against my-

“i’m not thinking of anything chris , i’m perfectly okay !” i reply instead . laughing awkwardly to try and deminish the growing tension.

“sure” he drags out , taking a step back , “i’m gonna pretend i believe you” he continues , shaking his head and turning around to the kitchen , i exhail once he turns , closing my eyes and relaxing my shoulders .

i follow him to the kitchen , bending down to go in the cubbord, grabbing a bin bag and the rest of the cleaning stuff .

chris’s pov:

i turn around from the fridge i was grabbing drinks from , to see y/n slowly crouch down to the bottom cubbord .as she meets the floor , knees tucked into her chest , i see her thighs flatten , getting squashed slightly between her calves at the pressure . god to have those wrapped around my head , they’re so fucking-

“hey chris?” i remove my eyes from her ass and meet her gaze as she turns to look at me .”do you know where matt put the disinfectant, it’s not in here?”

the light from the window is perfectly hitting her face , making her glow , how the fuck does she do that-

“hellooooo ???” i blink a couple times and scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, “disinfectant chris ? where is it?” she continues.

“oh right . um . idk probably in the garage” i shrug my shoulders and look away from her , turning around and staring to shove the rubbish into a bag she threw over to me .

i hear her leave and turn around , leaning against the counter closing my eyes . i quickly get lost in my own thoughts . she’s been looking at me today , i’m not going crazy right ? so if i just ask? no . she’s my bestfriend, i can’t do that . what if she’s been looking at me because she knows i’ve been looking at her , imagining my face inbetween her legs , i bet she sounds so nice when she moans . fuck.

i look down to see my dick , half hard . FUCK .

y/n pov :

as i reach the garage . i stop in my tracks . he was definitely staring my my ass right ? no what if he was just looking at the floor . i can only ask . but what if he freaks out and gets all weird .

fuck it

i make my way to the kitchen , faster then i’ve ever walked , and freezing when i get there . where the fuck is this kid ?

i turn around and see the bag placed on the top of the stairs , look back at the kitchen and it’s clean , so he probably just went to start on his room .

i start walking towards the stairs to his room , slowly creeping down them , reaching his door and knocking .

“yeah come in”

i hear this and immediately walk in . he meets my eyes and gets up from his bed . i slowly walk towards him anxiously, trying to think of a way to bring up the fact i want to literally ride his face . even thinking it sounds insane .

“bro , what is up with you today ?” he asks and my eyes peel away from the floor .

“i wanna ride your face” my eyes immediately widen , hand slapped over my mouth . why the fuck did i just say that . i bet he hates me . oh my god i just fucked up our entire friendship . what the fuck do i say now-

“all you had to do was ask ma” my eyes meet his again watching a smirk crawl onto his face , he snakes a hand to my waist and pulls me into him , smashing our lips together . i put both hands on his chest and walk him back wards to the bed , not once breaking the now heated makeout .

the moment i feel him hault and meet the end of his bed i pull away and push him down . i take off my tank top and throw it to the side , watching him crawl backwards to the top of his bed .

“you have no idea how much i’ve been wanting this” he says as he watches me , leaning back on his elbows , looking at me while i take off my sweatpants , and walk to the side of his bed .

his eyes trail down my body , and i feel a wave of embarrassment hit me , he is still fully clothed , he notices this and tilts his head “do u want me to take this off baby?” his voice croaky and gruff , making my core grow even wetter .

i nod my head before climbing onto the bed , straddling his lap and helping him peel his top over his head . i can feel a hard object pressing against my pussy , looking down at it and meeting his eyes , him also looking down , noticing it the same time as me , “you really did want this huh?” i tease , tilting my head and smirking , matching his energy.

“shut up” he laughs out before grabbing my face and bringing his lips to mine again , i hold his face , elbows supporting me as i deepen the kiss . his hands run down to my ass , down to my thighs , making me arch my back and hum into his mouth.

we stay like this for a while , our kiss growing more aggressive and needy by the second , tongues battling relentlessly , before he moves his mouth down to my collarbone , biting and leaving open mouthed kisses , for sure leaving some nasty marks

“sit on my fucking face” me whispers into my neck , i pull away , out of breath . his eyes completely blacked out with lust . nose red and lips swollen.

“gladly”

with that sit up and slowly push my underwear down , he watches and helps me pull them down while still on the bed .

i make my way to his face neck , hovering over him , suddenly feeling anxious . he rolls his eyes before grabbing my thighs and pulling me over his jaw . basically suffocating him under my pussy.

his nose immediately hits my clit , drawing out an embarrassingly loud moan from my mouth, grabbing the head board for stability.

he licks a long stripe though me , before landing on my clit and wrapping his wet lips around it . my hand flys to his hair , gripping it tightly , making him grunt , sending vibrations through my core as he continues to explore my pussy with his mouth .

my legs start to shake , as i’m still not putting my whole weight oh him , noticing this he pulls me down by my hips , forcing me to fully sit on his face . i start to move my hips forward and back wards , using his nose and tongue as friction.

“FUCK CHRIS” i scream out as me shoved his tongue deep into my pussy , causing my thighs to close slightly , trapping him inbetween my legs .

“keep talking , i want to hear you ma” he says out of breath , fingers replacing his tongue as he gets his breath before re- attaching his tongue to my clit , flattening it and shaking his head sideways.

“fuck-FUCK CHRIS, i’m gonna FUCK” is all i got out before the knot snaps in my stomach , feeling shocks fill my entire body as i clench around his fingers . coming undone ,all over his face whimpering , eye’s clenched together and my jaw falling slack.

i slow down my movements,grinding against his face as a ride out my high , before i see chris face lift , his nose and chin practically dripping with my arousal . a huge teethy smile plastered on his face as he heaves out breaths . the cold air hitting my wet clit , making my body shudder .

“holy fuck chris” i say before removing my pelvis from his face , throwing my body down to sit next to him , back against the head board my chest rising and falling . i laugh out of breath and look down at him , him allready watching me from below , still smiling while trying to catch his breath.

“i meant what i said when i said i was a munch” is all he manages to say before i throw a pillow at his head rolling my eyes and laughing

“oh shut the fuck up chris”

—————-

me writing this knowing i’m terrified of doing anything in this oneshot ! (including the cleaning, i am not a house wife !)

really hope i did anon proud with this ! love u all

-🍼

—————-

tglst:

@mangosrar @azkabanstar @bluesturniolo333 @urmyslxt @littlebookworm803 @strniohoeee @biimpanicking @parkerssecrets @soursturniolo @lividnity @kenzieiskoolaid @sssturniolofart @cybrrrs1ut @freshlovehacker @f4iry-dvst @sturniololvr12 @tcvazq @lovingsturniolo @def-livv @deatthmatch

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Tall!Reader x Orc!Nanami

Fluff, no smut, domestic, established relationship.

Nanami was getting frustrated. He knew you were restless. He knew you needed to be constantly moving around – doing something – or you would feel uneasy. Yet, here you were with an injured back, advised complete bed rest, expected to be lazing on a cloud of pillows, but instead, hobbling your way to the kitchen with ill-disguised pain to make a cup of coffee. 

Nanami grunted. He couldn’t help it. His people may have been one of the toughest races in the world, but even the strongest orc would know when to lie down and rest for their good. “Kento, I’m fine!” You said, “You’re being paranoid, I have to move around, I have to work.” You heard the orc huff behind you. “Kento…” 

Truth be told, asking for help for yourself was never something you had been comfortable with. From a young age, you had been forced to be independent, a fact that crippled you today when it came to requesting assistance. You would be loathe to ask Nanami for a cup of coffee when you knew you could make it just as easily – or so you thought. 

And so, you plodded to the kitchen, with your injured back, ignoring the dull ache that slowly increased as you walked. The grimace that you quickly turned into a smile didn't go unnoticed by Nanami who followed closely behind. 

“My flower,” he called out using the name he had specially assigned for you. “Let me make it. Please. You need to be resting.” 

“I am resting, baby…”

Nanami huffed, there really was no arguing with you…but his presence did not fade from behind, barely bumping into you as he moved around.

All of a sudden as you reached out to one of the top cupboards for a mug, something pulled and a sharp pain like a crack of lightning went down your lower back to your waist. You cried out crumpling onto the cold countertop where you had just laid out the jar of coffee powder. Your arm hit it, knocking it over, and the contents spilt out. 

Immediately Nanami was beside you. One thick arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the other lifted your legs up into a princess carry. Your large frame was rendered tiny by his broad shoulders. With one arm wrapped around you, he held you up easily – as if you were nothing more than a kitten to him. 

“Flower…?” there was a tremble in his hushed voice. “Are you alright?”

You nodded weakly. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine!” You looked up at his face. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his brows furrowed into a frown.  “You keep saying you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You have been told by the doctor to stay put and rest your body, but you refuse to listen. Do you not feel like you can rely on me, flower? Is that what it is? Do you believe I will deny you a simple cup of coffee when asked to make it?” 

“That’s not it… Kento…” You tried. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“Woman,” Nanami roared. “I would slay a dragon for you if you desired its hoard. I would part the waves if you wished to see the ocean floor.  I would move the heavens if you wanted to see the moon in the daytime!” He pulled you closer into his broad chest and you felt a fat wet droplet plop onto your cheek.

“Nanamin…” it was your voice that was now hushed. “I’m sorry I didn't mean to make you get so worried…” 

“How can I not, flower? I love you. 

You raised your hand and cupped his cheek gently, pulling his face down. His soft hair, usually combed up into his professional style now hung free over his forehead. Blonde strands that you now ran your fingers through. 

Your lips touched his in a reverent prayer and you mumbled against them, “Thank you, and I’m sorry.” 

Nanami shook his head, his nose brushing against yours. His long lashes tickled your skin. “Will you rely on me from now on?” 

You nodded. “I’m not used to it, but I’ll try, I promise.” 

He kissed you chastely first your lips, then your nose, and then your forehead. “That's all I need,” he hummed, placing his chin on top of yours. “Now, let's see about that coffee shall we...” 

You want more orc!Nanami? Here you go

A/N: dedicating this to @pseudowho you poor bean let me hold you.

Also shout out to wwx for that line. Iykyk.